Finding confidence in my roots — Assembly

17-year-old student Sara Bonaparte writes about racism in Italy and its impact on her identity as a mixed-race young woman.

I’ll never forget the specific incident that made me question my Italian identity and gave me a first-hand perspective on the reality of racism in Italy. It was a week after I returned to school after summer holidays in 2019. Five minutes before the bell rang in the morning, I was walking on the school porch with my head down and my phone in my hand scrolling through some random apps. A male classmate approached me and shouted: “Ciao n*gra!” My smile faded away but I didn't respond. I continued to walk, but a constant thought was racing in my mind: ‘Why didn’t I say something? Why didn’t I stand up for myself?’

In Italy I am considered Black. My African family believes that I am white. And sometimes I am “mulatta.” For mixed-raced children, defining our racial identity can be a real struggle. Being mixed-raced in Italy makes me feel insecure. Vulnerable. The echo of my classmates’ words still sometimes repeats in my mind.

In middle school, I was also called a “monkey” by a male classmate. My classmate, who also claimed to be a friend, denied what happened when I confronted him. At that time, I didn’t understand why my classmates were offended by the colour of my skin because I assumed that they considered me Italian. But I was never fully accepted in my class. All my classmates saw was the colour of my skin.

In 11 years of school, I probably wore my hair down three times. I didn’t appreciate my naturally curly hair and felt ugly and uncomfortable when I was with my White friends. My classmates would often say I was prettier with straight hair: “You should get [your hair straightened] more often!” or “your natural hair looks like a bush.” Also, the difficulty of finding a good hairdresser in Turin who could manage my natural hair (I still haven’t found one!) created further personal insecurities.

Overt racism in Italy increased in the last decade, fueled by the rise of far-right anti-immigration parties. “Italians First” is a motto that dominates several political campaigns, targeting thousands of immigrants. It is upsetting to recall the number of prejudiced, selfish and disrespectful comments I’ve heard from elderly people around me about migrants: “They are stealing our jobs.” “Let's help them at home.”

In the last few years, several racist events have emphasised the depth of the violence and brutality that Black people face in Italy: in the summer of 2022, Alika Ogorchukwu, a 39-year-old disabled Nigerian street vendor, was murdered in broad daylight in Civitanova Marche’s city centre, by 32-year-old Filippo Ferlazzo, an Italian man residing in central Italy.

Alika Ogorchukwu’s wife, Charity Oriakhi stated, “if there had been two White people on the ground, people would have intervened. But instead, my husband was Black and therefore nobody helped him.” Only the Nigerian community, the victim’s family and a few local politicians took to the streets of Civitanova Marche to protest and demand justice for Alika Ogorchukwu. In 2016, Emmanuel Chidi Nnamdi, a 36-year-old refugee was killed by Amedeo Mancini in central Italy after repeatedly insulting his wife, calling her the slur “African monkey.”

That’s the ferocity of racism in my country.

While I identify as a proud Italian, mixed-raced woman, my golden skin colour and naturally curly hair sometimes made me feel embarrassed. But learning about my cultural heritage gave me strength.

“I felt proud and fortunate to be a Black and Nigerian woman. This is also thanks to my amazing mom, my only Black role model growing up. Her unconditional support, energy and love never let me doubt the value of being Black.”

— Sara Bonaparte

After spending last summer with my Black relatives, I started to embrace and learn more about Nigerian culture and customs. Traditional clothes, delicious food and the way women carried their babies on their backs (and how quickly they fell asleep!) made me excited and confident about my roots. How my aunt spoke Pidgin English also fascinated me… I felt proud and fortunate to be a Black and Nigerian woman. This is also thanks to my amazing mom, my only Black role model growing up. Her unconditional support, energy and love never let me doubt the value of being Black.

I’m passionate about expanding the representation of people of colour from sports to media and politics, where racism, ignorance and xenophobia often dominate. When I grow up, I want to be a politician who will protect the rights of immigrant and Black, Brown and Bi-racial children.

To all the young, Black and mixed-raced girls and women in the world: you are seen. You are heard. Your story is important. Speak out and proudly explore who you really are.

Sara Bonaparte

(she/her) is a curious 17-year-old student from Turin, Italy who loves playing the piano, reading and travelling. She is passionate about women’s health and social justice. In the future, she aspires to help others, whatever her career. You can follow her on Instagram.