Questo blog e’ una traduzione in inglese dal testo originale (scritto in italiano). Si puo’ leggere e scaricare il testo originale (quello italiano) qui.
This blog is based on a translation of a letter written by myself in Italian. The original text (in Italian) can be read and/or downloaded here.
Please note: Before reading, I’d like to affirm the intended meaning of the terms “assimilation” and “integration“.
Assimilation, multiculturalism and integration:
Assimilation refers to the process of denying, concealing, eradicating and/or changing elements of one’s identity (e.g. language, religion, spiritual practice) in order to fulfil societal norms, expectations and perceptions of identity, belonging and citizenship.
This is not in line with the values and ethos of a multicultural society.
In an assimilationist society, an individual may be forced, encouraged or feel compelled to change, hide or erase parts of their identity.
This could be by law or coercion / social pressure (according to societal expectations and social norms).
An individual may “assimilate” in order to minimise/erase (the level / impact of) prejudice, isolation and discrimination in one or many forms (e.g. culturally, socially, financially, legally).
This process occurs in societies/groups where people with traditions that are (perceived to be) outside (or even “incompatible” with) the designated collective “national norm” (e.g. cultural, ethnic, linguistic and religious minorities) are encouraged, coerced or forced to assimilate in order to integrate.
On the contrary, in a multicultural society, citizenship and collective national identity are formed on the basis of shared values of diversity, tolerance and inclusion.
Individuals are encouraged to integrate on the basis of these broader shared values.
They are not required, encouraged coerced or forced (by law or social consensus) to deny fundamental parts of their identity.
A multicultural society recognises, values and encourages the complexity, merging and fluidity of identit(ies).
As people with both individual and collective identities, community and national identity and values may change, grow or merge over time (e.g. through generational, social and demographical shifts such as migration patterns).
Recognising intersectionality (our multiple identities) is therefore increasingly important.
In this context (and in contrast to the ethos of an assimilationist society), the foundational belief of a shared yet varying identity based on mutual core beliefs / belonging remains intact.
Where differences of opinion emerge around a perceived or real “clash of values”, dialogue, reflection and cross-communal engagement are paramount.
Limits to personal freedoms (e.g. of expression and freedom of religion) would/should only be referenced in the context of public safety, individual and collective safeguarding (“do not harm”) and a wider human rights framework.
Thursday 8th August 2024
Ciao nonna,
Itโs me, Liz. Elisabetta. Your granddaughterโฆ
Iโm not sure if you can read, or even see this.
I donโt know if youโve been looking over me since youโve been โup thereโ. If youโve been keeping up-to-date with my life…
Iโd like to think so. Iโd love for you to be able to see everything that Iโm getting up to โ everything I do, say and feel. At least some of it. That way you’ll get a taste of where I go, what I doing and who with.
Itโd be so beautifulโฆ Well, only you and God know the realityโฆ
Iโm writing from my home in England. I came back from Italy just a few days ago.
I spent almost two weeks there โ ten days with my cousins and a few days in Naples doing the tourist thing in your region Campania.
It was so lovely to spend time with my family in your country. An absolutely beautiful experience.
Maybe you already knew that Iโd been. Who knowsโฆ Maybe you know everything about me. I hope so… I really do!
Sometimes, it feels like youโre here with me โ and mum too โ leaving me little signs telling me:
โIโm here. Mum too. All of us. Donโt worry, weโre fine! And youโre gonna be fine too. Chin up!โ Or as mum would say: “Don’t let the b****rs get you down!”.
I hope you’re here. I really doโฆ
Iโve wanted to speak to you for so long. And, in Italian (your language!). Iโve thought of it for years. Many, many years.
As a little girl, Iโd never have imagined Iโd be able (or even want) to write you a letter like this โ from afar, in your native language.
Itโs now been more than twenty years since I first started learning Italian.
Learning the language has taken me back to my heritage โ and itโs great! But, itโs also a reminder of how I had to learn Italian as a foreign language (rather than being bilingual).
As you already know, mum never taught me Italian. She didnโt talk to me in Italian.
At first, she didnโt even want me to learn it. She didnโt speak it. Ever. My aunt did, but she didnโt teach it me either.
For many years I couldnโt understand why. Why didnโt my mum want to speak her native language? Why didnโt she embrace the culture of her homeland?
Why did she try so hard to simply seem โEnglishโ โ or in her words: โto just be herselfโ?
I couldnโt understand it. For years, I just didnโt get it. Now, I do.
Now I understand. Because I understand how difficult it was for her, for you, for Aunty N and for Grandad Joe. I get it (although I still donโt have much information to go by).
And you know what? It makes me angry. Not at you, or her or Grandad Joe.
No, Iโm angry with all of those people who decided what a โmigrantโ should look and sound like. Who dictated or โadvisedโ what or how an Italian should be. Or an English person. Even a woman.
Iโm angry at all of them โ on both sides.
I didnโt even know your real name, nonna. After coming to England, Genoveffa become โJennyโ. And nonno Silvioโฆ well, he wasnโt even called โSilvioโ. Heโd become โJoeโ.
My grandparents were โJenny and Joeโ. But, it doesnโt make any sense.
Who exactly were Jenny and Joe supposed to be?
โGrandad Joeโ is the only name I recognised โ even if we didnโt talk much together. No one ever really referred to โnonno Silvioโ in daily life.
And that was just for starters. I couldnโt even communicate with you nonna โ neither with Jenny nor Genoveffa.
You didnโt speak English and I couldnโt speak Italian. What a shame. Utter madness!
Our history, origins, our everything was just pushed aside.
Forgive me, nonna. Iโm not blaming you. Any of you. I just want you to know how it breaks my heart.
Honestly. Itโs hurt me. Itโs had a big impact on my life โ and still does.
Every time I talk about this with someone โ about how you didnโt speak English and I couldnโt speak Italian โ basically, how we couldnโt even talk to one another, I realise how strange this must sound. How hard it is to understand.
But, itโs true. We didnโt share a language. None. Ever. But, I knew you loved me. Always.
And that makes me so happy. But, I canโt ever be happy with everything else that took place.
I can never believe in assimilation โ whether self-imposed or enforced by other people.
Multiculturalism has always been so important to me. Itโs at the heart of my core beliefs, my experiences and my way of life.
I hope that my life is (and always will be) a living example of why intercultural and interreligious dialogue are so important. Of why itโs so important to create inclusive safe spaces that embrace diversity and the fluidity of identity. Spaces where everyone is free to express themselves, to just be themselves.
I also hope to exemplify just how much we need to be honest with ourselves. To never forget where weโre from. Our culture, our language, our faith.
We must ever never forget where weโre from and our story โ both as individuals and communities. Each and every one of us. You, me and everyone everywhere.
The right to simply be ourselves โ to express ourselves โ is paramount. But to be able to be free to live our true authentic selves, society has to be on the same page.
Only in a society where everyone is happy, free and able to follow their own true path โ both as individuals and single and wider communities โ is this possible.
And of course, we need freedom, wisdom and the desire โ the will โ to make it happen.
Iโm not blaming you. I understand โ as much as I can without having walked a mile in your shoes and not having all the details (of which no one ever really spoke).
Iโm not writing this letter to blame you. Absolutely not.
Iโm writing to you to tell you how much I love you, how much I hope youโre proud of me and just how much I wish I could speak to you now that youโre โup thereโ in the sky.
I want you to know that, despite all the obstacles along the way, Iโve learnt Italian.
I want to tell you about my studies. And to tell you that Iโm so proud of my culture, my history, my family and my language.
I want to tell you all about the trips Iโve made to Italy โ to study, to visit my cousins and to discover my heritage, my roots and my identity.
Andโฆ I also want to tell you just how difficult (and beautiful) itโs been to make this personal journey.
A journey full of doubts, secrets, discoveries. A journey to a place where I still donโt feel like Iโm โgood enoughโ, โreal enoughโ or โauthentic enoughโ to truly say: โYes, Iโm Italian too โ half!โ
Oh nonna, I want to tell you so many things. To show you so many thingsโฆ
And above all, I want to tell you that Iโm proud of you. All of you. Proud of our culture, language and homeland.
Iโve never been ashamed to be Italian. And I hope youโre happy for that. But, I have felt ashamed.
The shame I feel still runs through my soul, my blood and my heart. Itโs a monster that tells me that Iโm not โreally Italianโ or โnot Italian enoughโ.
Iโd love to be able to drive it out. To push away the shame, the fear and this sense of โnot being Italian enoughโ.
Iโd love to instead feel worthy of saying: โYes, Iโm half Italian tooโ. Yes, Iโm also Italian.
Mum โ and probably you too โ felt you had to (and were even advised to) hide your true identity. And now, Iโm full of doubts. I make mistakes when speaking Italian.
Iโm lacking in confidence in embracing my Italian heritage โ one that was always slightly lost or hidden.
Today, I donโt feel that sense of self โ of who I am and who you were. But youโre part of me, nonna. And Iโm proud of that.
I donโt ever want to deny my heritage. Honestly. I want to embrace it. My history, my heritage.
Iโve spent years wondering why this part of our history was hidden. And, Iโve since also spent many years learning Italian as a foreign language โ trying to grab embrace my second culture with all my heart and soul. This lost, forgotten, rejected culture.
Itโs not easy having spent most of your life with half of your identity lost, hidden way, rejected.
Yes, Iโm seemingly very โEnglishโ โ no doubt about it. But itโs still not easy.
Because thereโs more to me than the โEnglish Lizโ. There are values, relatives, habits โ ones that are very Italian.
Yes, we may not have spent every night eating typical Italian food โ perfectly authentic in every way.
And no, we didnโt speak Italian at home. Nor did we go to Italy โ well, not until after you and Grandad Joe died.
But this doesnโt mean that you werenโt a part of me. That you werenโt Italian. That half of my family was and is Italian.
From the outside, we initially looked pretty stereotypically English (or so I thought). But, we canโt deny our heritage. And well, I discovered later in life that it really was there all alongโฆ
After many years, Iโm older and wiser. And I know what I want my future to look like.
Iโm discovering more and more that our family did embrace Italian values โ and still do (even if you, grandad and mum arenโt here anymore).
Itโs these values that Iโve recognised โ above all when it comes to family and just how important it is.
Oh nonna, Iโd love to be able to talk to you. To see you again. To hug you. To kiss you on the cheeks and tell you:
โNonna, ciao! Come stai? How are you? Mi sei mancata! I missed you!โ
Here I am. Hoping that you can hear me, understand me โ and that youโre waiting for meโฆ
All my love,
Elisabetta
Dedication
This blog is dedicated to my late mother, grandmother, grandfather and cousin Pasquale.
May you rest in peace eternally. Spero di vedervi un giorno. I hope we meet again one day.
A big thanks also to my Italian family for loving me for who I am โ always. Vi voglio tutti bene. I love you all.
Voice of Salam 
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