It’s 6.30pm and Plaça Universitat is stuffed: women, women and more women; and men, and again women with men, with children, young and old women, women, women and a single clamour: «We give birth, we decide» …I feel like thirty years ago –we’re already in Les Rambles-, but my hair has been white for a while and no progress has been made: we’re still taking care of our parents, our children and working more for less than them –men-, precarious jobs, without contract, underground economy… but we work anyhow, because if there’s something we’ve learned is that we don’t have to depend on anyone. We have to be independent. We’re going up Ferran Street and when we get to the church of Sant Jaume, everybody’s hands dip into red paint and the millenary stones receive the handprints of the anger grown for years, thanks to the oppression of an old-fashion clergy that still, nowadays, thinks of women as servile objects, incapable, unable to decide for themselves.
You know what? We’re fed up with it! And that’s the cry that has been heard on the streets. We are in Plaça Sant Jaume: batucada, dances, and the colour touch is made by the City Council, which after 9pm has lighten up the building’s façade with purple. When everything has finished and the square is almost empty… some cries of «hypocrites» are heard and I think that maybe the worker who had to turn on the lights had been distracted with so many females dancing… or they haven’t dared… you know, with a single woman everybody feels confident, but with a surge of determined women… that’s intimidating!