Joanna Borella, 53, is a woman with a record: hers was the first international adoption in Italy. Yet, today she is famous for a completely different reason: a CSI coach, a physical education teacher and a social worker, she has become a pillar of female football in Milan’s borough of Nolo, where she is known as Mister Jo. Her company, Bimbe nel pallone (Girls in football), includes three teams: one for primary school girls, a mixed team for adolescents – the Nolers Mix – and another for adult women – Mothers in football. Hers is one of ten initiatives selected by the Cadido Cannavò Foundation.
How did you develop a love for football?
“I arrived in Italy from India on 12 November 1967 when I was 15 months old. Children usually walk by that age. I couldn’t because at the orphanage in Belgaum I was with other 150 children all looked after by a single missionary nun, and she had no time to help each of us to learn to walk. But once I arrived in Italy, I learned to stand up just by watching my brothers play football and in less than a week I was running after them and the ball. Since then, as my sweet mother liked to say, I’ve always had a football with me.”
Were you also told something about the adoption?
“When my parents adopted me they already had two children. My father was an architect who later became a town planner and worked for the local authority, while my mother worked for the regional authority. They certainly weren’t rich. Among their friends was a couple: he was a doctor and she was a Juvenile Court judge. They had gone to India and they visited the orphanage in Belgaum. When they returned to Italy they told my parents about the situation there and so they decided to adopt although they already had two children.”
I imagine it cannot have been easy.
“The adoption was hard as preparing all the documents and getting in touch with India in 1966 was not easy. Mine was the first international adoption in Italy. Four years later, my parents also adopted Cristiana, a girl of African origin who was born in Bologna. In the end, in my old neighborhood in Piazzale Libia and Viale Cirene there were three children from India, as well as my sister.”
So you weren’t the only one when you were growing up.
“At school there were 4 of us out of 1500 students, so I’ve always been part of a minority. I’ve never been bothered by it but over the years I’ve had a few incidents. Even today, when I go to the town hall they speak to me in a condescending tone and they show me to the line for requesting a residence permit. Sometimes I make sarcastic remarks such as: «I’m on my way to the kitchen, don’t worry». At other times, I stop and ask those who treat me badly how long they have lived in Milan for and I tell them: «Mi sun chi prima de ti» (Milanese dialect for “I’ve been here longer than you have»). They are always shocked to hear me speak in Milanese dialect.”
It’s hard to get more Milanese than that.
“My maternal grandmother came from central Milan, she lived in Santa Sofia, and to her Nolo was like the countryside. I moved there in 1990. My mother was a social worker and in those days, as you can imagine, things weren’t easy. She gave classes to illiterate people in all the small towns of the province such as Paullo, Mombretto, Melzo and so on. Sometimes I would go with her: I used to like watching adults who couldn’t write learn with her. I was fascinated by seeing big people put their heart and soul into learning.”
A good lesson.
What hurts the most is that some of those people who treat immigrants badly today were themselves subjected to the same treatment. But they had people who helped them out – including my own mother – and now they live in suburban houses in Brianza. I don’t understand why they treat those who are going through what they went through with such contempt. Following in my mother’s footsteps, my sister Cristiana is running Italian language courses for foreigners at Parco Trotter.
A lot of things in your life seem to be centred around the Parco Trotter in Milan.
“When I had my first child I didn’t have a proper job and I had no one to help me. Then I discovered that at the Parco Trotter there was a place called “Family time” where you could take your children and stay with them. Children were divided into different rooms depending on their age. Anxious mothers would not leave their children, while others who were not anxious, like me, used to play football in the corridors. So, Trotter saved me but I saved myself too.”
And that’s how your football academy was born.
“I’ve always enjoyed playing with boys and being the only girl on the squad, but I started Bimbe nel pallone so that girls could get into a football academy. If girls are allowed to play in teams in order to satisfy gender quotas, they are then kicked out when they turn 11 or 12 as mixed teams are not allowed to play in tournaments. So, today it feels good to be able to tell those who see us practicing with the girls, “we’re not just playing here, we’re a football academy.”
Translated by Costanza de Toma