Dževrija, a sex worker and heroin addict who lives in a Romani community within Serbia. Aleksandrija Ajdukovic/Vice. All rights reserved.
The mountainous lands
that serve as both bridges and buffers between “civilizations” have endured waves of
horrific abuses. World wars, domestic massacres, international bombings, and most recently, an
ongoing refugee crisis, have challenged the
fabric of Western Balkan nations and created new victims of oppression. The
media, political analysts, and many NGOs rightfully report on the many current abuses committed by Balkan and
European governments as Syrian war refugees
attempt to flee to safety. This attention must not waver and should indeed
magnify. Yet unwittingly, an exclusive spotlight on the recent, acute
humanitarian crisis can sometimes mute more persistent, normalized forms of
oppression in the region. Women of the Balkans, for instance, are constant
victims of oppressive societal structures and perceptions. They suffer from
normalized domestic violence, honor killings, socio-economic barriers,
cultural shaming – among many other harms.
Gender can be quite the
crippling social factor. Just being female makes one vulnerable to a wide range
of human rights abuses. So, what if you happen to be a woman who also lives on
the outskirts of acceptable, mainstream culture? What if your sources of
oppression intersect in the most complex of ways? The Roma women of the Western
Balkans face injustices that arise from their gender, skin color,
socio-economic class, and cultural ways of life. A Roma woman must battle
against a maze of societal oppressions on daily basis – she has done so for
centuries and continues to do so today as new humanitarian crises rise and
fall.
Who is she?
The Roma identity
generally refers to a traditionally nomadic ethnic group, with various
linguistic dialects and many sub-groups, living mostly in Europe, and originating
from Northern India over a thousand years ago. By
the fourteenth century and in tandem with
Ottoman conquest, the Roma became established in large numbers throughout the
Balkans. Presently, out
of an estimated 10-12 million currently
in the whole of Europe, some six million live in the European Union (EU), while
around one million of Roma live
in Western Balkans countries. Most Roma are bi- or tri-lingual, speaking a Romani dialect
as well as the official languages of their countries. Wherever
they reside, however, their lack of a territorial base and permanence marks
them as outsiders – the perfect “other”.
A child growing up in Albania, for instance, is never immune to cultural
indoctrination against the Roma population – “the gypsies”. No matter how
progressive a family may be, they will either implicitly or directly introduce
their children to many negative stereotypes the culture throws at the Romani. At
a very early age, society warned me to never open the door for a gypsy. Gypsies
stole little children and dabbled in evil dark magic, my neighbors would so
convincingly tell me. But my eight year old self adored the way that the local
“gypsy woman” dressed, and I so desperately wished to be like her.
This was long before I
began to understand the intricate social web of limitations, taboos, and
expectations that Roma women had to contend against. I still don’t understand
nor will I ever grasp the full extent and nature of this oppression, as it is
distinct and more deeply permeating than what I could ever experience as a white
Albanian-American woman. The argument I try to formula below, however, is that
the intersection of gender, race, culture, and class in the Balkans makes for a
potent, perpetual cycle of oppression – and as political
systems, leaders, ideologies, and economies come and go, the Roma woman remains
at that intersection of her marginalized identities.
Being Romani and a woman
Comments
We encourage anyone to comment, please consult the oD commenting guidelines if you have any questions.