Las corridas de toros

Everything about my belief is controversial, or so my father says. Is not even a belief to me is plain simple: it is wrong. The fact that everyone has to stay home has helped slightly, but as everything reopens, so does this. 

“Maria. Is culture,” my father says, trying to stop me. My hand is still on the doorknob.

“Is animal cruelty” I shrug and head out. Las corridas in Spain are controversial, to say the least, but to me is plain and simple: animal cruelty. Cultural heritage, they say. Is sadistic and, to be honest, they should just call it what it is: money making. I am baffled at the fact that people just have excuses for their actions. I would have more respect towards them if they owned up to it. No, never mind, not even then.

The stadium re-opened about 2 weeks ago and today is one of the major events. Spain is one of the few countries where this atrocity is still legal. The ban was overturned not too long and my blood boils at the thought of it.  I lift my gaze the moment I get there. The security guard recognizes me instantly.

“Maria — go home,” He says. I have the flyers in my hand, and I silently challenge him.

“Just because you are Julio’s sister, it doesn’t mean we will not call the authorities on you,” He warns. My brother is one of the best matador in Madrid. He has been compared to Manolete and, just like him, every time he puts on ‘performance’, his life is at risk.

“I am here to cheer Julio,” I say as sweetly and hypocritical as I can. The security guard rolls his eyes.

“Don’t play with me, girl. Last time we allowed you in, the event had to be postponed for at least 2 hours,” He say as he walks towards me. He is not wrong. Once I was inside, I started egging everybody and throwing toilet paper. I ran like a maniac until the security guards caught me. The only reason I was not thrown in jail was because of my brother.

So I stay and wait. I try to hand flyers; some people take them out of pity, but who am I kidding, they all come to this place with one thought in mind: see the bull being torn apart. My stomach churns at this, my eyes sting the moment I hear the gates opening. I had never felt so powerless. You want to change the world and just make them see how you see the situation and is pointless. I am used to the cheers and laughter, so what comes next startles me. Gasps and shrieks coming from inside make my heart pound against my ribs. I whip my head and I run towards the security guard.

“What is happening?” I gasp and I hear the chattering coming from his radio. The knot in my throat stills and I cannot speak another word. Julio has been hurt and they are taking him to the infirmary. The security guard doesn’t stop me this time. He accompanies me inside. I look at my brother’s leg, and I see the wound. The raging bull pierced his upper left leg. This wound is like Manolete’s, just in the opposite leg. 

“It was my best performance,” He says and I want to beg him to stop talking. My eyes sting. I try to clear my throat, but the lump is still there, preventing me from speaking. I squeeze his hand and close my eyes. Million thoughts run through my mind, and for a moment, just for a moment, I just wish for the world to see how I see the situation. I want to hate the bull, but how can I hate it when he was just trying to defend itself?I open my eyes and even if my brother makes it, he knows he will not be able to perform ever again and I will never stop trying to fight against this cruelty. 

His eyes are glossy and his lips are chapped. I take a deep breath and kiss his cheek. I see him one last time before turning away and walk to the stadium. I look at a woman that clearly seems shaken by the experience and I hand her a flyer.