Exchanging Realities

Hotel Moscow is conveniently located on the intersection of the two main streets in the city center of Belgrade. I sat in the garden, waiting for a stranger I met on the internet – my first interview with a female representative of a far-right movement in Serbia. Will I recognize her? Is she already here and I did not see her? She is fifteen minutes late, what if she changed her mind? Just as I was starting to worry that this might be one of those dreaded dead ends in field research, I spotted a woman at the entrance. She held onto her bag tightly, her hair in a neat ponytail, a large cross shining brightly in contrast to her red shirt, a knee-high jeans skirt. I waved instinctively, and she smiled walking towards my table. Well, that was easy. Now comes the hard part, I thought.

The women on the far-right in the Balkans are usually university educated women, self-proclaimed feminists. Most are not in the parliament, as the political power is usually reserved for men, but rather at schools and universities, leading student organizations and unions, or teaching subjects “with national interest in mind” which gives them a lot of power to spread nationalist ideology and recruit new members. Dragana was a professor at a small private university. Her movement is one of the most famous and most active far-right movements in Serbia. They identify as “an association of informal patriotic organizations whose aim is to promote the ideas of national sovereignty, economic patriotism, people’s democracy and territorial integrity of the States.” One of the most important pillars of their philosophy and action is the belief that “preservation of traditional social communities between men and women can contribute to the healthier and socially responsible community” as they oppose European and NATO integration as a political option for Serbia. The movement is deeply attached to the Serbian Orthodox Church which has always been one of the strongest promoters of one particular role of a woman in Serbian society, considered to be her primary duty – that of a mother.

I put the recorder down on the table between our coffee mugs - How old are you? - she smiled and leaned back in her chair - Well, you are still young, you will learn soon that not many things are actually worth fighting for. I explained to her that I would like to know more about her movement and their stands on migration, and before asking any questions she began talking. She was disappointed with the Serbian politics and the society because after years of serving the nation she “got nothing in return and nothing changed.” She “explained” that this is all because of the work carried out by the “foreign mercenaries and the West.” She complained how difficult it is for her to get a position at the university and that she has been marginalized because of her opinions by the ruling political elites for decades. She named some colleagues who got ahead, and they were all men, but that didn’t seem to matter to her. Her story was the one of rejections, restrictions, and sacrifice. It sounded just like the story I heard a million times over from women in my own family - the right thing to do is sacrifice for your husband, for your family, for your friends, for your job, for your country. What you get in return is someone else's decision, or a matter of luck or destiny, and not opportunities or social, political, and economic inequality.

This was the first time since I started conducting interviews that I had a hard time holding back. I had so many questions I wanted to ask about her life, about why she thinks one should sacrifice for family and the nation and get nothing in return, about men and women in her life, about other possibilities and realities that might exist in her mind and do not involve the victim narrative. I wanted to poke her nationalism, but what bothered me more was her sexism. She was her own worst oppressor, and I knew it. I spent the last ten years undoing and unlearning everything she repeated in the two hours that we spent together. She tried to appeal to me “as a woman and a mentor” and she almost got me. I reached for the recorder, resolved to turn it off and go off the script, but she interrupted me - Would you like to stay a little longer and meet Milan? He is my old friend from the Serbian Radical Party. Should you be interested in politics, I am sure he can find a spot for you.

I smiled too now - she saved me, she reminded me why we are here, no time to go off the script. We both played our roles, and now is the time to part ways. We exchanged our realities, and they are not meant to interact at this table.