”Mi lascia in pace, per favore”: la città di Roma

Uno dei posti dove mi è toccata vivere è Roma. Quella città vecchia e bellisima. A molti piace, a me invece... Di solito la chiamo una città per turisti e politici, e dico che per il resto della gente la cosa è più complicata.

Så slap dog af, det var jo bare for sjov!

Jeg er tilbage på bloggen! Juhu! Og starter hårdt ud efter pausen (som skyldtes en arbejdsplads hvor ”vi har ytringsfrihed, men...”) med en historie, jeg hørte sidste år i toget. Der er en pointe med den, så stick with me.

En gruppe unge damer skulle på Skanderborg-festival, og sludrede løs på vejen dertil, så hele togvognen kunne overhøre, hvordan de gav hinanden tips og advarsler. Særligt det sidste: det nye fede blandt ungdommen nu til dags er åbenbart, at når man er stærkt beruset på en festival, og de unge mænd spiller øl-bowling, og der går en kvinde forbi, de synes ser pæn ud, må en af dem råbe ”tiger-mis!”, og derefter løbe efter hende, og vælte hende omkuld lige der midt i det hele, hvad enten hun synes det er sjovt eller ej. Så bare lige så I ved det, piger, hvis I ser nogen, der spiller øl-bowling, så gå langt udenom!

The Day Someone Assumed I Was a Lesbian

One day I was having tea with a friend, as you do, and told him one of my super-funny stories (about telling a guy who was bothering me in a bar to get lost), at which point my friend stopped me with an incredulous look, exclaiming, ”wait, are you...?” He then proceeded to tell me in great detail how and where to find the only bar in Aarhus specifically catering to lesbians. Slightly confused, I nodded along and put in the occasional ”ok”, not really picking up why he was telling me this. Only later that day did it click that he was talking out of an assumption about my sexuality.

Hvad ønsker vi for vores børn?

Konfirmationssæsonen er sat ind, og traditionen tro mødte vi alle sammen op for at fejre den unge konfirmand (i dette tilfælde af hankøn). Der var mad, og der var sang, og der var taler, og alt var fryd og gammen. Men så var der en af talerne. Et ældre familiemedlem holdt en tale, som afsluttedes med at ønske det unge menneske et langt og lykkeligt liv, og andre gode og rare ting, og så nogle ting mere: ”et godt og lukrativt arbejde og en sød og dejlig partnerske”. Med andre ord: du skal helst blive lige som alle os andre.

Leaving your comfort zone(s)

You know how it's the first time you're at a party at Lucy's and you don't really know anyone? Or your first day at a new school? And somehow it's all just slightly uncomfortable and you feel out of place and it's such a relief to go home and close the door and listen to your normal music or talk to your regular friends. After a while you get to know Lucy and her friends better and enjoy the parties more, and you get to know your classmates, you find out where the restrooms are and you finally pick up on the paper-hand-in-system. All is well. You have made these new places somewhere you belong, they have become part of your comfort zone, places where you feel at ease.

Gender equality. Right here, right now?

I originally wanted to post this on the 8th of March, being International Women's Day, but something known as 'real life' got in way. Anyway, I would like to grab the occasion to take a look at how all that feminism* and gender equality is working out. Right here, right now. I have talked about it before, in Spain, and I gave an overview of the situation on the streets of Denmark. But really, where are we?

Når i Danmark de dig tiltale

Sidste sommer skrev jeg et længere indlæg om, hvordan jeg oplevede street harassment i Spanien. Kort opsummeret for ikke spansk-læsende brokkede jeg mig langt væk over ikke at kunne læse en bog på stranden i fred, uden at den ene og den anden mandsperson spurgte til mit helbred, min alder, min civilstatus eller kommenterede andre menneskers bryststørrelse. Jeg erklærede også en intention om for fremtiden at give svar på tiltale, og fortælle d'herrer, hvad jeg mener om deres opførsel (også de damer når nødvendigt). Et halvt års tid og et nyt land senere finder jeg øjeblikket inde at vende tilbage til emnet og undersøge, om jeg har fulgt mit eget fortsæt, og om konteksten gør en forskel, for både kommentarer og reaktioner.

Language as exclusionary practice

The language you speak defines who will understand you. So you speak the language you think serves better to make yourself understood in any given context. Seems like a no-brainer, right? But sometimes you probably also choose a language in order to not be understood, by whoever is the excluded one in the group. It's the dynamics of this that I would like to dig into today.

Normalising period-talks

Recently I caught myself casually passing out the information of my period having started that same day, to a person I didn't really know all that well, who had no particular reason to be interested in my period-schedule, and, most importantly, was of the male gender – the horror! He took the information with a straight face (I don't honestly think he cared), and since we're not prepubescent children, he ought to be acquainted with the concept anyway. What interested me on an afterthought was rather my own reaction of “oh sh.. oh well. He took it nicely, so should be cool.” Why would I react that way?

If you see a stranger on a bus...

Just another silent onlooker

Already upon entering the bus, they catch my attention. It's Saturday night, Halloween celebration day, and people are out partying. I left my party early and am taking the first night bus, it's barely 1 am. They're bent over her bag, obviously drunk, and she screams to him about finding 'it'. (Turns out she's referring to his bus-ticket.) I enter the bus, pick my seat and start looking for my mp3-player and my half-eaten snack.

They finally enter the bus, he loudly thanks the driver and informs that he's the nicest guy they met today. They discuss about which seats to pick, and she sits down and yells at him to come and sit next to her.

He addresses some other bus passengers, first in Danish, but switches to English when he realises they're foreigners. Begins complaining about her, how she talks to him. How would random bus guy react if his girlfriend gave him orders? (Bus guy would do as told.) And if she said so and so? (Still the same.) And so on, making more and more detailed questions. Someone behind me says, “you're not getting any sympathy, cut it out.” He ignores this.

Finally he sits next to her, wishing the other couple and me a good night. Shortly afterwards a friend of the foreign couple enters the bus, and they discuss exams and other everyday events. Within minutes he's back. Is he interrupting? No no.. he isn't. And he begins talking, mostly offending* her, and once in a while she offends him, too, asking him to come and sit down. She asks for cigarettes, he offends her, informs her she can't smoke inside the bus. She asks for them again, he gives in, throw them at her, saying, “you can have your fucking cigarettes.” Goes on discussing with the foreigners, exchanging life stories, trying to convince the friend to start thai boxing. The foreign couple are aware that I'm following the scene, but say nothing.

Escenas españolas

Antes que todo, perdonadme por tardar tanto en actualizar el blog. Mi pc personal ha decidido dejar el mundo de ordenadores funcionantes, y no he podido acceder a algo tan simple como blogspot.com. (En efecto, esto se publica desde un ordenador que apenas se le ve la pantalla.. espero volver pronto con mejores condiciones de trabajo!)

De todas formas, esta vez trataré un tema que superficialmente puede parecer más puntual, pero aún así pienso que tiene una influencia más alargada y por eso también una cierta importancia.

Empecemos con algunos escenarios que he visto e vivido durante mi año en Barcelona y viajando por España.