3.1. Murano: Insularity, Crisis and Community in the Balance
Murano is an island of approximately 4680 inhabitants in the Venetian lagoon and is famous for its tradition of glassmaking. Today, despite being the core of Venice’s artistic glass-making district and close to the historic centre (about 20 min by vaporetto—water bus), Murano is undergoing major socio-economic transformations that have turned it into a veritable “periphery in the centre”, with all the contradictions that come with that.
The physical and symbolic space occupied by Murano due to its ancient tradition of glassmaking is rapidly changing. The area’s economic driver and the beating heart of its identity, glassmaking only survives today in small family workshops sometimes relegated to a mere showcase for mass tourism. As a former glass craftsman recounts with nostalgia: “When I was young, Murano was blue: work overalls everywhere. Now it’s empty, silent”. Added to this is a feeling of being abandoned by the institutions: “We are a global brand, but who stands up for us? Who represents us?”, asks a local glass artist.
The effects of exogenous events that are impossible to control at the local level—the 2008–2010 financial crisis, the COVID-19 pandemic, increasing gas prices, and competition from Asian markets—have compounded long-term dynamics of a gradual erosion of productive structures. Between 2009 and 2015, in Murano, the number of businesses in the glass sector fell from 226 to 212. In 2020, the number of companies operating on the island fell to around 150 (
Barucco et al. 2022). This crisis reflects the economic and structural problems faced in this sector, despite its status as a historic and cultural symbol of Venice (
Invitalia 2018). At the basis of this downward trend in production and employment there are a number of factors, including international competition with other glass districts, such as Bohemia, and industrial automation (
Barucco et al. 2022). The elimination of subsidies for buying methane gas has increased production costs, while environmental regulations have imposed legitimate restrictions on the use of traditional materials such as cadmium and arsenic trioxide, complicating the production of certain colours and techniques. Made for health and environmental reasons, these changes were perceived as coming from above, with glass manufacturers expected to take the blow.
Periods of economic crisis and the COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated the situation. Restrictions and lockdowns led to a decrease in orders, meaning revenue from glassmaking dropped or even completely disappeared, and also severely affected tourism, which is a primary source of income for the island. Furthermore, the high cost of raw materials in Murano compared to other regions—including other areas in the Municipality of Venice—has aggravated the situation, even leading to the closure of several factories, which was also discussed in some interviews. For example, in an interview with a former glassworks owner, we were told that “with the recent pandemic, the price of gas has risen dramatically […] 40% of factories have closed”. A glass artist explained that “from the point of view of cost, you are out of the market. The most important thing is to show that you are on the island, where glass is not just talked about but also made. If we look at the last four or five years, the biggest challenges have been the COVID-19 pandemic, the high tide in 2019 that almost destroyed our kilns, and the cost of gas, which we are still dealing with”. The spike in gas prices has been particularly burdensome for the glass sector due to the specific nature of its production process. As one interviewee noted, “the workshops, with their furnaces operating 24 h a day at temperatures of up to 1200 degrees, furnaces cannot be turn off because otherwise workshops would not be able to work the next day. This means a huge and constant consumption of gas”. The recurring nature of these challenges has created a sense of abandonment.
Dependence on tourism has made the sector vulnerable, and the difficulty in attracting young workers—resulting in a lack of generational turnover—has contributed to its decline. This is an issue perceived by older generations who retain a sense of pride and belonging in the industry, forged at the height of the industry’s socio-economic success. Two interviewees from the Circolo Culturale e Ricreativo Murano addressed the issue of young people’s disaffection with glass production through a project funded by the Municipality of Venice, in the form of an interactive comic strip created in collaboration with the Abate Zanetti glass school:
The project is about the possibility of getting young people excited about working with Murano glass, because we think, among the many issues affecting Murano glass—its crisis—is the lack of young workers. And we think the lack of young workers is linked to the fact that young people do not choose to work with glass because they do not have a real understanding of what glassworking is in all its forms. That is, glass understood as design, understood as… the chemical part of making glass paste, understood as direct glassworking, but also indirect, such as decoration, engraving, lampworking, mirrors, etc. All these processes, which are historical processes in Murano that are now disappearing, are, we think, dictated by the fact that there are no young workers.
3.2. Murano: A Periphery in the Centre
Murano’s access to services is clearly affected by its being a little island. According to a research report by
Ires Veneto (
2023) on the relationship between accessibility, use of health services and quality of life in Insular Venice, with a particular focus on the needs of the frail and the elderly, Murano has basic health services, including general practitioners’ (GP) surgeries, with two doctors operating on the island. The average distance between these surgeries and people’s homes is about 7.3 min on foot, less than a kilometre, and Murano also has two pharmacies, which are a key point of reference for residents, especially for those who do not visit the doctor often. However, there are no hospitals or specialist clinics, forcing residents to travel to the historic centre or other islands to access these services. Furthermore, the island does not have intermediate facilities such as community hospitals.
Water buses and other public transport are essential for connecting Murano to different areas of Venice, but residents often argue the service is unsatisfactory, particularly due to its overcrowding and infrequency (
Ires Veneto 2023). Although Murano formally benefits from a health district, its usability is partially compromised by increasing reductions in staff, the absence of permanent specialists (such as paediatricians), and the frequent need to travel to the mainland to obtain more advanced care. This situation was confirmed by several interviewees: “They gave us a paediatrician who comes twice a week, but is based in Venice. What happens if a child is ill on Monday evening?” These are the words of a mother representing Mamme per Murano, which, as we will see below, is an association created with the aim of ensuring that essential services are guaranteed.
Although the island is in theory well connected to the centre of Venice, residents describe a daily experience of “hindered mobility”: water buses crowded with tourists, insufficient services during peak times, frequent delays, and fog that completely isolates the island. As an elderly resident said, “The problem is not just getting around, but feeling pushed aside. The transport is not designed for us, but for people who come to visit Murano for two hours and then leave”. This perception intensifies on public holidays, when tourist traffic peaks, making mobility difficult and tiring for those who live on the island. The urban transport priority card for residents is also seen as ineffective, again contributing to growing discontent with a city they feel has forgotten them. In short, Murano is experienced as an island within an island, not only geographically but also socio-economically and politically, increasingly distant from decision-making centres and urban planning decisions. And so, here too, accessibility is a broken promise.
3.3. Difficult Modernisation in Central Sardinia
More than an hour from the nearest coastline, in the hinterland of Sardinia, Gennargentu-Mandrolisai is a mountainous archipelago of small municipalities linked by sometimes difficult roads, divided between the mountains of Gennargentu and the hills of Mandrolisai. Made up of eleven municipalities and classified as an “inner area” by the SNAI, Gennargentu-Mandrolisai has experienced a gradual but steady decline, not only on a demographic level but also in economic and institutional terms. However, as we shall see later, this is counterbalanced by a vibrant community life.
The socio-territorial and economic development of this area can be read as part of the “difficult modernisation” that has characterised Sardinia (
Uleri et al. 2023), which can be understood as a result of a top-down approach to policy making. Between the 1960s and 1980s, Sardinia’s modernisation was accentuated by attempts at industrialisation “from above”, such as the creation of the Arbatax paper mill and the Ottana petrochemical complex, financed by the Cassa per il Mezzogiorno (Southern Development Fund). Although initially promising, these projects were cumbersome and ultimately failed, leaving inner areas marginalised (
Uleri et al. 2023). One of the outcomes of this process was the “doughnut effect”, that is, a demographic and socio-economic imbalance between the coastal and inner areas of the island. The former have seen tendential growth in the population and services, while inner areas—such as Gennargentu-Mandrolisai—suffered depopulation, a decrease in social activities and infrastructures, partial abandonment of the land and landscape modification.
Although the negative dynamics attributable to “difficult modernisation” have not disappeared, various studies show that they have now taken on new forms due to the post-2008 economic crisis.
Farinella and Podda (
2020) demonstrate the significant impact that the economic crisis has had on rural welfare, exacerbating the dynamics of marginalisation that already existed in rural areas. The reduction in public spending and essential services has triggered a vicious circle of depopulation, demographic ageing, employment decline and increased poverty. Consequent migration from inner areas to coastal urban centres has further confirmed the “doughnut effect” or “centrifugal effect” (
Uleri et al. 2023).
While over the years population loss and declining agricultural productivity have led to a reduction in agricultural holdings and an impoverishment of territorial capital, and despite the difficulties related to modernisation, the inner areas of Sardinia have maintained a strong agricultural vocation, creating typical PDO and PGI products that represent excellence at a national level and have links to international markets, such as North America, through the value chains of the dairy industry (
Farinella and Simula 2024). Thus, local communities have activated untapped local resources in response to the difficulties they face, organising complex networks between institutional actors, agricultural businesses and civil society. This has given rise to a new model of rural welfare, based on “nested markets” that link economic development with social cohesion (
Farinella and Podda 2020).
3.4. Gennargentu-Mandrolisai: Disintegrated Communities and Sense of Belonging
According to
Formez (
2023), the inner area of Gennargentu-Mandrolisai experienced a population decline of −12.96% between 2011 and 2020, accompanied by significant population ageing, with the old-age index estimated at 246 in 2023, significantly higher than the national average of 193.3. Furthermore, Sardinia’s regional dossier for the 2021–2027 planning period indicated an average per capita income of EUR 13,650 in 2018.
Schools are clearly suffering. The constant turnover of teachers, experienced as pedagogical instability, is a cause for concern for parents and pupils alike. As one teacher put it, “Children don’t form bonds with their teachers. Their methods change, their faces change. Every year is like starting again from scratch”. Furthermore, children are commonly put into mixed-age classrooms, often without specialist staff. This can be seen not simply as a logistical adaptation but as a complete renunciation of equal education, which translates into lower prospects for younger generations. On top of this, a lack of extracurricular activities and workshops in the area makes it even harder for young people to imagine a future there, with many leaving to study and never coming back. Those who do stay struggle to get by in a situation that is very demanding and gives little back in return.
The issue of employment was felt particularly keenly by the young people interviewed but also by older generations who have noticed a decrease in job opportunities in the area. There are few stable jobs, and those that do exist are almost always linked to agriculture or small catering businesses. The industrial past—shaped by the proximity of the Ottana petrochemical plant—seems like “A distant dream (…) My father worked there, and at school they trained us for that world. Today, that world no longer exists,” a retired industrial worker told us.
Just as in many other regions in Italy and Europe, there was high industrial investment in Sardinia in the post-war period. Gennargentu-Mandrolisai was affected by this development when a petrochemical industrial hub was built in Ottana, a town located about 30 min away by car. This brought numerous benefits to the area, providing job opportunities and leading to the establishment of formal courses to train people in the skills needed for the new labour market. As a local resident pointed out, policy makers and local administrators at the time had a clear sense of socio-economic and territorial development, linking education to work:
[In the 1970s] I studied at a school in Tonara that had been founded as part of the development plan for central Sardinia, a role that the municipality of Tonara had created for itself. The school, supported by politicians from Tonara and other important and intelligent people, created a technical institute for chemists in Tonara. A large part of the technical team at Ottana came from that institute.
The owners of farms or wineries are sometimes able to engage in forms of entrepreneurship, but here too we find significant inequalities, with only those who already have their own capital able to access public funds. According to a young man who owns a farm, public funding “can give you a non-repayable grant of up to 60%, which is a fantastic opportunity, but, of course, you have to put up the remaining 40% yourself. Now, for someone like me who runs a small or medium-sized business, without the cash flow of a large company, finding that 40% is a huge challenge”.
The issue of mobility in an area like Gennargentu-Mandrolisai, which is mountainous and made up of many small municipalities, is crucial from both a social and economic point of view. Roads are poor, and public transport is inadequate, with insufficient runs. At least outside of school hours when buses are guaranteed by the regional transport agency ARST, in the mountainous areas of central Sardinia, private cars are the main means for reaching your workplace, accessing health services and attending social events. But precisely because cars are the main option, this acts as an exclusionary mechanism for those who cannot drive, do not have a car or who are dependent on public transport, such as people with disabilities. This emerged in several interviews with both residents and stakeholders. For example, according to a librarian in a small town in the Mandrolisai hills, “almost everyone gets their driving licence when they turn 18. It is impossible to look for work without a driving licence”. This need was also expressed by an employee at the local job centre, who said that not having a driving licence “is a major problem. The first thing I say to them when they come in, especially young people, is, ‘First get your driving licence because [otherwise] you’re not going anywhere’. They can’t do anything, its limiting, you can’t work if you don’t have a driving licence, because if you find a job in Simaxis, near Oristano, you have to live in Simaxis because you can’t get there by public transport”.
According to Formez, the average distance of municipalities in the inner area of Gennargentu-Mandrolisai from the nearest municipality node (Oristano) is 69.59 min by car, whereas the regional average for other internal areas of the whole of Sardinia is 52.17 min and the national average is 45.15 min (
Formez 2023). The dependence on cars is not a choice but a necessity imposed by a system that has disinvested in all other forms of transport (
Mattioli et al. 2020). This infrastructural constraint, or lock-in, produces inequalities that further reinforce income, gender, age and other inequalities.
In relation to digitalisation and the improvement of internet connectivity, neither the empirical data collected during the research nor the data provided by Formez paint an entirely positive picture. For example, at the regional level, high-speed fixed network coverage (30 Mbit/s and 100 Mbit/s) is only 19.49%. However, the mobile network is more promising, with 94.92% of the population having access to connections with speeds equal to or greater than 30 Mbit/s (
Formez 2023). One interviewee with a visual impairment recognised the potential of digitalisation to reduce some of the barriers faced by people with disabilities and to increase their inclusion in society and the workplace and pointed to the limitations of network coverage and digital skills, especially in rural areas. For example, she praised Apple’s technology for visually impaired users, which has enabled her to gain greater independence, but also stressed the need for a more robust digital infrastructure: “Digital infrastructure […] is pretty inadequate. It is important to create more training courses, especially in this area”.
According to the owner of a bar in one of the most populous villages in Gennargentu-Mandrolisai, although fibre optic cables have been installed, “they are not in operation […] an upgrade like that would add real value to the area”. Furthermore, he argued that social media gives residents the chance to raise awareness about the beauty of the area, helping to overcome a certain sense of isolation. Social media also helps to reduce parochialism, especially among young people, by encouraging cooperation between different municipalities: “Social media […] helps to break down the parochialism that existed in previous generations”. Indeed, in this difficult context, there are also some positive signs: a number of young agricultural entrepreneurs have used social networks to increase their visibility. As one local producer told us, “An American found my business on Google Maps and spent eight days here. This gives us hope”. Digitalisation, if supported by adequate infrastructure and within a development framework consistent with local needs, can be an important factor in improving local resources.
Today social relations appear caught in a dialectical tension between rarefaction and attempts to keep them alive through the promotion of traditions, local cultural practices and forms of sustainable tourism. In this context, participation in community life often depends on actions of a few people. The lack of alternative meeting places and the absence of stable cultural initiatives mean bars are the only places where people meet up, generating a void in social life, especially among the young. As a young woman from a mountain village told us, “At the end of the day, the only real meeting place is the bar. You go to the bar, have a drink, which could be seen as a positive thing, but I see it more as a negative”.
Parochialism also emerges as a significant obstacle to institutional cooperation. “If one town organises a concert, the other boycotts it. It’s always been like that,” says a former mayor. This fragmentation prevents the pooling of resources and hinders the development of shared projects. However, there are also positive experiences: the Mandrolisai consortium, formed by local winegrowers, shows that it is possible to overcome rivalries in favour of a development that is sensitive to local crafts. As a young wine producer told us, “We are moving forward as a team, also thanks to social media. We want to promote our wine outside Sardinia.” Thus, owing in part to grassroots initiatives, a generational change is taking place that moves away from old parochialisms and towards a shared identity. As a young local agricultural and wine producer observed, “in all villages now, new agricultural businesses talk about Mandrolisai, not just their own municipality”. According to this interviewee, this shared identity could facilitate support actions in their favour. However, he also stressed that local unity alone “is not enough; political will is needed to stop us being treated like second-class citizens”.
3.5. Mobilisations Against Territorial Inequalities
In both contexts analysed, some local people have engaged in collective responses and forms of resistance to territorial inequalities. These mobilisations, often led by non-institutional local actors, demonstrate a clear capacity to act autonomously. In the following paragraphs we will focus on a number of grassroots experiences aimed at mitigating territorial inequalities. In Murano, the Circolo Ricreativo e Culturale Murano, the Murano Benefica association and Mamme per Murano are all examples of voluntary mobilisation and activism to address institutional shortcomings in certain essential services such as healthcare and mobility. In Gennargentu-Mandrolisai, we identified two significant experiences of civic activism: the Comitato SOS Sanità Barbagia-Mandrolisai and the local feminist collective AvvoLotadoras.
3.5.1. Murano: Marginalisation in the Centre
Despite the crisis, Murano retains fragments of vibrant community life. The Circolo Ricreativo e Culturale Murano, the parish, and youth sports all provide vital spaces in which sociality is encouraged, knowledge is shared, and a sense of belonging is nurtured. Due to its distance from local and national institutions, forms of mutual aid and horizontal solidarity have been created over the years.
One of the most significant is the Mamme per Murano association, which was created to organise events for children and to ensure the community remained active. Far from being a simple network of volunteers, the association has adopted a mediating role between families and institutions and has influenced important political decisions on several occasions, including the reopening of the nursery and the saving of school classes threatened by mergers. As one of the founders stated, “we decided to intervene because the local councils were getting less effective; someone had to take care of the community”.
As well as Mamme per Murano, the Murano Benefica association, relaunched through the Circolo Ricreativo e Culturale Murano, offers free wheelchairs, walkers and home care equipment to locals: “if you break your leg, come to us and we’ll give you a wheelchair. Free of charge, without any red tape,” says a volunteer proudly. Such forms of mutual aid do not replace the state and local authorities but do play a compensatory role, demonstrating the community’s ability to stand on its own two feet despite institutional neglect.
Founded in 2022, the Circolo Ricreativo e Culturale Murano is another fundamental hub of Murano’s resistance to marginalisation. Initially created as a space for elderly people who had no places left to socialise, it quickly grew to over 240 members, becoming a reference point for intergenerational activities. It organises digital literacy courses for senior citizens, cultural evenings, museum visits, recreational activities and educational projects in collaboration with schools, including with the Istituto Abate Zanetti, in an attempt to reconnect young people with Murano’s glassmaking tradition.
This experience demonstrates the importance of informal social infrastructure in maintaining the cohesion of communities marginalised by urban policies. However, as
Vitale Brovarone (
2022) argues, these initiatives, however virtuous, risk becoming substitutes for the state, consolidating a fragile autonomy that relies on the commitment of a few and the erosion of the social contract. In short, these practices cannot replace public action and, if anything, reveal the extremity of institutional distances.
Some annual events, such as the “May Day Olympics”—a sports day for young people from Murano and other municipalities in the city—or the cultural trips organised by the Circolo Ricreativo e Culturale Murano, still offer significant opportunities for socialising. However, the lack of support from local government makes it difficult for them to keep going. Added to this are more complex social dynamics: some young people complain of a “closed” atmosphere, hostile to cultural pluralism and impervious to social change. As one mother told us, “My younger son had to change schools to feel at home. Here, if you’re different, they let you know it”.
This dualism—between cohesion and closure, solidarity and individualism, belonging and escape—paints an ambivalent picture of social life in Murano. It is a community that survives, but with difficulty, that comes together, but with difficulty, that still refers to itself as an “us”, but fears that this “us” is disappearing.
3.5.2. Gennargentu-Mandrolisai: Resistance in the Hinterland
The Gennargentu-Mandrolisai area is an example of structural territorial marginalisation, where processes of depopulation, ageing and cuts in public services are met with deep-rooted social resistance. In this context, collective action has taken various forms, often led by non-institutional local actors mobilising against threats to health, education and mobility.
Gennargentu-Mandrolisai has seen a partial revival of agricultural work, but without any real political support: this so-called “re-agrarianisation” is happening in the absence of services, infrastructure and training. According to
Uleri et al. (
2023), younger generations are playing a crucial role in inland agriculture, contributing to territorial regeneration and a transition to multifunctional models. Through innovative business ideas, such as the recovery of ancient crop varieties, social agriculture, experiential tourism and educational farms, they are expanding the range of goods and services on offer, improving sustainability and increasing the local economy. Their actions are focused on the recovery of local capital, enhancing the area’s natural and cultural resources, taking care of abandoned land and preserving biodiversity, all of which have positive effects on the landscape and reduce hydrogeological risk. They also promote the reconnection between inner areas and cities, creating short supply chains and local markets that strengthen the rural economy and promote conscious consumption. Many choose agriculture as their first option, attracted by the autonomy of work and the quality of rural life, while those who take over family businesses update production practices to adapt to new market demands. Finally, they enhance local specificities by preserving typical agri-food products and traditions, thus contributing to the diversity and uniqueness of the territory, addressing challenges such as depopulation and building a sustainable and integrated future.
These people act as social innovators in numerous ways: they operate as hubs for local networks, create new solutions to meet community needs, seek to combine economic impact and social responsibility, and aim to improve local resources and create a dialogue between different actors (
Farinella and Podda 2020). These are not “heroic individuals” but a subset of the population that acts in specific contexts who are able to empower other people and activities (
Barbera and Parisi 2019), such as multifunctional agricultural businesses, social cooperatives and activists, who often consciously choose to remain or put down roots in the local area. Their role is crucial to building collaborative networks, generating nested markets and encouraging social inclusion, employment and sustainability. This clearly emerged in the interview with the director of the Barbagia-Gennargentu-Mandrolisai local action group, who argued that organisations such as hers are potential agents of change, despite often feeling excluded from decisions affecting their area. Although there are public initiatives that aim to involve local populations in the decision-making process, they are often viewed with mistrust due to the bureaucracy they involve and the delays experienced in achieving tangible results. However, there are signs of optimism linked to the awareness that cooperation between different municipalities could be key to change. As the director of the local action group points out, “there is a growing awareness that going it alone is no longer feasible, and that integrated strategies are needed, thinking as a territory and not as individual municipalities”. However, she also points out that the changes that do take place in the area are often the result of fragmented interventions rather than long-term integrated strategies. European and regional policies have sought to support the region of Sardinia, but bureaucratic obstacles and a lack of dialogue with local communities have often hampered the effectiveness of these interventions: “many interventions in the agricultural and rural sector have been largely in the sign of welfarism, and not integrated into a long-term strategy”.
The hospital in Sorgono, once considered a key service for the whole area, is now a tangible symbol of the decline of public services on both a state and regional level. Reductions in staff, the closure of the maternity ward and gradual cuts in its healthcare facilities have created a huge sense of frustration and mistrust among locals. The area’s lack of appeal to healthcare professionals is attributed to a combination of geographical isolation, lack of services, and an absence of structural incentives. “Today, it is half the hospital it was. You wonder if it will still be there tomorrow,” said a representative of the Comitato SOS Sanità Barbagia-Mandrolisai. The distance from the remaining facilities that are still in use (Nuoro or Oristano, over an hour’s drive away), often reachable only on very poor roads, means that the right to health is felt to be a broken promise.
It was in this context that the Comitato SOS Sanità Barbagia-Mandrolisai was formed. It was founded in 2021 following a personal medical emergency involving one of its representatives: “I started it after my wife had an anaphylactic shock. The doctor told me, ‘There’s nothing we can do for you here’. That’s when I realised what it really means to be abandoned.” The Comitato quickly became a leading voice in the fight against the decline of healthcare services in the region, representing a concrete example of grassroots mobilisation. The committee has combined symbolic actions with formal avenues for voicing their demands, making use of Ministerial Decree 70/2015, which gives specific protections to disadvantaged areas. Its activities range from public demonstrations to daily protests in local municipalities, as well as a strong media presence and ongoing dialogue with institutions.
Putting on around thirty events in less than two years, the Comitato has brought various problems to public attention: the lack of emergency facilities, difficulties in accessing specialist care and chronic staff shortages. These issues are an infrastructural deficit and a systemic obstacle to a dignified life in inner areas. At the same time, the Comitato has promoted the use of telemedicine, now supported by the National Strategy for Inner Areas (SNAI), and pushed for the spread of community nursing, while recognising that these interventions are insufficient to guarantee health equity.
Every Thursday, public meetings known as “Gio-vediamoci” (let’s meet on Thursday) are held in front of the hospital. These are moments of protest but also of collective care for the area. However, participation remains strongly generational: the elderly take centre stage, while young people, who have often emigrated or are disillusioned, remain on the sidelines.
The founding of the feminist collective AvvoLotadoras is a response to the dual “invisibility” of women in the area: geographical invisibility, resulting from territorial marginalisation, and systemic invisibility, linked to persistent gender inequalities. The collective AvvoLotadoras provides a space for reflection and activism in a context of cuts to services combined with social expectations that women will take on the role of primary caregivers. The members of the collective we interviewed told us it operates informally and as an assembly: “we meet in a very open way, like a kind of semi-public assembly, open to all”. Their spokesperson described how they attempt to adapt the concepts of intersectional feminism to a local context that is culturally resistant to such issues. More specifically, the collective aims to raise awareness of these matters and promote inclusive dialogue. As one representative told us, “our goal is to bring the concept of intersectionality to this region, beginning from the basics of feminism. If someone does not even know what a patriarchal society is, obviously these concepts seem foreign to them. At the same time, we try to adapt our language to the local context”.
However, participation remains limited, probably due to a lack of awareness of pluralism among the local population. Another difficulty is the involvement of women themselves, as “even using inclusive Italian in this region seems unrealistic”. These problems reflect the influence of cultural norms, which lead to a low acceptance of pluralism. Cultural resistance to feminism and gender issues, both among women and in general in the local community, thus remains a significant obstacle.
Despite being fairly new, the collective has already organised a number of significant events, such as a demonstration for the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. One interviewee described the work ahead of them: “We managed to organise an amazing demonstration for 25 November 2023, immediately after the case of the feminicide of Giulia Cecchettin. There was a huge turnout, but in general there is a reluctance to speak out, a kind of reticence about taking the initiative”. This reticence extends to issues concerning the intersection between class and gender, which the collective recognises as crucial to addressing inequalities: “We’ve understood that class inequality is a fundamental problem here. Without addressing that, it is difficult to bring the issue of gender inequality to the fore.” Intersectionality has become a cornerstone of the collective’s advocacy work.
Although women from different generations have gotten involved, involving men remains a significant challenge: “We have not yet managed to interest men, despite proposing topics that also concern them. It’s a cultural issue here in central Sardinia”. The rural context adds to the problem, such as the disproportionate burden shouldered by women in caring for children and the elderly in the absence of adequate services. “Women here have the additional burden of caring for both children and the elderly. Without nurseries or other support from the public sector, working mothers face massive challenges,” pointed out one activist from the collective.
In conclusion, the collective is committed to overcoming cultural barriers and creating a space for a critical discussion on gender inequality, class dynamics and women’s health, which is a crucial step towards social and cultural change in rural areas of Sardinia. As one participant observed, “we are working first to raise awareness among ourselves, to understand the barriers we face, and then to integrate ourselves into a society that is fairly closed but nevertheless responsive to the right initiatives”.