Transforming anger
Hello to all and sundry. I am Federica and I am 26 years old. In life I have a hard time focusing on just one thing, so I have always had various passions to accompany me. In order not to bore you, I will only mention two: relationships and theater.
As for the former, it blossomed during an early volunteer experience in a Milanese shelter, where I learned to cultivate openness to the other (whoever they are). This has led me to weave over the years a wonderful network of acquaintances and friendships spanning very different physical and cultural spaces.
As for the latter, I see it as a natural consequence of the former: it is simply a particularly effective means through which to get to know others.
After high school, I went on a course of study that brought me closer to the world of migration. I discovered ASCS during a transitional phase when I had not yet quite figured out what I wanted to do with my life. The meeting happened by chance: ASCS had been assigned to me as an association in which to intern for a master’s program on immigration and integration issues. It was my first real experience working in this field and it opened up a world for me. After the three-month internship, I became a volunteer by participating in the Through Trieste and Through Ventimiglia camps.After that, I decided to participate in the volunteer training course, although I have not yet officially left for any mission.
All these experiences have marked me, on different levels. The internship, for example, gave me insight into what kind of work I could do in life, helping me flesh out what was previously just a fuzzy idea of ‘I want to work in social work.’ The training course, then, was a good time to reflect on myself and my connection to the world of migration.
But it was the experiences of the camps that stayed with me the most, as is perhaps natural: experiencing things firsthand always leaves its mark.
I would particularly like to share a memory from the camp Through Trieste in 2021. In those days we went to the border to clean up the paths crossed by migrants during the last leg of the Balkan Route. On our way up the mountain, we passed three boys coming down, visibly tired and wearing clothes not appropriate for a cheerful hike among friends. They passed us timidly and became even more shy after some of us greeted them. They were afraid of us, European citizens, potential witnesses of their illegal presence on our territory. The fact that someone could see me as a threat, when we were just there to help, sadly affected me.
On the afternoon of the same day, while we were in the square in Trieste distributing backpacks and shoes, we saw them arrive (we, by car, had taken half an hour to get back to the city, they had taken all day). I felt deep relief to see that they had made it, that they had not been stopped by the police. There was a strange mixture of happiness and excitement in the air for those who had made it to their destination, but also a feeling of sadness for all those who, we knew, had failed. And of helplessness in the face of the unnecessary difficulties that our country continued (and continues) to impose on those who set out.
On our way back to the center where we were sleeping one of us started crying in anger. The volunteer she was talking to told her, “It’s okay to feel anger, but there’s no use letting it simmer. You need to start asking yourself how to turn your anger into something useful.” These were not words addressed to me, but they did me a lot of good in that moment. I keep reminding myself of that and that’s what I keep telling myself as I try bit by bit to do my part.
