потресена, но просветена.

[In brief translation, Bulgarian society (esp. the Internet community) is so messed up you don't want to know (me). Scroll down until my anglophone anthropological self raps me over the knuckles and takes the keyboard. This post is bilingual and cross-contextual because I am undecided on the topic and divided between so many oppositions myself - Bg/Eng, anthopos/anthropologist, girl/boyish.]

1. prima vista.
Благодарение на Еленко днес през тъмните ми очила, обърнати към българското обществено пространство, проблесна лъч, по-силен от Кирило-Методиевото слънце. И прогледнах. И видях. И не бяха блажени очите ми вярващи.

"Това е [българската] Барби и нейната ценностна система - системата на цената, парите."

Блогът анализира "нежната" половина обяви от бг сайтове за запознанства. Уникален феномен. Червена точка 12-18.

Не знам дали на тия момичета ще им помогне бой с "Под игото" по главата или "Хари Потър" под чина, малинени бригади или gap-years в далечния Изток.
Знам, че братовчедка ми (15) не може да попълни кръстословицата от тв програмата в "Труд" без превописни грешки. Знам, че ме мрази задето знам и ми пука.

Макар да съм чернобилско чедо, а не дете на демокрацията като изучеваната популация моми, и моето семейство е разтурено, и аз имам няколко личности, откърмени в mIRC, и аз съм писала в лексикони, че слушам само каквото всички други слушат, вкл. Гумени Глави, Еминем и т.н. Но каквото става между страниците на лексикона остава там. Който и да ти излиза на лимонче-сти гледанки под чина (Люби-Иска-Мрази-Обича-Ненавижда-Чака-Ебе) си остава издраскан отгоре с острото на пергела.
Недозрялата социална и сексуална безнадеждност трябва да си остане затворена докато втаса. Иначе тесто за гражданско общество не става.
Лигавото публично курвеене е само грозна форма на юношески протест срещу граматиката, скуката, родителската неадекватност и променящия се свят, то е системна грешка. Облъчен генно модифициран културен код, написан с малки и големи букви, шестици и четворки, бълващ чалга протеини и силикон.
Тази системна грешка ще се препише и възпроизведе в грешна система ... и тогава тежко им на солунските братя и всички "духовни" бащи "дгд", както беше шокиращо да се казва по мое време.
Хай, честит Гошов ден.

2-ро четене.
I read the comments to the article too and was hit by the shame how easily I get incited. Komrade's commentary in particular contained the exasperating reaction I would get from most of my friends: some apathetic sound generalisations 'There have always been sick people, sluts, gypsies and many in misery' through the pretentious 'why make a topic of it?', and irresponsibly superficial 'why do I sense drama in your writing'.
How unanthropological of me, going on a rant about the good old times when girls were real girls, Pippi was about her long socks, not about the legs and Lolitas were exciting exceptions / tasteful fiction!

Innocence, no less than its associated childhood, is a fairly Victorian prudish construct. I saw Innocence last night, which made me very uncomfortable in a similar way - I don't identify with innocent girliness, dressed in white. I don't believe there exist innocent beings in nature, let alone among the socially unripe individuals. Once you keep that in mind, explanations easily fit the antro scheme of logical disinterested crude nature.

I also saw a friend's dissertation documentary on transvesti gender issues in Brazil, where like in Bulgaria sexuality is a loud and ugly issue. Why would a 13-year-old publish a self-made picture of her vulva? Because, to quote Butler, "the boundaries of the body become ... the limits of the social". Both the transvestis and the slutty Barbies emphasise and invert sex-related norms to distinguish themselves from their surrounding social norm as a new group with a new cultural idiom. "It is only by exaggerating the difference between [complementary pairs of extremes] that a semblance of order is created" (Mary Douglas).

Easy. I've made it to the safe academic shelter of my gender essay. But it still doesn't let me go to bed in peace.

I've found a wound I don't enjoy picking on with naturalist curiosity. It's difficult to identify with because 'I was not that kind of kid, I was climbing trees and helping in the garden', yet too personal - my cousins are "case studies", objects of a societal process. More importantly there's a horrifying promise : these are the people I'll walk among when I come back to Bulgaria.

3-ти дубъл.
I can not not care. I can not stand the "and-so-what?" attitude I find on both sides - in the slutty ads declaring "I'm A wHoRe n So w00t? i LiK3 Th3m BiG~:P~~~" [roughly, censored] no less than in the observant critics asking "why even comment on so obvious a problem?" Even the author of the article jokingly refuses to admit he's indignant at the phenomenon he analyses.

Of course there needs to be distance in analysis and respect for each individual's right to choose what's best for them. But how can we guarantee that free choice is liberating? How can we be sure that free individuals are happy humans?

Of course we can't. But we should keep worrying. Humans are more than phenomena. And scientific knowledge of how society works is sterile if it does not serve us to make it work for more people, work better, etc.
Hands up if anyone of my imaginary readers thought I made sense at any one point.