«This is wonderful—it shows the remarkable power of Ombre e Luci to build networks!» Angela is thrilled. We are less so, having just learned that a substantial wire transfer meant for the magazine's account was actually intended elsewhere. The bills for our new office have been steep, our accounts desperately in the red. That money would have meant lifeline funds, and yet Angela sees beyond the immediate crisis. And indeed, OL bore fruit: after readers saw, in the previous issue, Cristina Tersigni's interview with Emanuela Posa—an Italian aid worker in the Democratic Republic of Congo who works with disabled children—a donation promptly arrived from Tuscany to Kinshasa. The episode captures Angela entirely: a bank officer, a Fede e Luce member for over thirty years, married to Stefano (whom she met in the movement), mother of two, trusted friend and anchor for many. It was already known that Angela possessed both heart and intelligence, so in September 2020 she was reelected for a second four-year term as president of Fede e Luce onlus.
You're living the era of second mandates! Was this a call you couldn't refuse, or did you have to push for it?
Both, really. At Fede e Luce every role requires an election—so the foundation is the community's discernment and call (Serena Sillitto explained that beautifully in one of your pieces). But I'll be honest: in the months before the vote, I made it clear that I would be happy to complete the work we'd started four years earlier. After so much labor, I wanted to see the fruits we'd all sown together—with the board, with the OL team, with the secretariat. My first term had two goals: revise the bylaws and find this blessed office space. We didn't finish within four years, but we'd laid solid ground. So despite my exhaustion, I was glad to continue. And finally, the results came through!
What about the next two and a half years?
A month ago I told someone, "Enough. I'm drained. Now I'll rest, and the time left will just be routine administration." Then last week, in a meeting, we refined our project to bring disabled people into our secretariat and editorial work—which means setting up apprenticeships, studying new structures. So here are the next goals: beyond hosting conferences and gaining visibility, we want to integrate disabled people into the association's actual work.
It's partly a matter of who you are. You're not one to drop anchor and drift. But while we can easily imagine the exhaustion, what else has this presidency given you?
Relationships. I never thought I was someone capable of real relationships—I mean, with friends and people I know, yes, but stepping outside my shell? That was never me. Especially asking for things. I've never asked for myself or for others. I'm just not that person; part shyness, part stubbornness about doing things on my own, even at work. But Fede e Luce asked me to knock on doors to raise funds. For this office we reached out to countless people. Many doors stayed closed—we didn't even get responses. But others opened, unexpectedly, and guided us in directions we learned to pursue. Friendship at Fede e Luce has certainly made me grow (I wouldn't be who I am now without it), but the presidency itself—which many imagine is rather cold and formal—actually changed me. I hit my limits and had to push past them to reach our goals. Recognizing your own shortcomings, finding strength, overcoming them with others' help (even if the final decision falls on you alone, even if you'll be criticized and must take responsibility): all of this transformed my professional life too. It changed how I work and how I relate to people.
The office and bylaws are the bright part, but your terms also coincided with two difficult moments: the Jean Vanier investigation and the pandemic.
They happened almost at once. In a way, the pandemic may have helped us metabolize the pain of Jean Vanier's revelations (for many it remains a profound wound we must honor). In both cases, frankly, it was a blessing that we had to act fast. With Vanier, I relied on you at OL, on Angela Grassi, on don Marco Bove to find the right way to address it (then provincial coordinators helped their communities). I'm convinced that transparency is the way forward. As for the pandemic, we had to move quickly because communities and provincial coordinators were reaching out and we had clear responsibilities. But it was truly beautiful that from March 2020, when everything exploded, we managed to stay close to communities through remote activities. The movement didn't stop, and I'm grateful to the secretariat and editorial team for that. Another difficult moment came in September 2021: there was heated debate about whether to be more restrictive or not. We chose caution again—protection of the most vulnerable. If events proved us right (we made calls ahead of the curve), I can't forget what a friend from Campania, leading a community, told me: "Fine, we accept it all, but all we're getting are messages about forms and bureaucracy—nothing that touches the heart. You're just piling on rules without addressing our communities' suffering." Her criticism stung, but it deserves to be heard. Maybe she's right. Maybe now is the time to think about the communities. So I'm adding this to our goals: send messages that give energy and trust, that help communities recover and move forward.
Today Fede e Luce faces an age problem—older members and fewer young people. Have we invested enough in youth?
We absolutely need to focus on them. The northern region has done a lot, organizing training weeks, reaching out to parishes and youth centers. Young people may fear approaching disability, but I think there's more to it. A friend pointed out not long ago that there simply aren't many young people anywhere these days—very few in parishes too. We need to figure out how to draw them in, exploring ways beyond the Church, beyond scouts. But at the heart of it all must be genuine love, or they'll leave. As Mariangela Bertini used to say, Fede e Luce is a puddle: some just walk over it, others let themselves get muddy, get soaked in it entirely.
How did you end up in the puddle?
I was twenty, going through a fragile time, and Cristina came along. We'd been together through elementary school, stayed in touch, and she kept asking: "Why don't you come to Fede e Luce?" But what would I do there? I thought. Disability was never part of my life, I figured I wouldn't know how to help. Then one year, as I was packing for Christmas, my mother fell and I ended up in Rome instead, guilt-ridden. So I went to a meeting—and I never left. Now my mother, who isn't well (she was always so active, and now she's disabled), often tells me how capable I am. For years she griped that I was always at Fede e Luce instead of with her. But now she sees me differently as she faces her own disability. I think she sees me as another person. When I'm patient and present, she says, "You can tell you've spent so much time with Emanuela"—the young woman closest to my heart. There's a design in life.
In thirty years, do you see the world around disability changing?
When I joined the movement, I discovered a whole world. Some disabilities I'd never encountered. In my first twenty years, I never had a disabled classmate or a peer in catechism class. Things are different now. There are many organizations serving people in need; families are less isolated, they've learned to go out, and Fede e Luce played an important role in helping people leave their homes. We took young people on vacation who'd never been anywhere. Schools are more inclusive today, though the real problem comes after (there aren't enough activities, and friendships made in class don't survive). Still, now there are many organizations working with disabled people in the spirit we share.
So we're not special and unique anymore?
Exactly! We used to say, with a bit of pride, "You do service, you volunteer, but we are friends." Now it seems many other groups share that vision—they have a different eye toward disability, one like ours! Yes, even as the nonprofit world has changed, Fede e Luce still has a unique value in what we've learned. Those deep friendships remain, beyond any single community or communal living. Those profound relationships between friends and families—that's still something rare and precious.
Your words suggest you want to do so much more. Is there room for a third mandate?
Absolutely not. There's still time before my term ends, and we'll roll up our sleeves. We've lived the last two years in crisis mode—like everyone, maybe more: COVID, Jean Vanier, the bylaws, the secretariat, fundraising. Now that the foundations are laid, it's time to rebuild. Because something grave happened meanwhile, and we must face it with our beautiful, concrete form of activism. My daughter volunteers for an organization that arranges exchanges for high school students. A few days ago she was telling me how much the applicants have changed in just two years. It's as if they belong to different eras—the ones applying now are far more tormented and fragile, dealing with eating disorders, self-harm. We have to respond to all this widespread suffering. And we need to start right now.