We defended our thesis a few days ago (by “we”, I mean my best friend and I, we worked together). On the weekend before the defence, my mom offered to take me to my favourite shop for buying some new clothes to wear on that special day. I fell immediately for a red shirt that looked perfect on me, I hesitate about even try it on, and my mom hesitated on buying it: “You look great on that shirt but… its red you know…” In an irrational glance, we finally decided to take it. Everyone at home had similar reactions: “It’s beautiful…but red” – “So are you definitely sure about wearing red for your thesis defence?” On the night before the defence, instead of doing what I supposed to do (which was to read and study my 200 pages of my thesis one more time); I gave a suspicious look to the tempting but apparently inconvenient red shirt. Then I thought that after all, the whole faculty including my friend and thesis partner, my tutor and the jury are quite aware of my political stances so there’s nothing to be scared of. After all, it seems that the worse thing it can happen to you if you wear a red shirt, is to be confused with a Revolution – Chavez (gives the same) supporter; that can be a very harsh stigma sometimes. I finally fall sleep and in just a few hours I was ready: with my hair straightened, with more make up that what I usually dare to wear in the mornings, with my shoes cleaned, my pants pressed and my shining brand new red shirt plus a pair of earrings that matched.
And then, at the university, something extraordinary happened: no one even bothered on my red shirt; everyone simply wished me good luck and said I looked pretty. They had the same reaction they would have if they see me wearing a blue, purple or green shirt. The jury didn’t give me an odd look, perhaps they just laughed because of nervous temper. They asked loads of questions, we gave loads of answers. And they soon gave the verdict: 19 points in a scale of 1- 20. Of course I wanted the 20, but 19 is it not that bad.
After that, I randomly walked through campus, feeling that I finally stopped being a student, feeling that this stage of my life is pretty much over and a new one is beginning.
I looked again at my new red shirt and I thought about the red masses supporting the president, the red ads promoting the Revolution and threatening its opponents, the red shirts that public employees, students with scholarships, or people who has received any benefit from a government social program or mission; is forced to wear in order to receive what it needs from the Revolution, the red dresses the Revolutionary wives wear on big parties, the almost sick way the opposition has avoid wearing red, having red cars etc, as their way to make a stance against the Revolution, the image of a student taking off the red shirt at the National Assembly when the Student Movement began…
I secretly counted the students who were wearing at least a red sweater and I noticed that same as my student years, the red-phobia that haunted us for so many years it’s probably over too. Now my university usually goes to demonstrations wearing red t-shirts with messages against the government (every university from the Student movement has a colour for demonstrations, for example: the Simón Bolívar goes in yellow, and the Metropolitana in orange) and I just wear a red shirt on the most important day of my career: my thesis defence.
You might think that I’m making a big deal because of something as simple as a colour. But one can never sub estimate the power of symbols. If the red stop meaning a lot here, if the red goes back to be just a pretty colour to wear and not a political weapon; the Revolution will lose some symbolic power. The red does not longer belong in an exclusive way to the Revolution. Same as red, maybe there’s a lot of things that does not longer belong to the Revolution as well. Maybe one day my hopes for the future, for the adult life I’m just starting to build, does not belong to the caprice of the ones who are currently ruling my country.