EIGHT OF MARCH TO REMEMBER

It was my first time. I had never met, so far, the young students from a high school to talk about bullying.

I told them about my experiences as a victim: I have not proposed solutions, I have not flaunted truths. I have no truths, no certainties. I just showed them my wounds, my weakness and shared mine with them. Because I do not feel like a saint, but the very opposite of that, and because I feel I have a lot to learn, especially from them. In practice I have asked those boys and girls to help me and understand, and perhaps to find, all together, some possible answers, though not definitive.

They paid attention to me. They listened to what I said. They were moved to tears, and even I was. But nothing was fake or prepared: we just were who we are, and that’s it.

 

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