35 | Munich | Scientist by heart, coordinator by choice
Year:
2026
GIULIA
I chose objects that are tokens, memories, symbols, and little relics of my life and experiences — things that connect me to people, experiences, and specific moments. I often create little altars of memories in my home, and I have a really hard time throwing things away, even insignificant objects. To me, they can be like little time machines, relics and memories of my journey and of people I love.
A piece of reflective glass from an art installation at a festival organized years ago by a collective of friends. It was the first time I participated in an artistic performance, where I was myself a shibari "art installation" and I also did my very first breathwork session there. The shibari performance I did with my partner remains a beautiful symbol of empowerment and freedom for me, despite the challenging path that led us there. I place the glass in my mouth, acting as a breath portal there, connecting it to the breath and the intensity of that first breathwork experience.
A fluffy "pom-pom" from my first-ever Fusion, a reminder that "what is lost sometimes comes back". I love fluff and softness, and I love being playful with silly or childish things. This is an important part of my personality, and I see it as one of my biggest strengths. My creativity and my silliness are qualities I am extremely proud of.
A tiny glass penis, a gift from my best friend. It reminds me of our shared, slutty past and all the things we explored together, and how much I love her. She is now becoming a mother, which makes the contrast — and the bittersweet meaning — of those previous crazy years feel even stronger and, somehow, sweeter than ever. I miss her a lot, but I am also incredibly excited to see her become a mother and to meet her little creature. I place the object on my womb because of this connection: between our past, her present, and the possibility of new life.
A neon Fotze sign, because it has a beautiful neon blue light and because Fotze is one of my favourite German words — I even have a Fotze tattoo. It actually means cunt. It's a neon light I bought as part of the decoration for the 40th birthday motto party "Pimps and Hoes" I organised for my partner, so it's also a sweet memory of that amazing day.
A diving mask, because I'm a diver and I love the sea — watching the ocean from underneath, snorkelling, spending time underwater. I'm a biologist and I love everything that has to do with nature and observing it. Diving is like meditation to me, an amazing experience of being in another world and observing its incredible beauty.
Do I feel free in my body? Not completely. It is a long journey.
I am 35, and for quite some years I have been trying to reappropriate and connect with my body. I grew up in a remote rural area of Italy, surrounded by catcalling, bullying, harassment, sexualization, and a lot of ignorance. Looking back, I understand that some of my first sexual experiences would now be classified as rape. I was too young, too naive, too worried about "making a fuss," and too eager to fit in to understand what was happening.
I now understand that none of that was my fault. Part of my journey has been learning to understand this and to relearn intimacy — with myself first, and then with others.
As a teenager and throughout my twenties, I saw myself and my body almost exclusively through the male gaze. I was "lucky enough" to be considered "pretty" and "wanted," but looking back, I can see how much that affected my sense of self and my self-esteem in a negative way. Being desired became entangled with feeling valuable. I never really questioned what I wanted sexually, fully embraced my queerness, or explored what actually felt good to me.
I am now trying to return to myself. Through introspection, therapy, BDSM, ropes, pain, pleasure, honesty, and my current relationship, I am learning to listen to my body rather than constantly seeing it from the outside. I am also learning to challenge the beauty standards and patriarchal voices that I have internalized over all my life — standards that I now completely reject, but rejecting them does not mean that I am automatically free from them. That process is much harder and more complicated. I stopped shaving years ago as one way of actively pushing back against those expectations, but sometimes those stupid, patriarchal voices still come back into my head.
It is hard to feel completely free in a world where women-presenting people are still not fully free to define what happens to their bodies, how they look, how they express their sexuality, or how they choose to exist.
I am learning to distinguish what I genuinely want from what I have been taught to want. I am learning that pleasure, sexuality, silliness, softness, strength, queerness, and vulnerability can all coexist in the same body.
I don't think freedom in the body is a destination for me. It is an ongoing process of figuring out what is mine, what I want, and how I want to express myself.
These objects remind me of that journey: of friendship, pleasure, creativity, sexuality, vulnerability, silliness, transformation, and connection. They remind me that my body and my experiences belong to me.
