-_ Yesterday They Killed Me _-_ 02/22/2016

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   Today, 1 year and 9 days ago, the double crime of the two young Argentinian travelers Marina Menegazzo and María José Coni was comitted.

   A murder that never ceases to fill me with rage, impotence and sadness because two heartless people decided to extinguish forever the radiant smile from these two innocent angels.

   Two human waste that after offering them shelter in their home, drug them and try to sexually abuse them, and in the face of their refusal, they decided to break her skull with a stick to one of them and to stab and let bleeding out to the other .

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   A trip with a backpack that passed in one of its sections through Ecuador, by hand, without planning, letting go of dreams to fulfill, full of anecdotes, experiences to share, to tell, hopes to pursue, mutual trust and a noble deposit of faith in the people.

   And two dark shadows swallowed and extinguished forever their warm and bright lights.

   Wrapping them in dark sealing wrap and putting them in black garbage bags to later throw their bodies on one of the beaches of Ruta del Sol, very visited by foreign tourists.

   Their corpses were found almost 1 week after the murders occurred and the state of decomposition was such that the medical examiner assured that the sex of the corpses could not be determined.

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   Do you know what is one of the saddest things? That both the opinion of the society of the country and that of the same government made it clear through statements in social networks and various public media, that it was postulated in favor of all this had been their fault, for trusting people, for going alone, for dressing provocatively (according to them), for giving cause to think to the murderers that they could have sex that night, etc...

   How the hell, do I think, can someone be so mindless and insensitive to sentence that way a crime of this magnitude, and not only do not try to alleviate the pain of the close friends or parents of these girls but also delve into it, drilling even deeper into that well of pain that will never be dry.

   And not only that, since in addition, said statements, said mentality, continue to try to subjugate the feminine gender, encouraging machismo in society and promoting that it may be thought that even these killers are not as guilty as they are in reality of the terrible and inexcusable facts that they'd committed.

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   I share with you a fragment of the letter whose title also gives the title to this publication and that wrote her author Guadalupe Acosta both to recall them and to raise the voice against machismo, against gender violence and against injustices at this level.

   Yesterday they killed me.

   I refused to be touched and with a stick my skull got burst. They stabbed me and let me die bleeding out.

   Like a waste they put me in a bag of black polyethylene, wrapped me up with packing tape and I was thrown to a beach where hours later they found me.

   But worse than death, it was the humiliation that came after.

   From the moment they had my inert body, nobody wondered where was that son of a bitch that ended my dreams, my hopes, my life.

   No, they started asking useless questions. To me, can you imagine? A dead woman, who can not speak, who can not defend herself.

   What clothes did you wear?

   Why were you walking alone?

   How is a woman going to travel without company?

   You got into a dangerous neighborhood, what did you expect?

   They questioned my parents, for giving me wings, for letting me be independent, like any human being. They told them that we sure were walking around drugged and that we looked for it, that we did something, that they should have been supervising us.

   And only dead I understood that not, that for the world I am not equal to a man. That dying was my fault and it will always be. While if the headlines prayed that those who were killed were two young men travelers, people would be commenting their condolences while with their false and hypocritical double moral speech would ask for greater punishment for the murderers.

   But being a woman, it's minimized. It becomes less serious, because of course, I looked for it to happen. Doing what I wanted I found my deserved by not being submissive, by not wanting to stay in my house, for investing my own money in my dreams... For that and much more, they condemned me.

   And I grieved, because I am no longer here. But you are. And you're a woman. And you have to get bored, keep rubbing the same "make yourself respected" speech, that it's your fault that they yell at you wanting to touch/lick/suck on some of your genitals in the street for wearing shorts with 40 degrees of heat; That if you travel alone you are a "crazy" and very surely if something happened to you, if you trampled your rights, you looked for it.

   I ask you that for me and for all the women that were also shuts up, silenceds, screwed up our lives and our dreams, to raise our voices. We're going to fight, I'm at your side, in spirit, and I promise that one day we will be so many, that there will not be enough rubbish bags to keep us all muteds.

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   It is for all this, for this injustice and for keeping alive your memory that I write this in your name Marina and María José.

   Because some of us do not forget you or the terrible events committed.

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In your memory Marina and Maria Jose and because whereever you are at no one will take away your radiant smile again.

Rest In Peace.

Sources:

http://internacional.elpais.com/internacional/2016/02/29/america/1456783042_957738.html

http://www.bbc.com/mundo/noticias/2016/05/160506_argentina_jovenes_fueron_drogadas_montanita_bm

https://lamenteesmaravillosa.com/ayer-me-mataron-la-carta-memoria-las-viajeras-argentinas-asesinadas-ecuador/