Easter Monday

Easter Monday is a very special day in Czech culture. For centuries a custom known as pomlázka has been practiced in the Czech Republic and other neighboring Slovak counties (each country uses a different name for the tradition). For this one day—and one day only—men, both young and old, walk around city squares with whips—yes, whips—made out of pussywillow branches scourging women’s legs—foolhardy men also scourge other areas of a woman’s body.

The practice has pagan roots but, unfortunately, I am not familiar enough with them to go into great detail. I did read somewhere that traditionally pussywillow whips were tools used by women to whip their livestock, husbands, and children into shape…so, I guess, Easter Monday is like a Sadie Hawkins ritual but with men taking on the dominant role. Women, in turn, are expected to take on the role of a submissive by giving out intricately decorated eggs (antiqued), candy, and in more recent years, shots of alcohol to the man performing the whipping. In the end, women who have been whipped are expected live longer lives and be more fertile.

I had first heard of this ritual during our group’s second week in the Czech Republic, but it was not until one of our leaders Jan discussed the ritual that I began to understand the full extent of it. Nonchalant, as always, he explained that Easter Monday is the only day that it is legal to whip women, and men use this to every advantage. He then went further to say —jokingly—that if a woman did complain to police or other officials she would likely be whipped again.

To try and put it into perspective…on Easter most of the stores that are normally open on weekends remained open for the holiday. On Easter Monday, everything but a few restaurants and the big box store was close in observance of the holiday. The people here really love their fetishism.

Being the masochist that I am, I decided to venture out Easter Monday morning to see the debauchery for myself.

Toddlers to men well past retirement age were running up and down the streets of the city with their sticks and bags for candy looking to find a woman. It was like trick-or-treating with whips. Seriously.

And everyone was having a good time—unlike most holidays in America where a specific group is either uprooted to the children’s table or thrust out completely because he or she has no one to kiss under the mistletoe. Aside from the chauvinistic undertone, I think America could use a little of this pure madness—sadly, I am sure we would ruin it with a marketing scheme.