Women's Hell
I wonder what a man feels when a huge crowd has gathered outside his house to shout out their anger at the decisions he has made. Does he scratch his gray head with concern, wondering: what have I done? Or is he paralyzed with fear, sensing that in a moment they will break down the door and drag him out into the street in his shirtsleeve.
My daughter and her friends and I arrived at Mickiewicza around 7 p.m. We were greeted by a dense crowd of protesters, but we couldn't get to the chief's house because it was separated from the world by such a large cordon of police cars that it seemed they were guarding something of truly enormous value.
The demonstration was illegal because there were certainly more than ten people present, but everyone strictly adhered to the order to cover their faces.
At the very beginning, the police used their barkers to call on people to keep their distance and disperse, but quickly gave up, unable to find any serious excuse to intervene – the crowd showed no signs of aggression, no flares were set off, no cars were burned, no shop windows were smashed, and the most serious offence was the repeated chants of “fuck PIS”.
Throughout this long march from the leader's house in Żoliborz to the prime minister's villa in Parkowa, I did not see a single policeman on the route. The police only appeared near Aleje Ujazdowskie, where they began trying to disperse the illegal assembly. I think that no fewer than 10 thousand people passed by, and maybe more.
It was a march of young, very angry, but at the same time joyful and positive people. With these unpleasant experiences of shame for my country, which is moving further away from Europe, fear for the lives of my daughters and compassion for the unimaginable suffering of women, this evening filled me with a lot of optimism. I felt a real community, saw real patriotism and became convinced that young Poles are not indifferent.
