Valeria Mongelli

Reportage made by the members of the collective Photograp.her. The Covid-19 pandemic affects everyone, everywhere. But it affects different groups of people differently, deepening existing inequalities. The pandemic is having devastating social and economic consequences for women and girls. Covid-19 could reverse the limited progress that has been made on gender equality and women’s rights. According to the United Nation (UN), nearly 60 percent of women around the world work in the informal economy, earning less, saving less, and at greater risk of falling into poverty. As markets fall and businesses close, millions of women’s jobs have disappeared. Moreover, being a woman is a major risk factor. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), Women represent almost 70% of the healthcare workforce, which exposes them to an increased risk of infection. At the same time, women bear the majority of the workload at home and in childcare, a burden that became even heavier after the closure of schools. Furthermore, risks of violence, abuse, or harassment increased. These currents are combining as never before to defeat women’s rights and deny women’s opportunities. Despite being more vulnerable, women are active agents of resilience. We are covering stories of solidarity, resistance, and entrepreneurship and we want to show them. From a woman-to-woman perspective, we portray domestic workers, mothers, firefighters, entrepreneurs, nurses, among others. The countries we are documenting are Bolivia (Catalina Ugalde), Spain (Cris Aznar), India (Priyanka Parashar), Ecuador (Bárbara Traver), Thailand (Valeria Mongelli), Brazil (Ana Carolina Haddad) and the Dominican Republic (Ana Valiño).

“Stay safe at home,” they said. However, for many women home may not be a safe place. According to the United Nations (UN) Women, since the Covid-19 outbreak domestic violence has increased by 30%. Even before the pandemic, Burmese migrant women in Thailand were a high-risk group, with higher chances of experiencing domestic abuse. Their lives got more difficult because of the Covid-19 crisis. In the Mae Sot region, at the Thailand-Myanmar border, there are roughly 200,000 Burmese migrants. Most of them are undocumented and work in precarious conditions. During the lockdown, they had no job, no support from the Thai government, and no chances of returning to Myanmar due to the closure of borders. Women facing domestic violence found themselves locked up at home with their abusers, with fewer chances of asking for help. The Freedom Restoration Project in Mae Sot offers support to the victims of domestic abuse. Thanks to their help, during the lockdown some women managed to escape an abusive situation. Some are still in an abusive relationship but find a safe space at the center, at least for a few hours. In my reportage, I portrayed the migrant women experiencing domestic abuse in Mae Sot. I interviewed both the violence survivors and the workers who support them at the Freedom Restoration Project.

“Here, we should have been wearing a mask for the last sixty years,” says a fisherman while looking at the steel plant in front of him – or “the monster,” as everyone calls it here. ArcelorMittal factory, still known as Ilva after the name its former owner gave it, is Europe's largest steel plant. It is more than twice as big as Taranto, the city in Italy's far South where the factory is located. Scientific studies have linked emissions from the Ilva plant to health issues among the local population. For some forms of cancer, respiratory, renal, and cardiovascular diseases Taranto's rates exceed regional and national averages, and children are found to be more likely to be born with disabilities. On “wind days,” the mayor cancels school for fear of toxic dust blowing through the town. As the global steel market tanked and its former owners have been under investigation for ecological disaster and bankruptcy fraud, Ilva has been in a crisis since 2012. The Covid-19 outbreak worsened this crisis as steel production has been furtherly reduced and an increasing number of workers have been made redundant. Covid-19 is deepening economic and social depression in an already problematic territory. Because of Covid-19, many people worldwide complain of being forced to choose between their health and their jobs, or between health and education. In Taranto, this is not a new issue. The city is currently in the spotlight because in December ArcelorMittal signed an agreement with the Italian government to form a public-private partnership and increase the steel production. According to many, this means sentencing a territory and its inhabitants to death. In my reportage, I portray a city that today fights against an old and a new monster: the steel plant and the Covid-19 crisis. I interviewed Taranto's residents, environmental activists, former and current Ilva employees, and mothers who lost their son to diseases allegedly linked to Ilva's emissions.

Hanno abbandonato l'acciaio per mettersi ai fornelli. Cataldo Ranieri, detto Aldo, e Marco Tomasicchio hanno lavorato all'ex Ilva di Taranto per più di vent'anni. Vent'anni di mobbing, soprusi e pressioni psicologiche. Nel 2019, quando l'azienda ha offerto un incentivo all'esodo a diverse centinaia di lavoratori, hanno colto l'opportunità al volo. Hanno lasciato la fabbrica per aprire “A Casa Vostra”, un ristorante di cucina casereccia in uno storico locale del centro. Il locale scommette sui piatti tipici della tradizione tarantina. La tuta dell'Ilva è appesa nel ristorante, a ricordare un passato senza rimpianti. La crisi economica causata dalla pandemia sta mettendo a dura prova il loro progetto, ma Aldo e Marco combattono le difficoltà a suon di pesce fritto e ironia. 

Their sons' deaths have something in common: the Ilva steel plant. Many mothers in Taranto, Southern Italy, link the premature death of their sons or daughters to the nearby factory. ArcelorMittal steel plant, still known as Ilva after the name given by its former owner, is Europe's largest steel plant. Scientific studies have linked emissions from the Ilva plant to health issues among the local population. For some forms of cancer, respiratory, renal, and cardiovascular diseases Taranto's rates exceed regional and national averages, and children are found to be more likely to be born with disabilities. Ilva is also dramatically famous for the high number of accidents at work that happen inside its walls. In my reportage, I portray Taranto's mothers who lost a son or a daughter for a disease allegedly linked to Ilva's emissions or for a work accident that happened inside the steel plant. Antonella Massaro, for example, lost her 5-year old daughter to leukemia. Vita Tinella said goodbye to her son, an Ilva worker, while he was going to work and never saw him alive again: he died on that same morning falling from a crane. These stories are tragic, but are also examples of resilience and social militance. Currently, these women's portraits look even more dramatic: last year, ArcelorMittal signed an agreement with the Italian government to form a public-private partnership and increase the steel production in 2021. According to many, this means sentencing a territory and its inhabitants to death. Taranto's mothers wonder for how long they will still have to bury their sons.