Imagine that when you leave your house, no matter where you go, people throw tomatoes at you. Sometimes they throw them hard enough to really hurt, often not, but they still leave their watery mark on you, making you feel a bit grubby.
Sometimes it's shiny little cherry tomatoes that bounce off the top of your head, annoying but no real harm done, and sometimes it's great big mouldy fuckers that slap filth across your face.
You used to politely ask them to stop, even joke about it, but nothing ever really changed. It's persistent, every day, and every evening you go home and wash off all the dirt.
You cheer yourself up behind the safety of your front door and you start thinking. Why am I being attacked with fucking tomatoes all day? Have these people got nothing better to do? Sure I like the odd one in a salad, but not hurled at me when I'm minding my own business. Why would they think that I want tomatoes thrown at me? I never asked. Is it me? Is it the way I dress? The way I walk down the street?
No. Most of these people don't want to offer you sustenance, or a nice snack. They don't want to make you smile, or feel good. They just want to make a little ketchup, to make a mess, to see the reaction, to see how hard or well they can throw. And to show you that nothing you do or say will stop them throwing those damned tomatoes.
http://therepresentationproject.org/films/miss-representation/
No comments:
Post a Comment