I have always hated 8 March, and honestly I can’t stand it. Ever since I was a little girl, my blood boiled at the sight of the purple tide that poured into the streets, and I was horrified to see women, if you can call them that, go in public without clothes and with their breasts exposed, full of paint with foul phrases and unshaven.
I saw them on TV and in the street, entering temples and profaning them, defecating at the entrance of churches, shouting like angry baboons and uttering all kinds of insults against men.
At first, in my house, all this was handled with black humor and we laughed at it without complexes; however, over the years, we have realized that they have crossed all the limits of reason and respect, and have become dangerous and violent animals. Humor has disappeared around that date, and now, every time it approaches, my house and that of so many other people with values, become the scene of shouts, insults and disgusted faces directed at the TV, newspapers and any media or social network.
The first time I began to take this whole problem seriously was when a teacher at school asked all the students in the class, one by one, if they were feminists. Absolutely everyone said yes, but when it was my turn, I responded with a resounding “NO” and there was silence in the classroom. At another time I could recount that moment in detail, but what matters now is how they indoctrinate children at school with hammers, to make them swallow all that feminist fallacy.
When I started college, the issue became more complicated; in a public university you have to keep a close eye on what you say and what you do, and although I stand by my motto of “the day they beat me for my values, I will be much more proud of them,” it is true that in March I would become an outcast and a renegade. My parents recommended me to avoid drawing attention to myself, to be discreet, to “hide”. And it is true that, although I did not hide, I see how friends of mine would take off their bracelets bearing the flag or the logo of the political party they support, while some even take off the cross they wear around their necks so as not to attract attention. On Women’s Day, we women become the persecuted.
We go around the campus with a thousand eyes, watching out for any shouting or any “curious” looking person, we have to speak our ideas in a low voice so that no hothead hears us. March 8 is only Women’s Day for women who hate being women, who dress like men, act like monkeys and shower less than pigs. March 8 is the day when real women (don’t be fooled, transsexuals are not, nor will they ever be women) have to hide. Because feminism is the great enemy of women, feminism is the most misogynistic thing that exists right now in the West.