I earned my high school diploma in Computer Science and Telecommunications in 2008, but by the end of that program I was completely confused about what I could (or wanted to) become. Driven by a mix of instinct and curiosity, I enrolled in a Bachelor's degree in Communication and Psychology. I was drawn to the idea of a field that combined technological aspects (which were already familiar to me) with the human sciences, which I had always observed with interest, albeit from a distance.

At my very first Social Psychology exam, I immediately realized that this was the path I wanted to follow. From that moment on, I have never stopped being fascinated by the psychological dynamics that shape how we perceive others and interact with them, especially in contexts where inequality and gender stereotypes come into play. My undergraduate thesis focused precisely on these topics, with a particular emphasis on dehumanization, which was the main subject of my supervisor's research at the time. It was love at first sight: I was struck (and still am) by the power, often brutal, of this process, by its ability to redefine people's value in social relations, and by the devastating effects it can have on both the victims and the perpetrators.

Still under the spell of that discovery, I went on to pursue a Master's degree in Social Psychology, where I explored workplace dehumanization. That initial project eventually became the foundation of my PhD, which marked the beginning of a long-term research effort that, ten years later, is still active and continues to shape part of my academic path (see here). My decision to focus on dehumanization specifically within the work context was not accidental. My father and brother have held jobs that the literature refers to as physically and socially "dirty": my father was a garbage collector, while my brother works as a supermarket clerk. This prompted me to reflect on how certain occupations are perceived, devalued, and often ignored. In several studies (e.g., here, here, and here), I have investigated these dynamics, aiming to understand how people perceive such workers, and how that affects their well-being and identity.

At the same time, I have become deeply interested in gender stereotypes, a topic I approached with both academic curiosity and personal experience. I find it fascinating (and troubling) that a cognitive shortcut designed to simplify reality can have such deep and damaging effects, especially when it comes to opportunities, representation, and rights. Coming from a technical high school with a focus on computer science and studying in a male-dominated environment (in a class of 25 students, only three of us were girls), I experienced firsthand how certain stereotypes can shape one's sense of competence and self-worth. Despite my interest in computer science, I often felt completely out of place in other core technical subjects, such as electronics or networks and systems. Looking back, I am not sure whether it was simply a matter of motivation or whether stereotype threat played a role. As I grew older, this doubt evolved into a broader reflection, and I began to wonder why so many young girls, initially enthusiastic about math and science, end up abandoning those fields – just like I did – and how much cultural, educational, and family-based stereotypes silently influence their choices.

These considerations have been with me from the very beginning and continue to guide much of the research I do today. When people ask me, "What do you work on?", my answer is layered but deeply coherent: I study how people are perceived, represented, and recognized (or not recognized) in society, and through my work, I try to help make them more visible.