It was the first 8M of the new normal. With masks, distances and precautions, without the possibility of hugs or crowds, without being able to unfold the feminist potential that has been so forcefully taken over the public space in recent years. It was time to be bold, creative, patient. The result is that of a strange journey, between nostalgia, anger and vindication, and also the fatigue of a year of pandemic. But with the feeling that the revolution that exploded three years ago has left a residue whose effects are long-term. The 8M can no longer be dodged, it came to stay in many different ways.