In the latest episode of the popular Italian television program *Che Tempo Che Fa*, broadcast on January 25, 2026, comedian and actress **Luciana Littizzetto** delivered one of her signature “letterine”—short, satirical open letters often laced with humor and sharp social commentary. This time, however, the tone was markedly different: more somber, direct, and laced with deep disappointment rather than her usual playful irony.
The target was **Giulia Bongiorno**, a prominent lawyer, Lega senator, and chair of the Senate Justice Committee, who has been at the center of a heated national debate over a proposed reform to Italy’s laws on sexual violence.
The controversy stems from a draft bill aimed at strengthening protections against rape and sexual assault. Earlier versions of the legislation, influenced by international models such as Spain’s “solo sí es sí” (only yes means yes) approach, emphasized **explicit consent** as the key criterion: sexual activity is lawful only when there is clear, affirmative agreement from all parties. This model shifts the burden away from victims having to prove resistance or explicit refusal, recognizing that fear, coercion, intoxication, or power imbalances can prevent a verbal “no.”
Bongiorno, leveraging her expertise as a seasoned criminal lawyer, proposed a significant rewording. The revised text moved from requiring “free and ongoing consent” to focusing on the “contrary will” of the victim—meaning violence occurs only when opposition is “expressed and clearly manifested,” taking context into account. Critics argue this reintroduces elements of the old paradigm, where victims must demonstrate active dissent, potentially complicating prosecutions in cases involving freezing, shock, or implicit threats. Supporters, including some in the majority coalition, claim it provides clearer legal definitions and avoids overly broad interpretations that could lead to miscarriages of justice.
Littizzetto’s letter, read aloud during the show hosted by Fabio Fazio on the Nove network, began with a light jab to set the stage: “Buongiorno, Bongiorno,” she quipped, playing on the senator’s surname, before admitting her legal knowledge was limited to old TV courtroom shows like *Forum* under Rita Dalla Chiesa. What followed was no joke. She described studying the proposal and feeling “stupore”—astonishment—that “we all” shared. “Before, the law was clear: only if I say yes, it’s yes. Consent, end of story. Everyone understands that,” she explained.
“Now it’s dissent: sexual violence only if the victim said no, expressed and clearly manifested their opposition.”
In blunt terms, she reframed the shift: “Before it was: I want it, you want it—let’s go. Consent. Now he says: I do it to you, and then, if you want, you tell me no. Dissent. It’s a bit different.” The comedian highlighted how context—described in the bill as something “to evaluate”—becomes elastic, decided by judges rather than the person who experienced the act. She lamented that penalties might even be reduced in some scenarios and noted Bongiorno’s vigorous defense against backlash, quipping that as a top lawyer, “if anyone knows how to defend herself, it’s her.”
The emotional core came toward the end. Littizzetto expressed profound citizen disappointment at seeing a “good proposal” dismantled for internal political reasons within the majority. She called for humility and common sense, suggesting Italy look to laws in other countries that have successfully implemented consent-based models.
But the most piercing line was her closing reflection: it is “truly avvilente” (devastating, disheartening) that a decent law on violence against women seems impossible right now—precisely when both major political blocs are led by women (Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni and opposition leader Elly Schlein), and the person reshaping a solid text into something “zoppa” (lame) is another woman.
The segment quickly went viral, shared across social media platforms, news outlets like Corriere della Sera, La Repubblica, and Today.it, and even YouTube clips that amassed thousands of views within hours. Many praised Littizzetto for dropping the comedy to speak plainly “da donna a donna” (woman to woman), framing the issue as a betrayal of progress on gender-based violence. Feminists and center-left commentators amplified her words, arguing the change risks rolling back gains from recent anti-femicide legislation that enjoyed bipartisan support.
Others, particularly in right-leaning circles and legal conservative voices, pushed back. They accused Littizzetto of oversimplifying complex jurisprudence, sensationalizing with crude language, and ignoring that the bill still criminalizes non-consensual acts while aiming for prosecutable clarity. Some YouTube channels and gossip-style videos sensationalized the exchange with titles like “Bongiorno ATTACCA Littizzetto Dopo la SCANDALOSA Lettera Che ha Fatto INORRIDIRE il…”—suggesting a direct counterattack from Bongiorno that never fully materialized in public statements.
In reality, no immediate fiery rebuttal from the senator appeared; she has maintained a measured posture, emphasizing her commitment to victim protection while defending the technical refinements as necessary for courtroom application.
The episode underscores broader tensions in Italian society and politics around gender, law, and media influence. Littizzetto, long a fixture on Sunday evenings with her mix of satire and sincerity, proved once again her ability to channel public sentiment—especially among women frustrated by perceived backsliding. The “letterina” tapped into widespread anxiety: after years of high-profile femicide cases and #MeToo-inspired reforms, why risk ambiguity in defining consent?
As February 2026 unfolds, the bill remains under scrutiny in committee. Whether Bongiorno’s version advances, gets amended, or stalls depends on coalition dynamics and public pressure. Littizzetto’s intervention, though born in a TV studio, has injected fresh urgency into the conversation, reminding viewers that behind legal jargon lie real lives and real fears. In a polarized landscape, her words—delivered without laughter—may prove more influential than any fiery parliamentary speech.
The debate is far from over, but for one evening, a comedian forced politicians to confront an uncomfortable truth: progress on women’s rights can never be taken for granted, even when women hold power. (Word count: 1523)
