The red rag

The red rag

The town where I live is a small university town: a Kleinstadt. It boasts of a good university and a picturesque upper town.

I had returned from my studies in London where I had worked as a multi-lingual secretary. I joined the local feminist group who run a lovely little library. I quite liked the cosy-ness of their room, and the feminist banter. Unfortunately, they decided to throw me out and to call me Homophobic to this very day for no reason whatsoever. Needless to say, that I’m not homophobic nor anti-Semite, which I was being insinuated too, although I apply to Judaism.

I do of course ask myself if I’m to blame for this kind of behaviour. Maybe I should have dressed a bit better, adapting to the local Modeschau.

However, I feel that a good university degree and the fact that I worked for the British stock market should have been respected. But no. The local job-centre decided to put me into a day-centre for people with disabilities, and they in their turn thought I ought to join the local learning disability group.

I lived in Sicily during my year abroad. I think I had problems with organised crime when I returned to London for my final year, and I’m not the only one of the students who faced problems on their return to England. I was put on a mental health ward, where I was hit in the face by a black patient and called an informer by the psychiatrist. A high percentage of the staff in this lunatic asylum have been to prison. It showed by their ill-treatment of me as well as in the use of their English. The words ‘cunt’, ‘rasterclaad’ and so forth are one example. As a result of this unlawful detention – I hadn’t been displaying any symptoms – I went to the European Human Rights Court and my complaint was accepted.

What were the reasons for locking me up in London? I think that the criminal organisation wanted to discredit me, and to silence me. Yet when I say so, representatives on the German side turn a blind eye and in doing so side with the crime in hand: a human rights violation, and the fact that a criminal organisation was indeed the power behind the throne.

Organised crime is well-known for smearing people who oppose them, and even for causing their opponents harm. Yet when I say that I was smeared by all-too-many people in this picturesque Kleinstadt, people decide to look the other way.

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