For Croatians, the operation was a key military victory that allowed them to recapture Serb-held territory. Even though the Croatian president has stripped the generals on trial in the Hague of their military medals, Croatians celebrate August 4^th every year as a state holiday dubbed “Day of Gratitude to the Homeland Defenders”. In Serbia, the country mourns the victims of the military operation.

The diametrically opposed commemorations of the day definitely demonstrate how divisive war can be, but instead of focusing on the fact that atrocities were committed on all sides during the Yugoslav war, I wanted to write about Operation Storm to once again showcase Women In Black’s steadfast dedication to solidarity with all victim’s families. Two of WIB’s most active members attended the commemoration service at St. Marko’s Church in Belgrade. Although they told me that the service has become increasingly politicized, with a priest devoting most of his liturgy to talk about how Kosovo is the “heart” of Serbia, WIB does not discern between victims. A victim is a victim, whether he or she was Bosnian, Croatian, or Serbian, and although WIB might not agree with how the commemorations are conducted, remembering every single victim who died due to actions motivated by nationalism and militarism is of utmost importance.

The two WIB members were approached at the service and told that the police would escort them on their walk back since they had been identified as “targets”. It’s really a shame that some allow their hate to infiltrate even the most solemn of occasions, such as a service for victims of war atrocities, and capitalize on tragedy in order to promote dangerous nationalist rhetoric, but that is unfortunately the reality WIB members face in Serbia. Yet, as always, they persevere and refuse to allow hate to interfere with their commitment to peaceful commemoration of all victims of war crimes, regardless of national boundaries.

The five minute video below will allow you to hear these views first hand, but one of my favorite articulations of activism as an all-encompassing approach to life comes from Svencka, a socio-linguistics professor in the town of Novi Sad who explained that she is an activist because she uses her professional position in academia as a means of dismantling patriarchy in our everyday language. Some might fail to consider her an activist because she is not marching and chanting against patriarchy every day, but this simplistic notion of activism fails to realize that people like Svencka act to bring social change in more subtly subversive ways. Being here has really helped me define what activism means to me and what kind of an activist I would like to strive to be throughout my life. I hope the video below will prompt you to think about what activism means to you.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nhzYPYSWfU

The very last comment in the video is perhaps not the most uplifting, but I chose to end the video with those words because to me, they portray the very real dilemmas of those who approach activism as a constant, all-encompassing endeavor. Such an approach is draining, especially when the changes one is working toward seem distant and unlikely to occur. Women In Black activists have been going strong since 1991, but it’s important to consider the emotional toll such work can take.

The exchange that most vividly stands out in my mind from the conference is the following:

C. Kumar (Special guest and international coordinator of women’s courts, which I urge you to check out here): “It is important to not allow guilt to become paralyzing. If we are non-state actors, why are we taking on the burdens of state actors such as the military and the crimes they committed. I can still go to Srebrenica out of love, instead of out of guilt. Of course, I could never put myself in your shoes.”

Stasha: “The context of the specific situation in the Former Yugoslavia is extremely important to consider.”

Mariya (WIB activist): “Asking for forgiveness is part of a tradition that is deeply rooted in this area. Yes, it is patriarchal, but we are changing this aspect of the habit. There (in Srebrenica), I am perceived as a member of that nation (Serbia). They see me as part of a mess that is not individualized, so when I go there as part of that mess, the first thing I must ask for is forgiveness. This is the first contact I have with these women, so the first thing I must ask for is forgiveness.”

I understand Kumar’s concern about guilt becoming paralyzing. When she said that, I immediately thought of the picture below.

hunger

The Pulitzer prize winning photographer, Kevin Carter, committed suicide shortly after taking the photo. Although no one can know the exact reasons for his decision, many have speculated that he did it because he simply could not bear the guilt he felt for not having been able to do anything for that child. I often think about that picture and about Kevin Carter. Even though I know I could never feel the specific emotions he was experiencing, sometimes I think that I can feel his despair, and I wonder why more people aren’t going mad from guilt and horror as Kevin Carter did. However, Kevin Carter’s guilt ultimately did paralyze him- it rendered him so hopeless that he took his own life, curtailing any possible actions he could have taken to redress the problems he saw in the world.

I don’t see WIB members as heading in that direction of extreme paralysis. That is why they are so remarkable- they are unbelievably strong and resilient. Further, they do not simply dwell on their guilt- they act upon it and take actions such as traveling to Srebrenica and asking for forgiveness from the families of the victims in order to stand in solidarity with them. I do think Kumar is right in that WIB members are somewhat obsessive about their guilt, but in a society where the majority of the population is either in total denial of the crimes that were committed or feels no guilt about them, I think WIB members feel that they have to compensate for all the guilt those people don’t feel. It’s not fair. WIB members didn’t do anything. They didn’t perpetrate those crimes. They were opposed to them from the beginning. As Kumar said, they are non-state actors. Yet, the state committed the crimes in their name. As Mariya’s comments demonstrate, WIB members understand that they are often perceived by those in Bosnia as being part of the nation of Serbia. Ironically, one of the best ways that they can distinguish themselves from the state that committed such horrible crimes is by taking ownership of those crimes and asking forgiveness for them.

I hope that one day WIB members can go to Srebrenica out of love and free of guilt, but for now, I think the Serbians who travel there and the Bosnians who graciously receive them are both helping each other by going through a process of open forgiveness. As Stasha said, solidarity is not about charity, and it’s okay for the Serbian women to admit that visiting the families of victims helps to relieve their feelings of shame and guilt just as it is okay for the families of victims to admit that the fact that WIB members visit them greatly strengthens them (a Bosnian woman who hadn’t been to Serbia in 20 years was at the conference, and she said, ‘it gave me enormous strength that WIB came’). I see it as a mutually beneficial process that embodies the solidarity aspect of feminism.

There are many events leading up to Saturday’s trip. Today, there was an all-day conference on the topic of transitional justice. It was awesome. I thought every single part of the day was fascinating. I will write more about different aspects of the conference in blogs in the near future, but for now, I wanted to focus on the play, entitled Crossing the Lines, that closed the conference. The conference was held at Dah Theater in Belgrade. The motto of Dah Theater is, “In the contemporary world, destruction and violence can only be opposed by the creation of sense”. Since their founding in 1991, the group has tried to address questions regarding the role theater should play in times of darkness. They tackle such questions through experimental theater, research, and workshops. The group strives to be independent, which has unfortunately but predictably (or unfortunately predictably) been a challenge throughout the years. Rumor has it that the current government wants to shut the group down for good.

There was a panel discussion with the actresses during the day, and it was clear that they were truly passionate about the power of art to change everything. Crossing the Lines is based on a Women In Black publication entitled “Women’s Side of War”, which chronicles in harrowing details the stories of women affected by the Bosnian war. For the play, around fifteen stories were selected from the book and adapted into a theater production. One actress commented, “the show helped me make peace with myself. With my country, with my feelings of guilt and responsibility.”

The first scene of the play

The first scene of the play

Although most of the play was in Serbian/Bosnian, the emotions were palpable. (sidenote: I am apparently still completely incompetent with my Serbian phone because even though I thought I had put it on silent, it went off during the play…mortifying!)  My words can’t possibly do the play justice, so suffice it to say that it was an extremely powerful play that really delved into the human aspects of the conflict. Even though Women In Black focuses more on direct activism while Dah Theater primarily utilizes theatrical tools, they share common goals and visions, so it was really cool and inspiring to see them partner to create such a moving work of art. I kind of saw it as a cycle of social action. Women In Black put together the book, members of Dah read it and are inspired to develp a play based on it, WIB members go to see the play and are in turn moved and inspired by the stories. At the end of the day, the stories still take center-stage. This was the third time one of the activists saw the play, and she said it was her best experience with it because she could really feel the emotions this time. She explained that the first time she saw the play, the actresses were so emotionally distraught with the subject matter in the days preceding their performances, that their performances became compeltely rational and void of emotion. They were afraid to allow themselves into their work. Yet, it seems like this is the rare professional endeavor where it is both welcome and necessary to allow personal emotions to permeate the craft.

The last scene of the play: "Salt"

The last scene of the play: "Salt"

The poem below is from “Women’s Side of War”:

Crossing the lines
Out of lines
Means different colors
Sounds
Ways
Crossing the days
The thoughts
Souls
Crossing every time
Every day
Crossing together
The senseless war
Crossing history
So They put the lines
Words of women’s future
Remind us
Remembering life in peace
Crossing the south and the north
The east and the west
Balkan
We walk across the earth
Out of lines
When we see wach other
We know
We are together
When we think of each other
Miles far from
Together
Remembering our dreams and goals
The wholeness
Despite lines and sides
Senseless war
Wear not alone
Imagine
Out of lines.

Last week, we interviewed two high level academics who have been involved with WIB since the beginning. Although pretty much everything they said was fascinating to me, I wanted to share their answers to the question, “what is your greatest memory associated with Women In Black” with you.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSE_Mu9hvrw

At the time, it was striking to me that they both essentially had the same answer to the question even though they were being interviewed separately. Looking back at the clips though, I really shouldn’t have been surprised. The experience was so powerful and truly showcased the bravery of WIB members. Since I spend so much time in the office with WIB members doing somewhat mundane things like drinking coffee or scheduling interviews, I forget just how brave these individuals really are. As Professor Dulic explained, WIB members really served as the “guinea pigs” or “punching bags” of Serbia for a time as they went against all the prevailing nationalist, militaristic, and fascist tendencies. Yet, as Professor Vodinelic pointed out, WIB members never contemplate giving up- they get back up and persevere, and that’s why they’re still here today.

On another note, I wanted to touch on a comment Professor Vodinelic made about the “tacit support” of the police. The relationship between WIB and the Serbian police is complex and ever-evolving, I doubt I’ll come to fully understand it before I leave, but I have picked up some insight from talking to various WIB members. As Professor Vodinelic explained, the police were much more sympathetic with the opposition than with WIB in the early days- to the point of being accomplices in inciting violence on the demonstrators. Today, a good number of police officers accompany WIB to every demonstration/protest. On the surface, the reason is “protection”, and some members have said that the police have recently done a good job of keeping troublemakers away. However, the police also film every WIB activity. They claim that it’s to protect WIB by having footage of any incident that may occur. Stasha and others have no doubt that the police are actually filming to monitor the activity of the group. The activists I spoke to stressed that they don’t have a problem with the officers as individuals, and they actually have developed relationships with some of them where they feel comfortable joking around with each other. Nevertheless, I think most WIB members would be hard pressed to consider the police allies although perhaps they don’t consider them enemies as they did before.

police

Police at a WIB street action in mid-June. Police are always present at WIB street actions. The relationship between police and WIB is complex.

Most of the WIB members from Belgrade traveled in a minibus, but they were short a few spaces, so a few of us rode in a car. The car belonged to Katarina who works for a Swedish ngo that provides financial and other types of support to WIB in Serbia. Driving in Serbia is a trip. Car trouble, no signs and one way bridges with two way traffic made for a memorable ride, but the highlight for me was a construction worker who was drilling in the middle of a lane that was still in use- the cars just kind of swerved around him.

Thankfully, we made it in time to join the WIB street action that was taking place in Leskovac. The performances I described in an earlier post took place here. The group was extremely colorful and loud. After the “building block” performance, everyone marched around the town and stopped to carry out the caterpillar performance and a performance with an army parachute that had been decorated with peace and anti-militarism words and signs.

WIB in all their street action glory.

WIB in all their street action glory.

Each box represents a conflict in the world. Stacked on top of each other, they represent the hierarchy of the military.

Each box represents a conflict in the world. Stacked on top of each other, they represent the hierarchy of the military.

After the street action, we all stopped at the offices of Women In Peace, the partner organization of Women In Black in Leskovac. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this here yet, but in Serbia, everyone smokes. EVERYONE. According to Stasa, the cancer rate in Serbia has increased by 300% in the last 15 years. She smokes too. I’m probably going to have second-hand smoke withdrawal when I get back to the U.S. Anyway, stopping at the office doubled as a smoking break. After that, we were on our way up a beautiful mountain to the hotel where the weekend activities took place.

I was pretty overwhelmed by all the new faces surrounding me, but everyone was unbelievably kind to Simran and I over the weekend (Simran is my partner Advocacy Project fellow). One woman even gave us some branches of wild strawberries during a workshop.

I hope the pictures and accompanying captions below will give you a better idea of the weekend. I plan on writing about more specific aspects of the weekend in future blogs.

Yovena, a WIB activist, holds out the "candy" she made for the street action. Each piece of candy is wrapped in a piece of paper with a question about the military on it. A lot of people stopped by and asked for one, so it was a successful way to get people's attention. Yovena is a super interesting person. I will write more about her and her tattoo later.

Yovena, a WIB activist, holds out the "candy" she made for the street action. Each piece of candy is wrapped in a piece of paper with a question about the military on it. A lot of people stopped by and asked for one, so it was a successful way to get people's attention. Yovena is a super interesting person. I will write more about her and her tattoo later.

An activity at the first workshop where everyone wrote down the first word that came to mind upon hearing the word "militarism" on a post it note.

An activity at the first workshop where everyone wrote down the first word that came to mind upon hearing the word "militarism" on a post it note.

A workshop activity where everyone took a piece of paper out of a bowl and decided whether the word on the paper would fit better under feminism, anti-militarism, or both.

A workshop activity where everyone took a piece of paper out of a bowl and decided whether the word on the paper would fit better under feminism, anti-militarism, or both.

For the final activity, everyone stood in a circle and threw balls of yarn at each other while shouting a word that they thought accurately described the weekend, creating a veritable web or network. Simran and I spent a few hours rolling the balls of yarn, so it was cool to see them used in such a creative way.

For the final activity, everyone stood in a circle and threw balls of yarn at each other while shouting a word that they thought accurately described the weekend, creating a veritable web or network. Simran and I spent a few hours rolling the balls of yarn, so it was cool to see them used in such a creative way.