Giving back ‘demos’ to democracy

 by Laura Vilaça

I should start by stating that I am one of the fiercest critics of my generation. I believe we have been too spoiled and that this is now taking a toll in the socio-cultural evolution(?) of our countries; we were fed dreams of greatness and easy money and, stupidly enough, we still believe them. It’s a generation that, as the band Deolinda puts it when referring to internships and precarious jobs, “has to study to become a slave”.

However, a recent article on the “post-1980s Generation” got me thinking. With all this time wasted on trying to define what “we” are, more relevant debates are being neglected or left out entirely. “We”, as the present generation, are offered an incredible, historical opportunity: the opportunity to significantly change things. And I’m not referring to changing the world in a 16-and-pregnant-naïve kind of way; I am referring to the remarkable power that a mass group of people has.

The group I’m specially reporting on is the “post-1980s Generation”, born after the major world conflicts and into a world thriving with economic prosperity (in the Western side, at least). This generation is more educated than any ever was, relatively well travelled and with a defiant, rebellious spirit brewed from years of amorphous politics. In Europe, these traits cross borders, as we are more than ever bound by our common struggles and anxieties, not being able to imagine life without a common currency or open borders. Though many criticize the European Union and its policies, seldom one can find a youngster that would give up the perks of being within the EU for a more domestic existence. 


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Fado and its ways to make us cry

by Laura Vilaça

There’s music that gives you emotional rides. Most of the times, it’s because it can be related to a particular period of your life, or because the rhythm suits your usual mood, or just because the song sounds awesome. There are, however, some songs that are indissociable from your culture. Those are the ones that fuck you up – in the good sense – the most: they prove that you can relate to people with whom you share geographical but not personal space with; they bring out a common feeling among people from the same place.

In Portugal, specifically, we call that type of music Fado. Despite there being a lot of Portuguese people who don’t enjoy it particularly (sons of bitches with not an inch of musical taste in their miserable bodies), Fado usually brings out the Niagara Falls in the eyes of most Portuguese.

Fado literally means “fate”, and this music genre roots its concept on melancholy, mournfulness and a culturally bound sentiment of resignation. The songs generally narrate scenes of day-to-day life through a powerful voice that trembles in the singing and a  guitar to mark the pace.


all subtitled and stuff just for you guys. we’re so nice.

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