Reaching the Other, Finding Yourself

Taking part in Accenti, a series of public conversations held in Mantua’s Piazza Sordello, writer and cultural activist Leila Belhadj Mohamed, communications and representation expert Grace Fainelli, and author Espérance Hakuzwimana sat down to untangle what the concept of community means to them and why it matters.

The conversation opened with a seemingly innocuous question: What does community mean to you? The answers painted a multifaceted portrait. For some, community is a safe space, a place to argue, deconstruct, and grow together. For others, it’s an ancestral instinct, a reminder to slow down and look inward — a quiet rebellion against the Western obsession with speed, modernity, and efficiency. Yet community is also intention and effort, an active choice to turn toward others, to recognise and accept differences.

Hakuzwimana shared the story of Balde, the online book club for Afrodescendant women she founded. At first glance, it seemed like a homogeneous group. In reality, it was a vibrant mosaic of different languages, cultures, and experiences. “Within that plurality,” she reflected, “I was able to recognize myself — and others.” But community is not always harmonious. Conflict inevitably arises.

For Belhadj Mohamed and Fainelli, conflict isn’t necessarly destructive; it’s fertile ground for growth. Even rage, so often dismissed as dangerous or “hysterical” — especially when expressed by women or racialised people — can be a form of love, a way to protect the members of a group. On the other hand, Hakuzwimana’s relationship with conflict is itself conflicted. Born in Rwanda and raised in Italy after her family fled just before the genocide, she sees conflict as something that shaped her very existence, and avoids it.

The three all find that sometimes is also good to move on, and leave when it’s necessary to care for yourself. Communities should remain fluid, flexible spaces where people can come and go without fear or guilt. When asked about the “flowers and seeds” of their communities, they speak of inheritance: those who opened doors before them, giving racialised Italians their first spaces to speak and be seen in the cultural world. Another flower blooms in the simple yet powerful act of being recognised — of knowing that the work you do today will help someone else find themselves tomorrow.

This legacy often grows through sisterhood, though men, too, are called to nurture it. The audience can leave with a vision of community as something alive: imperfect, challenging, but ultimately transformative. Belonging is not a fixed point — it’s a practice.