Episode

Spaciada sa Bregungia (No More Shame)

Podcast
Art, in all the wrong places
Published
May 14, 2026
Duration seconds
386
Processing state
not_requested
Canonical source
https://share.transistor.fm/s/dd5a8647
Audio
https://2.gum.fm/op3.dev/e/pdcn.co/e/pscrb.fm/rss/p/pdst.fm/e/dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/prfx.byspotify.com/e/media.transistor.fm/dd5a8647/ccf9e37e.mp3
JSON
/v1/public/podcasts/art-in-all-the-wrong-places-7340523/episodes/spaciada-sa-bregungia-no-more-shame
Markdown
/podcast/art-in-all-the-wrong-places-7340523/spaciada-sa-bregungia-no-more-shame.md

Actions

  • POST https://stenobird.com/v1/public/podcasts/art-in-all-the-wrong-places-7340523/episodes/spaciada-sa-bregungia-no-more-shame/transcription-requests
    Idempotently request low-priority transcript generation for this episode.
  • GET https://stenobird.com/podcast/art-in-all-the-wrong-places-7340523/spaciada-sa-bregungia-no-more-shame.md
    Read the agent-friendly Markdown representation of this episode resource.

Summary

Winner, HearSay International Audio Festival 2026 — Golden Prize Every time I'm in the car and a flock of sheep passes in front of me, it almost feels like this is my home. That line opens Spaciada sa Bregungia . It is in Sardinian, or rather, in the Sardinian I have. Which is not the same thing. See below for English subtitles. Spaciada sa Bregungia opens with sheep bells, that particular, unhurried sound that in Sardinia means you are exactly where you should be. Against that texture, my voice arrives, in a language I should have grown up speaking. I didn't. I didn't grow up speaking Sardinian. My parents made a choice, a rational one, from where they stood. They believed that Italian was the language of the future, of education, of opportunity. That raising their children in Sardinian would mark us as peasants, hold us back, make us targets. They were trying to give us a better life. They were themselves products of a system that had taught them, convincingly, that their own language was an obstacle. Nobody taught me the language of my home. The one my illiterate grandmother spoke. The one I couldn't use to talk to her because I didn't understand it. My parents thought they were protecting me. They were also, without knowing it, cutting me off from my own people. That loss doesn't go away. Spaciada sa Bregungia moves from that personal wound outward, through history, through politics, through the specific and ongoing ways a land and its people get diminished. It is not a gentle piece. On the language — and the criticism. Before I released this piece, I nearly didn't. Fluent Sardinian speakers told me that releasing a piece with imperfect grammar would damage the language. That it would reflect badly. That I should perhaps not do it at all. I was stopped cold. Angry.…