Tragically, Davison’s activism and, indeed, her life ended with another outlandish protest stunt just a few years later, when she ran into the path of the king’s horse at a derby, apparently attempting to pin a suffragette flag to its reins. At least she died doing what she loved: fucking shit up.
People in Brussels Protested the Government with Pornographic Snowmen
Man, what is up with Brussels? How can people from the land of waffles be so mad all the time? In the early months of 1511, they had pretty good reason: For six weeks, they had endured temperatures so relentlessly cold that the season was nicknamed the “Winter of Death,” and this was the Middle Ages, so that was really saying something. That was on top, of course, of all the economic inequality, religious tensions, etc., that constantly plagued the public at the time and, you know, now. Basically, it was a good time for a winter festival. These were standard affairs when things got bleak, and YOLO took over, and in addition to all the dancing, drinking, and fucking, they were often occasions to build snowmen. After all, what else are you gonna do when you’re drunk, fucked out, and surrounded by snow? Come on. You’re gonna build a snowman.
But the snowmen this year were different. People were mad, and there wasn’t enough booze or genitals in the world to mollify them, so they took their frustrations out creatively. There were the typical fanciful snow creatures, yes, but also little boys peeing into those creatures’ mouths. People headed to the Red Light District not to partake in the services available therein but to build icy caricatures of those offering them (and, okay, probably also to partake of the services available therein). They built snow cows taking great big snow shits.
According to records, more than half of the snow things created at the 1511 winter festival were “sexual or scatological in nature” because sometimes, when you’re mad, you just wanna shout into the gross void, but some amateur snow sculptors were more direct with their complaints. They were the frozen equivalent of political cartoons, sometimes built directly in front of the homes of those they skewered — one sat regally before the home of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who was conveniently waiting out the storm in more accommodating digs — and their creators diligently destroyed the snowmen built by members of the more fortunate classes, because screw those guys. The whole scene was so majestic that it became known as the Miracle of 1511, probably the first and last time an anatomically correct snowman was labeled miraculous.
It’s hard to say if the Miracle of 1511 worked out for the people of Brussels. Before long, the ice thawed, leaving them with an entirely new problem in the form of a disastrous flood, but the city made it out alive, if not all of its inhabitants did, and the next month, the King of France swooped in and made it rain with an entirely more welcome form of precipitation. (It was gold.) Was it the dirty snowmen? Was it a coincidence? One thing is for sure: Do not mess with Brussels. They will get so weird on you.
Top image: SandraMH/Pixabay
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