“I would never have thought that what I thought was my greatest flaw could now be what I am most proud of”

It took years for Fatima to come to terms with her identity, the contradictions surrounding her and the feeling of not being understood, that accompanied her for a long time and was characterised by many questions to which nobody answered. Born in Morocco, she lived in Khouribga only for her first two years, after which her mother decided to move to Turin to give Fatima and her sister a different life and a better future. Here, Fatima grew up in the Porta Palazzo neighbourhood, whose name encapsulates all the cultures that inhabit and pass through it and, Morocco’s relative proximity to Italy meant that they could travel there often. 

“This is the fortune of so many kids of my age who have Moroccan origins and for whom it is difficult to completely lose touch with their country, culture and identity”.

Fatima is one of the millions of people commonly referred to as “second generation”, those who were born in Italy or arrived here as children, and who have non-Italian parents. According to Fatima, rather than a generation, it is a common condition that leads to an identity crisis from an early age and that often explodes during adolescence. Living and attending primary and secondary school in the Porta Palazzo, Aurora and Barriera di Milano neighbourhoods, multicultural districts of the city, meant that she grew in the awareness of her identity – among comrades this was “a common struggle” – and it was at high school that much changed. For the first time, she attended a school outside these neighbourhoods and very quickly became the daughter of immigrants who would cause troubles. A deep existential drama and a great loneliness began to emerge in her. At the time, she was unable to talk about feeling different at school, especially with her mother, who worked a lot and would probably have told her that school was only for studying. Moreover, kids like her suppressed their identity so much that she felt uncomfortable not doing the same.

“I had to understand how to sell myself and how to be, and how much of me people really wanted to know and how much of them, reflected in me, they wanted to see”.

She suffered a lot during those years, which were characterised by many questions about her origins and culture, and by the feeling of difference that until then had never been a problem. She felt the need to assimilate, but she could never suppress her identity, and this conflict caused a strong internal discomfort that turned into anger. She became a rebellious girl, she fought a lot and this was her way of expressing what she felt. Fatima is convinced that this phase is a time of great loneliness “which is very important and precious, but also very delicate, and in which it is important to be accompanied by someone who helps you see and touch the opportunities that exist”. She was fortunate enough to attend SERMIG. Here she expressed her anger the most, and thanks to an educator, she realised that she was changing and the discomfort she was experiencing, which led her to change her path. At the time she did not believe she would continue her studies after high school, but a teacher encouraged her to apply for the United World College of the Adriatic, near Trieste. A school open to 17-year-olds from all over the world that aims to a reflection on the theme of peace and where, she was accepted. This path marked an important turning point in her life. There they had to think about how to change the world, studying was important along with organising a social project, which Fatima organised in Baja Mare, Romania, where they worked on an education project for street children living in severe poverty, violence and hardship. A very powerful experience that helped her put things into perspective. She obtained her international diploma in 2019 and realised she wanted to continue studying. She enrolled in the bachelor’s degree programme in Global Law and Transnational Legal Studies and later pursued a master’s degree in International Security Studies. Here she analysed the evolution of the concept of threat over time, which today is characterised by abstract fears such as climate change and migration. The latter became the topic of her thesis, along with the debate on the securitisation of identity and the effects that this has on the second generations, questioning what it means to be “children of a threat’. Do you embrace a trend that everyone thinks you have in your blood, or do you try to redeem it? Do you redeem for you or to disprove it?”. According to Fatima, second-generation kids like her are very vulnerable. They live in a society that continues to consider them different even after having attended all the schools in Italy and in which, when it comes to identity, there is still an extreme focus on ethnicity, religion or nationality. When this is actually made of a mosaic of elements. When Fatima thinks about her identity, she cannot avoid thinking about the debate on citizenship. Only recently she has made that switch that allowed her to accept that she is both Moroccan and Italian, and while this was a very important step for her, it contrasts with the demand to assert to be 100 % Italians.

“And this is a big lie. I have learnt to say that I am Italian, Moroccan, Italian-Moroccan and above all, that I am 24 years of this, and I am me”.

Her identity is made up of many aspects that can neither be divided nor simplified – such as her life path in Italy living in Porta Palazzo alongside many nationalities, or being Moroccan through all what her mother told her since she was a child, the Islam she lives during Ramadan, her knowledge of Arabic and gathering on Fridays to eat couscous. Fatima endorses that debate on citizenship that goes beyond the dual identity linked to her origins and instead embraces her complexities, individuality and specificity. And for now, even though she has been in Italy since she was two years old, she still does not meet the requirements to apply for citizenship – something that, for everyone in her situation – creates an unequal access to opportunities, and an “objectively unjust” situation. Today, in collaboration with UNICEF, she raises awareness in the schools of her neighbourhood on the issue, and in 2019 she founded an after-school centre in the heart of Porta Palazzo that aims to ensure that those who experience what she experienced can see the opportunities that she once did not see too. And for this, she was unexpectedly rewarded. In 2023, she became Cavaliere dell’Ordine al Merito della Repubblica, an award given to her by the President of the Republic, Sergio Mattarella, for her dedication to the neighbourhood. 

“The after-school centre aims to create a sense of belonging to the neighbourhood, the city and the country and to encourage children to reflect on their identity, possibilities and potential. And thus break, as much as possible, the stereotypes they’ve been stuck in since kindergarten”.

Going to Rome with her mother and aunt was incredibly emotional and a moment of great pride. Today, Fatima thinks at how to turn the after-school centre into an association that puts all those who attend it first. Moreover, she is grateful to her mother for always keeping a bridge with Morocco alive in her. So that now, she can proudly claim her origins that, if they once made her feel very bad, today are what makes her feel the best. And with this awareness, she believes she has achieved a small life goal.

“I would never have thought that what I thought was a greatest flaw, could now be what I am most proud of that is making me doing the most beautiful things, that I could never have imagined. And I wish everyone could have the chance to live and feel all of this”.