(source: Sme - Jozef Jakubčo)
I hope that when you’re 24 years old you will only smile about all this, perhaps condescendingly.
I hope this text will not be lost in the virtual smog by then and that you will find it. I am writing it for you, because I know how easy it is to forget things you only see from your perspective of 99 centimetres.
You will read it as a glimpse into the past, with a mixture of amused awe and anger about how we live here. Much like the way I view movies from the sixties, where men, with a fancy fountain pen, solemnly signed off on big decisions typed out on an old-style typewriter by a woman.
I hope that when you’re reading this sometime in 2039, you find it unbelievable that only 20 years before we were still discussing whether a woman had a chance of achieving something; that she is not facing the obstacles arising from her own inability or laziness, but the mere biological fact that she is a woman; that we have led a debate based on some people’s perverted view that a woman candidate should probably apologise to all her competitors first, for her mere presence in this political moment.
