We have become the little red riding hood


Education has become an industry, and in this industry we have become a product. At the welcome speech of Sciences Po, we were stamped to represent the brand of this world-leading academia. Of course, my home faculty of Buenos Aires also is a well-known brand of the region-leading academia, launching the very idea of underdevelopment and economic dependency of development. But since the scale remains in regional level and it’s from Latin America, it has been my pride that I was forming an intellectual artesanal craftsmanship which locates a bit with distance from the international education reputation. This transfer from Latin American School of Social Sciences to Paris School of International Affairs (in Sciences Po) has become a milestone for me to change the clothes I wear; a change from the intellectual craftsmanship to the international scale industry.

And the first day they put me a red riding hood, because just as the little red riding hood in the story, I will be sent to the jungle where corporative wolfs are looking for prey, and me wearing a red riding hood in the middle of grassy green leaves rises highly a visibility for them to eat me out. But it’s not only this red riding hood but also my mentality-to-be of picking up red raspberries on my way which eliminates the confusion for the wolfs to which red to hunt. With this red riding hood and red raspberries found no elsewhere but in my basket I’d be easily hunted down eaten by those predators in this modern jungle, and my grandmother has to die because the wolf and I need a queen size bed to sleep in. Every animal in this jungle knows that there would be a sexual intercourse either with my will or without, but I’ve been told that it’s not me getting screwed but voluntarily seducing those wolfs when they put me this very red riding hood.

It’s so visible as it outstands from every others; this red riding hood that represents this school’s reputation. Soon we all will be pushed to the jungle or forest, and every one of us will survive ending up in the bed with a wolf (or more) of soft fur. The mechanism of this industry assures us the path where to walk and where to head, because they know where those wolfs are mainly wandering. I used to learn how to avoid these wolfs in the forest, hiding behind the Amazonian trees or remaining in a prone on the Patagonian pampas. As a craftsman, I was to learn indigenous wisdom and ancient traditions of grandmothers’ generation. But now I’m walking on the streets of Paris; one of the most international and metropolitan jungles on earth.

Surely, I am very happy and satisfied of this international scale industry that I put myself in. It is the far biggest swimming pool I’ve ever been, and swimming in here watching other athletics gives me even more motivation to swim better, and yet I see no one drawning. In this swimming pool it seems to have no boundaries; national, linguistic, sexual, agial or racial. Maybe it is true what they presented themselves on the very first day; it is the most international school ever existing. I doubted when I heard them, since the king who says out loud that he is the king is no more of king’s qualification. Nevertheless, I do start to feel that this is surely an international environment no matter what.

And now I fear the more international it would be, the more vast the jungle I would confront afterwards. I wouldn’t say that I was hiding in Latin American forest which I felt safe to stay in, but the vast and massive jungle ropes strung down from gigantic trees are somewhat comfortable. If Tarzan were a story of Latin America rather than of Africa, the representation of jungle image would have been completely different. Even with this different and unaccustomed fear can be covered by this red riding hood. I’m not supposed to hide under a thick blanket, since it’s the very gesture of surrender backed up by the institutional charisma.

I surrendered today: I put myself on this red riding hood of this institution and I’m going to seduce wolfs on the forest as I walk into the jungle. Let the wolf murder my ancestor background and wait for me to come to the bed. This story has become industrialised and repeated over and over in a social level, but as long as I’m wandering in the jungle, what I have learnt from Latin American jungles and pampas would keep me warm and safe, at least as I hope.

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