When I spoke to the editors of Ser Argentino to define the topic of the week, the complaint of rape of minors against Juan Darthes arose almost unanimously. And, as always happens with such complex topics (that's why they are the topic of the week, because we can't exhaust them in a single installment), there are plenty of approaches to give to the same situation. And in this particular, I think many more than usual. The one I want to work on this note is one of the most sinister ones to me. Some, in that nest of snakes that are social media, came out to say that why Thelma Fardin went out to report her rape (when he was a minor, I insist on this) ten years after it happened. As it seems that the trauma caused by a rape when you are a baby is not enough to take a while to be able to prosecute it, others (unfortunately, the vast majority of them were others), replied that a big stumbling block that those who make such complaints have to overcome is that they do not believe them. Like reporting that you were raped was the same as reporting that you were robbed of a Zanella. As if shame, helplessness, frustration, fear and uncertainty did not reach. Victims of gender-based violence (mostly domestic) insist on the same. It's so terrible what happens that the psyche sometimes strives to minimize it. As he doesn't get it, look for blame on the victim, an individual version of “something will have done” that turns into “something will have done.” If once they managed to find the courage necessary to advance they face that they do not believe them, the devastation is total. That is why, dear readers (men and women), I ask you a favor: always create the victim. Always. Will there be any cases of false reporting? It may be. But they are very few, they are not enough to question the rest (in fact, yesterday I read that statistically 0.6% of the allegations of rape are false, but since I don't know the source of the study, I don't want to state it). Let's not make the abused process more difficult. Let's create them. Always.
Hipólito Azema nació en Buenos Aires, en los comienzos de la década del 80. No se sabe desde cuándo, porque esas cosas son difíciles de determinar, le gusta contar historias, pero más le gusta que se las cuenten: quizás por eso transitó los inefables pasillos de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras de la Universidad de Buenos Aires. Una vez escuchó que donde existe una necesidad nace un derecho y se lo creyó.