BB/12. This story does not end here

Day 10 of the festival, 17. 6. 2026

55. člen (Slovensko mladinsko gledališče, dir. Tjaša Črnigoj)

55. člen (Article 55) leaves a strong impression. We take our seats in the hall; in the center is a stage for the performers, and the audience sits on both sides of the stage, so that audience members face each other and can see one another. Behind us are mirrors, so that we in the audience can also observe and see ourselves.

The actresses begin with an introduction to “having a woman’s body” and share their stories about embarking on a journey of discovering their own bodies, of getting to know them, and of realizing how (patriarchal) society treats our bodies. All the actresses tell their stories in a very relaxed manner. But from laughter, relaxation, and comfort, we quickly move into a struggle; this introduction becomes the link between the actresses and the content they present, and it is precisely through it that they themselves become actors in the struggle. The actresses present a story of a struggle that took place in the year the Slovenian constitution was being drafted. In Yugoslavia, the right to free and accessible abortion and contraception was enshrined in the constitution; however, when the new state was being established and the new constitution was being drafted, some politicians (as well as certain other groups and individuals) sought to omit this provision.

The actresses introduce us to the key figures in the fight to preserve Article 55. They recount these women’s activities, their actions, plans, and political maneuvers, while maintaining a constant connection with one another and with the audience. They approach the stories in a celebratory and holistic way. On the stage before us, they dance just as the girls from the Lilith group danced at K4, and they protest just as women and other allies protested in front of parliament... In one moment, the space fills with music, fog, and disco lights; in the next, all these elements vanish, and we return to less festive details. These spaces are constantly shifting and interchanging. This story is full of laughter and triumph, feelings of empowerment and connection, yet also of injustice, ignorance, and disappointment.

This performance is a documentary celebration. And even though we’re celebrating a great victory in Slovenian history, I burst into tears out of sadness. I cry when I learn that the Slovenian constitution was written by men and just one woman. From that point on, I just keep crying. I cry when I watch footage from parliament where only men are speaking at the table and refuse to give the floor to female experts defending Article 55. I cry when the female activists are protesting in front of parliament. I cry when I look at the men’s faces on the other side of the podium. The more I learn, the worse I feel.

But I’m not just sad. I’m also shaken, disappointed, proud, and full of hope. 55. člen (Article 55) stirs up a whole range of emotions.

When watching 55. člen (Article 55), it’s impossible not to think about our own times. A time in which the My Voice My Choice movement has gathered a million signatures for an initiative on accessible abortion in the European Parliament (and even this highly successful collective struggle is not yet over, as we are still waiting for concrete changes—further proof of just how bureaucratically demanding these processes are), and at the same time, a time when we are governed by world leaders who are sexual offenders or just openly sexist and chauvinistic.

This story does not end in 1991, and it does not end in 2026. This story does not end here. And that is probably why I’m crying.

*prevedeno z DeepL AI/translated with DeepL AI. This text was translated from Slovenian using AI tools solely to ensure international accessibility. As a festival that deeply values human creativity and authorship, we thank you for your understanding regarding any linguistic or contextual imperfections.