Disclaimer:
This article relates rape culture to femicide, but not everyone thinks that is productive. For instance, criminal law expert Aya Gruber cautioned me that “people will pick something about rape culture and probably propose really bad policies because they’re reactionary.” While I want to acknowledge this as a possibility, I hope to highlight the consequences of a lack of understanding and education, rather than prosecution. This is my way of observing today, November 25, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.
A few minutes before celebrating my friend’s birthday on June 5, 2023, the media’s somber reports on how “Giulia Tramontano died of exsanguination after being stabbed 37 times by her partner Alessandro Impagnatiello” flooded my feed.
Tramontano was reported missing in the Italian province of Milan on May 28 and found three days later. It had taken a week for the headlines to infiltrate my international news diet. I had just arrived at the party and wanted to go home.
That day I felt powerless, sad, and anguished––like every day I read about femicide. These feelings are why I must write about gender violence in Italy, despite knowing all too well that gender violence knows no borders. On one hand, I desperately need this long chain of horrors like Tramontano’s to force Italy to change; on the other, I worry about women in America, where the urgent conversations that femicides spark in Italy are absent.
The Chicago Policy Review refers to a “Silent Epidemic of Femicide” occurring in the United States. In 2021, the American rate of intentional homicides for every 100,000 females was 625% higher than Italy’s. In a global comparison of gender-based killings, The Land of the Free takes the 32th spot against Italy’s 126th. Despite this kill record, it takes considerable work to encounter media coverage and reliable statistics on the current situation in the U.S., as well as lay people interested in discussing them.
I decided to fill the absence of public debate in America with tales of Italy’s struggle. Frankly, I just want to understand why it’s so hard to eradicate gender violence in my country and find ways to fight it anywhere else.
Gender Violence, Made in Italy: Two Girls Named Giulia
Italy’s gender violence issue doesn’t begin or end with one or two women, but the cases of Giulia Tramontano and Giulia Cecchettin are exemplary. In an ideal world, these young women would only share a name. However, 29-year-old real estate agent Tramontano, and 22-year-old biomedical engineering student Cecchettin, would be two of 55 women killed by their partner between January and November 2023 in Italy, according to the Italian Department of Public Security.
In 2018, Tramontano left her hometown in the Province of Naples for work and met the then 25-year-old bartender, Alessandro Impagnatiello, in the Milanese municipality; Cecchettin still lived at home when she met Filippo Turetta, then 19, a classmate at the University of Padua in 2020. The pairs dated for a similar amount of time—two and a half years and three years, respectively—but the trajectory of their relationships was different. In late 2022, Tramontano was ecstatic to find out she was pregnant with Impagnatiello’s child and started planning her life as a mom, despite (rightfully) suspecting Impagnatiello of cheating; meanwhile, Cecchettin had already broken up once with Turetta and was considering to end things for good, acting on that thought in August 2023.
Both Impagnatiello and Turetta rejected the developments in their relationships and resorted to psychological abuse to keep the women close.
Impagnatiello would gaslight Tramontano when she accused him of cheating, and guilt-trip her to stay together for their unborn baby if she suggested a separation. But he was also secretly poisoning her, hoping to chemically induce a miscarriage and kill her. When she didn’t die, Impagnatiello fatally stabbed her in their home.
Cecchettin’s partner would do the same, stabbing her over 20 times, and fatally in the neck, in a parking lot near her family home. Before her death, Turetta would tell Cecchettin that he was depressed and suicidal to prevent her from cutting all ties with him after their second break up. In a soft-spoken voice message to her friends that has gone viral, Cecchettin excuses Turetta’s behavior, but admits his words “sound very much like blackmail.” Turetta and Cecchettin remained friends until November 11, 2023, after sharing a meal at a McDonald’s in the Province of Venice: a security camera shows Turetta injuring and forcing her into his car. Like Tramontano, Cecchettin died of exsanguination.
After murdering their partners, both Impagnatiello and Turetta tried to delay their moment of reckoning. Impagnatiello would break down and confess after attempting to burn Tramontano’s dead body— twice— and shooting her text messages (“Baby, where are you? We’re all worried about you”) to cover his tracks. Turetta fled by car but was captured in Germany a week later, while Cecchettin’s body was decaying on the shores of a lake in the Po-Venetian Valley.
The subtle forms of abuse that preceded the murders of the two Giulias are difficult to fight in Italy. Psychological, socioeconomic, and verbal abuse are often invisible to the untrained eye. When I talked to Francesca Rissone and Isabella Ferretti, two of the leaders of “Le Avvocate,” a law practice defending women in gender violence cases, they noted that people often mistake violence for conflict.
“Conflict occurs only when the two parties are on the same plane, which means there can be mediation,” said Rissone. “By contrast, cases of violence are shaped by a dynamic in which those acting violent are in a higher position than those who suffer violence.”
Downplaying non-physical forms of gender violence is also a real obstacle in gathering evidence, according to Ferretti. It encourages the stigmatization of the person who raised the issue, especially because potential witnesses may minimize the problem in the absence of physical abuse “since our society is quite old-fashioned in this respect.”
Another outdated Italian trend is the refusal to define people like Impagnatiello and Turetta as toxic men. In fact, many even refuse to define the two as ‘men’: an Italian politician alluded to the groomed eyebrows and clean-shaven beard of the killers of the two Giulias to argue that they are “re-educated, deconstructed, feminized.” All to prove that femicide simply cannot be a male issue.
The Italian internet readily embraces the suggestion that emasculated males cause femicides. Many users (mostly men) complain about reverse sexism and wokeism and essentially repeat the politician’s argument: men who kill women are not men. Moreover, ‘real Italian men’ suffer because of the unjust scrutiny of women who dare lump them in the same biological category.
This opinion is so popular that it has become impossible to talk about gender-based violence without acknowledging men’s suffering. If you care about the topic enough to talk about it in public, you know that it usually goes well only if you agree that murderers of women belong to a dark third sex that victimizes females…and males.
Your terror and rage are palatable only if they spare the reputation of most men; if they don’t, you’re a woke prick who goes around calling every (straight) man an abuser. The need to make concessions to get people to acknowledge the seriousness of femicide is a direct consequence of living in a rape culture— a system of societal norms and customs that downplays sexism and favors violence against women.
— Maria Vittoria Borghi
What is Italian rape culture?
I asked my Italian colleague Eleonora Sironi, who lives abroad, if she thinks there is a difference between rape culture in Italy and other countries. I met her through our work at VIOLA, an Italian startup that addresses issues of gender violence in public spaces by offering a 24/7 call service. She told me that sexist jokes and other forms of casual sexism are more widespread and sanctioned in Italy, and explained rape culture as a pyramid.
“The blocks are made up of beliefs about traditional gender roles, hostility toward women, and the normalization of violence, which create suitable conditions for the most serious violence against women, such as rape and femicide,” she said. “The term ‘rape culture’ renders the endemic nature of the problem, meaning the creation of an environment that sees women as objects of male possession.”
The Italian debate about rape culture was triggered by Cecchettin’s murder. Her case followed the usual pattern—boy meets girl, they fall out, she disappears, body reappears. But, unlike other cases, Cecchettin’s virtue couldn’t be debated in the court of public opinion. She didn’t use drugs, go to “crazy” parties, wear revealing clothing or date someone new after the breakup. Italy couldn’t close the mediatic case with victim-blaming—its typical approach to gender violence cases.
Cecchettin’s 24-year-old sister, Elena, who was studying abroad, flew back home as soon as Giulia disappeared. She confronted the hype in the media and changed the narrative in the country:
“Turetta is often referred to as a monster, but … he is not,” she said. “A monster is an exception … a person for whom society should not take responsibility.”
Following her sister’s murder, Elena would become a symbol of resistance and campaign for sex education and the funding of domestic violence shelters. “Femicide is not a crime of passion, it’s a crime of power,” she said. People like Turetta are “healthy children of patriarchy, of rape culture,” and “femicide is a state murder because the [Italian] state does not protect us.”
Some dismissed Elena Cecchettin’s condemnation using personal attacks; others, including my friends and myself, started looking at their own histories with men through a new lens. Why do “family friends” comment on our looks since puberty? Why does catcalling remain such a regular occurrence? Why do we all have at least one friend with a boyfriend who polices her clothing?
Rape culture doesn’t show only with rape: it manifests when men are not educated to see a woman’s perspective, preference, or opinion—especially a rejection—as final and unrelated to their own. When this mindset is ingrained in customs, it protects and nurtures possessive and violent men.
— Maria Vittoria Borghi
Another case that showcases Italy’s rape culture is the one of “Silvia” (her real name is kept anonymous), who testified against four boys in November for gang-raping her in Sardinia in 2019. Her hearing also came up in my conversation with civil attorneys Isabella Ferretti and Francesca Rissone, when we discussed Italian justice and culture on the subject. While the jury is still out on Silvia’s case, Rissone and Ferretti assure me that the lack of judicial speed and empathy that characterize it are major issues in Italy’s legal culture.
In four days of the hearing, which occurred in 2023 for events of 2019, “Silvia” answered a total of 1400 questions, some related to how her panties were removed, why she didn’t bite during oral sex, and how it was possible to take her pants off if her legs were bent. In December 2023, Italian judges also invited her to re-enact a gesture made by one of the offenders that evening, and they decided to watch the tape of her assault in her presence, granting the request of the defendants. Only when Silvia left the room, the justices realized it was better to postpone the watchparty.
Silvia’s treatment is a classic case of secondary victimization, that is, institutional forms of victim-blaming.
Some might say that it’s an unfair generalization to suggest that such treatment is typical for Italy; I say that a repeatedly confirmed stereotype is not a bias but a stagnant culture. Italy has a long history of men who think they can mold the opposite sex with non-verbal cues, words, and actions because seduction is female, and lawmakers (of both sexes!) investigate gender violence under this assumption.
— Maria Vittoria Borghi
The European Court of Human Rights, which berated Italy for sexist sentences and perpetuating secondary victimization in 2021, seems to agree.
…
How do I know I come from a rape culture? The number of femicides in Italy has barely decreased in the last decade despite copious financial efforts. The international non-profit organization ActionAid investigated the matter and made an interesting discovery: only 5.6% of the prevention budget between 2020 and 2023 targets stereotypes and patriarchy. ActionAid concluded that “a medium and long-term prevention strategy that acts on the widespread patriarchal and sexist culture in the country is almost absent,” pointing out that “the cultural change so strongly advocated by the political forces of the old and new legislature is not feasible at zero cost to state budgets.” I know I come from a rape culture because one year and over 96 confirmed femicides after Cecchettin’s murder, Elena Roccella––a woman, but most importantly Italy’s Minister for Family, Natality, and Equal Opportunities––insists that “no law could have saved Giulia.”
If no law can save us, it would be a joke of poor taste to ask us to rely on law enforcement. And yet this is what the Italian state police did on the 2023 International Day against gender violence, which fell a few weeks after Giulia Cecchettin’s murder. As soon as the police shared its post on Instagram expressing solidarity, victims, and witnesses flooded the comment section with their buried reports.
One Instagram user accused the police of laughing at them when they reported being harassed near their home. (“I cried in fear of going downstairs with my dogs for weeks! You told me to dress like a boy!”)
Another recalled notifying the police about a couple fighting in a car under her apartment, but they never showed up. (“... [H]e was beating her, and you replied ‘Well ma’am, he’ll already have killed her by the time we get there.’”)
Indeed, what precedes femicide in Italy is often a downplayed police report, which is why no Italian girl I know who has been harassed or stalked has ever involved the authorities, myself included. Can you blame us? When Filippo Turetta attacked Giulia Cecchettin in the parking lot near her home, a witness called the police to report the assault. Nobody followed up.
— Maria Vittoria Borghi
What’s getting better?
Italy has made some steps forward in recent years. The second Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry into Femicide which was active between 2019 and 2022 conducted investigations into the prosecutors’ offices, courts and appellate courts, anti-violence centers, and other institutions to collect data on femicide and different forms of gender-based violence in Italy. Its work culminated in a report of over 250 pages that draws international comparisons and best practices, elaborating on how a cultural context can turn into gender-based violence. This led to the development of new regulations: the 2019 Code Red Law, for instance, mainly intervened in the areas of prevention (e.g., the development of treatment and education programs, for offenders and civil servants respectively) and punishment (e.g., tougher sentences and fast-tracked investigations with the involvement of social and psychological services to support the victims).
But the most important shift occurred in collective awareness, especially among girls, who read about Cecchettin’s murder and thought ‘It could have been me.’ I have a friend whose ex-boyfriend used to show up at her location without notice or consent, like Filippo Turetta; my childhood friend’s ex psychologically abused her, like Alessandro Impagnatiello. After Cecchettin’s murder, we were able to talk about them without cracking a joke to downplay the ‘could-have-beens’: when Cecchettin became the 105th victim of femicide of 2023, it was one too many times that we had become painfully aware of the situations that could have turned us into Giulias. Giving us the courage to talk about these horrible things and find solace in each other is the closest thing to healing.
Don’t wait to see something to say something
Italy won’t win any moral awards for its approach to racial issues, but its public debate on gender violence has evolved. There is research on ways in which we Italians insist on assigning specific duties and liberties to men, and others to women. As imperfect as it is, there is a debate on how it comes naturally–that is, culturally–to us to perpetuate a societal system of sexist checks and balances despite knowing better. And we agree that Italy’s problem with gender violence doesn’t start or end in a Berlusconian Villa. (The late media mogul and former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi was often involved in sex scandals, which took place at his infamous mansions.)
By contrast, America’s history with gender violence as a tool of conquest and racial control is as documented as it is ignored. In this light, terms like “intimate partner violence” and cultural moments like the #MeToo movement reveal themselves to be too superficial and reductive to explain what happens to women in the U.S.. But I won’t claim to understand deeply American issues: my point is that the kind of advocates, cultural moments, policy papers, and media coverage that help us Italians understand and reflect why women die as they do in our culture are virtually absent or ignored in mainstream America.
Why else would an American nurse take it upon herself to track national femicides in her free time if not because the federal government refuses to? Perhaps it’s America’s choice to live with superficial terminology and missing data. It allows the status quo to be taken as a fact and gives America a reason to exclude predominantly affected populations from mainstream feminist narratives.
Every country has a different set of Giulias and Silvias and must engage in meaningful discussion about what happens to these women to stop it. No country can hope to overcome its discomfort with gender violence without a basic willingness to characterize the nuances of its rape culture, attempt to quantify them, and allocate funds toward education and prevention. But to address this shortcoming, we must first start talking about it—like lives depend on it, because they do. No rape culture can be dismantled in silence.
This story is in Capsule’s Spring 2024 collection.