In the winter of 2002, as our parents hummed that harrowing litany of currency conversion -six euros are 1000 pesetas, 6 euros are 1000 pesetas-teenagers millennialsStill free from the generational label that would sentence us to infantilized precariousness, we dreamed of a future in which everything was possible through the first edition of Triumph operation, that talent that turned construction workers into stars. Although we boasted of having a very refined musical criterion, we endured the musical rehash of each gala without too much fuss, and that is that the music was the least of it: what we wanted, now that in our pockets clinking European coins, was to delight ourselves with the miracle of social advancement, because the success of those 16 kids should predict ours.
We hit the crisis before the Show stop broadcasting and we cancel any kind of nostalgia. During the time when we chained internship contracts or went to learn English in the latrines of the United Kingdom, we celebrated the falls in disgrace of the triumphs and turned the most emblematic numbers of its first edition into a karaoke repertoire, I suppose out of revenge but then the years passed, fifteen years, exactly, and with a new generation -the Z- labeled and ready for consumption, the program returned to our grills. I received the news with indifference and tried to ignore the phenomenon, but in the end I couldn't.
It was October 2017 and I was living on Twitter, watching feminism jump from the margins to mass public debate at the speed at which everything happens in the cyber world, and in that state of continuous stupor, in the middle of that anomaly return zeitgeist, it could not be ignored that the accounts that conquered a daily TT for gender activism were the same ones that viralized content about the participants of the new OT. It was as if our soldiers, instead of glancing at the Brand When they were out of service, they would rest their eyes with the YouTube channel of the reality. So, with the anthropological distance with which I allow myself to incur guilty pleasures, I fell into the hype And I found that my intuition was correct, that the rise of feminism in networks and the rise of OT were not merely contemporary phenomena, but symbiotic like the literary classic and its short adaptation for children.
Right now, being a writer, young woman, and feminist works to infiltrate the system openly.
While the unreal world of Twitter questioned the victim of the Pack and was filled with testimonies of women who had also been assaulted without the word “no”, in the unreal world of OT they defended their underarm armpits and suits. design against sexist violence. The anonymous activism was doing the fieldwork and the show was filtering the speech, aestheticizing it and encapsulating it for an audience that broke records weekly, so everyone was happy. Radicality was assumed to stay on the doorstep, like those talented and charismatic contestants who don't make it to the end of the casting, or so it had been, at least, until they let journalist Anna Pacheco sneak into the Academy. Her talk on March 2 about the need for an anti-capitalist and intersectional feminism, viralized under the seal of OT and RTVE, represents an enemy infiltration into the bowels of the system, because as much as it has washed its face with the values of generation Z, the format of the talent show it remains, by definition, the marketing of the Neoliberal Dream, the myth of the self-made star live and direct. The scandal aroused in a sector of public opinion, which came to request the closure of TVE for spreading Pacheco's speech, shows the implosion. That it is not the first nor will it be the last.
For a few months, a trend has been installed in the Spanish cultural world whose operation is somewhat reminiscent of OT. A young writer with a little commercial literary project issues statements that offend the right and her institutional representatives publicly rebuke her, making her name and work visible at levels often unattainable for the best of the editorial press departments. It happened with Cristina Morales as a result of her statements about Catalonia after winning the National Narrative Prize, was repeated with Elizabeth Duval who, at only 19 years old, is the revelation of the season with her first novel, Queen, and it has happened again with Anna Pacheco, whose Beautiful, smart, clean has gone to press for its fifth reprint. It is symbolically beautiful, due to the irony of this system that absorbs them to repudiate them and that in doing so allows them to place their subversive discourses in the nucleus, that the three authors are part of the catalog of the Trojan Horse publishing house, because that is what they have become . It seems that right now, being a writer, young and feminist works as a safe-conduct to infiltrate the besieged city without even having to act as a double agent, face to face, and it is only a matter of time before we discover the true infectious capacity of this plague. . Attending to the quality of the texts, and believing very strongly in the transformative capacity of the literary, I predict it enormously.