Chiara Ferrari Toniolo
I have been "friends" with Claudia for about seven years. I started visiting her at my first Fede e Luce group home when I was thirteen. She was the first to reach out to me—a bit forward, even. She'd come right up and pull you into doing something. Older friends warned me to keep my distance because she could be violent. After eighteen months, I began visiting her at home regularly, once a week. I kept that up for four years. These days I see her twice a month, though we talk on the phone often.
When we get together, Claudia—now twenty—and I talk. She tells me about school, her time with her mom, her friendships, how things are going with the home aides she sees three times a week. We also draw and read. She's learning to read and write.
At first Claudia wasn't well integrated into the Fede e Luce group. It was hard to be around her—she was frightening. I'm not very strong, and Claudia could easily hurt me if she wanted to. But over time, everyone in the group learned how to be with her. And Claudia began to understand how much friendship matters. After she met me, she started to hold herself back.
Did you feel accepted by her family?
Maybe even more than Claudia, my visits brought joy to her mother, Anna. Sometimes Claudia was in a difficult mood when I arrived, but Anna always welcomed me with genuine warmth—perhaps because she had such a real need to talk.
What I realized was that I could only understand Claudia through Anna. Her mother is Claudia's family, and you can't bypass that relationship.
After all this time, are you tired of it?
Not at all. I'm glad for what I've built with them. It stings a bit when Anna says I haven't visited in a while or that I call less often. But that usually happens when Anna is going through a rough patch. At other times she's very understanding about my studies and school commitments, which make it hard for me to visit as regularly as I used to.
What's been your biggest challenge in this friendship?
In the beginning I would go to see Claudia, and Anna's presence—her desire to talk and unburden herself—felt like a weight. For Anna, living alone with Claudia, my visits were a precious chance to let things out. Then I understood how tight the bond between mother and daughter really is. Another challenge was Claudia's violence. That's calmed down quite a bit now. At first you had to win her trust and establish some kind of authority before you could manage her behavior. I'm only a year older than her, and earning that authority took real effort.
What have you gained from this relationship?
Claudia has almost always welcomed me with joy. She shows her attachment, her happiness at seeing me. She's almost never reproached me for not visiting. I felt that my presence mattered not just to her, but as a bridge between her and her mother—someone with whom her mother is very fragile. Their relationship is often tense, but through me it settles. Claudia also senses that we're the same age and share some of the same struggles.
Have you ever wanted to say: enough?
Yes. When Claudia hit me in the face. Some of her violent moments really frightened me. And when I felt Anna beginning to "demand" too much of me. Part of me was glad to be needed and wanted. But another part was afraid—afraid of being drawn into something with someone who was wounded, afraid of being overwhelmed by it.
What advice would you give to someone starting a friendship with a disabled young person?
First: get to know the young person and the parent together. They're bound to be deeply connected. Approach them with real humility and care. Be careful because the relationship can pull you in; be humble because you're dealing with people who are wounded, and you need to respect their moments of fear and anger—which probably comes from their struggle to accept themselves.
Giuseppe Andrea Paleolo
I've had two very different friendships over the past couple of years. One with Roberto, the other with Emanuela and her mother, Grazia.
Roberto is forty-five, a "boy with mild disabilities."
My relationship with Emanuela (nine years old, severely disabled but not withdrawn) and her mother, Grazia, is very strong.
My friendship with Roberto is the most complex, but also the most rewarding. With him it's friendship in the ordinary sense of the word. Beyond the group homes and camp activities, we go play soccer together, we go to the theater...
What do you do with Emanuela?
I hold her, talk to her, hum to her, and she laughs. We go for walks.
Have you noticed growth in these relationships?
With Roberto, especially at camp: we got to know each other better and the trust between us grew tremendously. I know that even when he's angry with me, he counts on me. And I've confirmed that Roberto means more to me than many other young people I've met at Fede e Luce.
And Emanuela?
Now Emanuela recognizes me, and I'm no longer afraid of her. I'm not worried about hurting her or acting differently from her mother, with whom she has such a beautiful bond.
What's the biggest difficulty with Roberto?
Roberto speaks a language that's partly his own. He has words only he uses—"peppe" means seven, which is the bus; "dan" is the tram; "mugnachita" is the amusement park; "upulu" is Mirella. Understanding him isn't easy. By now I've picked up a basic vocabulary. At first it was exhausting—constantly saying "What did you say?" and "Say it again." But when you finally understand him, it's wonderful.
Is he likeable?
Very much so. He has qualities that catch you off guard. He has a natural courtesy, for instance. He does the hand-kiss with ladies.
You mentioned Emanuela's mother.
Grazia is extraordinary. I can barely classify her as a parent in the normal sense. I can talk to her about anything. What feels most beautiful is that I share Emanuela with her.
She's with Emanuela in an incredible way. Take bedtime—it's a whole ritual. She undresses her gently and Emanuela knows what's coming. She sings the same song it has to be—always the same one. Then she does a tickling game, a kind of massage that makes Emanuela burst with laughter. Then the sign of the cross. Then to bed. But my friendship with Grazia goes beyond the relationship with Emanuela.
Would you have had these friendships without Fede e Luce, or are they only because of it?
There wasn't a formal assignment, but Fede e Luce was decisive in shaping how I relate to them. The parents of Marco Coralli speak of joys and sorrows that belonged only to them before Fede e Luce—and afterward, they discovered a different way of being with others. Without Fede e Luce, I might have become attached to someone like Roberto anyway, but it probably would have been a more selfish kind of relationship.
What advice do you give to someone beginning these kinds of friendships?
Be discreet, always. Roberto is very private. Sometimes he wants to be alone and doesn't enjoy physical contact with others. It took a year before he'd shake my hand.
Do you ever feel burdened by these relationships?
No, I'm very happy about them. Have your parents asked you anything about how you spend your time this way?
My mother came to two of the closing celebrations at camp. She really enjoyed it and approves of what I'm doing. My father, though—he's never come. I've tried to explain it to him, invited him to a group home, but he seems to have a kind of resistance to it.