From Italy: an analysis and a story about the ongoing evictions in the city of Bologna.

Posted on 2013/01/31 by


In Bologna, Italy, three social centers, or squats, or occupied community spaces, are under eviction at the same time. As a matter of fact liberated spaces are living the same fate everywhere, due to the neoliberalization of left-wing values somewhere, or to neoliberalization in general. I, hercanvas, come from Bologna and live in Budapest, where with KLIT we are supporting the liberation of spaces in our way. I share with you an attempt of translation of the document that figliefemmine, a feminist collective, wrote in these days in solidarity with the evicted of Bartleby,XM24, Atlantide Occupata.

I share because I find the content of this document useful for everybody to understand what is going on with our bodies in urban contexts, because it is a feminist and collective analysis.

Scrolling down you will find instead a piece of sci-fi literature written by the same collective!



Nowadays in this city (Bologna) whatever they cannot put a price on or can’t be sold, becomes illegal. The coincidence of existence, capital and law is reaching its peak. From biological matter to less material needs, what neither the law nor money can embed became wrong, criminal, a “daddy’s child” mannerism who, instead, should “get a job”. Calling us otiose, lazy and slacker could even be a compliment if it was true. Instead, what rules our daily schedule refers to precarious jobs, many educational qualifications, care work and different forms of affectivity which, as for everybody, consume much time, and hours spent doing politics acting and practicing ecology, antiracism and antisexism. The refrain “go get a job”, which now belongs also to a certain prude leftwing to discredit our precarious lives and our research for spaces of resistance to the actual economic and cultural crisis, embeds such a high concentration of lies and hypocrisy that turns our stomach.

There was a time when this city was enriched by liberated spaces, spaces where you could listen to music, have access to communal organic kitchen, visit exhibitions and attend debates or books presentations. This was a city far from the logic of tickets for sale, from copyright laws, it didn’t support total divestiture of the entire existence to consumeristic needs or to a productivity dictated by the capital. The motto “We want bread, but also roses” (>>motto of second wave feminists in the 1970s) reminds us that everybody’s existence can be imagined and enacted through other ideals than the one that makes illegal or criminal everything that is not normed by the law or economically productive.

We studied what you dictated, we learned all the languages you asked to learn. We are antiracist and antisexist despite the crap that your media served up, we will have de-qualified jobs to survive till the end of the month, but our only chance to resist and gain energies relies in the creation and enaction of spaces where we can finally feel good, spaces able to make those rare moments liberated from bread-winning (or from planning how to do it) joyful, intense, emotional, “cultural”, alive. We know you strive to make our space the solely domestic one, isolated from the outside (we know so well what kind of violence often hides behind the happy face of the heteronormative family). We know you want us to spend our free time from work, doing shopping or getting idiotic in front of a computer, pretending we don’t have bodies in need of meeting other bodies to survive…on the contrary, things are going to be different.

To norm and giving a price to everything is not unavoidable, the law is not a neutral machinery which is automatically meant to prosecute everything it couldn’t haunt before, or whatever is not reducible or recognizable to its linguistic terms.

The choices of an administrator, a din, of a police command, of the parliament or of the capital are not the automatic and “technical” agency committed to follow “law is equal for everybody” as their core principle, instead they are the effect of a precise willing to make us lonely, mute and productive.

We will react to liberate spaces and times, to materially fulfill them with what the various left-wings praised to support but always failed to achieve: antiracism, antisexism, bread and health for everybody, serenity, intensity, irony, life, Revolution.

Maybe we are angry, tired, frustrated and even a little hysterics, but we are alive!

They are taking our time, let’s take back the space!



If Lola runs (faster than evictions)

Tick, tock, tick, tock

7:35 am

The early bird catches my swear, I snooze the clock twice, seeking for a little truce.

Fuck, I thought I was different from my mother, I didn’t think to end up setting the clock 10 minutes forward to grant myself a psychological advance.

Ok, ok, I’ll get up! Argh, what a pain! Another pinkie sacrificed at the altar of darkness: but i’ll try not to make noise, my flatmate had the night shift.

I go to the kitchen to prepare a coffee and I voluntarily avoid the horoscope: anyway my day is already perfectly scheduled. The morning news on Radio S-Cape City and the making of a pret-a-porter lunch-box took already fifteen minutes, the time for hanging out is almost over but one minute more is enough to hear that they evicted Bartaly: gosh, so it’s true, the bad guys are closing every space!

The newspaper Bononia titles:

Time and space which have no price are illegal: the municipality evicts social centers”

Shit, I’d love to call someone…do something, but I’m already late for work and this time my boss is gonna kill me.

I take the bus, it’s so full of people that my stomach turns while I cannot even fall asleep anymore on the lady’s shoulder next to me, cause I must keep awake to play the game “catch the controller”. I really cannot afford a ticket, I have 3 euros in my pocket for the all day and to ride a bike is unthinkable: the risk to get killed by the morning traffic and my chronic bronchitis.

I reach the shop, it’s sales time, it’s my duty to label every dress between a client and another. Damn precarious contract, I have to be fast, to do a lot and perfectly: sometimes I ask my self if it’s me on sale, in the end. 6 euros net per hours and I cannot even afford one of the socks I sell. Ok, ok, right, it’s a temporary job and I wish…once I finish the university I’ll find something better, yes i’ll find it…in the end this is only the third degree…am I maybe a little Choosy?

Ok, lunch time, I take a sit under the sun, for a moment of peace. But there’s no peace! An earnest tutor of the order labels my lunch-box as “decay” and seizes it. Ok, be zen, don’t forget, be zen, don’t cry, don’t beat him up, don’t insult him: Revenge is a dish best served cold.

The day comes to an end so that I can finally run to Zm 24, to meet my comrades, to talk about the eviction of Bartaly, and lock out this crazy world for a while. I stop, as I close my eyes I remember that it was demolished, replaced by a shiny roundabout. I am lonely, I feel lonely but ok, ok, no panic, there’s still Amantide. Fuck, it’s already dark, the deserted city is not safe at all, it’s just creepy:…I almost miss the bongos around.

Finally I reach Porta Saint Rightnow, but they evicted the comrades of Amantide and I find instead the apolitical association “Pork and Steel” which organizes classes of tantric gym for erected arms of the third Millennium.

9 p.m.

What’s going on, how did we reach this point? Where are everybody? Where are we all?

Tick, tock, tick, tock

We want to end this story in another way…

7 p.m.

The day comes to an end so that I can finally run to Zm 24, to meet my comrades, to talk about the eviction of Bartaly, and close outside this crazy world. I stop and I blow before entering, there is a city assembly about resisting against evictions. Woooow, I’ve never seen so many people! After few hours we decide to reply to those who stole a liberated space from us. We will occupy the unrented buildings of the district, spontaneous march, lockers blowing up, doors and windows opening, they were closed for too long and covered with spider nets!

11 pm.

Diiiiiing…the telephone rings, the comrades are calling, I run to Amantide, there’s a mess going on.

In a rush we get on the bus together with a group of comrades, at the bus stop the controllers don’t even try, none of us has a ticket and they are only two.

We get out of the bus and we see four limping brutes running along Saint Rightnow Street. One of them is holding his head. People at Amantide tell that they belonged to the apolitical association Pork and Steel reclaiming the space for tantric gym classes to heal some problems of the nervous system…but they were welcomed with a proper amount of kicks in the ass. A high hill thrown on someone’s forehead can be very convincing.

The news about Bartaly already reached also this space and we all reply with a great occupation of the main Alma Water building…with a park and pool!

I close my eyes breathing the air around me and I feel finally at home.



We will react to liberate spaces and times, to materially fulfill them with what the various left-wings praised to support but always failed to achieve: antiracism, antisexism, bread and health for everybody, serenity, intensity, irony, life, Revolution.

Maybe we are angry, tired, frustrated and even a little hysterics, but we are alive!

Figlie Femmine, January 2013