Useppe had come into the world on a night of bombings. His first cry was a shriek that pierced the city. He was the child of war. His crying was an echo that cut through the nights when bombs sang, a symbol of innocence that endures, fragile and luminous.
The war eventually came to an end, but its fallout does not dissolve; the sorrows that wounded people’s hearts fuel a further descent into tragedy. It will be Davide—Ida’s friend, devastated by the war—who contributes to the death of Useppe, the child of war, destroyed by it in both soul and body.
Italy, France, Germany, Greece, Japan: across the world, the children of war will not forget
Roberto, Rossellini, 1948
Roger, who would go on to become a world-famous singer, but who would tell the story of the suffocating protection of his mother—the widow of Soldier Waters, who died in Anzio, and who knows, perhaps also passed through Salerno.
Mother, Roger Waters
Mother, do you think they’ll drop the bomb?
Mother, do you think they’ll like this song?
Mother, do you think they’ll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?Mother, should I run for president?
Mother, should I trust the government?
Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
Ooooh is it just wasted time?Hush now baby, baby, don’t you cry.
Mother’s gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother’s gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother’s gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She won’t let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Mama’ gonna keep the baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby, ooooh baby
Ooh baby, of course mama’ll help to build the wall.Mother, do you think she’s good enough…to me?
Mother, do you think she’s dangerous…to me?
Mother, will she tear your little boy apart?
Mother, will she break my heart?Hush now baby, baby don’t you cry.
Mama’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
Mama won’t let anyone dirty get through.
Mama’s gonna wait up until you get in.
Mama will always find out where you’ve been.
Mama’s gonna keep baby healthy and clean.
Ooooh baby, oooh baby
Ooh baby, you’ll always be baby to me.Mother, did it need to be so high?
Women—Ida and the others, exposed, wounded, yet courageous—remind us that war does not end with a surrender: ‘from dung, flowers grow.’ On June 2, 1946, eighty years ago, the Italian Republic was born, thanks in no small part to the women’s vote.
The recommendation to remove one’s lipstick to avoid invalidating the ballot still serves as a reminder today of that moment that changed Italy. The Senza Rossetto (‘Without Lipstick’) archive (2016) preserves interviews with some of the women who witnessed the breakthrough of 1946.
Select ‘Senza Rossetto’ (‘Without Lipstick’) on the portal
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