How I Dealt With My Sexuality Coming From a Very Italian, Very Catholic Family
I realized that the problem was much more complicated than it seemed.
“So, what’s it like growing up as a lesbian in Italy?” That’s quite the common question I get asked whenever I meet some new friend from another country. I’ve grown used to answering with a generic statement, like it’s no different than France or Spain, but I never really thought about the motive behind until someone pointed it out to me a while ago. The implicit question was “What’s it like growing up as a lesbian in a country with Vatican City so close, where religion is so strong?” The short answer is, I don’t know.
I never really thought about it this way, even though it definitely shaped my coming out. But if I squeeze my brain trying to come up with a more elaborated answer, I find myself thinking that because the way discrimination is so rooted in the common culture, I didn’t even perceive it as such until later in life, when I was already struggling to cope with the fact that I am a lesbian.
To me, mine was the land of art, pizza and homophobia. Don't be mad at me, I was 10. Now I know there's more to it, like racism.
You know Italy, right? That country in the south of Europe with a lot of problems spanning from economic ones to racism to homophobia, yet romanticized by everyone else for its art and history. Yes? Good. And you might also know that throughout its history, and to this day still, Italy has been very conservative. A lot of religion, a lot of church and no extensive knowledge of the world, especially for someone living in the countryside like me. Homosexuality was like a bad word that one shouldn’t say, replaced by a more convenient "batting for the other team." I went to mass when I was asked to, I would recite my morning prayer and try to understand what all those words about compassion and acceptance meant. And yet somehow they failed me.
It's a clueless world, sometimes. And sometimes the future turns out to be oh, so funny.
Pirates of the Caribbean / Via media.giphy.com
To be honest, I didn’t even know what homosexuality was until I was maybe in late-middle school. Before that, I’d had my fair share of experiences like watching movies with beautiful women and being strangely drawn to them like, you know, unconsciously going I hope this doesn’t awake anything in me. For me it was Rachel Weisz from The Mummy and Keira Knightley from Pirates of the Caribbean. I’ve heard it’s a common experience. I think those around me might have attributed this to a child-like aspiration to become either a pirate or an archaeologist. And while the hopes and dreams of sailing the Seven Seas are still on my radar, we can safely assume that the real reason was much simpler. And yet it wasn’t, at least not according to what I could see and hear around me.
My religion was what I made of it. I didn't need an institution validating it.
Community / Via media.giphy.com
When you’re little, no one close to you tells you outright what they think about… stuff. It could be positive or negative, but you only realize it later, when you start to really understand as you grow. So the only people I heard talking about it were politicians, priests, and strangers, and they had no problem in saying out loud that it was wrong, unnatural, and disgusting. Those morals that everyone swore to live by suddenly didn’t matter anymore, not for someone like me. So I thought, to hell with all that. Maybe I still believe in God — just in case, but I sure won’t find him (or her or them) in a church; and if those inside it have a problem with who I am, that does not concern me. Not anymore.
If I had a penny every time a female friend told me that it was okay for me to be a lesbian as long as I didn’t hit on them I’d have two pennies, but it’s weird that it happened twice.
Modern Family / Via media.giphy.com
Of course, accepting it in the privacy of my own mind was one thing, but was I ready to look my family and friends in the eyes and tell them? As it turns out, yes. And it was actually easier than I expected. With my parents, it just casually happened. We were commenting on a piece of news during dinner — I can’t even remember what it was about — and it just slipped out. Dad was happy, my mom and aunt took some time to adjust to it, but I couldn’t have been luckier and, in hindsight, I could have saved myself from a lot of internal drama had I mustered up the required courage sooner.
While it’s true that, unlike loves, friends don’t usually come and go, it was a great opportunity to see who was actually by my side. Some stayed, some walked away, and curiously a couple of them told me that it was okay as long as I wouldn’t hit on them. After the umpteenth time they reminded me, I kindly informed them that I had standards, too. And then they got offended when I implied that I wouldn’t pick them up if I saw them in a gay bar! Are the straights okay??? Probably not, so I thought it best everyone went on their separate ways.
Was it difficult? Yes. Did I think that things would be easier if I were straight? At times. Would I change who I am? Not a chance.
My newly found lightheartedness was soon toned down when I realized that dealing with such people on a daily basis would be another pair of hands. The irresistible urge of expressing their very strong feelings about the way we live seems to know no boundaries.
The first comment that really stung was during a beach day with my first girlfriend. We were lying on the sand while a few kids played volleyball not far from us when suddenly one of their mothers rushed them away, and we heard her say: "Don’t be around them, they are a bad influence on kids." After that first blow, I found my own way to stop their words from hurting by agreeing with them. You want to call me a dyke or a disgusting lesbo? Go ahead, I agree. Now what? Once it’s not an insult anymore, they remain silent. Billie Eilish recently said something of the sort, about reclaiming our femininity even if others mean it as an insult. I found it very inspiring.
Be that as it may, I'm living my truth. And I don't intend to hide it for anyone.
Viceland / Via media.giphy.com
Now it’s all ups and downs. Somedays it’s easier to be happy with myself, sometimes I’m literally too gay to function and others it’s much more difficult. Like when the entire parliament burst into applause when the law against discrimination was denied. But hey, you had Trump, we have an entire political class convinced that an anti-discrimination law would undermine their freedom of speech. We all have our problems. But it doesn’t bring my spirit down as much as it would have a few years ago. Now it’s all about “live, laugh, lesbian” and being obsessed with every middle-aged actress and women in suits. I mean, that’s what we do, right?
