Con l'approssimarsi dell'8 marzo mimose e cioccolatini vengono rispolverati come doni ideali per celebrare la femminilità e l'esser donna. Benissimo.
Ma esser donna NON è solo questo. E' anche altro.
Soprattutto altro.
L'8 marzo è la festa della consapevolezza di esser donna da parte delle donne... ma soprattutto da parte degli uomini. Eh, già. E' una ricorrenza che deve rammentare quanto ancora i diritti sacrosanti delle donne vengano violati sistematicamente dagli uomini, quanto la violenza e la sopraffazione siano ancora disseminated, as prejudice and discrimination are the norm, how long and arduous the road to equal treatment. So Women's Day, beyond the male strippers or mimosas, must be a starting point toward awareness, toward what should be done to improve the condition of all women, ultimately to improve society.
not forget that beyond our mimosas and chocolates out there is full of women who suffer because they are women, whose rights are trampled upon, the nature of which is mocked and insulted. We must not go very far to see this sad reality, is just around the corner ...
So, I repeat, instead of giving useless trinkets, we try to improve as human beings so that we can help those in need.
below you will find an open letter to the Albanian writer Elvira Dones has turned to Berlusconi on the joke delivered by the Prime Minister in Albania few weeks ago about "the beautiful Albanian girls" that can be accepted in Italy. The letter in question is a bitter testimony to what the life of the beautiful Albanian girls "is often a nightmare of abuse and violence and how little there is to be joking.
"Dear Mr. Prime Minister, I write a newspaper that she does not read, yet a few words I have it to him, because Friday's casual sense of humor has touched people very dear to me," the beautiful Albanian girls. "While the prime minister of my country of origin, Sali Berisha, confirmed the commitment of his government in the fight against smugglers, she pointed out that" for those who bring beautiful girls we can make an exception. "I do those" beautiful girls "I met them, I met dozens of day and night, hiding from their pimp, I followed up by Garbagnate Milanese in Sicily. They told me glimpses of their lives violated, strozzate, devastate. A "Stella" i suoi padroni avevano inciso sullo stomaco una parola: puttana. Era una bella ragazza con un difetto: rapita in Albania e trasportata in Italia, si rifiutava di andare sul marciapiede. Dopo un mese di stupri collettivi ad opera di magnaccia albanesi e soci italiani, le toccò piegarsi. Conobbe i marciapiedi del Piemonte, del Lazio, della Liguria, e chissà quanti altri. E' solo allora - tre anni più tardi - che le incisero la sua professione sulla pancia: così, per gioco, o per sfizio. Ai tempi era una bella ragazza, sì. Oggi è solo un rifiuto della società, non s'innamorerà mai più, non diventerà mai madre e nonna. Quel puttana the belly has erased any glimmer of hope and faith in man, the massacre of customers and pimps destroyed the uterus.
On "Beautiful Girls" I wrote a novel, published in Italy under the title Sun burned. Years later turned a documentary for Swiss TV: I went in search of another beautiful girl named Brunilda, his father had asked me in tears to investigate her. was a father like many other fathers Albanians with whom their daughters were missing, abducted, mutilated, hung upside down in a disused butchers if they dared to rebel. was a father like you, Mr President, just less lucky. And still Brunilda's father does not accept that her daughter is dead forever, drowned in the sea or executed somewhere in the suburbs. He still hopes, dreams of a miracle. It 's a long story, President ... But if I knew I could count on his attention, we will send you a copy of my book, or send the documentary, or I would gladly talk to her. But the warning, Mr. President: I reply to the beats, not swallow.
In the name of every star, Bianca, Brunilda and their families, these few lines I had them to him. In these twenty years of difficult transition, Albania has run much suffering and many wounds inflicted with his own hands, but the Albanian people is also increasing the desire to finally be able to walk straight back and head held high. Albania has no patience or sympathy for the humiliation free. I think if she would stop to consider the human drama as material for jokes by late night bar, would not that stand to gain.
***
Elvira Dones, writer-journalist.
Born in Durres in 1960, she graduated in Albanian and English Literature at the University of Tirana. Emigrated from his country before the fall of the Berlin Wall, from 1988 to 2004 he lived and worked in Switzerland. Currently resides in the United States, where the narrative alternates between a journalist and screenwriter. ( source )
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