The memory and fight
I arrived to feminism with a punch in the face. I want to start my entrance of this way, cause the same violence that feminism fight was present in my near life, with near situations.
My mom, is for me the entrance to feminism. She was a single mother in 1989, at the south, and during the dictatorship. That wasn't well seen. She had to fight against her family and society. Even they wanted her to abort. But she stood strong and decided to resist. That changed her forever.

She had to be a hard and cold to continue her life. She had to put a mask, a heavy mask, so she could work and live with her son. My brother.

Then, she met my father. She fell in love, married and I was born. But the life was hard again. She was forced in diferents levels, even the physical.

But she is strong, and decided to leave him and start a new life in other place with me and my brother. Without money, but without violence either. She worked hard and alone for the carreer of my brother and for me. All that I am is for her.

With this story, I dont want to victimize myself, or my mom, or family. Neither use it to validate my speech. I want to do an act of memory and pride (in relation to the mother's day too). It is important to remember that the violence is a daily thing, and remember all the fallen and all the people that continue resisting and fighting.

Her life for me was the entrance to question a lot of things, since the things that she had to pass just for being a woman, until how me, like a man, wanted to be a better man than my father, a better person for the society.

Now she and my niece are my support to continue this fight. It is a hard way, of constant questioning, discussion, and even physical fight. I want a better world for the new generations, like my niece. I want  a better world for everyone. I dont want to forget, cause her story is mine too.

My mom <3 one of the stongest woman I know