A friend sent me during the month of March, a beautiful ppt on the Rights of Women. Both the poem that contains images as chosen by who has made very clearly exposes the reality of women throughout its existence. Just during the month in which many acts have been devoted to women, have been taking place - in different parts of the Muslim geography - situations in which the seeds of war but also of change begin to open in so many Arab countries, where women also have been at the forefront of the riots that proposed change. Weeks have passed, and will silencing the voices of the riots, not because they are outdated, if not ephemeral information. However, the onset of change is there with the riots and the struggles that remain, with the muted role of women who rarely come into the picture, either as agents of change, and as the main victims of the fighting. So I want to share this document. I do attach the lines on which it has thus made me look like a deep reflection on the history of women. Are Ecuadorian poet Jenny Londoño. with them in 1992 won first prize in Poetry "Gabriela Mistral" by the Women's Culture Club and the Ministry of Education, in Quito. For me it is an accurate (while condensed) history of female reality.
As you read probably find suitable music to accompany his poems. The images also clearly come to mind. Or you can listen through the link attached below.
Thank you, Yolanda, for sharing.
Jenny Londoño Thank you, Yolanda, for sharing.
I come from yesterday from the dark past and forgotten
with their hands tied by the time
with his mouth sealed since ancient times
I have plenty of old pains,
collected by centuries, long chains dragging
and indestructible.
I come from the darkness of oblivion
well with silence on their backs, the ancestral fear
that has corroded my soul
from the beginning of time.
I come from a slave for millennia,
slave ways:
subject to the desire of my raptor in Persia, enslaved
in Greece under Roman rule, converted
vestal in the land of Egypt,
offered to the gods in ancient rites in the wilderness
sold or exchanged as a commodity.
I come from being stoned for adultery
on the streets of Jerusalem
by a mob of hypocrites, sinners
of all species crying out to heaven my punishment.
I have been mutilated in many towns
to deprive my body of
pleasures and turned into a beast of burden, working
and Birth "of the species.
I have violated no limit
in all corners of the planet that has
without my old age or amount or tender
my color or my height.
yesterday I had to serve the lords,
lend to their wishes,
surrender and give myself, destroy, forget
be one among thousands.
I was mistress of a lord in Castile, wife of a marquis
and concubine of a Greek merchant,
prostitute in Bombay and the Philippines
and has always been just my treatment.
of one and the other always slave
of one and the other dependent
minor in all cases,
invisible
more distant history and forgotten in recent history.
I did not have the light of the alphabet. For many centuries
compost my
tears that I should cultivate land
from my childhood.
I traveled the world in thousands of lives
that have been handed
one by one and I have known
all men on the planet.
Large and small, brave and cowardly
,
the vile, the honest,
the good, the terrible, but almost all have
mark time. A handle
lives as lords and masters,
suffocate, imprisoning and exterminating them. Others leave
souls dealers in ideas,
scare or seduce, manipulate and oppress
.
Some count the hours with the man rutile
crossed in the midst of trouble.
Others travel by their own naked
desert and sleep with
death in the middle of the day.
I know them all,
was about one and the other,
serving each day, picking up crumbs
,
down his neck at every turn,
doing my karma.
I traveled all the way
I scratched walls and tested silences
trying to meet the mandate be
as they want but not what I got.
Never
allowed me to choose the course of my life.
I always walked a dilemma
be holy or prostitute.
I know the hatred of the inquisitors
that the name of the holy mother church condemned
my body to its service and infamous
flames of fire.
I've been called many ways:
witch, mad, guess, perverted,
ally of Satan,
slave of the flesh,
attractive, nymphomaniac,
guilty of the evils of the earth.
But I kept living, plowing, reaping
, sewing,
building, cooking, knitting,
healing, protecting, giving birth,
breeding, feeding, caring and above all loving
.
I populated the land of masters and slaves, rich and beggars
of geniuses and idiots,
but they all had the warmth of my womb, my blood
their food and took a bit of my life.
I managed to survive the brutal and ruthless conquest
Castilla in the lands of America
but I lost my gods and my land and my belly bare
mestizo people
after
master took me by force.
And on this continent continued my existence defiled
charged daily pain,
black and slave in the middle of the estate
I had to get the master
whenever I wanted without being able to express any complaint. Then I went
seamstress
peasant servant, peasant, mother of many children
miserable peddler
, healer,
caretaker of children or the elderly, hand craft
prodigious
weaver, embroiderer, working,
teacher, secretary, nurse, always serving everyone
,
converted into bee or sowing
meet most thankless tasks as pitcher
molded by the hands of others.
And one day I grieved for my troubles
one day I got tired of my chores,
left the desert and the ocean,
down from the mountains, jungles and crossed
confines and my voice became soft and quiet,
wind in speaker on universal cry and mad.
And I called the widow, the married women
the people, the single,
distraught mother, the ugly, the new mother
, the raped,
to the sad, the quiet, the beautiful,
to the poor, the afflicted, the ignorant,
to the faithful, to the deluded, the prostitute.
thousands of women came together to listen to my speeches
,
spoke of the pain is ancient, the long chains
the centuries we burden.
And we are with all our complaints
a mighty river that traverse the universe began choking
injustice and neglect.
The world froze
men and women stood
walked machines, lathes,
large buildings and factories
ministries and hotels, shops and offices,
hospitals and shops, homes and kitchens.
Women finally found out.
We are as powerful as they are
and many more on earth!
More than silence
and more than the suffering!
More than infamy
and more misery!
that this song resonates in the distant lands of Indochina
in warm sands of Africa, Alaska and
Latin America
calling for gender equality
to build a united world-
different horizontal without power-
to combine tenderness, peace and life, to drink
science without distinction,
to defeat hatred and prejudice,
the power of a few petty
the borders,
kneading with the hands of both sexes
the bread of life.
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