This interview includes references to sexual violence.
Your research focuses on cases of sexual violence in the confessional in early modern Malta and Italy. What do these cases tell us about how power, faith, and gender intertwined in early modern societies?
Harassment feeds on power; it aims to intimidate and control, either psychologically or sexually. Victims often feel confused and alone, uncertain whether they caused the abuse. In harassment cases where the male is the perpetrator and the female is the victim, there is already an imbalance of power. Faith, however, adds an additional layer, as confessors were not only male but also seen as semi-divine figures and spiritual guides.
In the 17th century, Catholic women approached confession to share their doubts and hopes, ranging from reproduction to marriage counselling, but at times were met with patronising remarks or unwanted attention that unsettled them. The men dismissed these comments and acts as sheer camaraderie, boasting, or curiosity, belittling the women who remained upset or resentful. It is difficult to gauge the women’s sense of shock, but many of these men likely felt entitled to their actions. Perhaps they believed that asserting male authority was part of their duty.
Is there a particular case from your research that captures the experiences of the women you study?
One significant example is a case from Malta, one of the most extensive proceedings in the archive with almost 300 folia of depositions. On 25 August 1653, the 22 year-old Maria Tabuni testified against her confessor, Don Gauci. She stated that he had abused her a few months earlier — her pregnancy as evidence — saying: “He raped me, against my will, and then said I should have married his nephew to cover this up.” She reported that the assaults continued another six times.
Her deposition also recounted how, on 24 August, the day before she appeared at the Holy Office, she heard someone knocking at her door. Thinking it was her uncle, she opened it, but was instantly grabbed by two men: the priests Gauci and Micaleff. Don Gauci covered her mouth while the other priest pulled her outside and violently dragged her to Gauci’s residence. They intimidated her to stay silent about the frequent abuses. Her cries were heard by her uncle as well as a neighbour, who later testified in her favour. Her father expressed his anger by throwing manure at Don Gauci’s door.
You look not only at women as victims, but as agents who reacted and resisted. How did the women you study make their voices heard or find ways to push back?
In order to understand their reactions, it is important to highlight that Catholic women understood the lurid jokes, the language metaphors, and allusions directed at them. They were aware of their own bodies. They were active sexual agents, learning from experience and observation. They recognised that behaviour, which could be dismissed as male camaraderie or boasting more generally, certainly amounted to harassment. What the confessor thought as flirting — inviting the victim to meet him in the vineyard or in the cellar — was in fact appalling to the woman who reported the events to the family, neighbours, or other confessors. Ultimately, they might have found themselves before the Inquisition, the tribunal in charge of prosecuting sexual crimes within the Church.
Many of your cases take place within small communities where everyone knew each other. How did neighbours, priests, or families respond when violence occurred?
Despite the power dynamics at play, families, neighbours, and clerics often corroborated the women’s depositions in court. Particularly in Malta, scholars have identified several factors behind the high number of female testimonies: solidarity among women, anti-clerical attitudes, and competing religious authorities. Peer pressure could bring forward depositions from close-knit villages where gossip spread quickly and the secrecy of the Inquisitorial procedure was a myth. Witnesses could be pressured by local politics, as Inquisitorial trials offered opportunities to eliminate rivals and settle disputes within the religious orders. Despite the different aims, the Catholic Church with the Inquisition tribunal offered women and their families the opportunity to hold powerful men accountable.
How does looking at women’s experiences four centuries ago help us understand responses to gender-based violence today?
It is undeniable that sexuality has always been cultural, framed by moral codes and political agendas that are constantly being negotiated. Women have been endlessly policed; their bodies, their behaviour under constant scrutiny. However, what history teaches us is that women were aware of their bodies and their sexual experiences. With regard to harassment, they lacked our modern vocabulary to describe it, but they recognised that such encounters were not “honest” exchanges and sometimes refused to accept them. They could not always prevent it, but thanks to the availability of some religious authorities, they had the courage to act against it. History shows us that things can be different, as they have been. A culture of sexual abuse is difficult to eradicate, but women can speak out, regroup, and achieve justice — and no longer carry the blame for the assaults committed against them.
Giada Pizzoni is a Marie Skłodowska-Curie Research Fellow in the EUI Department of History, supervised by Professor Lauren Kassell. Her research project “Mediterranean Women and Sexual Violence in the Confessional, 1600–1750” investigates how women in early modern Malta and Italy experienced and resisted sexual violence in sacred contexts.
To mark 25 November and continue the broader reflection on women’s rights, the EUI is also organising an event within the “L’Eredità delle Donne” festival exploring how women’s expertise and leadership are shaping the world today. More information is available here (in Italian).
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