The identity project and a personal reflection

By Lenka Šimšić

When I mentioned to my parents that I wanted to take Peace Lab and go to Kosovo, they weren’t elated. Not because they didn’t think it would be interesting or because they have a political opinion on Kosovo, but because they were worried. They grew up in Yugoslavia, in what is now Serbia. To them going to Kosovo as a Serbian didn’t seem safe. They were worried people would be able to tell by my name and that I would face unpleasant experiences there. Having left Serbia because of the rising nationalism that led to a devastating war and the breakup of the country they called home, where people lived together under a motto of brotherhood and unity, they know very well the importance others can attach to your identity. 

 

We had some, at times intense, discussions and I promised to be careful, to not tell people I had a Serbian background, and to not talk Serbian in public. Seeing as I grew up in Amsterdam, where kids generally do what they want and not necessarily always listen to their parents, I decided to go ahead and register for Peace Lab. And there I was, a few months later, in Kosovo with our lovely group of peace babies. 

 

While Kosovo felt familiar in many ways (the architecture, the landscape, the food, the warmth of the people), it was also different from the Balkans I knew. Here, American admiration was everywhere, there were different flags on every corner and people spoke a language wildly unfamiliar to me. The first few days several people in our group asked me how this was for me, why I didn’t mention I was Serbian, or what my parents thought about Kosovo. While they all had good intentions and were understandably curious, this felt a bit overwhelming at first. I felt like I had to feel about this experience a certain way and was forced to face what role my own identity played in this trip. 

 

Identity processes is something I’ve always found fascinating. Due to my own experiences juggling different ethnic and national identities, but also due to the important role it plays in conflict and reconciliation. Naturally, my project group and I thus took this as the focus of our project. We wanted to interview people about their own identity and look at whether there is a collective Kosovar identity and what this even entails. 

 

Talking to all different kinds of people, I was reminded of the most important thing when it comes to identity and society. Ideally, everyone should be able to hold on to whatever aspects of their identity they hold dear and still be accepted and not judged for it by the wider society. Coming to terms with your own identity is something I had some familiarity with but having to come to terms with other people’s identity is something the people of Kosovo know best and are still struggling with in some ways. Our project once again taught me how complex and personal identity really is.

 

By the end of our trip, I had fallen in love with Kosovo and its people. While I mostly kept my promises to my parents, I didn’t feel unsafe or uncomfortable being there at all. I do recognize that this was probably also due to the context in which I was there and due to my convenient ability to tell people I’m from Amsterdam. At times, people really seemed to attach an importance to where we were from, such as the owner of Zanzi, a great club we visited, who asked me where I was from when I was grabbing my jacket to leave the smoky interior. He hugged me, thanked me and exclaimed his love for ‘us’ when I told him I was from Amsterdam. At times like these, I did wonder what the reaction would have been had I told him a different aspect of my identity.

 

However, the people that I did share this with made me feel very welcome and surprised me with their warmth. Enver and Bardha both accepted me with open arms, and I was able to reminisce about Balkan food and other cultural similarities with the latter. On one encounter I told two people we met for drinks that my parents were from Novi Sad. We then had some lovely conversations and talked not just about Kosovo politics now, but Yugoslavia as well. One of them even talked some Serbian and referred to me as ‘Sestra Lenka’ (sister) for the rest of the night.

 

Returning home from Kosovo the main thing I took away from it is to remember the human face behind statements or events that affect people. To always think about the warmth of people and look past generalizations or fears. And of course, a newfound love for the beauty of Kosovo and its people, “the hidden gem of the Balkans”.