Czech Roma, as well as other democratically-oriented citizens, eagerly awaited the outcome of the Czech government’s effort to outlaw and dissolve the extremist Workers’ Party or Dělnická strana (DS). The Party had tried to gain political power through parliamentary elections. It gained notoriety through violent marches and attacks in 2008 and 2009.

According to the long awaited verdict of the Supreme Administrative Court from the 17th of February this year, the Workers’ Party professed xenophobia, chauvinism, racism and national socialist ideology modelled on that of Adolf Hitler’s ideology. Workers’ Party thus used violence and wanted to knock over the present constitutional order of the country. The court agreed with the government that the party should be banned and dissolved.

This is the first ban of a political party’s activity because of its ideology in the modern Czech state.

The verdict brought a relief to the Roma people of in the Czech Republic. But not only to them as the Czech Republic is home to many foreigners of different nationalities and skin colours who experienced racist attacks.

However, a struggle for democracy in the Czech Republic has not yet ended. Voices have not quieted down even after the Workers’ Party was banned. The government hopes to win this battle despite the fact that the DS plans to file an appeal to the Constitutional Court. If the Constitutional Court does not come up with a final decision until the parliamentary elections (schedule for May this year), the DS will be able to continue its activity even though the Supreme Administrative Court’s verdict about banning the party already came into effect.

But the appeal brings risks to the DS as well. If the Constitutional Court manages to answer before the parliamentary elections, then to endorse or promote the party becomes a criminal offence. Yet, there still is a chance that the Constitutional Court’s reply will come late and in this case the Supreme Administrative Court’s verdict will be frozen. That would mean that the Worker’s Party could still become part of the election process and a threat to the democratic order of the state once again. Then many people would rightly fear to go out in the streets. They certainly did not expect this from EU accession. On the contrary, what they expected was protection and safety. Nevertheless, they believe that the Constitutional Court will proceed promptly to rule on this issue, taking into consideration how little time is left before elections.

In any case, this is the first great victory in a battle against extremism. As Josef Baxa, the chairman of the Supreme Administrative Court stated for the media, it is important to abolish activity of extremist groups but it is also necessary to solve causes of these problems. Otherwise these groups will spread through the society like a mould.

It is no secret that the DS will continue its activity through other organizations of similar nature. The DS proudly announced to the media that its membership opted for a mass transfer to Dělnická strana sociální spravedlnosti or Workers’ Party of Social Justice and take part in upcoming elections under its lead. They announced this with a smile on their faces. Still, they have a right to gather as other citizens of the democratic society. This party could be banned too, but legally that could be a more difficult matter. Unfortunately, it looks like extremists are protected more by the law than a decent citizen.

I think we are not prepared to solve these kinds of issues yet, even though so many years have passed since the Second World War. Are we sleeping on the success of our predecessors? Should the democratic society handle extremists like a fragile glass? When will we stop tolerating their offences?

Still, the Supreme Administrative Court’s decision is a little light in the darkness for the Roma. They believe this is the beginning of an end to extremism in the Czech Republic. Will the Roma in Slovakia celebrate the same victory?

For more information, visit:

http://www.rozhlas.cz/zpravy/spolecnost/_zprava/696552

http://domaci.ihned.cz/c1-40600010-soudce-o-zruseni-delnicke-strany-resme-priciny-jinak-to-tu-vyroste-jako-plisen 

http://www.novinky.cz/domaci/192375-nejvyssi-spravni-soud-rozpustil-delnickou-stranu.html

– Mária Hušová

Through no fault of their own, Slovak Roma have become a key topic in campaigns for both communal and parliamentary elections. As if nothing else matters, debates revolve around pro and against Roma arguments and whether there are more citizens who support the Roma and understand their precarious situation or whether those who simply hate them are in majority.

The Roma have become involuntary “hostages” of election campaigns. Some political parties opt for anti-Roma approach, perhaps because they are not able to come up with good solutions and good programs based on knowledge and clarity. Roma undoubtedly feel like being pushed between two mill stones in every election. Either politicians rouse the whole nation against Roma or they buy out Romani votes. But in neither case can the Roma benefit. When they support a party that other voters do not want to win, the majority blames them.

Parliamentary elections are scheduled for 10 June and anti-Roma sentiments have again become prominent.

Many bring in “new” ideas of how not to look at the real problem of the society. Politicians, instead of looking at how they have failed the Roma in the past, point their finger at the Roma in a bid to win more votes. Anna Belousovova, the vice-chair of the Slovak National Party (SNS), decided to bet on the anti-Roma card lately, proposing that crime statistics should include ethnic and national background of perpetrators.

The Roma are the most vulnerable group in the country in times of high unemployment and social hardship. Therefore they become very easy target for political parties bidding for parliamentary seats. But actions of some political actors depicts their immorality. So, what is their point? Well-being of society and peaceful co-existence which is the inevitable factor for good functioning of society? Or is their only target to get into parliament? Hunger for power does not take into consideration the well-being of the society. Prejudice against the Roma and other minorities is on the rise. Some politicians think this gives wind into their “voting sails.”

Today’s Europe, with such sentiments, strikingly resembles the pre-war Europe. Actually, should such political parties, the ones promoting intolerance, have the right to put up their candidates for parliamentary seats, from which they can then rule to our society? How this kind of society will evolve? A society in which ruling parties support intolerance among citizens? In these difficult times, when the financial crisis influences lives of millions, it is very easy to arouse hatred against scapegoats. In Slovakia, the Roma are increasingly seen as culprits.

Statistics on crime and ethnicity will only pour oil onto the fire. Fortunately, such ideas have triggered reactions from human rights organizations. Read them here.

– Mária Hušová

SIBIU, Romania – It’s not often you get a chance to interview royalty. Especially when that king inherited the throne from a father who anointed himself king. So, I’m blogging about him twice. (See below: “The King and Carrie Bradshaw.”)

Saturday afternoon, the self-proclaimed King of the Gypsies, Florin Cioaba, graciously sat with us for two hours. (I brought a modest box of chocolates, as a token of appreciation.)

Sure, he barely stifled his yawns during our chat. But he also tolerated us, as we peppered him about early-teen marriage among the “Kalderash” Roma. Including, his own daughter’s media circus of a wedding in 2003.

What we were especially curious about, even more than the king’s opinion, was his daughter’s. After all, Ana-Maria is now a young woman of 19 or 20, married nearly seven years. (With one son, aged 4.) What does she think today about teen marriage? About her own marriage? And what about pressure on her community, from both Bucharest and Brussels, to change this tradition?

Our team – Romani journalist Petru Zoltan, our spirited Romanian interpreter, Lavinia Gliga, and I, the journalism trainer – dropped in on the king without warning. This was Petru’s idea, as he assumes the role of guru of all things related to the so-called “Gypsy mentality.”

Petru had interviewed Cioaba once before, as an investigative reporter for Romanian newspaper National Journal. He predicted that if we pre-arranged a meeting, the king would dodge us somehow. I trusted Petru’s take, so we drove four hours to historic Sibiu, banking on this gamble that he would for sure be home when we came a-knockin’. Then, talk to us.

Yet this is exactly what happened.

We walked through his open driveway gate, into his home compound. The king saw us from inside a large, glass-enclosed dining area, his wife chopping vegetables nearby. He shook hands with Petru, then ambivalently led us into a gilded hall, complete with two large portraits of himself. (Or were they of his father? I ran out of time to ask.) In one portrait, like a museum piece, he sat nobly atop a white mare, in 17^th-century garb.

Toward the end of the interview, we asked to speak with Ana-Maria. No, the king said, she’s out of town. Back tomorrow morning for the Sunday church service, which he himself would officiate as a pentacostal minister.

Eventually, he shooed us away. In the courtyard outside, I briefly glanced at his main house. One room glowed yellow in the twilight. Inside, two women carried out a domestic chore, maybe cooking. As we turned to walk onward, Petru said, “Ana-Maria is in there. I saw her.”

When we returned the next day around 1, fully expecting to speak with her, we found the church closed and empty. King Cioaba’s gate was also closed – a sure sign he and the family weren’t home, said Petru.

“I knew he would do something like this,” he added with a grin, pleased to be proven right.

We waited a bit longer, as I shot a few more photos of his abode. I also kicked myself that I’d let him convince me that I could photograph him “tomorrow, tomorrow.” Next time, produce like it’s my only chance.

When an unknown young man crossed the courtyard, Petru called out to ask when the king and his family would be home. “Maybe 8 o’clock,” came the answer.

We gave up, then hurried to begin our five-hour drive back to Bucharest … half a mission accomplished.

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

In the Roma neighbourhood of “Iztok” in the Bulgarian city of Kiustendil in the southwest a team of youth volunteers with the LARGO association raised the sum of 412,57 leva ($290) to aid the children of Haiti. The initiative was spearheaded by Botselin Mitkov, a local activist.

Volunteers in Kiustendil

On February 3, the volunteers, equipped with collection boxes from the Bulgarian Red Cross, set out hopeful and in good faith that the Roma will not be callous to what happened in Haiti. In five days they had covered all cafes and local stores in the neighborhood. They also visited a number of schools. The team of the LARGO association, the staff of the Labor bureau in the Roma neighborhood, as well as those running the culture club “Vassil Levski” all made a contribution. The neighborhood’s churches also provided support.

At 11 am on February 8 the volunteers opened the boxes at the Burlgarian Red Cross office and counted the raised funds under the supervision of local media. They had gathered 412,57 leva.

Funds collected for Haiti

The executive director of the LARGO, Stefan Lazarov, said that what the volunteers did is a good deed. “If we can, we help, regardless of whether we are helping a Roma person or a German or a Bulgarian…it is not important how much money we raise, what matters is the gesture. The volunteers acted in good faith and for a good cause, to help the children in Haiti.” He added that “some people not only donated money, but took part in the mobile messaging fund to promote the campaign.”
According to the national labor bureau, 96 percent of the inhabitants of the Roma Neighbourhood “Iztok” are unemployed.

“We all watch TV. Over the last few days the suffering children of Haiti have become leading news. Everyone knows about them and about the tragedy that happened to them. We hear how many countries have raised funds in concern for the children’s fate. This is why the volunteers and we decided to undertake this initiative and to try and help,” says Botselin.

He shared that they did not have big expectations because so many people do not have money to spare. But he does not hide that he is moved by the fact that people did give their last cent out of compassion.

–by Ognyan Isaev

SIBIU, Romania – For another perspective on what internal pressures the Kalderash Roma of Romania face to abandon their tradition of early-teen marriage, tonight we visited the stately home of Ilarie Mihai.

Around the large conference table in his office, Mihai, executive president of the National Council of Roma in Romania, railed against those dowry-driven Kalderash who marry off their children for the biggest booty:  some dowries of gold coins are said to run up to 50,000 euros.

“We’ll never become civilized if we continue this way!” he roared as his wife, Anişoara, served us coffee in delicate porcelain cups. She then took a seat behind her husband, in a chair against the wall.

In maroon headscarf and braided hair, 55-year-old Anişoara was the picture of a tradition-bound Kalderash woman, listening impassively as her husband spoke. At some point, though, she uttered a few words to him in Romani. It wasn’t clear exactly what she said, but his reaction sure was: with a wave of his hand, he ordered her to leave the room.

Except, she didn’t. In fact, as my colleague Petru Zoltan carried on interviewing Mihai, my interpreter, Lavinia Gliga, and I motioned for Anişoara to join us at our end of the table. We’ve heard too many men talking about a women’s issue – the right to choose when to marry. So, I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to hear from a Romani matriarch.

Anişoara had quite a bit to say, though it took gentle probing to draw it out: after all, it’s her granddaughter at the center of a nasty dispute in Targu Jiu, where one family tries to recover a hefty gold dowry from another, claiming the son was extraordinarily violent toward their daughter, including rape. (See the Feb. 11 post below, “Now You’re Thinking Like a Gypsy!”)

Anişoara told us how the ordeal has spurred dialogue among Kalderash women, young and old, about whether to spurn this age-old tradition. The menfolk have decidedly less interest.

“We talk about this among ourselves,” she said, “but they don’t take us seriously.”

Recounting what she described as the “tragedy” of her 15-year-old granddaughter – no longer a virgin and less likely to ever wed again – Anişoara began weeping. I didn’t notice at first, as I was jotting her comments in my notepad. But as I looked up, Lavinia said, “Wait, she’s crying. Give her a moment.”

This led, under our breath, to a quick but interesting discussion of interviewing tactics. Lavinia, herself a journalist, prefers the more sensitive, respectful route. Me, I’m uncomfortable with tears – and it’s happened plenty during my hundreds of interviews with Holocaust survivors. But I also think not everyone wants that deeply personal “moment” before a stranger. “Let’s change the subject,” I told Lavinia. Anişoara composed herself and moved on.

Soon, a second whispering debate. I’d photographed Anişoara sitting behind her husband, like the one posted here. Lavinia now suggested I shoot her talking to us, gesticulating, speaking up for herself, not only her husband’s wife. Lavinia had a point, but I also wondered about authenticity: does she sit at his conference table when other guests are there? I don’t know, but she surely didn’t until we invited her over. So, I declined.

Toward the end of our meeting, another of Anişoara’s granddaughters, an 11-year-old living with her, walked through the room. I couldn’t help but ask grandma – who had herself been “stolen” by her husband at relatively old age of 17 – when she hoped the young girl would marry.

“I don’t care about this tradition anymore,” said Anişoara, with a wan smile. “Let her choose her own husband. All I want is for her to be happy.”

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

SIBIU, Romania – A scoop just for you: the King of the Gypsies is no fan of “Sex and the City.”

We’re here largely to interview Florin Cioaba’s daughter, Ana-Maria, who was at the heart of an early-teen controversy seven years ago. He told us he married her off at “13-and-a-half or 14,” though media reports then suggested she might be as young as 12. Her groom was 15.

Cioaba described the parental challenges for deeply traditional “Kalderash” Roma who are raising daughters in an era soaked with raunchy images from MTV, Hollywood and everywhere else. One source of blame pricked my ear: Sex and the City.

This was actually the second time in recent months that I’ve heard someone blame the racy HBO series for loosening societal mores. The first was in stylish Hong Kong, from a Chinese student of mine from the less-stylish mainland.

My student, a wholesome-looking 25-year-old, explained how some classmates, influenced by watching Carrie Bradshaw and her posse prowl for romance, urged her to dress more sexily, less bookish, join them at the trendy nightclubs, and … you know. But she was resisting. A couple months later, though, I couldn’t help but notice her sleek new haircut.

Here in Sibiu, the Kalderash Roma are under pressure to end their practice of early-teen marriage, especially the sacred ritual of proving the bride’s virginity by parading the bloodied sheet. Legal intercourse in Romania begins at 18.

Holding off, though, has serious costs, says the king. Thanks in part to Sex and the City, some Kalderash girls want to delay marriage – and chase a bit of fun beforehand. “Here’s what our girls learn from the show: in the morning, she’s with one guy, in the afternoon, another, and at night, a third,” Cioaba lamented. “This is the education we want for our daughters?”

Evidently, not. Meanwhile, has Sex and the City become a global phenomenon, reverberating through conservative cultures, fomenting female rebellion and sexual emancipation? It’s worth a closer look.

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

TARGU JIU, Romania – In late 2006, an American Yiddishist in Vilnius, Lithuania, Dovid Katz, explained to me why language is the connective tissue for any tribe.

“A bona fide linguistic community must have streets where that language is spoken,” Katz said during the interview.

I’ve now seen this theory in action in the Romanian city of Targu Jiu. In the neighborhood of “Meteor,” the Kalderash Roma live together, practice the same traditions, and their womenfolk dress distinctively: vibrant skirt, head scarf and hair braided down the front. Just as important, though, is that they’re speaking their mother tongue, Romani.

Just outside of Targu Jiu is the quiet village of Ceauru, which is populated by both Roma and Romanians. The Roma here have a unique history, says the director of the local school, Cornel Somacu. He himself is Romanian, but he tells us he’s researched this because so many of his students, including some of his highest-achieving girls, are Roma.

For centuries, the Roma here were slaves owned by the local monastery. After emancipation in the 19^th century, many remained in the village, living on separate sides from the ethnic Romanians. That continued until 1950, says Somacu, when the new Communist regime wanted to build a power plant nearby. The authorities uprooted the entire village, Roma and Romanians alike, and resettled them in new housing and new neighborhoods with utter disregard for who lived next to whom.

“This also mixed up the mentalities,” he says.

Just like the Jews of Eastern Europe and other ethnic groups I’ve written about, Communist pressure to conform created this “Lost Generation” of children whose parents refused to transmit unique cultural traits.

Romas and Romanians also became classmates, coworkers – even spouses. It was the Roma, though, who took strides to become more like the Romanians. They abandoned their language, and one-by-one, their traditions.

A Roma ex-student of Somacu’s, Oana Mirabela Sunci, told us her best friend is Romanian. But she also drew a blank when I asked which distinct group of Roma she hails from.

“I think the only difference today between Roma and Romanians is that they have their weddings on Saturday and Sunday, and ours are Wednesdays or Thursdays,” says Sunci, 20, a university student studying the Romanian and English languages.

Her parents, though, are part of the Lost Generation that now finds itself smack between: their parents, with historical memory of what they learned as children; and their children, who are so emboldened by democratic freedoms, they’re unafraid to explore the roots of their own ethnic identity.

When Somacu organized the first Romani-language class for students, 40 sets of parents registered their kids. Another former Somacu student, Ion Catalin Cidoiu, explained his motivation.

Cidoiu is also a university student, and supports himself by driving a taxi part-time. “When I get passengers from Meteor, they seem I’m Gypsy and ask me questions in Romani,” he said. “But when I tell them I don’t understand, they say I’m not a real Gypsy. I’m ashamed of that.”

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

TARGU JIU, Romania – Beyond ugly stereotypes of the Roma (known more pejoratively as “Gypsies”) across Central and Eastern Europe, outsiders like me have also heard about early-teen marriage among certain Roma groups.

I’ve learned about the parental obsession with a daughter’s virginity: if a bride is discovered to have already been deflowered, it unleashes shame for the whole family. For proof, the bloodied sheet is publicly displayed.

From a Western-liberal perspective, I also suspected this was more a feature of a patriarchal society that sees its men bent on keeping their womenfolk barefoot, pregnant and subservient.

Today, though, I had an epiphany about why these fathers are doing what their doing. And as a fellow father, I began to understand them.

The revelation happened here in the city of Targu Jiu, best known as the hometown of sculptor Constantin Brâncuşi. The city is also the scene of a great tragedy, say the local community of “Kalderash” Roma.

In the Roma quarter of “Meteor” — what they call here a mahala – a 14-year-old girl was promised to a 15-year-old who turned out to be troubled and violent. The boy raped her during their engagement, ensuring that she would be committed to marry him. With no choice, her family scrambled to hold the wedding one week later, to contend the blood was fresh.

The violence grew unbearable during the marriage, her family told us, and the girl fled back home after two months. Today, the girl, now 15, is seen as spoiled goods. She is required to wear the headscarf of woman in mourning: not only is she no longer a desirable virgin, but she violated another tenet of tradition by abandoning her husband.

For broader perspective, we turned to communal leader Ion Mihai, who is both a judge in the local “Gyspy court” and Pentacostal preacher at the church across the road from his home. Historically, he says, if parents can’t agree on a match or dowry, it’s acceptable to “steal” her for a bride. Perhaps kidnap her, after school. “Steal,” though, is a euphemism for intercourse, whether voluntary or forced.

So, according to the Kalderash, the boy in the Targu Jiu case did not rape her, but roughly claimed her as his.

This unwillingness to acknowledge this as rape had my mind racing, since I’m now the father of angelic one-year-old daughter. For Kalderash parents, then, there’s the risk that you’re either branded for raising your daughter immorally, or faulted for failing to physically protect her from being snatched.

“Wait a minute,” I said to Mihai. “If I understand correctly, parents are essentially running a marathon, to deliver her safely to marriage, so the community can see them as good Gypsies?”

What pressure. What a burden! No wonder they arrange the nuptials as soon as possible.

“If it were me,” I said, ”I’d be exhausted. And, relieved to marry her off and cross the finish line.”

Mihai roared in delight: “Now you’re thinking like a Gypsy!”

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

JILAVA, Romania – I’ve now lived in ex-Communist Eastern Europe for most of the 20-year transition to democracy. And try as I might, I’ll never fully appreciate what it was like to live under dictatorship.

I can, however, imagine those farthest from human rights were the fellows thrown behind bars of a Communist-era prison.

Which is why it’s been so jarring to hear of a revolution apparently taking place within Romania’s prison system. Two decades after its police state crumbled, prisoners are reaping the harvest of democratization, after learning about their newfound human rights and related protections. Which leads me to a mind-boggling revelation: prisoners may feel more empowered than the ordinary Romanian on the street. (Not that we had the time to explore that angle.)

Today we visited the Bucharest prison, located in fact in the nearby village of Jilava. More specifically, we toured the Jilava prison hospital.

This was a visit arranged by my reporting colleague, Petru Zoltan, stemming from his interest in the Romanian prison-system’s struggle to contain the spread of HIV and tuberculosis within its walls. A serious, meaningful idea, I thought. Moreover, how the most disproportionately arrested people within the prisons – the Roma – are presumably also the most disproportionately infected.

Yesterday, we prepared for our prison visit by meeting with Romanian activist Veronica Broasca, who works for the Romanian Anti-AIDS Association. Most relevant for us, she leads their prisons project.

She painted a remarkable picture of a country that, as recently as the last 1990s, refused to admit its prisons even had an HIV or TB crisis.

Yet the system today allows her group to come in, hold informational seminars for prisoners, recruit prisoner representatives and teach them how to answer HIV questions, and leave behind a full supply of condoms and lubricants. Even though, the prisoners are forbidden from having intercourse.

Just as important, the prisons must provide drug addicts the option of methadone-replacement treatment … or clean needles? Even though, the prisoners are forbidden from doing drugs.

Why are the prisons now so easy-going? It’s not just that they’ve seen the light of democracy. They also fear the legal wrath of prisoner lawsuits that accuse a prison of denying them their human rights – specifically, the right to proper healthcare.

“Convicts know their rights,” Broasca told us, in flawless English. Prison administrators “tell us they’ll be sued in one second if they don’t provide the treatment needed.”

At the prison hospital today, we wanted a first-hand look.

Kicking off, we interviewed the hospital boss, Chief Commissar Mihai Apavaloaei. Apavaloaei trained as a doctor toward the end of Nicolae Ceausescu’s reign, and recalls how he was warned to never diagnose any illness as “tuberculosis.” Apavaloaei says that in the ruler’s mind, TB was the disease of a poor nation. Ceausescu could never confess such a thing about his regime.

Today, the pendulum has swung the other direction. In search of Western financial aid, post-Communist Romania – like others in the ex-Soviet orbit – had to come clean about their problems. To get the cash, reforms were required, including legal harmonization with EU human-rights standards.

The prison-inmate dynamic has changed so dramatically, says Apavaloaei, a prisoner who claims his right to speak with the hospital director, can also file a complaint if he fails to meet him that day.

“Democracy is a good thing,” he says, grinning through his thick mustache. “But there are situations when people can abuse democracy. Probably because we didn’t have democracy for so many years that now we over-use it.”

-Michael J. Jordan (http://jordanink.wordpress.com)

It happens sometimes that even young Roma exclaim they are Gypsies and not Roma. To my question “why?” the answer is very simple and clear: “Because we have always been gypsies.” They do not even think about the meaning of the word. That’s how the majority calls them; that’s what they always were.

Unfortunately most of those “gypsies” had worked in factories. They worked hard to earn their living and had no time for “philosophy.” Their financial situation was not that bad and therefore there was no need to toy with the question of nationality.

But the situation has changed over time and many lost their jobs. They have become unemployed and the real world suddenly opened up in front of them. The world in which being a Gypsy meant discrimination, social exclusion and being blamed for all manner of societal problems. All of a sudden they have become a burden for the society at large.

Even today some of them do not comprehend how the name “Rom” can change their lives for the better. It is hard to explain to them that if not anything else, the name “Rom” means that they are, or at least should be, an equal member of a society.

Roma is a proper name for our ethnicity that gives us a different status as citizens from the title “gypsy–liar.” This old and deeply rooted insult is still strong even among Roma. At least among those who do not get involved in solutions of Romani issues and are not even informed enough about them.

Some of those Roma associate the name “Gypsy” with the good times, when they still had work. “Back then they called me “Cigán“ (Gypsy), I had work and “gádžo“ (the white) was my friend. Now I’m Rom and I’m jobless,” says a young 30-year-old Rom who lost his job one year ago.

It will take some time for our Roma from Slovakia and the Czech Republic until they will become proud enough of the name “Roma.” It’s not their fault, though, that they haven’t yet come to like it. Along with an everyday effort to survive without a job it is pointless to expect them to bother much with the issue of national and ethnic identity. There are many of us who know that, thanks to the name “Rom,” we got to the start line of our new chance. Our status has changed from that start line and society has to change its approach to us from there too. Nevertheless, the ambitions towards better should be on both sides. This is a long-term process weaved with prejudice, stereotypes and habits of a mutual coexistence from not long ago.

– Mária Hušová