I wanted to be tough

The Sanremo festival has just ended. Considering all the limitations that entertainment shows contain, in the end something always remains. This year, the song by Lucio Corsi, Voglio essere un duro, left its mark. Living in a society that seems to reward only those who win reminded me that, as a teenager, I too watched older boys who seemed to have control of the streets: confident, respected and never fazed by anything. To me, they embodied a model of strength and independence that I wanted to emulate. The path to becoming a “tough guy” seemed clear: bold attitudes, the right clothes and a contemptuous indifference to authority.
I fully committed to this transformation, trying to fit the narrative of the invincible rebel. However, beneath that surface of ostentatious confidence, there was a fragility that I rarely showed.
As time went by, I began to realize how much that image was a mask. True strength is not in being intimidating or aloof, but in finding the courage to be authentic.
While some of my peers were lost in that role, unable to see beyond the myth, I was looking for a new path. I discovered that being truly strong meant embracing your vulnerabilities and using your experiences to grow.
I learned that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but of intelligence. And so, I began to build a new identity, based on self-understanding and a willingness to improve.
Today, when I look back on that youthful desire, I smile.
Aspiring to be a “tough guy” was a phase of growth, but life has taught me that true strength is living with integrity and respect for others, maintaining an open spirit to challenges and change.
During my travels, I often met boys who displayed a hostile attitude.
They flaunted confidence and indifference, as if nothing could dent their apparent shell of invulnerability.
At first, this mask seemed impenetrable, but with time and a little dialogue, different stories emerged. Under that facade there were often fears, insecurities and desires for acceptance. I remember a boy I met in a hostel in Berlin. He seemed like the classic type who doesn't worry about anything, but during a conversation he confessed to me that he was traveling to escape oppressive family expectations. Or another in a café in Buenos Aires who acted like a rebel, but who in reality was just looking for a place in the world that made him feel truly at home.

During a trip to Cambodia, I met a child who was holding a gun. As he played at mocking his own fears, his eyes shone, despite the difficult context around him.
That gun was a symbol of a world in which he dreamed of being strong. I approached him and we talked about games. In that moment, I understood that every child, everywhere, just wants to be a child and be able to live in a world of peace.
These experiences have taught me that behind every armor there is a human soul that struggles with its own fragilities. True strength does not lie in hiding one's weaknesses, but in recognizing and accepting them
 

Roberto Cristaudo
Mind the gap
NP March 2025