Via: @269.liberation_animale
“A TRIBUTE TO VIOLETTE” (OPERATION CUORE LIBERI ACT II): TWO PIGS LIBERATED FROM A SLAUGHTERHOUSE ON THE 9TH OF APRIL 2024 !
it calls us, it gives us a duty, it makes us rise. It brings us, relentlessly, in front of the same doors.
Violette was liberated last November, during the first “CUORE LIBERI” operation.
She was already weak when she arrived at the place that welcomed her. She got taken away shortly after by a pulmonary infection.
“The slaughterhouse” isn’t just a place. It’s also the factory ground for an exploitation that digs down to the bone.
A poison attacking animals and infiltrating their body. It sneaks in and grabs back those who it could not tear appart and dooms the ones who made it out. Slowly devouring them from the inside.
But we promised Violette that her name wouldn’t get to fade away.
Direct action as a way to fix those lives, slashed by slaughterhouses. As a way to never forget.
Scars only heal once you took revenge, at last.
Actions only stick when they are aimed at the power. So we put together another story, written with those at the bottom of the ladder.
All those worthless and invisible bodies, dying at rates so high we can’t even count them.
Violette’s lifeless body says it all, crudely.
And here we are, once again, meeting up to punch back.
We went in a forest, to slide into our second skin.
To turn our flashlights back on, providing us with this soft red light that makes our faces glow at night.
This time, we took revenge in a slaughterhouse.
The back door finally broke apart, as a gun going off in the dark, and we screamed. Maybe a little too much, but it made us happy.
A slaughterhouse isn’t just four walls and a roof, it’s someone. A border patrol guard standing in our way with it’s smell, straight out of a graveyard, and it’s captive bolt gun. It’s watching for the world to stay splitted between night and day, the ones who live and the ones who died, suburbs and towns, animals and us, victims and abusers, the exploited and the ones who profit.
The animal question stands here, between red, white and black.
Pigs dont have words coming out of their mouth. Instead, they look at you. They talk with their face, and we get it all.
It’s our burden because it makes us responsible.
When we get in, tired eyes and broken bodies immediately stand out.
Them and those cracks in the concrete flour, as a breach between what animals are forced to be and what’s forbidden to them.
A place to eradicate.
And that one pig, in the left corner of the first box, understood it.
That there’s nothing to understand no more.
That there’s no outside.
That his world stops, at the end of this corridor, tomorrow, at dusk.
So he’s drowning his eyes in the holes in the ground
As if this ground would suddenly break open.
Ending it all, now.
An animal who’s taking refuge in solitude, self mutilation or depression, is everything but a victim who consents and accepts the injustice done to them.
For those postures are still ways to resist, to try and bear the unimaginable. And for there is, in each attempt at resignation something that shows you as the actual looser of the fight.
We decide to carry this pig, because you cannot allow yourself to take the time to choose, or the memory of those left behind comes to chew at your head forever after.
As it’s time to get the hell out of there, we notice, in another dimly lit corner, another pig, smaller than the others. He’s isolated and has a tumor as big as a football. How could we leave without him ?
We carry him out too and decide that we’ll just figure things out later.
We each went our ways in the early morning, knowing that we’ll see each other again, soon.
After our last slaughterhouse blockade, local newspapers wrote this about us : “we dont know who they are, or when they’ll strike next”.
Ain’t gonna lie, we actually like this.
After this 27th liberation, we keep in our minds yet another unforgettable heritage.
At the end of the day it’s there, in those very moments, that life and death look at each other without hatred.
And between us remains light. The same light that emerges when a cage pops open.
To my comrades who keep hitting the road each week to write this story with me, alongside animals <3