Janine di Giovanni, War correspondent, single
I was the youngest of seven children. My sister died 10 years before I was born, and so I grew up in Caldwell, New Jersey, with one sister and four brothers.
Joseph was the brother I was closest to. He passed away suddenly in August 2015 of septicaemia. He was two-and-a-half years older than me, and when we were little, we were so close that people called us twins.
Joseph took care of my father, Vincent, when he was dying. He had a real devotion and love for people that was very pure. I miss Joseph terribly. He was the funniest person I've ever met.
Having four brothers gave me a unique window into life. I am very comfortable around men. I've never felt subjugated by them, because my brothers and I were always equal.
My father was a wonderful man. I learnt so much about kindness and compassion from him. He said that you should see the face of Jesus in every stranger who needs help.
He emigrated from Italy as a boy. For a time, he worked as a banker on Wall Street, but he hated corporate life as it didn't match his values. So he returned to school and got a PhD in education and spent his life working in urban low-income areas, devoted to giving a future to these kids.
After he retired as a school principal, my mother Kathryn, then in her 70s, went to work as his teaching assistant in a school he set up for unwanted kids. She used to smoke with them during breaks, and play poker for cigarettes. The kids adored her and called her Grandma. She is in her 90s now, and has had the most amazing life. I phone her every day. I don't know what I'll do when she's gone.
I met my first husband, photographer Marc Schlossman, at a party in Maine. Immediately, I knew that he would play a huge part in my life. We married in 1986 in a Roman Catholic church in New Jersey. He was, and still is, an incredibly thoughtful and kind man.
Early on, we went to the occupied territories in Palestine, which is where I realised I wanted to be a war reporter. A dividing moment in our relationship occurred when we had the chance to go to Gaza. He didn't want to go, as he didn't want me to be in a situation where I might be in danger. I realised we were heading in different directions.
The breakup with Marc was very painful but it was essential. Neither of us would have become the people we are today if we'd stayed together.
Men treated me like an utter bimbo the first time I went to Palestine. I was in my early 20s – a smiley, friendly, pretty young woman. I didn't have the intellectual confidence I have now. But to become an effective war reporter, I never felt I had to become like a man. It wouldn't have occurred to me to change my femininity or the way I think. Male friends have said I have the mind of a man and the body of a woman. I take that as a compliment.
It was lovely to receive the 2016 International Women's Media Foundation's Courage in Journalism Award. I have worked really hard, and for a long time, and I've had to put up with many unfortunate incidents.
Male newspaper editors have said sexist, disgusting things to me. Like when I phoned from Sarajevo, amid shelling, to file a story. I remarked that I was cold. My editor chuckled and said, "I'm sure you'll find a warm willy to keep you warm." What a jerk.
When I met my second husband, French photographer Bruno Girodon, in Sarajevo in 1993, we were both involved with other people. But that's what happens in war, you get caught up in the drama and fall in love very deeply.
Bruno "got me". That says it all. It's so rare in life to find someone who truly understands you. When we settled in Paris in 2004, I was fresh from Iraq; Bruno was fresh from the Ivory Coast. We both desperately wanted domestic life, which is why we called our 13-year-old son Luca – his name means "bringer of light".
However, we separated eight years ago. It is painful to admit that someone who you thought was the greatest love of your life, that maybe you weren't meant to be together. That maybe you were meant to give each other something at that time, and then say goodbye to each other with love.
Bruno is a man of deep integrity and kindness. I am very grateful that he's the man I had a child with. We have a very good relationship raising our son together. He is an amazing father
I think men who love their mothers turn out to be good to their women. My son and I are very close. I think he will grow up to have good relationships with women, because he respects them. He's seen strong women and he's not afraid of them.
Janine di Giovanni's inside account of Syria, The Morning They Came for Us, is published by Bloomsbury. She will appear at the All About Women festival at the Sydney Opera House on March 5.