Growing Together🌱

But Suzanne Collins has the AUDASITY to create a prequel to the trilogy, make it more than worthy mentioning and you expect me not to SCREAM that I want more books?

Like I want the whole story of Finnick and Annie what really happened in the Arena, how did she ‘crept up on him’ how e v e r y t h i n g, I want the whole story of Haymitch and how things ended up the way they did and you bet that I want to see more of Johanna Mason.

This small, dark-haired Seam girl, making a scene at the reaping. Drawing the Capitol’s attention in the parade, and in the interviews, and with her training score. Haunted by tragic love as she enters the arena. Singing to Rue as she dies, and adorning her body with a rainbow of flowers. Cheating the Games to bring her and Peeta out alive.

And then - unwillingly - figureheading a revolution. Being hailed the mockingjay - the very thing that Snow so hated, that he so passionately wanted destroyed. Refusing to relinquish her own agency, refusing to play the Capitol’s game by its rules. Singing The Hanging Tree, by the lake. Dancing with Prim at Finnick and Annie’s wedding, spinning around the room to folk music.

based on a true story

Today is a historic day in my country, we’re fed up with gender violence in Mexico. They’re killing us. Picture this, you can’t walk outside your own house because you fear the worst, you fear that your clothes are too revealing, you fear that you’re too alone, you fear that you’re walking the wrong streets. Day after day you wake up to the news of another feminicide. They’re killing us. You see it, you hear it, you fear it. What if I’m the next one? You’re always wondering. They’re killing us. 

10 women are killed every day, only because they’re women. And it doesn’t matter where we are, what we’re wearing, who we are. It’s not our fault, because they keep killing us. 

If we keep up at this rate? What’ll be of us? 

Yesterday we marched. 

(None of the pictures are mine) 

 “I march because I’m alive and I don’t know until when.” 

“Today, all our voices aren’t together because, from death, one can’t scream.” 

“We’re not hysteric, we’re historic.” 

“Mom, if you don’t find me, look up for me in the stars.” 

Yesterday we screamed. We flourished. 

“Mom, don’t worry, today I’m not alone in the streets.” 

Our monuments bled to represent us. 

We screamed. 

But not today, today march 9th 2020. We silenced ourselves. 

Today, we disappeared. No social networks, not a single woman in the streets, not a single woman working, not a single woman studying, not a single woman at any store.

What would Mexico be without us? If you don’t want us in the streets, fine we’ll disappear.

Without us, you’ll collapse. 

Mexico woke up with no women ticket-sellers in the subway stations, no women tellers at the bank. 

No women’s column on the newspapers. 

No women at their jobs. 

No women at school. 

No women on the streets.

Mexico woke up with no women. 

We can’t accept what we can’t change, but we will change what we can’t accept.