Corona beach

 

We are standing in a circle, with hundreds of women
Two women lead the gathering
It is kind of a registration event
We all write our names on a list
And thereby, we give permission for the new world
The world in which Corona rules

There is a weird vibe
It is set up like a celebration
But the atmosphere is uncertain, confused and even anxious
The two women leading the ceremony have a professional, reassuring smile on their faces
But it is fake
It is clear this is just their job
They act from a script
They have instructions to make this look joyful

While all this is going on and every woman writes down her name
I walk towards a sign post
I write on it, with a thick green marker: Corona beach, with an arrow underneath the words
The arrow looks like a fish
A few women laugh nervously
Is this allowed?
They don’t understand what I mean, but they think it is funny
It is a welcome distraction from what is going on
What I mean is: Corona beach is gone
It is far away
At least, it is not where we are now
Freedom is not where we are now

I return to my place in the circle
One of the women asks the women in charge: but what will happen to us?
Will we still have freedom of choice?
One of the women in charge answers cheerfully: Well, it is indeed a bit of a shame, but some women will be forced to marry the Corona rulers. However, there isn’t much we can do about that, can we? It’s just how it is, under the new regime. We will loose our freedom a little bit. We can’t decide everything for ourselves anymore. But you know, that’s the sacrifice we have to make in order to make everything better, right?

That’s the breaking point for me
I step forward and say: I can’t do this
I will not join
I’m out of here
The women in charge say: Well, of course that’s possible
You choose for this in freedom, so you are free to leave

Give me that list, I say
They hand me the list
While everybody looks at me in disbelief, I look for my name amongst the long list of names
I know, that if I do this, I will be on my own
But rather being on my own, than being part of a group of women accepting that a few of them will have no choice but marry men, only because they have the power
That is unacceptable for me
Then I am rather on my own

I find my name on the list and resolutely cross it over
Then I wake up, crying

Sanne Burger
sanneburger.com

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