I Always End Up At Feminist Gatherings Wearing Flannel

Today was laundry day. I was down to my last flannel and weird jeans, but I figured I didn't have much to do today but read the Odyssey. Putting on my chic Italian wear, I remembered we were told there was a rally today. Our advisor had emailed all of us, essentially,to essentially, tell us not to go. Taking the email as a welcomed invitation I wandered out of my apartment on the drizzly Sunday to see what this was all about.

As it was the middle of the afternoon and I figured most protesters are early risers, I didn't have much hope of finding the rallyers still rallying. This was not the case. After walking a block I heard chanting. They were marching towards the Duomo. Hundreds upon hundreds of people were banging pots and pans and chanting and marching towards the duomo. WHAT?! This was not what I expected. I find people sending back wrong orders at restaurants outright audacious, the fact that now thousands of people were protesting outside this marvelous basilica was downright baffling.

I wasn't entirely sure what they were protesting, I just knew there were a lot of women with headbands chanting in Italian. They meant business. Several people soon walked by waving giant rainbow flags. Unaware both the point of this rally, and the fact that the rainbow flag was an international symbol, this piqued my interest.

Last semester for the newspaper it seemed as though I was assigned every LGBT event and feminist gathering possible. If there were empowered women taking a stand, there I was in my flannel. While I'm not actually gay, ("not that there's anything wrong with that") I do dabble in the plaid and will admit I would marry Ellen. Fitting most lesbian stereotypes, except the whole liking women thing, I found it comical that--despite no longer being a Chronicle photographer, and no longer being assigned Hofstra LGBT events, I still managed to find myself with a camera amidst crowds of empowered women taking a stand.

I later realized, the main point of this was not solely a gay pride/acceptance demonstration, but rather a demonstration for women. The women (and men, kids, and several puppies) of Italy decided to take a stand against Berlusconi. They argued he is degrading of women and he is humiliating females. Allegedly, the Premier paid a 17 year old for sex. (Also, another fun fact I learned today--prostitution isn't illegal in Italy.) The fact that Burlusconi (supposedly) had sex with a minor is overall a disgrace to the nation and a abomination to the women of Italy. It is a reflection of the fact that the Premier lacks respect for women and does not regard them as equals. I'm curious if this protest still would have happened had the girl been 18...but that's neither here nor there.

I decided to run back to my apartment to grab my other camera and Flip (because every real film major chooses The Flip). Making my way back I managed to get an exorbitant amount of footage of women of varying ages wearing handcrafted headbands, pumping signs (which may have been clever, I wish I could tell) and clanging household objects together. I'm not sure if it was meant to be symbolic that the women were marching holding pots and pans, or just convenient instruments. Either way, it was very effective.

I managed to end up morphing into the mob and marching with the masses. This was oddly moving. I had no idea what I was walking for, but I knew that this was something a lot of people felt passionately about. I figured I wasn't joining a communist gathering (as that rally was yesterday). Walking and hearing the chanting and seeing all the people so moved to action really stirred something in me. I wish I could've learned their catchy songs.

After many many "scusa"s, I made my way to the very heart of the rally. I was feet from a woman with a megaphone calling the people to action. Despite the fact that I couldn't really understand much more than "women", "enough" and "Berlusconi," I still understood the basic form of the rally. The ideas were all there, the words were all there--but what was most effective was the passion and emphasis behind the words. Regardless of the language, political party, or even gender, this rally brought together the people of Italy in attempt to vocalize the contempt and disgust at the current state of affairs in Italy.

I liked being at the very center of things. Again, I'm not entirely sure how the tiny American girl-with-camera made it to the heart of the rally, but I was pretty excited all the same. I took a bunch of pictures, and a lot of video. I plan to make a short video of the rally, though it proved to be a lot harder than anticipated to make a documentary when you can't speak the language.

All in all, I'm glad I left my house in my flannels and reject jeans. Though it was laundry day at my apartment--a rather big day, today proved to be an even bigger day for Italy. Also, I saw a group of sad women on a side street holding a sign that said "STOP KILL" with a picture of a whale with blood coming out of its blowhole. Viva Italia.