How This 28-Year Old Psychologist Became Her City's Refugee Counselor
Seven hundred people arrived at the port of Reggio Calabria, a city in the south “toe” of Italy, on August 2nd. A little over 100 of them were women—a few of them pregnant. The women risked their lives to take the journey over the Mediterranean Sea to Europe, fleeing violence, hunger, and a lack of opportunity for education and work. Some of them escaped abuse and sexual violence. Some were maliciously trafficked.
They were greeted by a host of local volunteers who created the set-up for these arrivals. They were checked for wounds and handed juice boxes, snacks, water and new flip-flops.
They were told to line up under a large tent to wait to be checked by authorities. Most of the women were young, teenagers to early 30s. It was sweltering and they were exhausted, but sweet and happy to chat, smiling with relief to be on land and thanking the volunteers. But before they met with officials, a short brunette woman with a dimpled smile and a yellow neckerchief told them that if they wanted, they could come talk to her.
They didn’t know it, but this woman was the first person in Europe who could keep them safe from trafficking and further abuse. Her name is Roberta Laganà, she’s 28, and she’s a psychologist.
The region of Calabria isn’t widely known outside of Italy. And within Italy, admittedly, it’s mostly known for the mafia (I have family there). It’s not a foreign tourist destination, and it's mostly made up of tiny towns tucked away along winding mountain roads that lead to beaches on the sides of the peninsula. But the people here stepped up to serve the foreign strangers arriving on their shores.
Reggio, like other port cities in Europe, is dealing with a massive migrant crisis. So far this year, about 105,000 migrants arrived by boat, according to the International Organization for Migration. They come mainly from African countries with most boats leaving from Libya.
“When they get here, they know everything they had to suffer; it’s still on their skin,” Roberta said in Italian, sitting in the shade outside of the main tent at the port the day after 700 people landed there.
Like many of her fellow Calabrians, Roberta felt that she had to do something to help the desperate people arriving in her city—and her time as an Italian Girl Scout inspired her, too. If you call it “work,” the volunteers will correct you—it’s service, not work. Volunteering their time is part of the Italian spirit: If someone shows up at your house, you make sure they’re alright…and feed them, of course.
Roberta started her service handing out snacks and drinks. But then the volunteers realized many of the women they greeted were victims of abuse and trafficking and were at risk of falling into exploitative prostitution.
“As soon as we were aware of this, we thought we could intervene right here,” Roberta said.
The women talk to Roberta in a private tent. She is looking for signs that they are being abused, which is a major concern in all municipalities handling tons of migrants. If Roberta meets a woman who may be a trafficking victim, she rushes to report it.
She works with social workers to see if girls can be put into foster care—which she likes to do because she believes it gives them a new family. She also has had to get some women to the hospital.
“The main goal of this project is to identify and stop [trafficking] from the beginning,” Roberta said. “But clearly I have different tasks in my job. So if someone needs to talk—to share their stories of abuse, their pain—we are here for that, too. Or even just to listen to their hopes, their desires.”
Women have told her about abuse they suffered, like being gang-raped and sexually assaulted at gunpoint.
“Honestly, when I was studying psychology, this was exactly what I didn’t want to do, because often these stories are overwhelming. There’s a risk of getting emotionally dragged too much into it. They talk about how they have been abused, awful experiences,” Roberta said. “But there was this need, and we needed to answer their cry for help. We need to make good use of our own skills.”
Women say they were told they could get jobs as hairdressers or beauticians in Europe. Roberta carefully asks who told them about these opportunities. Often, men will promise “jobs” to beautiful women they want to put into prostitution.
If it’s not that, they may have been told about jobs by friends who got to Europe first and didn’t want to admit the reality – that life in Europe for migrants is extremely difficult and opportunities are not readily available. This expectation is painful for Roberta to hear.
“They’re happy to feel protected. But after a few days, when they realize that it’s not going to be that simple to find the money the need, it’s easier for them to end up in prostitution,” she said she learned.
This is part of the reason why she felt the need to do this service. The earlier you intervene on great expectations, she thinks, the better equipped they can be to greet reality.
It’s not all tragedy, though. A few months ago, a project launched for young mothers to open a tailoring shop. The women are still running the shop and, through it, are able to provide for themselves and their families.
Roberta wishes there were more programs to weave migrant women into Italian society rather than structured programs that make them follow rules and schedules. She wants them to be able to “wake up in the morning, make breakfast, go to work, come back for lunch, wash their dishes, choose what they want to eat, go to the grocery store because their job allows them to and they can afford it.”
Roberta says she'll serve “as long as it is necessary.” She takes moments for herself to recover from the weight of the stories she heard, and then she gets right back to helping the women.
“Honestly, if something is happening in your own backyard, you can’t help but help to the best of your abilities,” Laganà said. “If the best you can do is to give a snack, you have to do it. If everybody gave even a little, the world wouldn’t be like this.”
Additional reporting by Elizabeth Svokos and Matteo Pace