Red is our colour

 

Open Letter towards the women demonstration of 13th February

Freely insipered by the chat with infosex

I’m a girl, we are the girls of this Berlusconian Italy. We grew up with ‘Non e’ la RAI’ and ‘Beverly Hills’, the TV programmes that somewhat moulded the aesthetic models we carry with us. We wear bras, I wear a bra, wax my legs, and use nail varnish sometimes. Not many years separate us from the girls of the nights at Berlusconi’s residence. But one thing we have in common: we have nothing. We have no job but studied for years to have one. We have no guarantees and would like, at least once in a while, to work with dignity.
But the escorts of the Bunga parties are not the same in some respects: I don’t have the desire, when I come across any important person, to throw my tits in their face. I don’t want to wiggle my bum cheeks on television between one satirical news item and the next. I wouldn’t like to be considered as being stupid when, like the escorts, I am actually intelligent and smart.
As a generation, we have nothing. We will not own a house, unless our parents buy us one, and not everyone can. Maybe we will have children, but it’s hard to think of how we’d maintain them. We don’t know what we’ll do when our parents will become ill.
Despite all these uncertainties, I don’t want to put my body in the hands of three 70 year old men. Despite all my and our lack of power, I don’t want to entrust my whole future to the hands of three oldies only because I’m good at stripping … and trust us, after all the TV we’ve watched, we are all good at taking our clothes off. I decided to build my future in the chanting squares of this country, not in the closed palaces where none knows what’s happening, be them theParliament of the Republic or Berlusconi’s private villa.
I, we, are young, we are girls, we are nice, we are beautiful: but we are not your escorts.
Despite the debasement you got us used to, we don’t want to adequate to your ‘normality’, we don’t want to be mediocre. We don’t want to sell our intelligence for 1,000, 2,000 or 5,000 Euros, or paid accomodation, and live under blackmail clasping a Gucci bag. But we don’t even want to get used to a life of privations between an internship for 500 and a part-time job for 800 Euros a month held onto a fake Gucci bag.
We want to build our relations in a new, beautiful and equal way. We want to enjoy ourselves, we want excitement and pleasure: but as equals, not subalterns. We are fed up with being treated as idiots because we are girls, we are fed up of being seen as a bore when we speak up. As girls we are fully aware of ourselves and the power of our bodies. We are young and beautiful, and we are not your escorts. All our vitality allows us to entertain relations that are different from those experienced and told by this Berlusconian Italy and its moralist Left.

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