We are making our way through this city where every third passer-by crosses the wheel and asks - are they sons? I started saying that they are sons because I am no longer interested in explaining that they are not sons - in this case I resorted to the strategy of lying - it is a lie for the common good, and the common good is not to break any of those curious noses. I don't want to end up in Spuška prison as a kabadahiya who makes girls' children and doesn't have the guts to withstand peer criticism.
So my daughters and I transvested - the rules of the street almost turned us into beings of the other gender - the fact that I push a stroller diminishes my masculinity, because it distances me from the macho ideal that pushes a full bed of hairy testicles, while my favorites without the right to vote become boys, in order to dads made conversation with intrusive passers-by easier.
But then, one morning, I took the machine gun, just like that, it came to me, slung it over my shoulder and started down the street, to see if anyone would have the guts to ask me what half my children were. From that moment on, no one looks me in the eyes, no one looks at the stroller, the girls walked calmly and dad can now say with satisfaction that life is going on happily. Until the moment I took my fate in my hands, reached out for a threat, this poor and pitiful kasaba harassed me at every step.
I have to admit something, first to myself, and then to others. Much more often, I was asked about the gender of the child by women. It's like that in Podgorica, I don't know how it is in other addresses. The women here are smiling, laughing softly, as if they gave birth to my children. You don't see any evil on their faces, on the contrary, they are so kind and loving that I could calmly hand over the babies to them to look after while I go to buy ammunition.
Really, who hasn't wondered yet, whether the aunts on the street are purposefully carrying out fascism and misogyny, or are they just pussies who have grown up like that. Are these women included in the words they say when they say - to have two sons, of course! Is it pure folklore, like when we talk about the weather or football. On the faces of those ladies, I recognize the faces of my loved ones, I see simple hard-working aunts who have no idea about the theory of human rights. Most of those aunts look like they've never thought abstractly in their lives. But is there anything more abstract than recipes, I think, and they all do so well in the kitchen that it seems to me that their brains are much more prone to deduction than mine. And then I take up arms again because I realize that the heathen language of those primitive women is actually dangerous for my little girls who did not deserve to be attacked in the street.
I don't use any of the established models of communication with higher powers, but if I knew an effective prayer, for Manito to clear someone's mind, I would opt for the Montenegrin women who removed the fetus because the doctor did not see some kind of mini penis in the eighth/ninth week of pregnancy. And nothing actually needs to be seen, the examination is called cordocentesis and that's it invasive technique of taking fetal blood from the umbilical cord. The aim of the examination in normal people is to determine that the fetus is healthy. In patients, this examination serves the same purpose, except that patients consider it unhealthy if it is a woman. What's even more miserable, what gives me goosebumps, is that those monsters who chase male children are usually screwed-up traditionalists, that is, sworn opponents of any anti-church activity, including abortion. But everything has its limits - when the third daughter is born, and then, brother, let the pope see through his fingers - the church must also be considerate of the human need to continue the lineage.
I imagine those reptiles in human form think of their last name as something very important. How their faces cringe as soon as they realize that when they die, there will be no heir left to carry on their family name. They think their last name means something. Because of those poor Montenegrin surnames, 110 male babies out of 100 female babies are born in Montenegro. The poor women who marry such bastards usually go to Serbia to have an abortion, so that the village wouldn't find out. They are right there next to us and it is not written on their foreheads how disturbed the life principle they follow.
That's why when those kind grandmothers stop me on the street and ask if it's a boy, I can't help but think that they are the ones who raised sons and daughters to kill unborn daughters in order to give birth to sons. And that's the real truth about the Montenegrin standard of living - Montenegro is the world leader, among several countries with misogynistic pathology, together with Azerbaijan, Vietnam and Albania, where more chickens are born and everything flourishes, just like here.
Of course no one can see my machine gun, I carry it on my shoulder only figuratively, to make myself feel safer among the crazy cleaners of female fetuses whose tools I can't see either. But they are there, around us, on the street, on television, there are some of them among successful and recognized personalities. Montenegro lacks 3.000 women of reproductive age. In 2020, there should be 8.000 fewer women in Montenegro compared to the norm. The Council of Europe has warned the authorities that selective abortions are grave barbarism. But nobody got too excited, simply, we have other things to worry about.
Bonus video:
