The cugula, the weed that marginalized women reclaim.

MollerussaAccording to the dictionary, the cugula is a plant of the grass family, similar to oats, that frequently appears at the edges of cultivated fields. It is generally considered a weed. And, surely because of this, the rural world often used the term "cugula" to refer to what a pregnant woman carried in her womb: a girl.

This sociolinguistic discrimination of patriarchy has led to the emergence in recent years of various social and cultural movements that unabashedly reclaim the cugula to defend women's rights in rural areas. A veritable avalanche of feminist interpretations has arisen around this wild plant.

The first known initiative was that of the artist Núria Costa Balasch (Albesa, 1975), who five years ago began the traveling project #soccogula to celebrate this plant for "its resilience, its ability to grow without having been sown and to have taken root freely, without permission."

Shortly after, an LGBTQ+ assembly emerged in Solsona with the same name as the weed "to make ourselves visible and reclaim our space in the rural environment," its organizers explain.

In this same context, the poet Jaume Suau, from Mollerus, published the book Ulls de cugula (winner of the 2020 Maria Mercè Marçal Poetry Prize), which, in addition to dedicating it to her daughter Lupa, she wanted to use to highlight the role of women in rural society and, in general, to "pay tribute to all those people who have not had an easy life."

The writer Ivet Eroles Palacios (Santa Maria de Meia, 1988) recently published a collection of poems and stories with illustrations entitled Cugula, with which he wants to "get tangled up in weeds to find refuge," he argues.

And just a year ago, the first trousers bearing the La Cugula label were also born. They were created by Anna Cabal Verdés, an English teacher from Mollerus, linked to the world of performing arts, especially circus, and, in recent years, very active in the practice of contact Improvisation, a form of partner dance that plays with experimentation and imagination. It was because of her interest in this latter discipline that Cabal asked her mother, Dolors Verdés, a retired seventy-year-old dressmaker, for a favor. "I asked her to make me a garment that was comfortable, functional, and beautiful at the same time," Cabal recalls.

When Dolors sewed her first design, her daughter dressed her in it at all the dance events and festivals she attended, and many of the other dancers she met expressed interest. One of the most inquisitive was Rocío Rodríguez Murillo, who, in addition to being a dedicated dancer, is also a graphic designer based in Olost (in the Lluçanès region). Their shared interest in promoting comfortable and dignified clothing led to the creation of a brand that is already making strides in the clothing market. "Dancing in these pants becomes a wild gesture, like the iguana, growing freely and without restrictions," the two entrepreneurs explain.

Anna Cabal's mother continued designing (and perfecting) the patterns, and a small local workshop participated in making the first pieces. They also created a graphic image together to define the brand: the silhouette of a cugula (a type of bird). Last summer, they officially launched their La Cugula trouser brand. From Asturias to the Boí Valley, passing through Baldellou (Huesca) and Bilbao, any opportunity has been a good excuse to set up a simple sales stall. "It's a small, sustainable project, made in our home with a lot of..." dear", Rocío Rodríguez explains.

The first units they made a year ago were made of polyester, a synthetic material with a cut specifically designed for women. They have since refined them by adding different types of fabrics, incorporating cotton and viscose. Viscose, a fiber obtained from wood pulp, provides the elasticity the promoters seek while also meeting sustainability criteria. "We try to respond to the needs we've gathered at the events and festivals where we sell," explains Cabal. For this reason, two different lengths are now available, with the ankle as the reference point. Production is very limited, and they are made to order according to demand. Therefore, the full range of colors (pistachio green, olive green, black, ecru, lilac, red, orange, etc.) is not always available. "We have considered offering personalized pants, customized to each customer's taste, but that would double the price," admits Rodríguez. Currently, a pair of trousers costs forty euros, and they produce runs of about twenty units roughly six times a year, more or less when they see they're running low on stock. "We want to grow very slowly," says Cabal, who plans to launch an online store soon if the project takes off.

"Like a second skin"

Psychosomatic therapist Lara Terradas, also a regular dancer, says that, aside from liking the comfort of the pants, she says that "they are very flexible, adapt to movement, and fit my waist perfectly." "I really like the way they drape, because they are made with a fabric that, like the contact "Improvisation, dance with gravity," Terradas adds.

Another professional, Maria Comas, a teacher of aerial silks (a well-known circus discipline), says she chose these pants for their technical versatility "and because their high waist creates a second skin that protects my abdomen." Argentinean Julieta Ferraro, whose shows experiment with contemporary dance, literature, music, circus, physical theater, and martial arts, says that when she wears the pants, "I feel as if I were naked but, at the same time, well protected." And the La Cugula pants are indeed a great choice for dancers. In any case, the promoters say they are also receiving a good response from men. Perhaps due to a feminist ideological conviction or perhaps for purely practical reasons, they are liking them. "And, at the same time, sensitivity to the touch of the skin."

The small dance community, and especially that of contact Improvisation, he speaks more and more about this new contribution that goes beyond fashion. "There is poetry in this piece," Ramon adds, "because it seeks to recover memory, because ultimately we come from somewhere, we come from people who created this dance, who generously shared it." And many members of the community describe Anna Cabal and Rocío Rodríguez as two generous people, "who offer this piece to share an experience and a way of seeing dance and life."