International Women’s Day emphasizes “her power” this year

In the context of the ongoing new crown epidemic, the world celebrated its 111th International Women’s Day on the 8th. In the past year, “her power” (ie female power) has become an irreplaceable part of the global fight against the new crown epidemic. However, a number of statistics show that the burden on women has increased during the epidemic, and the incidence of domestic violence has increased sharply, and the suicide rate has also soared. UN Women praised the tremendous efforts made by women around the world to help the world restart from the epidemic, and at the same time called for the advancement of a more inclusive and equal society.

The latest data from UN Women show that women account for more than 70% of global medical and health workers worldwide, and they are active in the front line of the fight against the epidemic. In China, two-thirds of the 42,000 medical staff who went to the frontline of the fight against the epidemic were women. Therefore, on the front line of the fight against the epidemic, “her power” should not be underestimated. South Korean President Moon Jae-in said on social media on the 8th, “Under the new crown crisis, women have become the support for us to overcome the crisis. I am deeply grateful for this.”

At the same time, the BBC said on the 8th that women are taking on more housework and family responsibilities due to the impact of the new crown epidemic. Bhatia, Deputy Executive Director of UN Women, said, “Before the COVID-19 pandemic, women’s unpaid working hours were more than three times that of men. I assure you that this number is now at least doubled.” Bhatia said worriedly, COVID-19 The epidemic may cause the status of global women to fall back 25 years.

In the United States, decades of hard work have allowed half of the country’s women to find jobs, but the new crown is eroding this achievement. According to data released by UN Women in November last year, during the epidemic, the proportion of women leaving the labor market was higher than that of men. According to the New York Times, in the industries most affected by the epidemic prevention measures, such as restaurants, bars and hotels, most of the employees are women. About half of professional women work part-time or contract workers. When the business declines, the company will lay off these employees first.

Bloomberg News reported on the 8th that Reinhardt, chief economist of the World Bank, said that the pandemic has made it more difficult for women to escape poverty. According to surveys, women in 38 countries may be fired just because they are pregnant.

When the train travels with more enthusiasm, in the golden light of the morning sun, the traveler is perplexed to see that the immense plain, the overwhelming Argentine plain, is suddenly depressed, as if by the effect of an enchantment. At the bottom of the depression, a multitude of cottages and ranches stand out among the groves. The landscape has suddenly taken on a rough and energetic air. The monotony of the plain, the smoothness of the lines prolonged to infinity, are translated into slopes and terraces populated by bushes, forests and brambles. A large and typical extra-urban population bustles{26}through that untimely landscape. The adobe houses, the straw huts, appear among the prickly pears. And the people, with their brown color and clearly Creole air, evoke in the imagination a world far removed from the faded European Buenos Aires. A little further on, at the bottom of the depression, occupying the strategic place of the valley, Córdoba appears.

First you can only see towers, protruding from the semi-hidden farmhouse. And those different towers, extemporaneous within the equality of the Pampas, are for the traveler a note full of sympathy, something like a providential find. Because the traveler, if he is of a somewhat artistic nature, loves precisely those things that deviate from the ordinary, and especially those things that have evocative force. And could there be something so evocative, like an army of towers rising above a historic city? In each tower there is a world of memories, beliefs, controversies or fanaticism: few things exist in the world, indeed, that suggest such a sum of ideas and contrasts as some towers raise{27}taking over a city. And since the city of Córdoba appears to the viewer so bristling with huge towers, one soon imagines the historical depth that must exist in that inner town, located in the very center of the old viceroyalty.

The towns are divided, like the people, into two categories: there is the category of vulgar cities, and that of typical cities, intoned, with their own flavor. As soon as the traveler enters the streets of Córdoba, he realizes that he is in a personal city with a pronounced character.

As I walk through the streets, nothing prevents me from assuming that I am wandering through one of those historic cities in the south of Spain. The multitude of churches, the discreet walls of the convents, the peace of the silent streets, the mystery of the old walls, above which a flowering tree appears; and at the bottom of those empty, silent, clean streets, some isolated window, with its artistic grille, and a flower hanging from the bars of the grille … All of this is very European, very old, and above all very Spanish.{28}Even church people take on a strange look. The priests do not dress like the dapper abates of Buenos Aires, they do not wear the tight redingot, the hat with a short, flat brim, the cane in hand; this air of worldliness is not desired by the priests of Córdoba. They do not try to hide their status, as if they were ashamed to wear too gloomy and too anachronistic costumes, among the carefree people of cosmopolitanism. On the contrary, the priests of Córdoba remain faithful to the cassock, and the wide mantle, and the bombastic hat, the classic “tile” hat. There are also friars of different orders, some with a brown habit, others with a white habit, and some with both colors, brown and white. And they pass gravely through the streets, without shyness, without fear of the irony of disbelieving cosmopolitanism; rather, rather with the gesture and composure of one who feels within his legitimate fiefdom. And there are also many, many women who wear diverse habits, incomprehensible to the layman. There are them dressed in brown; others dress{29}in white, with a blue head cloak; others combine white with black; and others, finally, on the pink dress they put their sky blue cloak. The traveler is astonished, perplexed, at the colorful variety of Cordoba’s feminine habits. Here is a city that possesses to a high degree the instinct of color, so denied to many painters.

And the bells? Since I left the shores of Europe I had not heard the sound of the bells. In Europe mystical bronzes are very popular. Our hearing is as vitiated by that they are a little gloomy, but also a reminder of many childhood scenes. I felt a certain emptiness in me. But in Córdoba I have once again become saturated with that familiar sound. The bells of Córdoba ring numerous, stubborn, at all hours. The chimes come from near, from afar, from all sides. The bell of the cathedral, mainly, rings in a grave and religious way; It is a venerable son, not exempt from pride; it rings with the authority of something that feels legitimate, necessary, inseparable from the tradition of the city. When{30}the bell rings, a flock of pigeons emerges from the folds and churrigueresque drawings that crown the great central dome; the poor ecclesiastical doves have not been able to get used to the solemn tone of the bell; the mysticism of the white doves believes that there is greater religious sweetness in the blue ether than in the sad voice of bronze; and while the church, to communicate with God, uses the voice of the bell, the doves take flight, ascend through the clear air, and it is as if they wanted to plunge into the blue firmament, the immense lap of God.

But at the same time that these things speak to the imagination of the old Spanish cities, other things suggest contrary images, of a strong American air. Entering Córdoba is when the traveler comes to understand what a heroic city was in times of absolute criollismo. The band of Argentina that overlooks the sea and the wide river, is losing, or has completely lost its Creole aspect: among the immigrants, the warehouses, the auctioneers, the English plows and the copies of Paris, they have qui{31}added to that band its traditional varnish. But in Córdoba there is civilization, there is work, there is business, and yet it retains its traditional tone. He resembles those heroes, of long lineage, of rich and inherited fortune, who know how to receive recent fashions, but without renouncing their manners and stately customs.

There is, without a doubt, something in the environment of Córdoba, something that cannot be touched or hardly defined, and that to be expressed requires the use of the difficult word, the word seldom licit: the word stately. What is the manor? There is a really difficult name. The common people, and also those who are not common, want to apply that name to things and people that God damn if they deserve it. Seigniorial is not what has wealth, as the common people suppose; many rich people walk the world who have not had the slightest contact with the stately. The lavish is not stately either. You can have many costumes, many palaces, many trunks of English horses, much silverware, much lavishness, and yet you may not be{32}manorial. The stately means noble, and this noble is a compound of culture, intelligence, art, courtesy, kindness, discretion, measure, chivalry, good taste, calm, knowing how to limit oneself, fleeing. of exaggeration as of the devil, of not indulging in the latest fashion childishly, of departing from the “snob” and of always preserving the prestige of his personality … I will dare to affirm that all these attributes are possessed by the city of Córdoba.

It is clear that for many neglected spirits Córdoba seems a bit stale; it has a provincial flavor, and this makes cosmopolitans wink. But it is necessary to bow with respect to the cities that do not want to plunge into the equalizing whole; before the peoples who believe in history, in national personality, in inherited and transmittable prestige. For my part, I do not deny that I am given great consideration by the tree that stands out in the forest, the beautiful or ugly bush, which breaks the monotony of a field, the man who dares to carry{33}a hat different from the others, or simply the one that is taller, is smaller or has a more exaggerated bald spot than the others. Being different, in these times when tailors, municipal ordinances and hoteliers strive to make us symmetrical, denotes courage and faith, and both virtues are among the highest of all that are offered for our consideration.

An example of that noble, stately discretion, we have it in the university, thrice glorious. The University of Córdoba tells of his life for centuries; The first professors of the viceroyalty and the republic have taught in its classrooms; bishops, generals, magistrates, presidents, and the nation’s most distinguished writers have studied in those same classrooms. The intellectual life of Argentina, in what it has of ancestry and history, can be said to have been born on the banks of the Cordovan university. Another less discreet city would have given its university a bombastic, superbly monumental appearance; would have put on a bombastic facade, with many{3. 4}lights, statues and inscriptions, and a kind of moldings made of cement would have astonished the poor passerby. This is not the case in Córdoba. The University of Córdoba, despite its prestige, offers a modest appearance. It is necessary to go looking for it, and look for it well in the corner of a secluded street, to find it. No bombastic facades. A classic style front, a medium door, a small foyer, and that’s it. In the center the courtyard offers a conventual aspect, with its cloister of semicircular columns. A small garden fills the patio with its pleasant greenery. The classrooms open onto the corridor of the cloister, and in those classrooms, on pine benches, the students sit. It is understood that everything is the same, since ancient times. The university has not wanted to abandon itself to the follies of modern ostentation.

Sympathy is an ineffable feeling.{35}It is a nice thing to us, and why we do not know how to say it many times. I will always keep a kind memory of the city of Córdoba. A quick visit, which lasted two days, is not useful, it is clear, to penetrate the depths of a town; but I prefer to stick to my fleeting impression, since it is auspicious. The central square, so beautiful and clean; the well-kept streets; the discreet and elegant houses; the distinction of everything, the same of the stones as of the people. And the modesty and silence of the adjacent streets, those charming streets where you cannot see busy crowds; there where the repose is so complete that the voice of an indoor piano can be heard distinctly, the laughter of invisible girls, even the rustling of the leaves of the orange trees and the oleanders that appear over the walls.

At night the city is wrapped in calm and silence. At the time when the last color of the day fades, when the light from the stars fills the space with poetry, the air of Córdoba has a transparency, a soft freshness, an unspeakable sound. The ru{36}The life of the streets does not disturb that calm with its stupid noise. It is time for people to walk slowly, with a careless and disinterested manner. Then the whole city seems sunk in rest and kindness. The air becomes loud. The women come out onto the balcony and their voices animate the street, like a sound coming from behind, from a time when there were no railways or newspapers. And the end of summer air is embalmed with the smell of country herbs. Finally, there is time and space to look at the sky and to engage in a work as divine as that of counting the stars in the sky. The soul abandons itself to semi-dream ideas. The soul rests.