I know I've already written a lot on here about fascism and its lingering shadow in Spain, and I don't want to give the impression that everyone walking around Valladolid is throwing up Nazi salutes and perusing well-worn copies of Mein Kampf (which, unlike in English, is actually translated in Spain as Mi lucha, which makes it sound more legitimate). However, like I mentioned earlier I have seen far more open support of ultra right-wing ideology here in just under five months than I have in my entire life in the United States. It comes in the form of graffiti, wheat-pasted posters and stickers in public places, skinheads openly flaunting their beliefs on their sleeves, literally in the form of Nazi and quasi-Falangist armbands. The numbers "88", for "Heil Hitler" are graffiti'd in ubiquitous locations around town. It is truly revolting.
However, I saw something yesterday that disturbed me. On my way home from work, I walked past some kids horsing around on a park bench. They looked to be about 15 or 16 years old at most. There were two girls and one boy, and the girls were dressed like normal, coquettish Spanish teenagers, with the practically-compulsory black leggings and khaki colored skirts, with their hair done nicely. In short, they looked good, they looked respectable, they looked cute, like normal teenage girls. But the boy who was with them had his head shaved and was wearing a black leather jacket, and looked decidedly tougher than the girls, like he was from a different corner of society. But here they were, joking around and laughing, as any classmates do who have just been released from the stifling Bastille of high school for the day. The boy was looking at the girls in a way that suggested that he was trying to impress them, as any 16 year old boy would in front of two attractive female friends, and the girls in turn looked impressed by these buzz-cut renegade, tall and Doc Marten'ed, making those typical, manly Spanish gesticulations with his hands, as if he was telling them a story which he could barely believe himself.
As I got closer to the group, I saw that all over the boy's leather jacket were patches. At first I couldn't read them, but I thought they would inevitably bear the names of various punk and metal bands, which would be absolutely normal for kids anywhere, and especially in Spain (they like to bang their heads here, so to speak). But as I got within distance to read the patches, I saw that instead of Rancid and Iron Maiden logos, there were nothing but "88"s, swastikas, pictures of Hitler, and white power symbols. I was stunned, dumbfounded. I stopped walking, standing only a few feet away from them on the sidewalk, and I watched them interact, playing around and laughing like normal teenagers, oblivious to me standing there, mouth agape.
The worst part about it was not so much that the young boy was wearing the jacket. Like I said, it wouldn't have been the first time I'd seen something like that. But what really shocked me, what really made me feel sick, was that there were people all around us who did not act as if there was anything wrong. This was on one of the main streets in Valladolid and there were dozens of people around. And these two girls, ostensibly normal and mainstream as could be (if there is such a thing based on appearances) that apparently saw no problem with the views of intolerance that their friend was, quite literally, wearing on his sleeve.
And I stood there and stared.
However, I saw something yesterday that disturbed me. On my way home from work, I walked past some kids horsing around on a park bench. They looked to be about 15 or 16 years old at most. There were two girls and one boy, and the girls were dressed like normal, coquettish Spanish teenagers, with the practically-compulsory black leggings and khaki colored skirts, with their hair done nicely. In short, they looked good, they looked respectable, they looked cute, like normal teenage girls. But the boy who was with them had his head shaved and was wearing a black leather jacket, and looked decidedly tougher than the girls, like he was from a different corner of society. But here they were, joking around and laughing, as any classmates do who have just been released from the stifling Bastille of high school for the day. The boy was looking at the girls in a way that suggested that he was trying to impress them, as any 16 year old boy would in front of two attractive female friends, and the girls in turn looked impressed by these buzz-cut renegade, tall and Doc Marten'ed, making those typical, manly Spanish gesticulations with his hands, as if he was telling them a story which he could barely believe himself.
As I got closer to the group, I saw that all over the boy's leather jacket were patches. At first I couldn't read them, but I thought they would inevitably bear the names of various punk and metal bands, which would be absolutely normal for kids anywhere, and especially in Spain (they like to bang their heads here, so to speak). But as I got within distance to read the patches, I saw that instead of Rancid and Iron Maiden logos, there were nothing but "88"s, swastikas, pictures of Hitler, and white power symbols. I was stunned, dumbfounded. I stopped walking, standing only a few feet away from them on the sidewalk, and I watched them interact, playing around and laughing like normal teenagers, oblivious to me standing there, mouth agape.
The worst part about it was not so much that the young boy was wearing the jacket. Like I said, it wouldn't have been the first time I'd seen something like that. But what really shocked me, what really made me feel sick, was that there were people all around us who did not act as if there was anything wrong. This was on one of the main streets in Valladolid and there were dozens of people around. And these two girls, ostensibly normal and mainstream as could be (if there is such a thing based on appearances) that apparently saw no problem with the views of intolerance that their friend was, quite literally, wearing on his sleeve.
And I stood there and stared.
