Finding my way to understanding antigypsyism

Date 12 March 2018 Author Jozsef Rostas Category Youth

Finding my way to understanding antigypsyism

I was just finishing up the translation work I had been asked to do by a former and, once again, a current colleague whom I know from the first-ever Barvalipe summer camp to explore Roma identity. I had been asked to put subtitles in English and Romanes on two videos where the Roma Holocaust and antigypsyism are elaborated. Listening to those speakers was truly the first time I ever understood in depth what antigypsyism really means. All I had to do was recall memories from my childhood and young adulthood, remember those crucial moments of discomfort and failure that I myself encountered on my way to self–realization.

When the speakers in the videos elaborated on how fearful we Roma still are ofofficial bodies and administrations, police, school, workplaces, and public interactions with the `system’ in general, I learned why that all really makes sense. We all simply feel looked down upon by others from the very first moment we are born as Roma.

Without even having to know the definition of what we call antigypsyism today, I would like to draw attention to these kinds of informal experiences. Living through them always made me question whether there was a legitimate justification for what I was seeing, whether this is something so widespread it is not even worth attempting to combat.

I remember visiting the Roma settlement of my city in Nagykoros, located in Central-Hungary, as a child. My father’s siblings made ends meet collecting metals from the city’s waste collection area. I remember the poverty and the discussions during which we gave explanations for why we are poor and why that is probably never going to change.

I was always the interrogator, the one questioning whether my relatives even wanted to find a decent job or not. I can still recall them telling me that they would take a job if they were just given the opportunity. The same situation happened to my sisters when they were looking for sales jobs right after finishing high school. Not surprisingly, none of them was hired with a long-term contract. Neither were any of my beloved relatives.

It is also enough for me to think of  the thousands of daily discussions with non-Roma people where I felt simple discomfort and where I mostly put the blame on myself for being different. Many times I realized that engaging in deeper discussions could also guarantee that for a moment or two I would feel the sentence I had just heard somebody say was not suitable or appropriate – for example, `You [Roma] are multiplying like animals.’ That is just  the latest outrage I endured during an otherwise nice afternoon spent together with non-Roma friends I have known for a long time.

This is not just a challenge as of 2018, but the enlightenment of knowing that antigypsyism is possibly the best framework for approaching the ‘Roma question’ is an empowering tool that we now have. If I look at the processes and dimensions of what my contribution to my fellow Roma has been so far and what I may still do for us Roma, this definitely sets the scene anew.

I believe that if we confront antigypsyism whenever we see it, if we combat it both as individuals and as societies, and if we use whatever platform we have to denounce it, then we can probably stop the perpetuation of this madness.

Will we ever be fortunate enough to live in a Europe where antigypsyism no longer exists? After spending my civil service working at ERGO Network I have learned about the actual set of causes behind our exclusion that I, as a Roma, must now face. It is a lesson that I wish I did not have to pass along to my peers.

Now I know, however, that it is the responsibility of all of us to take action – through service, through not letting ourselves lose our identity. Such actions give me hope because they send the message that together we all can stand up to this hatred of the Roma people.