I often hear talk about how feminism has long since won in Russia. What else do these women need? - critics are indignant: there is voting rights, no one forbids driving a car, if you want to wear trousers or be a boss - who’s stopping you? These feminists are completely screwed! The next time you hear such speeches, remind your interlocutor about the rhetoric surrounding Russian girls and their behavior at the World Cup.
For several weeks now, the Internet has been literally on fire: a number of Russian men are discussing the “immoral” behavior of Russian women who allow themselves to have sex with foreign fans who came to the World Cup. Offended by the fact that their compatriots chose Brazilians and Iranians over them, Russian men call the girls “skins”, “Natashas” and “inkwells” (because they enter into relationships with men of an alternative skin color), offer to shave their heads, douse them with brilliant green and “punish” them. . The topic is so hot that even the famous Yuri Dud came out in defense of the girls with a column on sports.ru and called on them to “get behind them.” However, this did not help: as expected, an abyss opened up in the comments - the men are unhappy, and no Dud, despite his authority, will convince them. Militant-minded men are echoed by one of the main newspapers in the country, Moskovsky Komsomolets: it published on its website a column by Platon Besedin entitled, no less, “ Generation of whores: how Russian women disgrace themselves and the country» ( a day later the article was renamed “The Time of Whores...” - approx. ed.). Here are some quotes from this text and from comments on the Internet (I deliberately mixed them to demonstrate the level of rhetoric):
“You can say that it’s a shame for them. But, I’m afraid, the word “shame” here will look like an atavism. This feeling is unknown to many Russian girls in principle.”
“A girl is supposed to want: to have a family and a husband.”
“How many more Russian peasants will have to put skins with trailers on their necks from someone unknown?”
“The woman is not yours, the woman is no one’s, which means she is shared.”
“If we don’t want the image of Russia to be associated with a swindler looking for a foreign victim, then we need to act right now.”
How do you feel when you read these phrases? I feel rage. I am stunned by a feeling of monstrous injustice. The MK columnist calls an entire generation “whores” - to which I belong, and, probably, many of you. Unfamiliar men on the Internet claim ownership of all women: either you are “someone’s” or you are “common.” They consider themselves entitled to tell you what to look like and who to have sex with, just because they were born male and you were born female.
It’s even somehow awkward for me to explain why it’s absolutely normal to have sex with anyone, subject to mutual consent. That being interested in everything new and enjoying life is absolutely normal. That it is normal not to maintain virginity until marriage. Imagine the opposite situation: women suddenly began to en masse be outraged by the behavior of Russian men who sleep with whomever they want. Can't imagine this? Then what kind of victory for feminism can we talk about?
And so it turns out: it seems that we women have all kinds of civil rights, but some part of our compatriots still believe that we belong to them. They consider it their duty to insult us only because we make an absolutely normal choice as an adult: we decide with whom and how to spend the night. They do not consider it shameful to resort to violence: they call to “teach a lesson” and “punish” those who do not behave “chastely” enough. How do they explain their rights to us? The fact that we are future - or real - mothers, that the continuation of the family depends on us, and therefore we must behave in accordance with other people's - male - ideas about what is good. In their opinion, a woman is not an independent person, but a resource that society can freely dispose of, and the gender of this society is male.
The pleasant aroma of freshly baked sweets spread throughout the crowded cafe. Visitors ordered everything from buns with condensed milk, poppy seeds or even mustard. “Me, please, as usual,” said a very handsome guy, smiling welcomingly. Pink hair stuck out in different directions, giving him some kind of zest, as well as dark eyes, clearly unusually combined with his appearance. “Sorry, Natsu, but your favorite buns are gone,” the young cashier smiled guiltily, tucking a snow-white strand behind her ear. - How is it not? - the guy frowned, leaning slightly towards the counter. - They must be... they always have been. - So choose something else. We have a large selection. “I don’t want much choice,” the pink-haired man pouted offendedly, like a child. - I want my cinnamon treats. The girl sighed. Natsu was a regular customer at this cafe, so she knew very well what a lover of cinnamon rolls he was. The thin crispy crust, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, just melted in your mouth. The filling, consisting of only cinnamon, beckoned me to taste it. “Here,” the saleswoman handed him a bag of baked goods, which contained a bun with apples, lightly sprinkled with sugar. “But it’s not her,” the pink-haired man looked sadly at the bun. “At the expense of the cafe,” the girl smiled sweetly. - Now go have a snack. With a barely noticeable nod, the guy moved towards an empty table. Sitting comfortably, he looked at the pastries. “I’m not one of those who cheat on my taste, but listen, this is an emergency,” he said to the bun. The baked goods still continued to lie on a snow-white napkin, carefully listening closely in the words of the pink-haired one. - You do understand that after this everything will end for us? Without waiting for an answer, he bites the bun and then frowns. The taste is not the same. The feeling is not the same. The feelings are not the same... Involuntarily raising his gaze, Natsu freezes. Opposite him sat a young pink-haired girl, with a very lush forms. Large breasts hung down on the table, as did almost the girl’s chin. Short pink hair tied into two baby ponytails. Plump hands squeezed the bun he had just bitten off, and barely noticeable drool flowed from the corners of his lips. Natsu's insides tightened. Everything in my mouth was treacherously dry, my cheeks were flushed, and tears rolled into my eyes. This ruthless monster was eating his bun! His favorite bun! Jumping up sharply, the pink-haired one approaches the fat woman. “You are a monster,” Natsu exclaimed, clearly not understanding how you could torment the poor bun so insensitively. It must be eaten with soul, all love and tenderness. And not as if it were a piece of tasteless dough! The girl arched her eyebrow in surprise, but noticing the guy’s red cheeks, she smiled widely, which is why Natsu noticed pieces of unchewed food on the pink-haired girl’s teeth. “It’s not yours, that’s why you’re angry,” answered the plump girl, seductively licking her dry lips. Natsu swallowed hard, trying to control himself, but... Quickly leaning forward, he deftly grabbed a bun and headed towards the exit of the cafe. “Actually, I’m gay,” the guy answered proudly. “Or rather, I became one when I saw you,” he said over his shoulder, leaving the cafe and the confused girl.
A yogi-programmer is on trial in St. Petersburg. The defendant's name is Dmitry Ugay. There is something of Batman in him, because, like him, Dmitry lives a double life. For ordinary people, he is a mathematician and programmer who is interested in Indian philosophy, but in reality he is the great guru Shripad Bhakti Ashray Dandi Maharaj.
Dmitry Ugay ended up in court because of his calling. He actively spreads the ideas of the mysterious East. According to him, all his lectures are academic and secular in nature. But in classes we talk about “placing God in the Heart and achieving pure love.” The yoga programmer has followers. To support the teacher, they gathered together before the court hearing, shouted “Maharaj (great king), everything will be fine” and offered to hug. But the most important thing is that meetings with Dmitry Ugay did not seem secular to St. Petersburg resident Nail Nasibulin. He wrote a statement to the police after his wife and daughter fled to the “sect-esoteric circle” of Dmitry Ugay.
The case became resonant. Singer Sati Casanova expressed her outrage. On her Instagram, while criticizing what was happening and discussing the place of yoga in Russian society, she inadvertently mentioned Stalin’s repressions. Sati didn’t know that Stalin’s name had long become a calling spell. To summon the devil, Satanists recite a spell in Latin. To call on a liberal oppositionist it is enough to say STALIN. The magic words worked. Alexey Navalny commented on Sati Casanova’s post. Without further ado, he included the singer in his ranks. After all, it is obvious that the post is anti-government. At least to Navalny, for sure.
(Sati’s post: https://www.instagram.com/p/BPCENRJj7IN/?taken-by=satikazanova&hl=ru)
(Navalny’s post: https://navalny.com/p/5184/)
But it didn’t seem obvious to Sati Casanova. Additional clarification was required. And now there is a new post on her page, where she writes that she is raising a public discussion, and not playing politics. Quote: “I want to assure everyone that my post is in no way anti-government (!!!).” Someone will say that social activity is politics. Well, this man is deeply mistaken. After all, politics is primarily a struggle for power. All social activity is subordinated to this and only this goal. And believe me, Navalny understands this very well. For him, this whole scandal with yoga is something like firewood that he throws into the stove of the political machine. The firewood is burning, the flames of public indignation are flaring up, and on this energy Navalny, as a politician, continues to exist and move forward towards his cherished goal.
(2nd post by Sati: https://www.instagram.com/p/BPC9hYPD-3Q/?taken-by=satikazanova&hl=ru)
But Sati Casanova did not want to participate in the Game of Thrones. She talks about the need to determine the status of yoga, learn to separate yogis from sectarians, and they grab her hand and say: “Now you are with us. Bring your mat, today you will meditate on the barricades.”
The squad noticed the loss of a soldier. The god of provocation Ilya Varlamov left his comment. Without thinking twice, he turned on an old record, talking about slaves and citizens.
– Will you take up arms against the crazy government? – the revolutionary asks the singer.
“No,” she answers, perplexed.
- A! The chains get in the way. Okay, sit down slave.
Now let's get serious. The case brought against Dmitry Ugay did not appear out of nowhere. We once had complete freedom to brainwash anyone and everyone we wanted. The limit was Grobova, who convinced that he could resurrect the dead children of Beslan. With yoga it is even more difficult. Due to the abundance of Hindu terms, special philosophy and extreme decentralization, it became an excellent cover for totalitarian sects. Control is necessary, but it must be reasonable.
This is why a public discussion is needed, which Sati Casanova is trying to raise, but this is not another point in Navalny’s election program. The not-so-harmonious ranks of the opposition were not replenished with a popular singer. And now they're pissed.
