Déjà Vu

Six years ago, on this day, my live has changed forever. Six years ago, today, I landed in Brussels, I was 21, hopeful, skinnier and far happier than I am today. Six years ago I decided, more or less forced by the circumstances at the time, by the lack of money, luck or promises of a better future, to emigrate and to put all my naïve hopes into this new land of promise, this western and far more civilised country, Belgium. As you can read in one of my past articles, that whole experiment did not go as planned, instead it was replaced by a constant fight for approval, equality and need of basic human behaviour. 

I started by working in bars and cafés (the only work available for Romanian girls, apart for housekeeping), where I was being paid half the minimum wage at the time, working up to 18 hours straight, in conditions that went from heavy cigarette smoke, to cockroaches and rats, to fights and yelling and being verbally abused just because I was below what people thought it should have been a human standard, as in a Romanian girl working in a bar. I was regarded as a maid/prostitute/she-does-not-deserve-our-respect-because-she-is-a-girl-working-with-in-a-bar-surrounded-by-men and that had confused and had upset me deeply. I, as a young graduate from a highly ethical university, where values such as honesty or transparency had been promoted, I, as a girl who had been brought up to be nice and respectful to everyone, to look for the best in people and to always stay positive, was confronted to the worst human behaviours, just because I did not have the same nationality as the others, just because people had blindly created a stereotype and were following it religiously. I just couldn’t understand why, where did all the hate and vileness came from, why all the mean words and bad attitude towards me, why? I had to always keep a smile on my face, even when surrounded by people doing drugs, people talking about human and weapon trafficking, people throwing glasses at me or swearing at me or calling me names. I had to keep smiling and try not to cry or run far, far away, because it was that or no money at all. There was no support for girls like us, no benefits to ‘take advantage’ of, not a helpful hand in sight. I had to suck it up, repress all my fears and hope that it won’t always be like that. I was telling myself that life is tough and I just have to man up and face it, that eventually the good in people will win. I was going to earn all the money needed for the Master’s degree, I will do that and get a nice job and all my efforts would then be rewarded. That’s what I was telling myself every night before going to sleep, another day, and another day and it will all be over. But that day never came. Five years have passed, the Master’s courses were done and I was still not getting a decent job, even though I was looking every single day. Plenty of bars to work in, but I just couldn’t deal with that environment anymore, my patience had all run out and I just couldn’t go another day hearing people class me at the lowest rang of humanity. I was on the verge of giving it all up. So I left. I ran. I hid. I tried to recollect all my tired strength and look for a better place, a normal place, a decent place, and a place where it won’t matter what colours my passport show, but what colours my heart is. Where being Romanian is just a nationality, not a stigma. Where the actions of a few won’t determine the future of the many. Where positive things happen to good people. 

Six years ago, humanity came to Belgium to die. And the girl I had been for 21 years. 

Now, six years later, I find myself being that young, shy, scared girl all over again. I find myself questioning all the basic human values and all I have done to be here where I am today. All because a minority of people thinks I am not worthy or good enough to exist. All because being hateful or judgemental is easier than being open and understanding. All because people dismiss what they can’t understand and people can’t expand their thinking beyond what they know and what they have in front of them, being limited by ignorance. I find myself alone again, just like before, and scared for my future, incapable of doing anything to change it. I feel, once again, isolated and misunderstood and judged, and like the rest of the world is looking down upon me. And confused. And sad. For how long do I still have to prove myself? For how long do I still need to fight the masses and the sheer obliviousness? When will my actions and words be stronger than the prejudice that comes with the word “Romanian”? When will I receive the vote of trust instead of a motion of no confidence? And most importantly, when did my beautiful country become the origin of all evil?

À plus!

How to Avoid Writing for a Whole Year in Five Easy Steps*

 

Step 1

It’s all useless. Yes, try telling yourself that when the first thought of writing something appears. Additionally, you can also try to think of yourself as a bad writer, therefore the idea of someone even enjoying your written creations will have a solid foundation. Moreover, considering the fact that you couldn’t keep an internship in writing or even finding a job in the field should be a more than enough proof that maybe you shouldn’t over-crowd the virtual world with you written non-sense. Why bother in the first place, why waste your time on something that clearly does not have an impact on the world or even on your own little universe?

Step 2

Find an excuse. If the first step did not put you down enough and you are still determined of coming up with a string of words combined in a textual matter, this second one might just do the trick. Creating barriers for yourself such as “I am not talented enough”, “Nobody is going to read it”, “It’s pointless anyway” and the classic “Ain’t nobody got time for that”, will most certainly slow down the writing process, if not stop it for good. Coming up with excuses is always very effective in each dreadful activity and it will give you a false feeling of satisfaction on the lines of “well, at least I tried but my objective reasoning simply came up with a better argument”, creating the illusion of intelligent thinking. 

Step 3

Create distractions. Come up with a sedentary routine in your daily life. Go down the path of the working-class adult who wakes up in the morning tired, goes to work to a job he doesn’t really enjoy but manages to pay the bills, comes home tired and eats some comfort food, watches crappy TV while sinking in the living room couch and then tells himself how tired his brain is and how he could not possibly exhaust it even further with futile activities such as writing. And bam!, you’ve concocted the recipe to the murder of all creative acts: self-pity.

Step 4

Kill the motivation. Drowning yourself in thoughts of self-pity has its downsides as well. Your motivation is already trying hard to keep its nose above water and you throwing away the lifejacket and calling quits will only amplify the idea that there is really no reason for you to write in the first place. So what you like it? You like lots of stuff that you don’t get to do because life gets in the way and that’s what maturity is all about - giving up on your little things so you can see the bigger picture. Grown-up life is known for killing that little ray of creative sunshine and you are only a human obliging to the natural order of things.

Step 5

Do the opposite

You need to be able to determine when enough is enough and pick yourself up from that pit of banality where you’ve been living for the last year. Taking the easier route, like I’ve been doing for the last 12 months through the examples illustrated above, will, granted, give you a warm, comfortable feeling of normality, but will also take away that unique thing that makes you different from the other seven billion people – your creativity, your originality, your essence. I’ve wished for normality my whole life but I had no idea it will rob away this much and would require so much compromising. Therefore, on a more serious note, do the opposite. If you think you have something you’re good at and you take pleasure from it, don’t give it up and built up the courage to do it. It’s not going to matter who appreciates it, who approves or who criticises it, as long as you are a fan. So, for the three people that might read this ;-)(and I can’t believe I am saying this), don’t do like me.

À plus!

*this text might contain traces of sarcasm