Written by Klara Jovanov

‘Balkan is the bridge where the wind blows’ is a phrase famously articulated by Marina Abramovic, a renowned ex-Yugoslavian performance artist now residing in NYC. It resonates with me deeply. This quote transcends mere words; it embodies a universal truth, particularly for women hailing from marginalised corners of Europe. It's crucial to acknowledge that perceptions and experiences vary vastly within the diverse tapestry of the Balkan region, including those in the Balkan diaspora and individuals who've relocated abroad. But as a woman from the Balkans, I grapple with conflicting emotions regarding my cultural identity.

Understanding the genesis of my personal shame necessitates delving into historical contexts. The Balkans have perennially borne the scars of intense political conflicts, wars, ethnic tensions and cleansing, notably epitomised by the tragic events of Srebrenica on July 11, 1995, which altered the trajectory of women's lives forever. Even today, the remnants of past conflicts stemming from the domestic war in the 1990s, following the disintegration of Yugoslavia, linger as unhealed wounds.

A second significant factor lies in the entrenched emphasis on strict traditional gender roles prevalent across all Balkan cultures. This societal construct contributes to feelings of shame and imposes lofty expectations on women, particularly regarding appearance, which at times dictates job opportunities and invites criticism within higher education institutions. Some male professors pass comments on female students' appearances, sometimes even grading based on superficial criteria. The pervasive societal roles within the Balkans breed an environment in which addressing professors by their titles and not their names is mandatory. Contrastingly, in the UK, where I currently reside, professors adopt a more approachable stance, readily assisting their students.

A critical incident that shook the entire region's higher education system was the scandal involving the famous Serbian actress Milena Radulović and her professor Miroslav Mika Aleksić. In early 2021, Radulović accused Aleksić, a prominent acting coach in Serbia, of sexual assault, shedding light not only on her ordeal but also on the sexual harassment endured by other girls attending his acting school. This case triggered extensive media coverage, sparking debates about sexual harassment in film academies. Radulović's revelation inspired students from the Academy of Dramatic Arts in Zagreb to protest against Ozren Prohić, a professor accused of sexual assault. Despite his suspension for two years due to the allegations, his return following the graduation of the affected student was met with vehement opposition, revealing systemic flaws within educational institutions.

More recently, Croatian singer and television host Ida Prester released a song titled ‘Shield-Campaign Against Violence Against Women’ (Štiti: Kampanja protiv nasilja nad ženama), reflecting the pervasive culture of femicides in the Balkans. News headlines in Croatian, Serbian, Bosnian, Macedonian, Slovenian, Albanian and Montenegrin frequently report grim incidents like ‘A partner has beaten up his wife in front of their kid, leading to her subsequent murder.’ On my 23rd birthday, I distinctly recall Ida Prester posting an impromptu video performing her song ‘Shield’. Balkan women are exhausted by perpetually serving as pawns for patriarchal frustrations, dictated to about who they should be.

In the midst of this turmoil, a glimmer of hope arises through the emergence of regional influencers like Nina Pavičević, known for her Instagram profile ‘Kritički’ (Critical), Pamela Perkić, Iva Parađanin Ilić of the ‘Tampon zona podcast’, Eva Feldman and Grof Darkula, who dedicate their platforms to advocating for women's rights and educating both female and male followers about the struggles faced by Balkan women. Despite shared feelings of cultural stigmatisation, many Balkan women are reclaiming their narratives, challenging stereotypes associated with Balkan identity such as backwardness, violence, conservatism and coldness.

However, the journey toward empowerment faces hurdles entrenched deep within societal structures. The system in the Balkans appears tailored to benefit men, fostering an environment where even if women were afforded the same privileges, systemic biases would continue favouring men. Nevertheless, there are signs of change. Influencers like Pamela Perkić initiated the ‘ICON’ retreat in 2022, which offered a safe haven for women to share their experiences, liberate themselves from cultural shame and unite in solidarity against societal norms seeking to confine them.

The recent high-profile custody trial of Balkan singing icon Severina sheds light on the systemic discrimination faced by women, regardless of their success or stature. Despite her fame, the legal proceedings regarding her son's custody underscore the system's predisposition to undermine women, casting doubts on her capability as a mother – doubts that are solely based on her gender.

Conversations surrounding Balkan shame, particularly from a female perspective, demand open dialogue and a robust support network. It's imperative to provide safety, trust, protection and support to Balkan women, not only from their immediate communities but also from law enforcement, judicial systems, governments and institutions. This collective shame, known among Balkan women, emanates from the awareness that while we understand our stories, those beyond our borders might lack comprehensive knowledge, resulting in associative stigmatisation.

Empowerment through regional representation and leveraging social media as a tool for authentic expression devoid of cultural shame becomes paramount. Highlighting the richness of Balkan female culture through empowered examples counters the prevailing sense of shame and fosters pride in one's heritage.

Antoneta Alamat Kusijanović, a film director born in Dubrovnik, Croatia, currently based in NYC, significantly brought the term ‘Balkan shame’ into focus through her films. Works like her debut feature film ‘Murina’ at the Cannes Film Festival 2021 and her recent short film ‘Stane’ at the Venice Film Festival delve into the repercussions of bearing Balkan shame, portraying female characters' relentless struggle to assert their rights and secure freedom.

Balkan women, myself included, should never succumb to shame stemming from a system that has failed them. If you encounter any woman from the Balkans, engage with their stories and enlighten yourself. We are not backward, violent, conservative or cold. We are a vast tapestry, and we deserve empowerment. But the journey is far from over.