It’s not about a damn pizza, she shouted. It’s about disrespect. Damn, I’m in my own house and can’t be heard. I have to scream to be heard, detail, there’s only you and me in this house. Disrespect. A woman being disrespected. A woman needing to scream to be heard. Why is it always a woman? Why is it always with a woman? The only people who don’t see machismo are those who are already blinded by the poison it gives.
She went out for a run, she had already gotten angry, at least she was going to eliminate that anger in a good way, by running. On the way she reflected: what if I had spoken more kindly, wouldn’t it have been better? Why pick the fight? But soon the stupid thought was crossed by another: being heard is a right, why would you have to do anything more to deserve something that is already yours? Why would you have to be kind if respect is something that already belongs to you? She ran easier, there was no mistake. Why is it that we, women, are always asking ourselves if we made a mistake? She ran happier and returned to home lighter. But then came the screams, not from her, but from her neighbor. Damn, women don’t have a peaceful day! She picked up the phone and dialed 911.
Vanessa Campos
Vanessa Campos 
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