Suffering is personal, but the response has to be collective
A first reflection: we are often taught to see pain as something private, intimate. Let me ask you: what made you turn such a profound pain into something political and collective, like the creation of the Foundation?
My pain is, and remains, intimate. But it was precisely that pain, in its depth, that pushed me to do something. Even just the thought that someone else might experience the same tragedy, with the same intensity, tore me apart as a human being. So I thought: maybe we can save another person simply by sharing the same questions I asked myself, by raising more awareness about a social issue I previously knew nothing about, but that hit me full force. That’s where the idea of the Foundation came from. And then I drew inspiration from Giulia. She was very altruistic: when she saw a problem, she tried to solve it, especially if it affected the most vulnerable people. That was the true inspiration.
The Giulia Cecchettin Foundation focuses in particular on young people and schools. What is the meaning of this choice, and how does it take shape in the projects you are carrying out?
The meaning is clear: investing in the new generations. Together with our scientific committee, we are convinced that gender-based violence cannot be eradicated merely through harsher penalties or stricter laws. It is something so deeply rooted that it has become part of our culture. The only truly transformative path is education. We need to educate toward a culture of relationships, emotional intelligence, and the management of feelings—including the negative ones. It’s long-term work, but that’s where we need to focus. At the moment, in the educational field, we are carrying out several projects involving students of all school levels and teachers in early childhood and primary education. These are continuous training programs, run by qualified professionals, designed and implemented either directly by us or in collaboration with other organizations. Alongside this, we also work with companies, addressing employees not only as professionals but as people living within society: mothers, fathers, members of families and communities. We believe that the workplace is an essential space for promoting a culture of respect and collective responsibility.
In your view, is this approach what distinguishes your Foundation from other organizations working on gender-based violence?
I would say so. Some organizations focus on raising awareness, and that is essential. Others provide concrete help to victims, which is equally important. We work with these organizations: for example, we have just funded an anti-violence center through an association already working in the field. When it comes to concrete support, we rely on those with experience. Instead, education is the area in which we act directly, with our scientific and outreach committees.
It is striking how often women—and frequently the victims themselves—are the ones who must also shoulder the struggle against violence. How can men be made responsible? How do you build a male feminist consciousness?
If I had the definitive answer, we would already have solved an important part of the problem. Awareness is certainly needed. We need to help people understand what it truly means to be a feminist. I myself started to understand it only later. I, too, had the stereotype in mind: the angry feminist fighting against everything and everyone. But that’s not it. Being a feminist means realizing that the treatment reserved for women is unequal: in wages, in everyday life, in the power men exercise. At that point, you understand that it’s not a “women’s issue” but a civic act that concerns men as well. Inequality harms everyone. There’s a quote I often cite from Emmeline Pankhurst, a 19th-century feminist: “Feminism is to free half of the human race, women, so that they may help the other half to free itself.” She had understood everything: men too are oppressed by patriarchy.
When dealing with prisons, one often reflects on how victims—or their families—are also burdened with processing the pain and building change. How can we instead build a truly collective responsibility?
It’s difficult. Daily life is already complicated for everyone. Taking on a problem you don’t directly experience requires an exceptional level of altruism. Volunteers, people with a missionary spirit, often get there. But someone living on autopilot, chasing other goals or facing other hardships, rarely comes into contact with certain issues. Yet it would be important to make everyone understand that it can happen to anyone, and that a society freed from this violence improves the lives of all individuals. The problem is that we are still stuck in great hypocrisy. People say: “Yes, what you do is great, good job,” but deep down they think: “But what does it matter to me?” That’s the attitude I sense. They don’t tell you openly, but you feel it: “Wonderful what you’re doing, keep it up… but it’s not my battle.” And instead, what I’d like is precisely to try to involve men in this. Starting with the youngest generation, as early as possible. Because that’s where I see a different response. High school boys, for example, are much more attentive. They are the ones who stop you, who ask what they can do. From adults, I get many pats on the back, but then you feel alone.
Maybe that’s exactly why it makes sense to work early, right? To avoid ending up with adults who are so uninvolved.
Of course, because changing as an adult is more difficult. You’ve lived your life in a certain way, with certain convictions, and you change them only if something happens that shakes you profoundly, as it happened to me. Very honestly, if nothing had happened, I probably would have continued my life as usual. I wouldn’t have engaged in social issues. Maybe I would have listened to those trying to raise my awareness, because I’ve always been curious and willing to talk… but I wouldn’t have felt this fight as mine.
And that’s already an important starting point, isn’t it? Acknowledging it, engaging in such self-analysis.
Yes, absolutely.
One last question, then I’ll let you go. In your opinion, in what direction is Italy heading on these issues? Is there real progress towards emancipation? Or do we risk witnessing a violent backlash, as has happened in other countries where women’s emancipation has increased and, paradoxically, so have femicides?
Yes, that’s exactly what happens. Studies explain it well. More than patriarchy itself, today it is the crisis of patriarchy that generates the most violent reactions. Most men who commit femicide are men who cannot accept that a woman can choose. In the past, femicides happened all the same, but they were covered by a culture that justified them, saying: “Well, that’s just how men are.” The violence was more hidden, and above all women had no way out—they had no tools, no possibility of surviving on their own. Today, instead, a woman can make it: she can work, support herself, choose. And so in relationships where the man is fragile and lacks self-awareness, he cannot accept it. This is where culture is needed: to help people understand that life doesn’t always go as you expect. But that you must still respect the other person’s freedom. Always.