On Impeachment, Class Consciousness, and Sad Women

What a time to be alive!

The day they officialized the impeachment of the first female (and leftish) Brazilian president was the day that I first heard about Crystal Pepsi. What a great metaphor for something being transparent yet we not knowing for sure what’s in it.

It was also the day that I worked 14 hours in 9 because I had spent the day before too sad to think straight and get work done, even while sitting at my desk in the office.

Because I wouldn’t stop to get decent food, I had two Cup Noodles and a can of Coke for lunch at 4pm. Contemporary working class style. You cannot afford to get too sad, you’ll pay with more than just time and work.


I’ve started reading a Portuguese translation of Beauvoir’s La Pensée de Droite, Aujourd’hui and it gets me uncomfortable. Her strong hopeful spirit expresses certainty regarding the fall of the bourgeoisie and what she calls Western Civilization, or even Capitalism by the hands of spreading (at the time) Communism, or the Other Civilizations.

Yet here we are, 60 years later, and it doesn’t feel like they’ve lost a thing.

Not that this is a game of win and lose. I bet I’d feel less like I’m losing it if I hadn’t had two disgusting Cup Noodles yesterday. But with that and the impeachment, it feels like they’re still on it and enjoying themselves while we slave to death and cope with the sadness of growing up knowing that wealth distribution is unfair and not knowing what to do about it. Then when you think someone has a plan for it, even if for the longest of runs, they manage to kick her out.


On Christmas 1994 me and my sister got a dollar store doll each and our brother got a dollar store box of plastic letters to form words. The three of us got a small colored chest for our pacifiers. I didn’t use one anymore by then, but who’s about to argue with Santa?

I still have Santa’s letter, which I struggled to read aloud to my siblings that night. Santa talked about inflation and about how amazing we were and about how he wanted to give us all the toys in the world but money was an issue for everyone at that point, including Santa. He urged us to become good grownups and help with it.

I thought the doll was pretty. I had no idea what inflation meant.

I only noticed how cheap the doll looked after the letter.

I also couldn’t help but notice Santa and Mom had very similar handwriting. The fact that she didn’t bother disguising it, along with the pacifier chest, made me feel underestimated and angry.


I feel like the letter was best suiting for who we are now, not for the children we were. She was always awful with children. Too candid, too coarse, and scaringly moody.

Until now I had always thought that she was stupid for doing that Santa thing. She was a Materialist, why endorse Santa? It didn’t make sense to me as a kid, it didn’t suit her, I couldn’t see why.

Today I know how much it means that she was trying to soften up a bit.

She was just playing, and at age 5 I was already so defensive I didn’t get it.


The HR lady came in this week to announce a small (“but significant”) salary readjustment. She said that this is the highest inflation rate in the country since 1994 and that the company cares about us and wants to keep us in. It’s hard on all of us, they’ve even had a decrease in profits.

The angry child in me still thinks they’re stupid. A decrease in profits still means profit and profit means exploitation, according to Mom (and Marx?).

The grown up in me makes herself acknowledge this is way better than not having a job, or a salary readjustment, at this point in History.


I bet that if I had children right now I’d be traumatizing the hell out of them, too, even if only with my sad, angry, mean looks.

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