In which soil does the violence of patriarchy bloom? And what connects the sexual
violence so often dramatized on stage with the violence enacted beyond it? In one of the
scenes, Carolina invites a director to the stage, he is a manifestation of the patriarchal
ideology that some artists approach art with. She interviews him, he talks about his art and
how he goes about making it.
How well he embodies the status quo with his mere presence. Patriarchy made flesh.
Can you guess the artists that ‘inspire’ him?
In this performance, Carolina’s words radiate all through the auditorium and reach the
audience, they leave a mark as they pass through me.
How can mere speech affect my body this way? Hearing Carolina's voice made me
tremble unexpectedly. Like a cold wind that foretold the coming winter, her words staggered
me, blew through me and left a lasting chill to contemplate on after.
Perhaps, words hold more weight when the body who wrote them also speaks them.
Perhaps, unlike what the cynic says, words do have power, power to move, to elevate and
ascend the consciousness that they touch, to make one “know thyself”, to make you
reconsider your profession from an angle which you don’t perceive because you’re a “man.”
Perhaps, embodied language is more accessible than I thought it could be.
Dear Carolina,
The more I think of your performance, the more I recall…
The way you were looking for hope without actually giving any.
The way you laid bare the theatre and art structures that we are part of, or are the audience of.
The way you emphasized how you, us, are not alone against the brotherhood!
Throughout the performance, I was out of breath, only when it finished, could I
breathe again, and what fresh air I tasted then…
Thank you for this experience, for suffocating me with ugly truth, the kind that needs to be
reminded often so that the ones who do not suffer it, do not forget it