Like many children, I used to imagine secretly that I was adopted. Growing up with two brothers and a tomboy sister, I often felt displaced, as though I had no business being part of the busy crowd that filled our house. I pretended I was the daughter of explorers, or maybe some sort of brave pioneers, regardless of the fact that this vocation has gone out of fashion.
Reflecting back, I can see now that my fantasies were not born out of a desire to escape, but a need to sculpt my own personal history. Knowing little about myself, I decided to tie my fate to that of those who came before me. Time still felt fluid enough to be molded (after reading A Wind At The Door and other books by Madeleine L’Engle, I was firmly convinced that all you needed was a little practice), and history seemed as bendable as a paperback.
As I grew older, I became more interested in my ancestral history – my real history. People have always identified themselves by their kin, and though we sometimes forget it today, our families are perhaps the single most primitive part of our selves. One must only read Beowulf to be reminded of the significance of kin (or if you are so inclined, the Bible has quite a bit of this as well).
This week, join us in Italy, where Angela Corrias visits the home of one of Italy’s most appreciated Marxist thinkers, Antonio Gramsci. Corrias visits his house, speaks with his family, and in doing so, she pulls herself one step closer to understanding both Italian history and her own personal history. In her quest, she finds much more than fascism and Gramsci’s beloved food; she also finds a piece of herself. Her article, Beauty, Tradition & Fascism in Antonia Gramsci’s Sardinia, will transport you to the streets of Sardinia, and, we hope, inspire you to do a little soul searching of your own.