Frank Benanti and his young wife, who had immigrated from Italy, lived a charmed life. Maria was young, she was attractive and she spoke primarily Italian but none of that mattered. She was the perfect distraction for Frank’s illicit behavior with the mob types in New York City. It was all about making an impression, showing up with arm candy every now and again to distract from his business dealings, and his naive wife didn’t know any different. When they welcomed their first child, named Rachele, Maria was too distracted caring for her new baby that she had no idea what her husband was even up to.

Two years after the birth of Rachele, the Benanti’s welcomed a son they named Paolo and their perfect little family was complete. Maria had been learning English, while she was teaching both of her children Italian as well. It was important to Maria that her children learned the language of her homeland, which included dragging both children to Catholic mass every single Sunday. Religion was very important to the family, minus Frank, who was always too busy to be bothered with the family. Rachele strived for the attention of her father on a constant basis and he was a man of few words. In fact, she could only count on both hands how many times the phrase. “I love you” were uttered by her father.

Rachele was ten years old when, in the middle of the night, the mob came after the Benanti’s after her father did a deal that went horribly awry. The plan was to only kill Frank but Maria started to become frantic, screaming bloody murder at the sight of her husband lying in a pool of blood. The hitman killed her too and, at the sound of gun shots going off, Rachele hid under the bed. Paolo, on the other hand, went to go and see what was going on and the hitman killed him too. Rachele hid under the bed, pushing back tears, as the hitman looked for signs of the daughter but couldn’t find her and left the house. The next morning, Rachele came out of hiding spot and called the police, holding it together the best that she could, puffy eyes and all, and was suddenly an orphan.

The relative who could care for her was her older cousin on her father’s side, who couldn’t have children of his own with his wife. They took in Rachele and moved her to Boston, so she could be away from the life that had left her with severe PTSD. She was angry, she was hurt, she wasn’t sure what was going on. For the longest time she would only speak in Italian so no one knew what was going on in her head. To channel her rage, her new guardian decided to give her an outlet for her rage and introduced her to archery. The aggression and rage that she felt was focused when she was behind her crossbow and she was actually quite good at it. So good, in fact, that she started to prep herself to become an Olympic athlete.

Her opportunity came when, right before she was to go to Dartmouth to study her fall back in Linguistics that she was prepping for her shot at the summer Olympics in 2000. It was an incredible opportunity for her and, although she didn’t do as well as she had hoped, and didn’t earn herself a medal, she did prove herself to be a worthy opponent. Even though her heart was in archery, she did attend school in the fall, with the plans of becoming an Italian Linguistics teacher one day. Her Italian heritage, which was instilled in her from a young age from her mother, was incredibly important. She had all but given up on religion after the death of her family and it was important that something live on from what they instilled in her.

College wasn’t an easy road, though, and Rachele sometimes got into fights with both her professors and other students. Her passion for learning and for being taught the proper way had encouraged her that she was going to be a professor who was firm but helpful. Most professors were either one or the other and there was a way to do things that were just better. It was a mix of the two; excitement for learning and a firm hand to lead the way to excellence. After her graduation from Dartmouth she went across the pond to Edinburgh to complete her Master’s degree in Italian & Linguistics, with the hope that she could return home and teach.

While in Edinburgh, she made trips to Italy to see where her mother grew up and to try and reconnect with some family members. It was a bittersweet trip in a lot of ways because she had hoped that her mother could have accompanied her. It also managed to dig up a lot of old feelings and emotions from that night and she spiralled for a month or so before pulling herself together to finish her degree. She never returned to Italy and went straight back to Boston, a spot that had been full of mostly happy memories, and she landed a job at Boston University, where she has been for the past eight years.