March 8, 2021
Many and Beautiful Years, on “Women’s Day”
Women’s day?
But when is it not women’s day?
Do we need a particular reason to venerate Life, to praise Beauty, to sing of Love?
For you, ladies, for love and longing of you, empires have risen and civilisations have fallen apart, libraries of verse and song have been written, the strings and the voices of poets have been worn out… for you, for you alone, happens everything that happens in the world.
That is why you truly have no need of one particular day, for every day of the year is yours.
This socialist-progressive festival, begun at the outset of the century of horrors, was nothing but the occasion for taking you down from the pedestal on which you were glorified and casting you into factories and workshops, onto battlefields and into men’s labours and hardships — all under the pretext of the equality promoted by feminism.
But you, ladies, are in no way our equals. You never were.
You were, and you remain, ideals, dreams, memories, beauty itself made flesh.
How could you be our equals?
The height of it is that in our days the same progressive forces wish to dethrone you from your station as muses too, trying pitifully to plagiarise even your biological appearance, bringing you as “equals” all manner of impostors, wanderers and madmen who, in the teeth of biological evidence, would steal from you even the privilege of being… a woman.
No, I do not celebrate the eighth of March.
I celebrate you, ladies.
Every day.
Many and beautiful years to you.
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