Episodes

Episode 1: Finding Empathy

The very first episode of the My Caste Story takes us through Rebecca (Becca) D'Ostilio's life. She grew up in a small city in Connecticut where both of her parents grew up. Becca's story begins with her great grandparents immigrating to the United States with hope for a better life. Follow along as Becca describes her father's battle with drug addiction, her brother's disability, and her coming out story on this week's episode of My Caste Story.

Transcript of Finding Empathy:

Welcome to the first episode of My Castle Story. Inspired by Isabel Wilkerson's book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, this brand new podcast aims to dismantle stereotypical notions of people's lives. While Isabel Wilkerson's book focuses on race, this podcast will discuss many different aspects of one's life that decides their "caste:" sexuality, disabilities, mental health, etc. Follow along as we discuss ways to dismantle these notions including the educational system, uncomfortable conversations, and recognizing our own bias. Each week will follow a new person as they take us through their caste journey.

The first episode will highlight me, Rebecca D’Ostilio.

Hi, my name is Rebecca or Becca D’Ostilio and this is my caste story.

I was born in Danbury, Connecticut on April 26th, 2003 to an Italian father and a Portuguese mother. When my mother, Debbie, was growing up, my town was predominantly Portuguese which made it a great place for her grandparents to immigrate to. Her father’s dad moved here at 18 he didn’t know the language, the culture, or anyone here. Similarly, my dad’s grandmother, Livia, immigrated here from Italy in the 1930’s and never fully learned English, this made it difficult for her to hold a job and communicate with locals. Debbie’s grandfather, Fernando, even fought in World War 2.

Though my family had experience with immigration and being multilingual, this didn’t keep my Vovo from expressing his thoughts on “illegal immigration” in his words. This is a concept that Wilkerson discusses in “Caste, The Origin of Our Discontents” the once oppressed whites now have become the oppressors. There is a feeling of superiority between people who did it “correctly” and those who “didn’t”. This is seen even in the town I grew up in.

My mom would claim that she grew up “ignorant” and “naive” considering what her father used to say, and decided she wanted to go to college to change that. She knew that if she graduated, she’d be the first woman in her family to do so, and went into college as a first gen student. She says that once she returned back from college she felt confident enough to disagree with her father, and even began to teach him what she learned. I’m not sure if I blame my Vovo for his ideology, he never had a proper education and his father only attended school up to 4th grade. My aunt went on to marry a black man and my uncle; a Dominican immigrant. My Vovo had to change, his grandchildren were now the people he once hated.

Is education the key to dismantling stereotypical notions? I’m not sure the answer is that simple.

My mom and dad are not afraid to admit this, but they didn’t quite treat disabled people with the utmost respect growing up. There was a sense of separation between them. It was scary, unfamiliar, better to ignore it. That all changed in 2004 when my parents were informed they would be having a child with down syndrome. My mom was terrified; would he be able to attend school? Would he speak? Would he be able to crawl like my sister and I? She didn’t know the answer to each of those questions was “yes” at the time. How could my family judge others when we were judged ourselves? I remember my brother, Nicky, receiving stares at the grocery store, and I remember screaming at kids on the bus for using the “r word” in front of me. I consider Nicky the most pivotal member of my family. He has taught me patience, kindness, and acceptance.

That doesn't mean Nicky hasn’t faced his fair share of discrimination. He’s been picked on, doubted, stared at, and has struggled through parts of school. A lack of funding for the disabled hasn’t helped this, and it’s something I'm constantly rallying for.

The town I grew up in, Danbury, Connecticut, was ranked the 9th most diverse city in America, and my high school is actually over 60% minority. I think this has a lot to do with my cultural awareness, and I thank my parents for raising me here. My parents made it a priority that I become aware of the people around me. We never had a lot of money growing up, but they made it a priority that we visit museums to expand our knowledge. My father was a history major in college, and had me watching WW2 documentaries instead of the typical children’s programs my peers were watching.

I had a pretty normal childhood until 2008 when my father lost his job. The world began to shift for me. My dad also became addicted to opioids at the time, the epidemic was just beginning. At 5 years old, I witnessed the idea of caste fall apart right in front of me. My dad went from making 6 figures to being checked into a rehab facility, I felt helpless. At the time, I didn’t realize my dad had been struggling with mental health issues his entire life; PTSD, anxiety, and depression just to name a few. I didn’t know that I would grow up to experience panic disorder and depression as well. My sister, Gabby, also began to experience anxiety when she was just 9 years old.

My terrible anxiety was heightened by the fact that I was trying to figure out my sexuality. I always knew I was “different” in that aspect. I always felt a deep connection to pride and had many LGBTQ people around me growing up, I didn’t understand why I had to feel so confused all the time. I tried to voice this to my mom, but she was having a difficult time understanding my emotions because I couldn’t even figure them out myself. In 2018, I attended a Harry Styles concert in New York City during pride month. I, of course, had to bring a pride flag and wear rainbow clothing. After the concert, I posted a picture of my outfit on social media. The next day, people started stopping me in the hallway, staring at me and asking “so, are you gay or what?” I went to the bathroom and began to cry, I didn’t know who I was. “I was supporting the community,” I replied. In my head I said, “because I’m apart of it” It took me two more years to finally admit to people that I am bisexual, and it was very difficult for the words to leave my mouth.

Though Isabel Wilkerson’s book focuses on caste in terms of race, my experiences; where I grew up, mental illness, disabilities, coming out, and many other things helped me to find the empathy I needed to understand the American Caste System. The empathy I found within myself was shaped through my parents. They made it a life mission of theirs that I become someone who is culturally aware and empathetic towards others.