In a narrative that echoes the fabled Red Riding Hood, a 16-year-old known as Catalina slips away from a friend’s house after a collision of expectations and fear. She is portrayed as a “good girl” who feels the weight of being watched, and her decision to hitchhike emerges from a mix of impulse and desperation. The story unfolds in the backdrop of late-20th-century Spain, weaving personal awakening with social pressure as Catalina navigates a world quick to judge and slow to protect. The novel, set in the 1990s, situates Rosario Villajos from Cordoba at the center of a conversation about youth, consent, and the contradictions of growing up under scrutiny. It has earned recognition in literary circles for its bold handling of difficult topics and its unflinching portrayal of female experience.
Initially, Catalina experiences guilt over what happened, but the narrative quickly shifts to her understanding that blame is not hers to bear. Her thoughts turn to supporting a friend who faces disbelief and victim-blaming from others. The text underscores a painful truth: many women do not report abuse because they fear further harm or retraumatization. The author signals a turning point in the broader cultural conversation about gendered violence, insisting that belief and validation can empower survivors. The author’s own warning voice—declaring that writing became a tool to process and resist—frames the work as a personal and social intervention against cycles of silence and harm.
We women are taught not to show anger when violence strikes.
The narrative traces a historical pattern in which society places blame on the victim rather than the aggressor. It recalls the unsettling statistic that relatives and close figures are frequently implicated in violence, a reminder that fear and stigma often deter honest discourse. The text calls for solidarity and public demonstration as acts of resistance, recounting how protests have emerged in response to injustice. The cry is for both accountability and change, so that ordinary spaces do not become theaters of fear for women at night or in the privacy of their homes.
“The face of a porn actress”
Villajos recalls a moment from his years of study in Seville when a professor dismissed a peer by reducing her to the face of a porn star, a humiliating incident that exposed the persistence of sexism in academic spaces. Yet the author also notes a shift: contemporary activism, including the visibility of 8M demonstrations, has raised awareness that patriarchy harms everyone. The narrative acknowledges that progress has been uneven; while some battles are won, others persist. Historical crimes of violence against women have echoes in present-day cases, inviting readers to draw lessons from the past while acknowledging ongoing challenges. The discussion points to how media coverage can either challenge or reinforce harmful stereotypes, emphasizing the need for careful, responsible reporting that respects survivors and condemns perpetrators. The author argues that public sentiment should transform into real protections and changes in how authorities respond to violence, not merely into sensational headlines.
Older women argue that appearance matters more than health or safety, a burden that creates deep-seated insecurities.
One character—Catalina—responds to pressure by trying to appear less feminine. She shaves her head and adopts a more masculine style as a strategy to shield herself from unwanted attention. It is a practical, if painful, tactic aimed at reducing the gaze of potential abusers. The text portrays this as a form of self-preservation rather than violation of identity, offering a candid look at how young women sometimes cope with predatory behavior in their daily lives.
The girdle as an emotional corset of oppression on the female body.
The book examines how society ties women to predefined images of beauty and conduct. It discusses the discomfort of conforming to expectations about body hair, weight, and dress. The struggle to remove the metaphorical belt is painful and resonant, illustrating how deeply entrenched norms can feel like an iron constraint. The narrative argues that breaking free requires collective effort and persistent resistance, echoing calls for daily action that mirrors the urgency of public demonstrations and cultural change.
A visual image of a tan belt graces the cover of the work, symbolizing the pressure placed on Catalina and others who are judged by how they look. The belt is described as a heavy, inescapable garment that makes self-protection feel like a burden, a reminder that those who might harm can be forced to rethink how they approach others. The text suggests that if people want a future where consent is respected, the dynamic must shift—from fear and policing to empathy and accountability—and that altering this pattern requires ongoing, visible effort.