It was called Monica. She was a woman, a mother, an entrepreneur, a worker. Beyond the dignity that was due to him as a human being, a valuable piece of our society. She no longer lives, nor can she continue to contribute what she contributed to her loved ones and to others, because according to the first indications, which will still have to confirm the appropriate judicial procedure, an undesirable with a history of mistreating two other women decided to kill her with a knife. And so there are already more than thirty women when we have not yet covered three quarters of the year. Thirty-three, exactly.
One feels that the loss of this person, the pain of his own and the repudiation of the miserable barbarian who has produced so much unjust and gratuitous harm should be the first consideration in everyone’s mind. From the simple ordinary citizen to the most exalted of the powerful, passing through the media that have the painful duty to inform us of the atrocities committed by individuals without brain or heart.
And yet, for some time now, what prevails in the reaction to these events is something different. As is the case with almost everything that happens between us, they are identified as one more opportunity to assert their own credit and try to erode as much as possible that of the political opponent. It is valid both for those who cry out against gender-based violence as a problem fueled by the insensitivity of those who do not have an approach to the problem one hundred percent coinciding with theirs, as well as for those who, on the other side of the ideological spectrum, take the opportunity to perpetrate that suspicious blow of condemning all violenceWhoever dies and kills whoever kills.
Some use the death of others to obliquely slide their accusation to those who do not subscribe to their ideology; the others to question, with a little less subtlety, the need to establish legal mechanisms that protect women from the violence that is notoriously suffered by the fact that they are. Thus they put themselves in the center of the news, to twist it towards their vision and their interests. And the true protagonist of the story, who is none other than the victim, the umpteenth woman and fellow citizen to whom we have failed, leaving her at the mercy of a kaffir who has assumed the abusive faculty of disposing of her, disappears and becomes invisible in the middle of that political-media fray.
This columnist has had to track down to find a profile of the victim who would approach his ill-fated humanity, to pay him homage, considering it as an end in itself, and not as a tool: that he put regret for having lost her before instrumentalization that can be made of his death. Let him tell us that he ran a bakery with his family, that he enjoyed the appreciation of his neighborhood, that the empanadas that are sold in his business are first-rate. That he looks at Mónica, and not what we can argue and / or sweep home on the occasion of her death, and that from both ends floods the networks and the headlines of the newspapers.
Knowing who he was and his history, among other things, invites us to wonder how it is possible that a subject who had already been singled out by justice for his mistreatment of two previous couples can continue to go as if such a thing out there, without warning of his proven dangerousness, until it ends up reaching the extreme of homicide in the person of an unsuspecting woman.
A case like this suggests that, beyond the tearing of clothes and the already anachronistic discussion about how much the law should protect women, in the face of the breakdown of too many male souls, in the management of the calamity that concerns us there are some details that are clearly improvable.
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