Ferragosto, celebrated on 15 August each year in Italy, is one of the country’s oldest and most significant holidays. Originally established during the Roman Empire and later embraced by the Catholic Church as the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, Ferragosto in Italy remains a public holiday and a day dedicated to celebration, family gatherings and community.

This year, the Ferragosto Festival returns to Five Dock for its 28th year of celebrations. The 2026 festival will be held on Sunday, 16 August.  Great North Road will again be closed to traffic and transformed into a vibrant celebration of the flavours of Italy.

Every August, Five Dock comes alive with Italian food, culture and heritage. Colourful performances, bustling market stalls, live cooking demonstrations and traditional music create an atmosphere that welcomes people of all ages and backgrounds. Since its beginnings in 1998 as an initiative of the Five Dock Main Street Committee, the festival has grown into one of Sydney’s largest Italian street festivals, attracting thousands of visitors each year.

Despite its remarkable growth, Ferragosto has remained true to its original purpose: celebrating the Italian-Australian community that helped shape Five Dock while inviting everyone to experience and appreciate the richness of Italian culture.

However, for many of us, Ferragosto has become far more than a street festival. It is a celebration of identity, belonging and family history. Especially for second- and third-generation Italian-Australians, it serves as a reminder of the challenges faced by our parents and grandparents, who left Italy in search of a better life, and of the delicate balance between preserving Italian traditions and embracing Australian culture.

As part of this year’s Ferragosto pre-event program, a “Meet the Author” presentation featured Angelina Mastrippolito, author of Le Seconde – Inheriting the Unspoken: A Second-Generation Immigrant Story.

Angelina spoke with honesty and warmth about growing up as the daughter of Italian migrants whose expectations shaped who she should be and how she should live. She also explored the inherited trauma experienced by many second-generation migrants, who often carry the emotional weight of stories that were never spoken aloud.

Through years of meticulous research into the lives of her parents and grandparents in Italy before and after the Second World War, Angelina uncovered family experiences that had remained hidden for decades. What she discovered challenged everything she believed about her upbringing and helped her understand the silence that had surrounded so much of her family’s past.

Listening to Angelina’s story reminded me very much of my own.

My father left his small hometown of Rapone, in Basilicata, and arrived in Sydney on an assisted passage in 1952, leaving behind his pregnant wife, young son, parents and lifelong friends. My mother, my brother and I followed later. I was just eighteen months old when we arrived in Sydney.

My father was among the first men from Rapone to settle in Sydney, while my mother was one of the first women from the town to arrive with young children. Together, we were the first family from Rapone to make Australia our home.

Like many migrant families, our house quickly became a temporary refuge for newly arrived relatives. I have fond memories of aunts, uncles and cousins staying with us while they searched for work and somewhere to live. As soon as one family became established and moved into their own home, another would arrive from Italy, and the cycle would begin again. It was simply what families did for one another.

Although I remember my childhood was a happy one, growing up between two cultures was not always easy.

At home, my parents expected us to live according to the values and traditions they had brought with them from Italy. Outside the home, I wanted to fit in with my Australian friends and the culture I experienced at school. Like many children of migrants, I often felt caught between two worlds. Even our names indicated the dual identity. At home we were called by our Italian names, while at school our Australian friends often shortened or anglicised them.

I was never the most academic student, but I loved sport- especially playing basketball. I wanted to play in the interschool competitions. Unfortunately, the games were played on Saturday mornings—the very time my brother and I had to attend Italian school.

My parents, particularly my mother, believed passionately that we should learn to speak Italian. When Saturday morning Italian classes were introduced in the mid-1960s, attendance was never negotiable.

At the time, I resented missing out on basketball and spending my Saturdays in a classroom while my friends enjoyed their weekends. However, it wasn’t until I was almost sixteen that I began to understand and appreciate the value of knowing two languages.

Learning a second language opened the door to understanding my family, my heritage and, ultimately, myself. It also led to my first job as a medical secretary for a leading Italian psychiatrist in Sydney—a position I secured largely because I could speak Italian.

Today, I understand the wonderful gift my parent had insisted on giving me. I am deeply grateful especially to my mother for her persistence. What I once saw as stubbornness, I now recognise as love, determination and remarkable foresight. Having arrived in Australia without speaking English, she understood better than anyone the importance of language—not only as a practical skill but as a lifelong connection to family, culture and identity.

It wasn’t until the mid-1970s and into the 1990s that Italian culture became more widely accepted in Australia. Gradually, the food, language, festivals and traditions that many migrant families had quietly preserved in their homes became part of Australia’s multicultural identity. Today, we celebrate them openly and proudly.

Looking back, I realise that many of us who grew up as children of Italian migrants share similar stories. We inherited not only our parents’ language and traditions but also their sacrifices, resilience and unwavering hope for a better future.

That is why Ferragosto means so much.

It is far more than a festival of food, music and entertainment. It is a celebration of those who came before us—the courage it took to leave everything familiar behind, the communities they built through hard work and determination, and the legacy they entrusted to future generations.

Each year, as we celebrate Ferragosto we are reminded that our heritage is something to be celebrated, our stories are worth sharing, and our traditions continue to enrich the multicultural make-up of Australia. It honours the past, celebrates the present and inspires future generations to remain proud of where they come from while fully accepting the country they proudly call home.

Dona Di Giacomo