Outrage erupted across Italy this week after Facebook’s parent company Meta shut down a massive online group where thousands of men had been sharing intimate photos of women without their knowledge or consent. The group, called “Mia Moglie” (which translates to “My Wife”), had amassed nearly 32,000 members before its removal on August 22, 2025, following a wave of public complaints and a formal investigation by Italy’s Postal Police.
According to reporting from CNN, BBC, and leading Italian newspapers, the group functioned as a virtual marketplace for non-consensual pornography, with users posting and exchanging hundreds of thousands of private images. Many of these photos depicted women sleeping, changing clothes, shopping, or sunbathing—often in states of undress and always without their consent. In some cases, the women were partners, sisters, or even strangers to the men posting the images. The posts were frequently accompanied by sexually explicit and violently misogynistic comments, with some users openly expressing desires to rape the women pictured.
“How I’d like to be her thong,” read one comment, while another user listed a woman’s physical attributes in a disturbingly objectifying fashion: “30s, height 5’11”, weight 130 lbs, breasts (natural) 34C, body count 1.” Police revealed that some men even offered photos of their wives for money, complete with detailed personal information. “Put your hands between her thighs and see if she wakes up,” one commenter wrote, referencing a photo of a woman asleep.
The group’s existence came to light after author and activist Carolina Capria discovered and exposed it on social media. Capria, who said the comments left her feeling “nauseous” and “scared,” filed a formal complaint with authorities and called on others not to remain silent. “This linking of violence to sexuality is so ingrained in our culture that in a public group, men write without hiding their names and faces,” Capria told CNN. Her revelations triggered an avalanche of outrage, with more than a thousand people reporting the group to the police unit responsible for cybercrime in just a few hours.
Fiorella Zabatta, a spokesperson for the European Greens, condemned the group as “virtual rape,” insisting, “These platforms must be fought, this toxic idea of masculinity must be fought, and we all need to take action: civil society and politics too.” Roberta Mori of Italy’s center-left Partito Democratico echoed this sentiment, calling the group “further evidence of structural virtual violence rooted in the same patriarchal culture of domination.”
Meta, the company behind Facebook, responded to the scandal by removing the group for “violating our policies against the sexual exploitation of adults.” In a statement shared by the Postal Police, Meta said, “We do not allow content that threatens or promotes sexual violence, sexual assault or sexual exploitation on our platforms. If we become aware of content that incites or advocates rape, we may disable the groups and accounts that post it and share this information with law enforcement.” However, many critics have questioned why it took years—and widespread media exposure—before the tech giant took action. “It’s incredible how you can be banned from Facebook for saying certain words, but as soon as you create engagement, in defiance of women’s rights, everything is swept under the rug without anyone lifting a finger,” said Mariangela Zanni of the Centro veneto progetti donna, a women’s rights center in northeast Italy.
Italian authorities have launched an in-depth criminal investigation into the case. Deputy director of the Roman Postal Police, Barbara Strappato, described the group as “very serious,” noting, “Our office worked 24 hours a day to block the page. We received more than a thousand reports in just a few hours.” The police have begun cataloging names, comments, and content, all of which will be forwarded to the Rome prosecutor’s office for possible criminal proceedings. Under Italy’s 2019 “revenge porn” law (Article 612-ter of the Italian Criminal Code), the illegal dissemination of sexually explicit images is punishable by up to six years in prison and fines ranging from €5,000 to €15,000.
Disturbingly, the investigation has revealed that the group’s membership included not only ordinary citizens but also professionals, public officials, doctors, entrepreneurs, mayoral candidates, and journalists, according to Corriere della Sera. This, observers say, underscores how deeply rooted patriarchal attitudes and the objectification of women remain in society, cutting across professional and social lines.
As the group was being shut down, its administrators posted a final message inviting members to migrate to a new “private and secure group,” likely on Telegram—a platform police say has become a haven for similar exploitative communities due to its lack of cooperation with law enforcement. “We’ve just created a new private and secure group. Goodbye, and f**k you moralists,” read the group’s last post. Postal Police warn that such groups tend to resurface quickly under new names or on less regulated platforms. “Channels revive faster than closures,” Strappato told La Repubblica. “Until developers introduce procedures capable of eliminating channels, bots, mirrors, and cloud services—and immediately blocking accounts that recreate them—any ban will only be a temporary stopgap.”
The Mia Moglie case has drawn parallels to a notorious French criminal case involving Dominique Pelicot, who was sentenced to 20 years in prison for drugging and raping his wife while inviting others to do the same, with assaults discussed in online forums. Capria commented that the Italian case shows Pelicot’s was “not an anomaly,” but rather part of a broader pattern where “a man believes he can control his wife, and for whom sexuality is inextricably linked to oppression.”
Unfortunately, Mia Moglie is not an isolated incident. Police report that hundreds of similar groups have been documented, especially on Telegram and WhatsApp, where men share private images and videos of women without their consent. Some of these communities, like the “Dipreisti” group, have been shut down repeatedly only to reappear under new names. Telegram, in particular, has frustrated investigators by refusing to provide user data or cooperate with Italian authorities.
As the investigation into Mia Moglie continues, the case has become a flashpoint in Italy’s ongoing struggle against online abuse and the broader culture of misogyny. The outcome may well determine whether the country’s legal and digital systems are equipped to protect women’s privacy and dignity in the face of ever-evolving online threats.
The legacy of the Mia Moglie scandal will likely be measured not just by the fate of those prosecuted, but by the willingness of society, lawmakers, and tech companies to confront the digital age’s darkest corners—and to ensure that women’s rights are not left behind.
