Dear readers, a week before St. Lucy's Day, I went to visit my sister Sara at her place. I wanted to see how she was managing in the home that Sant'Alessio had found for her—a center built specifically to help blind people live more independently.
It was wonderful because we spent time together, shopping and taking walks around the neighborhood. Yes, because the Tuscolana is nothing like Dragoncello. Let me explain: the Tuscolana is an area that actually welcomes people with disabilities. There are accessible shops, and there's a pedestrian zone where you can actually take a walk.
You can't compare it to Dragoncello at all. In my neighborhood, there are only four or five shops and a church, and they're hard to reach if you don't have a car—impossible if you use a wheelchair like I do. And there's no way to take a walk on your own.
As the years go by, looking at my beautiful Rome, I realize that there are first-class citizens and second-class citizens here. Unfortunately, families with disabled children don't just have to fight to help their kids fit into society, make friends, feel less alone. On top of everything else, they have to deal with the forgotten places on the city's edges. I say this with certainty: there are first-class citizens—the people who live in Rome proper. And then there are second-class citizens—the people who live on the periphery. And it bothers me deeply. It bothers me that beautiful Rome is divided like this just because the different municipal districts won't work together to heal the wound. I can promise you it's true. I saw the difference with my own eyes during that week with my sister Sara.