Not a fairy tale but… First chapter, fourth story: “Let Us Not Be Fooled by Our Own Kind”

05 Mar Not a fairy tale but… First chapter, fourth story: “Let Us Not Be Fooled by Our Own Kind”

“Let Us Not Be Fooled by Our Own Kind”
-Fourth story of the February monthly chapter-

Written by Dejana Cvetković
Voiceover by Marija Drndić

Researchers from the Humanitarian Law Center (HLC) in Belgrade came to Kosovo to investigate human rights violations. At that time, the HLC established cooperation with Nora Ahmetaj, who was volunteering with her sister at the Council for Human Rights. After that, she traveled to Belgrade every month to process the materials collected during her research.

“We were under repression for many years; because of that, I didn’t use the Serbian language in written form and I made mistakes while organizing the materials. Nataša Kandić was always working; it wasn’t possible to just sit and have coffee with her. We exchanged information but also argued about various topics; we had moments when we didn’t speak, but the closeness and relationship we have never disappeared. She knew how to be sharp with me when I asked something, telling me, ‘Sit down Nora, read, brush up on your knowledge a bit, you don’t have to ask about everything,'” says Ahmetaj with a laugh.

On one occasion when Ahmetaj came to Belgrade in June 1996, a German activist, Ursula Renner, came to the HLC to invite them to the annual gathering of the Women in Black network in Novi Sad. At Kandić’s urging, Ahmetaj decided to go.

At that gathering, she met feminists from the Autonomous Women’s Center (AWC), as well as activists from Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, and all over the world.

“We walked towards the AWC, together with other activists from Pristina, preparing to leave for Novi Sad. The women from Women in Black were preparing banners and slogans. There were over 200 women from the region. Next to the Danube, outside of Novi Sad, there were bungalows; I will never forget that. The food in that restaurant was the most beautiful food in the world. I have never eaten such food again in my life; only people from Vojvodina know how to cook like that. We participated in various workshops, and in the evening, we threw parties. We exchanged songs and dances from our cultures. And that continued from year to year,” states Ahmetaj.

Ahmetaj points out that there were ups and downs in communication between women from Serbia and Kosovo. The political situation affected their relationships and led to confrontations over arguments. There were many tears and emotional moments, but despite everything, the friendships have survived even thirty years later.

Kosovo at that time, she says, was extremely patriarchal. While doing field work, she often slept in besieged villages to conduct research, facing ridicule and intimidation from local men who told her that the “police” or “UDBA” (State Security) would “take care of her.” However, the hardest things to bear were the accusations that she worked for State Security, that she was financed by Milošević, or that she was under someone’s influence.

“It is a patriarchal environment; in the field, they would often ask me whose daughter I was. I researched alone; I didn’t have a car, and it wasn’t safe to travel by bus. I slept in places where there was fighting and massacres, just to do the research. I did all of that professionally, without political bias. Yet, thirty years later, they still say I work for Belgrade, for the MUP (Ministry of Internal Affairs). When I received a scholarship for Harvard, they claimed I worked for the CIA. I researched conflicts in the Middle East and went to Israel for my master’s thesis, and again they said that ‘someone is behind me.’ That is that patriarchy: not only are you female, but you are independent as well. Now I am older, it affects me less, but when I was young, it hurt a lot. In any academic institution I applied to, I knew they would accept me, but your own environment doesn’t accept you,” says Ahmetaj.

Politicians at the time told feminists that they “had more important business than violence against women” and that the national question was more important, stating they would deal with that issue only after liberation from Milošević’s regime. In an atmosphere of nationalism and repression, lesbians were even more vulnerable, as their visibility in the feminist movement carried additional security risks.

“We were gathered around a common enemy, and our entire effort was to get rid of the regime of that time. Lesbians sought their own space; they were quite active and brave. We supported them and were united around women’s rights. They faced double security risks: they were exposed to police harassment and stigmatization within their own society. Just by collaborating with Women in Black, I was stigmatized myself, while lesbians were in an even harder position. Each of us individually faced a lot of problems brought about by patriarchy within our societies,” states Ahmetaj.

In 1996, the situation in Kosovo worsened, while the wars in Bosnia and Croatia had just ended. Ahmetaj frequently went to Women in Black, which served as “a kind of therapy” for her.

“I cannot separate myself from the region; as much as I was active in Kosovo, I was also active in the region. Maybe we looked at things too idealistically, although deep down we knew war was inevitable. I went to hotspots and investigated war crimes. I was only 27 years old then; I needed an outlet, to talk to someone. I went to Women in Black constantly, every month, and stayed for a week. All that anger and fear would disappear when I went to see Lepa, Staša, Neda, Pika, and Rada, who is now in Bosnia; they supported me so much. I grew feministically and intellectually in Women in Black, and I grew professionally in the HLC,” emphasizes Ahmetaj.

She was very proud of the Women in Black solidarity action, when feminists in Belgrade carried the banner “Albanian women are our sisters,” which was extremely dangerous at the time.

“Young feminists need to know what happened before and how we fought for survival, women’s rights, for institutions, statehood. Even after thirty years, we have remained in constant contact, we women from the region. That is part of my identity. That activism, the fight for something better, it’s either in your DNA or it isn’t. Solidarity and the fight for something greater that you think can trigger historical events. I told Professor Lino Veljak that I wanted to live like some of my friends in a normal society. He answered me: ‘Yes, dear, but you are living history, the moment. What is happening now doesn’t happen to everyone. One day, you will be able to write about what you are living and leave a mark,'” states Ahmetaj.

Ahmetaj points out that the education system is poor in all former Yugoslav states and that there are no quality history textbooks based on documented facts. She states that younger generations are often offered exclusively a victim narrative, or the past is not discussed at all.

“They think they are protecting children by doing this. However, the children only hear their parents’ experiences from the war, and that becomes the only narrative they know. When I worked with young people, I asked them what other sources they trust: do they trust history textbooks, the media, politicians, the civil sector? Mostly, they trust only their parents. They don’t check their knowledge, they don’t compare sources, they don’t develop a critical attitude toward what they hear. Today, we have a rise in nationalism in the region; we activists who have dealt with transitional justice and feminism for thirty years ask ourselves if that process needs to be reset and started all over again,” concludes Ahmetaj.