«"I enlisted when our love had just ended. We weren't getting along anymore, and we each went our separate ways: I joined the force. He got married. I met him when I was 14, and he was almost 21. I liked him a lot, and I was cheeky. I approached him. But in our village—a small Sicilian town of seven thousand—we all know each other a little. At first, he was very embarrassed, especially because I was a minor. Then he got over it, and we were together for six years. He's been my only love so far. After him, I've only had flings." "I give myself body and soul. I'm not a man for blind dates or strangers, and today, at 26 and transferred to the North, I miss love as much as I might miss fresh air. Just as I miss the sea.".
Carabinieri in Milan
Military and homosexual. Vincenzo is a Carabiniere, living in the barracks with officers and peers. For him, his sexual orientation is a natural fit. For some, it's a surprise. "My colleagues know about me, at most they say
The jokes, but never poisonous. A year ago in the barracks, it was terrible. One of us was seriously injured in a firefight. His room was across the street from mine, I'd never had a beer with him, I'd never gone out, but we'd participated in some operations together. He wasn't a friend, but he wasn't just an acquaintance either. In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the barracks was different; it was as if we weren't "Carabinieri." I was dejected. The commander took me aside and began talking to me, starting with the Constitution (officers often quote the Constitution): "We are all equal, regardless of race, religion, or sexual identity. I've heard some things said about you, and I pretend I know nothing. Today I'm speaking to you like a brother: don't let anyone walk all over you." He'd held out a hand. The next day, it was as if we'd never said anything to each other. But he was worried about me. His words were important. “I’m your friend, you’re different and polite. Make yourself respected.”.
«Discipline is strict, especially at the beginning. The stress of dealing with superiors can be terrible. Before going out on leave, there's the "review"; if your shoes are dirty or your tie is badly tied, you stay inside. They always want you to answer "commands" when called upon. And this also affects your grades. Every year, like in school, there's a report card; you can be judged below average, average, above average, excellent. If you answer "commands," it's almost certain that you're above average and can apply to join the special forces. In short, you have what it takes to have a career. As a good Sicilian, I haven't sucked up to anyone, and only a year ago did they rate me "above average." I chose to be a Carabiniere for the money, like many young men from the South.
And then because the force is prestigious. You come back to town and everyone says, "Vincenzo is a Carabiniere." They train you according to moral principles: you must serve the state, you must serve the citizen, you must be honest, you must not gamble, you must not drink. It's all written in the "Military Attitude Manual." These rules aren't wrong, after all. I believe in them; for me, anyone who's in the force is impeccable. But then you have to take into account each individual's personality. Compared to the police, you feel like a kind of superman, because in the common opinion, the Carabiniere is worth more, is kinder and more human. They don't talk about family, private life is left aside. You're judged on how you behave with your superiors and on your personality. And besides, no one has ever been struck off for homosexuality.
If you're rated 'below average' three times, they kick you out. There's nothing explicit about it.".
«The important thing is to observe the "military form": be a sort of perfect man, always intervening, but discreetly. You must always feel like a soldier. And, in fact, at the beginning they force you to follow a schedule, to the alarm clock, to the flag-raising. You have to stand at attention and salute. The first few days, during the cadet course, were terrible; I lived like a robot, and inside, my emotions were paralyzed. I knew I wouldn't talk easily about homosexuality, even though some people find a partner right away. I had just broken up with my partner, and on top of that, my parents had found out. Before joining the force, I had lived with him for two months, and he had moved up North.
«When I got home, I started receiving his letters. There were so many, my mother became suspicious. One day she opened one and read it aloud in front of my father. It was terrible. My father caressed my mother's arm and said to me, 'See how beautiful it is? The skin is smooth, how can you like a hairy arm?' And I, who am a Taurus by star sign and in fact, replied, 'I like a hairy arm, I'm a faggot.' Since I enlisted, they think I've come to my senses, but they never talk about girls. If I hadn't had the attitude of someone who can't be discouraged, it would have been much more difficult for me in the South. Instead, even though they made fun of me at school, even though I tried to have a cover girlfriend, I never really stopped. I've always lived
Homosexuality in a positive way. The first few months of school, which were the hardest, I wasn't looking for anything, and then in the South I didn't have the opportunity to go to bars or other meeting places. I felt a sense of modesty and was also scared: I didn't want to be condemned by others. The officers disciplined me, and I let them do it. As for sexuality, I waited; I wasn't just looking for a sex partner. With my colleagues, I adapted. I have a cheerful disposition, inclined to joke, and sociable. Today, I talk about football and Formula One in the barracks, while with gay friends I discuss make-up (but no!
(I'm kidding) and men. But, even though I'm adaptable, they immediately noticed me, because of my sensitivity, because deep down others sense it, and because I don't go unnoticed. The jokes began: they mimic you, as if you spoke effeminately, they wave their hands in the air thinking they're imitating you. But that's all.
I've never been isolated, except by the macho group, those who represent the super-male. But it's not about hazing; there's no such thing among the Carabinieri.".
«"When I was transferred to the North, after my months in the battalion, things changed. I was happy to go somewhere where no one knew me. And I immediately made contact with locals and associations, that is, with those who were new to me. At first, I was afraid they'd watch me in the barracks, but little by little I loosened up. Now, if there's a march, I participate, making sure I'm never in the front row.".
«Homosexuality among us is not rare.
When I was in the South, I lived with a roommate and we were friends. When I moved up North, one day he decided to come visit me, but that very day I had organized a visit to a gay club in Milan with some other people. I was anxious at the thought of having to stay with him and put on a straight face. So I spoke to him: "Listen, it's 2000, my friends and I are going to a gay club. Do you want to come?" "I came to visit you, we'll do what you say," was his response. I told him my whole story. At the club, he was always close to me. We saw each other again a year later, he told me he'd thought a lot since then, that a psychologist had recommended he try shock therapy. "Do you want to be my shock therapy?" he asked. I went pale and refused. I felt responsible for having him come to the club with me; I preferred he go his own way. He asked me for advice, and I told him to be careful. But he's not the first one to like me. Another colleague courted me, even making a few advances, while I was absolutely amazed to meet an officer in a gay club. I was astonished: officers are a class apart, they have their own room, they eat separately in the mess hall, and they're the first ones in the barracks to enforce rigor and discipline, to give orders. But also to offer you, when necessary, a form of protection.
«Three years ago, I was exasperated and wanted to resign. I didn't get along with my colleagues, and I was willing to do anything to leave. I talked about it with a marshal, and his reaction was that of a father. He spoke to me with his heart in his hand, showing all his sorrow. It seemed that if I were gone, he and his other superiors would lose a son. I believe in certain values, I believe in doing something for the citizens. When I go out with a colleague who doesn't want to do anything, who tells me 'we're not intervening,' I feel terrible. Our job is to help.
«I've been a Carabiniere for six years now. I feel like I belong to a force that's considered a step above, that's more important than other military forces. Even though I may not be a Carabiniere my whole life. The thing I miss most these days is love. My friends tell me I need to loosen up, that I need to be more open to encounters. I met my ex again after he got married. I said no to him too, because he still wanted a sexual experience. Even though he was the one I had my first full sexual encounter with. The fact is, I haven't fallen in love again. I miss love like the sea. When I go back to the South, I spend hours on the beach watching the waves and I'm amazed. It feels like I'm seeing them for the first time. That's just how I am, a passionate type.
