While sifting through the archives of a life of struggles, we came across this deeply touching letter that Sara wrote to her coworkers in January 2018. The letter was written in the wake of a dismissal for disciplinary reasons—an act of insubordination in defence of her dignity, which she asserted with her head held high. At the time, the text had also been forwarded to some of her closest comrades.
It is striking, after all these years, to (re)discover that there are no differences—neither in style nor, above all, in terms of pride, tenacity, and the absolute primacy of ethics—between this and other more recent and “political” documents, such as, to name just one example, the statement Sara delivered in the Perugia courthouse on January 15, 2025, during the preliminary hearing of the Sibilla trial. This demonstrates—if proof were ever needed—that Sara was the same person in the presence of everyone: in the presence of colleagues, comrades, and inquisitors alike. And she has remained so over the years. Far from being a solitary figure leading a double life, as some journalists have written— always ready to play the tune that best suits those in power.
Her anarchism never required further clarification or adjectives. Her’s was a personality marked by proud, indomitable individualism; one that zealously guarded her individual freedom, insisting at every opportunity on thinking solely for herself, without taking orders from anyone or giving them to anyone. At the same time, and without any contradiction—indeed, with the utmost naturalness—her universal interpretation of social events was always marked by an unyielding class consciousness, consistent with anarchist principles. This “propaganda by deed” left a lasting impression on the countless people who were fortunate enough to know her.
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Today I was notified that my apprenticeship contract has been terminated. We can’t deny that I and Decathlon’s values (for better or worse) are heading in two different directions. It would be hypocritical of me to wonder why the company made this decision. Guys, I’m not smiling. I’m not smiling because it’s unnatural (that, for sure) to smile at people who whistle at us down the aisles as if we were dogs. Because I don’t smile when a customer calls me over to the reception desk, screaming that we’re incompetent because the bike she bought—by her own admission—at 8:00 p.m. the VERY NEXT DAY has a flat inner tube. I don’t laugh when that same lady tells me we were careless because at 8:15 p.m. we wanted to clock out, reminding me that, by law, if she’s in the store, we’re required to stay until the last customer FEELS LIKE finishing their shopping. I don’t know the law, but I’ve learned one thing… that the law doesn’t always mean justice. And my idea of justice is to tell her to FUCK OFF. Because in ’43, it was the law to send Jews to concentration camps, but the law changed—and it changed by force. The same force that our colleagues used at an Ipercoop in Emilia-Romagna, forming human chains to keep customers from entering to shop on April 25. So, without playing the victim, I’ll say goodbye. And if, when I hug you, I feel like crying, it won’t be because I think I’ve suffered an injustice or been wronged, but because I’ll miss you.
Always with a clenched fist.
MASTERS OF NOTHING, SERVANTS OF NO ONE.
An embrace.
Sara
09/01/2018
Source: La Nemesi