Before I was a columnist, I was a blogger. Maybe that's why I learned to write first person opinion articles. I realized that that record worked, because it was close and honest. What's more, it made me an empowering feel that my voice echoed. So I was a cyberoptimist.

When I was 20 years old, those around me were telling me over and over again that I was getting too naked on the blog. Meanwhile, I did not know the Peruvian journalist and writer Gabriela Wiener, but I went intuitively with her premise: when we tell each other, the reader also feels numbered.

Admiration, rejection, envy and judgment have confused me when I have read Wiener’s latest work, the autophyche novel Huaco portrait. I find excessive the lack of sweats in all his books (Sexographies, Nine moons, They say about me…). At the same time, it attracts me because it has liberated the trend that I am repressing.

Surely I just read Sexographies and posted on my blog a text called Puteras: I wrote paid erotic massages, an initiative of queer prostitution and Jineterism, citing my curiosity and discomfort. Two or three years later, I asked a professor at the University of the Basque Country for references from feminist criminologists to prepare a report on corruption. The man wrote me a lustful postdata referring to Puteras.

I felt manipulated.

In recent years, the violent Spanish abolitionist feminists, both sexographies and Wiener Quarries, have insisted on networks to caricature our speeches and ourselves.

Don't look for Quarries. I just removed it.

Feminism has studied a lot the fruitful relationship between female writers and autofition. Paradoxically, those of us who manage the first person from a vulnerable position end up in an even more vulnerable position: at the destination point. “You need a lot of strength to appear naked, you have to be very worked,” said Edu Zelaieta in Gara, following the collection of naked poems. It's hard to stay strong when you're pleasurable feminist, when you realize that what you write will be used against you.

The anti-feminist offensive (unfortunately also the offensive of the transfob abolitionist feminism) that we live is very similar to the witch hunt. Inquisition didn't need a social network, but it's true that digital platforms facilitate spy, harassment, lynching, humiliation. I've written a lot about anonymous rock trolls, regardless of what our neighbors might be. Well, I learned a lesson when Irantzu Varela's neighbor stabbed him and yet I was surprised by the aggression that we are living these days in the village (both on the plaza and on social networks) and that has its origin in my feminist activity.

When I started writing the column I didn’t know how to translate “You’re exposed too much”. “You risk too much,” a barber suggested. I found it significant because we are accused of lack of prudence of the pleasures we suffer from the aggressions.
In any case, when I am afraid of the exhibition, in my head I use the mention of Arantxa Urretabizkaia Bidean that I have tattooed on my arm:

“I’m afraid, but I’m moving forward. Needless to say, you don't have to be afraid. It has to be said that yes, you are afraid, it alters your whole body, but at the same time you can do a lot of things with fear. I have not been frightened since.”