Elena Giorgi

“Men learn to regard rape as a moment in time; a discreet episode with a beginning, middle, and end. But for women, rape is thousands of moments that we fold into ourselves over a lifetime.
Its' the day that you realize you can't walk to a friend's house anymore or the time when your aunt tells you to be nice because the boy was just 'stealing a kiss.' It's the evening you stop going to the corner store because, the night before, a stranger followed you home. It's the late hour that a father or stepfather or brother or uncle climbs into your bed. It's the time it takes you to write an email explaining that you're changing your major, even though you don't really want to, in order to avoid a particular professor. It's when you're racing to catch a bus, hear a person demand a blow job, and turn to see that it's a police officer. It's the second your teacher tells you to cover your shoulders because you'll 'distract the boys, and what will your male teachers do?' It's the minute you decide not to travel to a place you've always dreamed about visiting and are accused of being 'unadventurous.' It's the sting of knowing that exactly as the world starts expanding for most boys, it begins to shrink for you. All of this goes on all day, every day, without anyone really uttering the word rape in a way that grandfathers, fathers, brothers, uncles, teachers, and friends will hear it, let alone seriously reflect on what it means.”
― Soraya Chemaly, Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger

“«Il viaggio non finisce mai. Solo i viaggiatori finiscono. E anche loro possono prolungarsi in memoria, in ricordo, in narrazione. Quando il viaggiatore si è seduto sulla sabbia della spiaggia e ha detto “Non c’è altro da vedere”, sapeva che non era vero. La fine di un viaggio è solo l’inizio di un altro. Bisogna vedere quel che non si è visto, vedere di nuovo quel che si è già visto, vedere in primavera quel che si era visto in estate, veder di giorno quel che si era visto di notte, con il sole dove prima pioveva, vedere le messi verdi, il frutto maturo, la pietra che ha cambiato posto, l’ombra che non c’era. Bisogna ritornare sui posti già dati, per ripeterli, e per tracciarvi a fianco nuovi cammini. Bisogna ricominciare il viaggio. Sempre ».

José Saramago, “Viaggio in Portogallo”
― José Saramago, Viaje a Portugal

“Ask a woman if she has been harassed, or if she thinks about rape regularly, and she will almost always say "no" initially. Who wants to think about rape? Ask her, however, if she makes eye contact when she walks down the street, where and when she loiters for pleasure on a warm day, if she runs by herself at night, or if she pays for cabs instead of peacefully strolling home. Then ask her why. We are taught to fear rape but not to question its pervasive threat or doubt how "natural" it is or isn't.”
― Soraya Chemaly, Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger

“We minimize our anger, calling it frustration, impatience, exasperation, or irritation, words that don't convey the intrinsic social and public demand that 'anger' does. We learn to contain our selves: our voices, hair, clothes, and, most importantly, speech. Anger is usually about saying "no" in a world where women are conditioned to say almost anything but "no.”
― Soraya Chemaly, Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger