“To thine own self be true”

As one year has drawn to a close and another begins, I am looking back on my overall experience of the past twelve months, while contemplating what the coming year might bring.

In this time of transition, mainly what I see and feel around me is a general wariness. Some believe it is related to our growing anxiety linked with the ongoing wars that affect us, either directly or indirectly. Others feel that it is tied to the escalating dehumanisation of our society, in correlation with the fast expansion of AI and our post-COVID isolation (see my post about mental health issues and fear). The obvious impact of ever-rising prices on a shrinking middle class is certainly also part of the equation. However, even if we cannot necessarily influence these global issues, what we can do is change certain aspects of our lives.

Thus, in the spirit of Anne Shirley in the children’s classic “Anne of Green Gables”, I want to step into the new year thinking:

“Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
“Anne of Green Gables” by Lucy Maud Montgomery

This last year has decidedly taught me that it is never too late to change course. I have recently come to yet another fork in my road, where I need to choose between two paths, both of which offer advantages and disadvantages. In simpler terms, one provides creative freedom at the cost of financial stability, while the other offers the opposite.

With this in mind, I remembered Polonius’ popular words to Laertes, in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”:

“This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
“Hamlet” by William Shakespeare

But what does it mean to be true to yourself? There are many aspects to each personality and sides to the prism of who you are. So, which “Self” are you meant to be true to?

Excerpt from the teen comedy “Clueless” (1995), showing how present this Hamlet quote is in popular culture

Both paths stretching out before me are in line with equally valid sides of my Self. One is my rational and reasonable “left-brained” side. It listens to my need to provide my child and myself with a stable existence, which is by no means to be undervalued. By doing jobs that I had some interest in, but no passion for, I have been able to pay the rent and spend quality time with my daughter. And then, there is the “right-brained” path, which is aligned with my irrevocably creative nature. Despite all my past efforts to function without it, my creativity has proven to be a resilient creature which will not be silenced. But unlike in Hollywood films, the path of passion never miraculously provided financial stability just because I dared to quit a paying job to follow my dream.

Top 10 Movies That Make You Want to Quit Your Job

This duality within me has repeatedly swung me back and forth between jobs for money and jobs for the soul. And now, this pendulum has swung again towards my creativity. Although creativity is often mentioned in the corporate world, in my experience it is seldom seen as a desirable quality in employees. It is, after all, somewhat of an untamed beast, in direct opposition to the culture that has shaped the West and been enforced by colonisers – past and present. Creativity does not care about hierarchy or the establishment.

And as of recently, the “creative beast” which had restlessly been awaiting her time to be set free once more, has resurfaced in my life. Suddenly, doors that had been closed are opening onto new horizons. And just like that, a short story I wrote with no expectations, based on the lives of both my grandmothers, was published (order “A Story of Two Europes” here). I was then selected to participate in a programme for writers-directors with budding projects, organised by mediarte. During those few days of open and honest interaction with a dozen young filmmakers, I found that I was among “my tribe” again. We were not there to earn money nor promote ourselves, but to learn how to best feed and nurture the projects we so care about.

_{Poster for the mediarte programme I attended (left)}_{& mediarte magazine (feat. actress Priscilla Adade on the cover) (right)}

During this programme, one of the trainers emphasised the importance of living by our values and seeking joy in our daily work. The term “joy” stood out for us all. Perhaps it is because in our society, we are so focused on being happy that we forget about joy. And while happiness is vague and vast, joy is an identifiable emotion that can be ignited in many situations. Moreover, the pursuit of happiness can be weighed down by expectations about it. We all know people who thought they would be happy once they found a partner, got a lucrative job, had a child, only to find that achieving this goal did not live up to their vision. Joy, on the other hand, can readily be found in smaller undertakings and successes. As French philosopher Frédéric Lenoir writes:

“More intense and deeper than pleasure, more concrete than happiness, joy is the manifestation of our vital power.”
“The Power of Joy” by Frédéric Lenoir

I have often been in situations where I traded in joy for a paycheque, and have found that this inevitably creates a crater in the soul. It leads to needing psychological crutches to support you, such as buying material goods, turning to that “wine o’clock” big glass of Chardonnay, eating more than you should, just to make up for what you are denying yourself. After all, everything comes at a price.

Lately, another experience challenged my perception of the choices I’ve made, and the ones I want to make going forward. My childhood hero, the beautiful and exceptionally talented Petro Ivanovitch, passed away. This celebrated Romani (Gypsy) musician and singer was a dear friend of my family and played a significant role in my grown-up life. Our regular visits to his family’s chic Paris restaurant “Les Tziganes Ivanovitch” – always filled with the crème de la crème of Romani performers and celebrities – later led me to write and direct the musical play “Romano Drom” about the Roma people’s history and to create the Romani culture festival “Romani Yag”.

“Les Tziganes Ivanovitch”: Petro (centre) with his beloved brother Slobodan, who died in 1985 (right), and Andrei Chestopaloff (left).

Petro’s passing made me look back on my eight years of passionate and committed work to shine a light on the diverse abundance of Romani culture worldwide. Despite numerous hurdles and tests, I had managed to gain some notoriety for the work I was doing internationally to bring together Romani arts, culture, activism, and information, in order to challenge the old narratives about “Gypsies”. But over time, continuous attacks by opponents to my festival or to me tainted my enthusiasm and wore me down. Just like in the fable about The Little Red Hen, I’ve heard many stories from individuals who worked hard towards a laudable goal, all the while having to fend off envious and frustrated antagonists who only saw the results and glory, and not all the hard work that had made it possible.

At this point though, even if I often regretted having left my path with Romani Yag behind, I have become kinder to myself, and now see regret as:

“a fundamental part of how [we] learn to reason and make decisions (…) Our cognitive apparatus is designed at least in part to sustain us in the long term, rather than bomb us in the near term. We need the ability to regret our poor decisions (…) precisely so we can improve those decisions in the future.”
“The Power of Regret – How Looking Backward Moves Us forward” by Daniel H. Pink

What I have learned from this is never again to quit a path I believe in because of external pressures. And I will try not to walk this path alone. As you age, what you lose in availability and energy, you need to make up for by surrounding yourself with the right people. A middle-aged filmmaker I know recently hit the nail on the head when he said that, while you are young, energetic, and free to dedicate all your energy to just one venture, you can fight your battles alone. But as time passes and your duties multiply, it is wise to share the burden of responsibility with trusted collaborators, partners, family, friends.

Thus, at the dawn of this new year, I will choose a path that is as close to an intersection between my different authentic selves – the elusive “Ikigai“. And I encourage others to do the same if they do not experience a healthy daily dose of joy in their lives. If we can, we should strive to live in line with our core values and our intrinsic nature, despite anyone who might try to format us. For me, this entails birthing my creative projects that had been sitting on a shelf for years, untouched but never forgotten.

(Title quote taken from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”)

“Thoughts arrive like butterflies”

From my mid-teens to my mid-twenties, I was an unconditional Pearl Jam fan. I had all their albums, went to their concerts, knew the lyrics to all their songs by heart, and Eddie Vedder’s poster hung on my student room wall. To this day, I admire their body of work. They were the voice of the Western world’s nineties youth, addressing all the uncomfortable truths of that generation. The chorus of their song “Even Flow“, about a homeless man, begins with:

“Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies
He don’t know, so he chases them away.”
“Even Flow” by Eddie Vedder and Stone Gossard

“Even Flow” by Pearl Jam – lyrics here

I have often remembered this line, as my mind is regularly stormed by thoughts I want to chase away. Lately, I find that in order to stray my mind from unwanted cerebration, I’ve been listening to audio books, podcasts and series to control what populates my brain. This constant influx of content may feed my mind, but at the same time, it tires it and slowly stifles my creativity.

In the Croatian documentary film “Spomenko”, directed by my ex-husband, the exceptional and nonconformist priest, to whom it is dedicated, mentions the importance of solitude in processing all that constitutes our everyday lives.

Full documentary film “Spomenko”* by Bruno Lovrenčić and Dražen Nenadić (Croatian with English subtitles). Passage about the importance of solitude: 5’40”-7’10”.

Our minds need to breathe. They require a break from input in order to create relevant output. And yet, many people cannot handle silence. They go so far as to listen to audio content (whether guided meditations or music) while they sleep. My goal is not to criticise the tools individuals find to cope with whatever is weighing them down. Rather, I wonder if we are not overburdening the brain with never-ending flows of words, thoughts and emotions from the outside in.

Likewise, I am dubious about the overall benefits of brief daily meditations. However helpful, I wonder if they can truly suffice to let the dust of our emotions, encounters, worries and plans settle, which is necessary to try to make sense of it all. As a society, we have been moving faster and faster, and while we are trying to focus on the positive aspects of our existence, we cannot shut out the negative, like we do on our social media profiles. We must learn to live with thoughts that may eat at our brains like bugs. Perhaps we should even welcome them, since countless uneasy questions, worries, sadness or anger, have given birth to an invaluable wealth in art and philosophy over centuries.

The problem now is that, for the first time in history, we have access to an infinite source of distraction and information. This puts us in a position of constant reaction to what we hear and read, as a way to externalise the impact this influx has on us. We are on the receiving end, rather than being the instigators and creators of original thoughts. Whereas welcoming silence and solitude is more challenging in the moment, it brings with it more peace of mind in the long run. And more creativity, too.

As I look out onto the pristine Adriatic Sea, sitting on what was once my grandparents’ terrace, high above the madding crowd, I have made the decision to pause the constant input from my phone. I have taken out the faithful companion that is my notebook and am finally writing again – letting the butterflies back in to fly around my head, come what may. Time to slow down again and just be, and let be. Life is not a long quiet river.

*The view from my late grandparents’ house*

Life is not – nor can it be – a constant source of joy, excitement and gratitude, even when all is well. It is a complex multitude of layers, experiences and emotions, tainted by fears and insecurities, highlighted by joys and serenity. And it is certainly much easier to be offended, complain or be envious of others, than it is to accept what is. But acceptance is necessary at times. As is said in the Serenity Prayer, made famous through its use in AA groups and subsequently in popular culture:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.”
More about its source here

Acceptance is not resignation. Rather, it is about letting the dust of the daily hustle and bustle settle, letting the fog of injustice, aggression, excitement and euphoria clear up. Only when this happens can we see more clearly, and act rather than react. Swift reaction may well be essential when you are in danger, but it is usually shortsighted and can ultimately misguide you in any other context.

Quieting the voices in our heads by turning on our phones is in some ways comparable to escaping reality through drugs. And like drugs, the relief from our thoughts and emotions that we get through this content is short-lived. What awaits us at the other end is the same feeling of helplessness or the overwhelmingness of everything. This drives us to continue using our “escape-drug” to remain distracted. Detoxifying your mind by only using your phone when you actually need it may take a few days, but I am noticing the positive effects in me already.

My mind is slowing down, the jumbled puzzle pieces are slowly falling into place, allowing me to breathe and make lucid decisions. As the dust is settling, I can see the green fields with colourful butterflies again. For now, I’m just letting them fly about – until I catch one, when I’m ready.

(Title quote taken from the Pearl Jam song “Even Flow”)

*In memoriam Luka Lovrenčić, cinematographer on “Spomenko” (1978-2015)

“Tears are words that need to be written”

Lately, I have found that whichever conversation I have, or whatever I read about, the topics that come up are exactly the ones I have been writing about on this blog. Among them are isolation, screen addiction, absence of community, bullying, powerlessness, desensitisation, lack of nuance, obsession with performance, and this giant corporate monoculture that keeps on spreading. There is also the issue of the “Potemkin village“-like society we live in, where the façade of forced optimism is meant to erase all underlying injustice and imbalance.

What I draw from this is not that I am exceptionally perceptive, but rather that we are all suffering of similar aches. Some are just better than others at concealing it. Generally speaking, our mental health is damaged. In many cases, this even affects our physical health.

Some argue that having mental health issues is a luxury reserved to the wealthy. Others, in turn, consider that only the weak will be afflicted with mental health issues. But I would beg to differ with both these views. These kinds of simplistic statements remind me of one I recently heard from an elderly woman I know: she said that in her childhood, bullying did not exist among kids. Of course, one just needs to read the classics, like Jane Eyre, to know that this is not true. But what this woman’s view reveals is that bullying was not considered or treated as a concern back then. And the same can be said for mental health issues, which were not recognised until fairly recently.

A century ago, and all the centuries before that, most of the population constituted the working class, working fourteen-hour days. They certainly had mental health issues, but the option to diagnose and treat them did not exist. Still, they managed to function, but at what cost?

As mentioned in a previous post, our mental health has been affected by our gradual isolation, exacerbated by the lockdown and the resulting post-COVID social patterns. These include working from home, having food delivered rather than eating out, ordering everything instead of going to shops. Likewise, the digitalisation of every service we use has led to increased screen time, and while we all know that spending too much time watching a screen is detrimental to our mental health (as is clearly explained in this article in Time Magazine), it is very difficult to escape this trend.

Moreover, in our navel-gazing culture, our obsession with ourselves removes us from a journey towards balance. Instead, it forces us to turn inwards and dissect every part of our own behaviour and emotions, thereby further isolating us. It is a rabbit hole from which it can be challenging to resurface.

Understanding and categorising our emotions is certainly important. As we have seen, individuals who are disconnected from their emotions are likely to misidentify sadness or fear as anger. This can easily lead to outward violent behaviour or to inward eating disorders, to compensate for feelings of powerlessness, loneliness or frustration. This is why, early on in my child’s life, I started reading books to help her identify her emotions, such as the excellent “The Color Monster” by Ana Llenas.

Ana Llenas’ “The Color Monster”, read by Joshua Brooks

But identifying and labelling your emotions is only the first step. Once that is done, you still need to process them, and act or react. Physical activity is recommended, as it helps channel (self) destructive energy. And yet, I don’t believe that this is enough. Nor is listening to 5 minutes of daily affirmations on Headspace or similar apps. These habits do help, but there is no quick fix for deeper-rooted problems and a dysfunctional structure.

In my post about victimisation, I mentioned the key element of fear, as a tool of manipulation. Employers, media, heads of state knows this well, and make use of it on a daily basis to steer us in the intended direction. They have planted seeds of fear in us and have continuously nourished them, thereby slowly reducing the spectrum of our freedom and power. I don’t believe that any amount of running or meditation can resolve this issue. So I have started digging into the notion of fear.

In Michelle Obama’s recent book “The Light We Carry: Overcoming in uncertain times“, she talks about being “comfortably afraid”, which is an interesting concept.

“What does it mean to be comfortably afraid? For me, the idea is simple. It’s about learning to deal wisely with fear, finding a way to let your nerves guide you rather than stop you. It’s settling yourself in the presence of life’s inevitable zombies and monsters so that you may contend with them more rationally, and trusting your own assessment of what’s harmful and what’s not. When you live this way, you are neither fully comfortable nor fully afraid. You accept that there’s a middle zone and learn to operate inside of it, awake and aware, but not held back.”
“The Light We Carry” by Michelle Obama (2022)

Michelle Obama talks about fear, and how it narrows your perspectives, as well as isolating you from others

Fear is often seen as something we need to either overcome or avoid. We are seldom taught to live with fear and accept it as an integral part of our life experience. When we are young, we are much more inclined to challenge our fears and ourselves. But as time goes by, as we build a life for ourselves and our family, we seek security. And human security is founded on freedom from fear.

The UNDP’s Human Development Report stresses that “there have always been two major components of human security: freedom from fear and freedom from want.” These ‘two freedoms’ are often considered the ‘twin pillars’ of human security.
United Nations Development Programme – Human Development Report 1994

As security sounds comforting, we accept the ever narrower range of action that is offered to us, as long as we are promised the removal of what we have been told to fear. Each planted fear closes a door for us. Michelle Obama also mentions a parent’s fear for their child, which I understand deeply. My fear for myself was never as great as that for my child’s safety and wellbeing. As Hanya Yanagihara writes:

[The love for one’s own child] “is a singular love, because it is a love whose foundation is not physical attraction, or pleasure, or intellect, but fear. You have never known fear until you have a child, and maybe that is what tricks us into thinking that it is more magnificent, because the fear itself is more magnificent. Every day, your first thought is not “I Love him” but “How is he?””
“A Little Life” by Hanya Yanagihara (2015)

But even this fear is one that we must all learn to live with if we want our kids to grow wings.

Today, so many people live in comfortable situations, that they are inclined to sacrifice their intangible wealth (such as freedom of thought or community) in order to keep their material one. The more they have, the less they dare. It is no coincidence that the people who built the American Dream had little or nothing to lose. Today, I do not believe that we can reach the same heights because we have too much to lose.

This is not to suggest that we should suffer and endure poverty as our ancestors did, just so we can build a new worthwhile dream. Rather, I wonder if the path back to mental health could be one where we accept fear as our daily companion. Perhaps master manipulators might then lose some of their hold on us, and we might venture to seek untrodden paths.

This could begin with small steps, such as sharing knowledge and ideas, without being obsessed with patents and trademarks. For me, that step was simply writing this blog. Through “Midlife Reflection“, I began sharing my emotions and failures publicly, writing words to replace the tears I was shedding – just as in this post’s title quote by Paulo Coelho.

If you can find the source of your tears, I believe you can find a way to turn them into words or actions that, in turn, might help others. And this could be your path towards mental health, balance and “comfortable fearfulness”.

(Title: Quote by Paulo Coelho)

“A time when decency has lost its hold on the public imagination”

I recently watched the first season of “The Diplomat“, which I thoroughly enjoyed. In it, one line caught my attention: David Gyasi‘s character, Austin Dennison, says to Keri Russell‘s Kate Wyler: “Perhaps you’re just a decent person in a time when decency has lost its hold on the public imagination.” I completely agree with this statement. This is not to say that people are less decent or kind than before. It’s rather that decency is generally no longer valued or exemplified the way it used to be.

Although quotes about kindness have become popular, it is not encouraged in practice. We would like to believe that being kind is better than being successful, but we know that in our society, success is more important. Perhaps it is so because, contrary to kindness, success is measurable. Thus, kindness is rarely valued, and it is mostly perceived as naivety or weakness.

Morality and etiquette, too, are outdated, as they are associated with a formerly oppressive and rigid system. But it seems the pendulum has, once again, swung too far in the opposite direction, and we have thrown the baby out with the bathwater. In our struggles against an overly hierarchical and stifled society, in favour of an equally exaggeratedly individualist one (as I mentioned in my previous post on current individualism), we have exchanged what was beneficial in our old codes of conduct for personal freedom and success as absolute priorities. Helping others requires energy and time that, according to today’s set of values, you should be spending bettering yourself or being kind to yourself.

In the corporate world, this is particularly noticeable. Regardless of the principles preached in giant tech and entertainment companies, where “brilliant jerks” are supposedly not welcome, the reality is that the said jerks and toxic managers are celebrated, as long as they bring measurable results and exceed KPIs. In this new world, employees are encouraged to act as though they care, but without actually getting involved. The unwritten rule is that your colleagues are supposed to ask you how you’re doing, and you’re expected to reply: “Great! Amazing! Awesome!” But no one is meant to be sincere, or to truly listen. What I have seen is that in the corporate sphere, helping people in need is done by donating money to a charity, and then patting yourself on the back for being such a decent human being. That way, you don’t have to get your hands dirty, and whatever you give is tax-deductible.

All of this differs greatly from the decency that was once taught, albeit as part of a broader set of restrictive rules. The forced “respect for elders”, which I am against as an absolute principle, did however ensure that young people helped the elderly who needed it. The fear of God, however constrictive, did come with rules that demanded charitable actions. I find there is a lack of nuance, which prevents us from perpetuating what was best in our old sets of rules, and combining it with our recently found freedoms. It seems everything has to be one or the other, black or white, good or bad. Perhaps the digitalisation of our planet, built on binary coding, is pushing us to view everything through a binary lens.

When Simon Sinek talked about performance versus trust, he clearly explained why companies should rather seek trustworthy employees, rather than simply high-performing ones. As he says:

“What we end up doing is promoting or bonusing toxicity in our business.”
Simon Sinek (“Trust vs performance)

This is because valuing numbers over human qualities is deeply ingrained in the corporate identity. While our colleagues may give us mugs with inspiring phrases about kindness and empathy, we are taught to avoid what requires energy if there is no guaranteed selfish profit. And though none of this is new, what shocks me today is the massive gap between what we say and what we do. Or rather what we are told and what is expected of us. Indeed, what is shown in ads or company culture is consistently at the opposite of what is actually being rewarded in these environments.

We speak and hear of authenticity, of empathy, of thinking outside the box. And yet, even though companies are now much more tolerant regarding employees’ appearance, if one looks past the diverse hairstyles, tattoos, piercings or other – all of which should express actual individuality (not individualism) – what remains are people who are formatted, similarly to past generations. They have just replaced one set of goals for another, and decency or kindness are not among them.

When I think of these values, I remember an eye-opening awareness campaign on Quebecois television about homelessness. In this ad, a young man was addressing the viewer, saying: “I’m a magician. Watch me, and you will see how I make myself invisible!” Meanwhile, the camera was zooming out, revealing him as homeless. He was greeting the passersby and they were all ignoring him. To me, being decent goes beyond simple propriety. It means having moral standards, having a sense of responsibility towards others. This includes homeless people whom, at the very least, we can establish eye contact with, because this is the most basic and simple way to acknowledge another’s existence. It requires a moment of attention and it means seeing something that we don’t always want to see. But it is one of many tiny, yet significant, steps we can take towards decency and kindness.

*What we are posting is not necessarily what we truly aspire to… (Image by Yuriz on Canva)*

Thankfully, in our own communities of friends and family, we can choose whom to be around, based on shared fundamental values. As individuals, we are usually drawn either to success and wealth, or to kindness and respect. The first is exclusive, while the second is inclusive. Over the decades, I have always chosen the latter.

Some years ago, a friend of mine repeated a quote she had read:

“When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.”
Abraham Joshua Heschel

Despite having always been drawn to artists and brilliant minds myself, not all of whom showed exemplary values or conduct, I have found that Rabbi Heschel‘s quote has become true for me over the years. I am still impressed by great minds and moved by dazzling artists, just as others are drawn to power, money and success. But success, intellect and talent alike, tell us nothing about a person’s kindness, humanity or generosity. In my forties, I find that I am first and foremost drawn to, and admirative of, people who practice kindness, show respect, demonstrate decency. Having such people around you is indeed a wealth that money cannot buy – even if their values are outdated in today’s public imagination.

(Title: taken from S01:E8 of “The Diplomat”, created by Debora Cahn)

“You fought me when I was strong, you despised me when I was weak”

This is a translated line from the 1975 French song “A witch like the others” (“Une sorcière comme les autres”). When I first heard this song, it was this beautiful and deeply sensitive interpretation by wonderful singer, actor and playwright Nathalie Doummar, whom I was lucky enough to know and direct in my debut play “Romano Drom“, and by the equally moving Laëtitia Isambert.

“Une sorcière comme les autres” (written by Anne Sylvestre, sung by Nathalie Doummar and Laëtitia Isambert)

Many things have changed for women since these lyrics were written (you will find them at the end of this text), but a lot of what Anne Sylvestre wrote still applies. Women are still judged, judging themselves and each other, based on archetypes, on what has been projected onto them over centuries.

After watching the brilliant Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie‘s Ted Talk, I recently read her essay “We should all be feminists“, which presented a view of feminism that I am in complete accordance with. In it, she writes:

“I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be.”
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie “We should all be feminists” (4th Estate, 2014)

But when I look around me, I am rather disappointed with what is passed off as feminism or asserting your femininity today. Contrary to Ngozi Adichie, who exudes strength, intelligence, wit and femininity, many of the successful women I see today are closer to Sheryl Sandberg than Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche’s TED Talk on why we should all be feminists

When Sheryl Sandberg‘s “Lean in“ came out, it spoke to me, probably because I come from a generation and a continent where we, as women, were still mostly taught that expressing yourself with vigour was incompatible with being feminine. So, being encouraged to “lean in”, speak up and be heard was something I much needed to hear. (You can see her Ted Talk here.) But Sandberg’s message was presenting one type of successful female leadership that I could not recognise myself in. It was somewhat in line with what I had seen in my peers at university in England, back in the days of the Spice Girls. Back then, English female students were often called “ladettes“, and many took pride in this. They saw this as a positive step up from our mothers’ generation, which had had to fight for the right to be heard even when wearing mini skirts. The so-called “ladettes” felt that mimicking what I saw as the worst traditionally masculine traits, while wearing short skirts and high heels, was a sign of assertive femininity.

I see Sheryl Sandberg’s model of womanhood as a continuation of this trend. And nowadays I see many more Sheryls than Chimamandas at higher levels of the corporate ladder. When we hear the wishfully empowering, albeit solely self-serving, “You can have it all,” I always wonder at whose expense. Where we used to dream of female solidarity, of women helping each other, this is still quite rare. Especially on the way up the ladder. Like many groups that have been victimised and undervalued over millennia, rather than helping each other up, many women push each other down as they try to gain their spot among the gods on Mount Olympus.

Bill Burr makes this point about women competing against each other and seeking men’s approval in this clip,
taken from his show “Bill Burr Live at Red Rocks”

Whether in the personal or the professional sphere, women have a tendency to behave as if there were a limited number of seats for us at the VIP table. This would explain why they continue to (literally or figuratively) scratch each other’s eyes out, rather than unite. And in situations where both a man and a woman are responsible for some form of misbehaviour, if another woman is asked to point fingers, she will do so at the woman, rather than the man. I don’t know if this comes from a deep seeded lingering fear of men or from simple force of habit, attacking the perceived weakest opponent. Either way, when a husband cheats, the wife usually aggresses the other woman. Likewise, when a man and a woman make mistakes at work, female bosses tend to be harder on their own sex.

My own experience has been that my male bosses rarely felt threatened by me. Perhaps this was due to the implicit assumption that they were superior – but perhaps not. On the other hand, almost all my female bosses (fortunately with a few notable exceptions) wanted me to be submissive, and felt threatened as soon as they saw any potential for growth in me, even though I had no wish to take their place. And through various discussions with friends, but also through films we see, I know that I am not an isolated case. Past childhood’s fairy tales (filled with evil stepmothers feeling threatened by their stepdaughters) the first time I saw this dynamic between women portrayed in a movie was in the 1980s “Working Girl“. As I’ve done more than one gig as an assistant over the years, to make ends meet, I often remembered this movie and realised how little removed it was from the truth.

“Working Girl” trailer (1988)

Contrary to 50 years ago, these days, when a woman speaks her mind outside of extremely conservative circles, it will be women, not men, who ask “who she thinks she is”. And this happens as soon as girls hit puberty and start looking like women. Almost overnight, they are perceived as competitors and threats by other women.

And yet, most of my friends are women – but none of them behave like this towards other women. They are as diverse as can be, in terms of personality, appearance or culture. But they all have this in common: they are solidary, they help each other out. They are not against men, nor are they against other women. Most of them are devoted mothers, they care about their work, those who have partners, love them. None of them treat each other as threats. None rejoices in the others’ misfortunes. I’ve identified the common trait that allows them to be different from the women I described above, and that is actual emotional strength, coupled with strength of character. They are deeply strong women.

*Segment of Tijana Djapovic’s painting “Unfinished stories”* (c) Tijana Djapovic

As strong, empathetic, sensitive women, they do not need to prove their strength by using force, intimidation or manipulation. They do not need to crush others to empower themselves. I have noticed that the only times I’ve been jealous or envious of others has been when I felt weak, unhappy or dissatisfied with myself. So, it turns out that the type of women we often see portrayed in movies as successful are actually weak. The stereotype of a thriving woman is career- and diamond-ring-driven. She is all about winning, and betrays anyone on her path to reach her goal.

Again, I return to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. In her, I see a new model of women who are strong and charismatic, while being empathetic and solidary. Women who love women without hating men, and who love men without fearing women. When I see my own daughter playing with her girlfriends, I observe how they comfort each other when they are sad, praise each other selflessly, help each other when they are down. Seeing this, I hope that the rising generation of girls will neither be fearful like mine, nor aggressive like the following one. Hopefully, these girls will find a golden middle, where there is room for all women – and for men, too.

(Title: Lyrics from “Une sorcière comme les autres” by Anne Sylvestre, 1975.
See translated lyrics below.)

“A Witch Like The Others“

Please

Be like the down

Be like the goose feather

Of yesteryears’ pillows;

I would like

To not be a porter,

Please make yourselves lighter

For I can no longer move;

I have carried you alive

I have carried you as children,

God! How heavy you were

With the weight of your love;

I carried you again

At the hour of your death,

I brought you flowers

Broke down my heart for you;

While you were playing soldiers

I was guarding the house,

With my prayers

I wore down your prison bars;

While you were dying under the bombs

I was searching for you, screaming,

Now I am like a tomb

Filled with all the sadness;

It is only I

It is she or I,

She who speaks or she who keeps quiet

She who cries or she who is merry

It is Joan of Arc or Margot

The Daughter of waves or of streams;

And it is my heart

Or it is theirs,

It is the sister or the stranger,

She who never came

She who came too late,

The daughter of dreams or of chance;

And she is my mother

Or yours,

A witch like the others;

You must

Be like the stream

Like the clear water of the pond

That reflects and waits;

Please

Look at me, I am real,

I implore you, do not invent me

You have so often done it already;

You have loved me as a servant

Have wanted me ignorant,

When I was strong you fought me

When I was weak you despised me;

You have loved me as a whore

Covered in satin,

You have made me into a statue

And always I kept quiet;

When I was old and too ugly

You threw me away with the scraps

You denied me your help

When I no longer served you;

When I was beautiful and submissive

You worshipped me on bended knees,

Here I am as a church

With all the shame underneath;

It is only I

It is she or I,

She who loves or loves not

She who reigns or struggles

It is Josephine or La Dupont

The girl of pearl or of cotton;

And it is my heart

Or theirs,

She who waits at the port

She who stands at the war memorial

She who dances and dies from it

The street girl or the flower girl;

And it is my mother

Or yours,

A witch like the others;

Please

Be as I have dreamed you for so long

Free and strong like the wind;

Free as I am, you see

‘Learn’ me, don’t be afraid

For I know you by heart;

I was the one who waits

But I can walk ahead,

I was the log and the fire

I can be the blaze as well;

I was the goddess mother

But I was only dust

I was the ground under your feet

And I didn’t know it;

But one day the earth opens up

And the volcano has had enough,

The ground breaks and uncovers

Unknown riches inside;

In turn, the sea winds

With unused violence,

Here I am like a wave

You will not be drowned;

It is only I

It is she or I,

And she is the ancestor or the child

She who gives in or defends herself

She is Gabrielle or Eva

Daughter of love or of battle;

And it is my heart

Or theirs,

She who is in her spring

She whom no one expects

It is the ugly one or the beautiful one

The girl of fog or of clear skies;

And it is my mother

Or yours,

A witch

Like the others;

Please, please

Make yourselves lighter

For I can no longer move

https://lyricstranslate.com
Anne Sylvestre, Find the original lyrics in French here

“Don’t be afraid to give up the good to go for the great”

Why settle for “good” when you could have “great”? Why lead a “good enough” life when you could have an “amazing” one? Instead of being “just you”, should you not strive to be “the best you can be”?

Just as the fear of missing out (FOMO) is built on the presumption that something fantastic and unmissable is going on, and you’re missing it, we are often brought to believe that we should lead extraordinary lives. Every day. In this decidedly consumerist culture, we are taught that it is our duty to ourselves to reach our highest potential and squeeze every last drop of this thing called life. And while I was an early fan of motivational quotes way back in my student days, in my forties I find these slogans that are used to inspire often end up having the opposite effect in the long run.

For about a decade now, the number of quotes people wear on their tote bags, shirts, caps, or even on their skin, has exploded. With these taglines, we either want to remind ourselves how great we could be or should feel, or we want to display how we wish others to perceive us. I see the good in this mass self-motivation and daily reminder to be grateful. Sometimes, these little sentences do inspire action or make us dream big. But I also see the hidden devil in them. I’ve seen how company cultures have turned these generic quotes into company mottos. The resulting atmosphere is one of “forced happiness”, where I found smiling masks covering unshed tears of frustration and the unspoken denunciation of injustice. A “dictatorship of happiness” is still a dictatorship, and thus leaves little room for individuality or diversity, despite what is advertised.

(Motivational quotes found on Canva)

“Make the most of every day”, “Believe in yourself, and anything is possible”, “Be all that you can be”* – these are good goals to have, in theory. But life is not theoretical, nor are we robots that can utilise time and each beating of our hearts to make sure we never skip a single beat. In the past, I’ve tried to implement the rules and guidelines shared in some self-improvement books or talks. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes I didn’t. But over time, I found that I was growing tired of them. Endeavouring to constantly be happy, to perform, to be the “best version” of myself at all times felt unnatural.

(The comedic “de-motivational” life coach Self-Help Singh says: “Not every bad day can become a good day.”)

Real life means that, even though I do try to appreciate every moment I share with the people I love, sometimes they get on my nerves. And whereas I value financial stability, I sometimes want to be unreasonable and enjoy the present moment with a bottle of champagne or an impromptu weekend in London. Sometimes, life is just life. Sometimes, putting some projects back on the shelf doesn’t mean you’ve given up on all your dreams. And even when you want to appreciate life completely, you will have off days. As a friend of mine, who lived through the war in Bosnia, once told me: even when you’ve stepped over dead bodies and thought you’d never have a normal life again, when you finally do, you still get upset about something as frivolous as a girl you like not calling you back.

We are only human. And that’s OK. We are allowed to be tired, upset, sad or any of those emotions deemed “negative”. And we must also allow ourselves to want to just curl up under a blanket and watch movies. Which is why, where there once was a calendar with motivational quotes on my wall, there is now a calendar by the brilliant and hilarious Rosie Made A Thing, who celebrates the absurdity of modern life.

Some of Rosie’s humorous creations (www.rosiemadeathing.co.uk)

Another woman who has addressed the beautiful and terrible absurdity of life is Kate Bowler. I came across her Ted Talk on how battling stage 4 cancer impacted her belief system. Her talk stood out because there was no big inspirational quote at the end of it, no universal lesson about living life to the fullest. So I bought her book “Good enough, 40ish devotionals for a life of imperfection“. In it, she covers an incredibly broad spectrum of situations in our everyday lives that cannot be solved with a single sentence. She talks about mourning our future selves (the ones we dreamed we’d become, but didn’t), about doing things for no reason whatsoever (because not everything has to be productive to be worthwhile), and much more. Her wisdom and the non-judgmental way in which she embraces the diverse nature of humanity is both comforting and inspiring.

Kate Bowler’s Ted Talk “‘Everything happens for a reason’ – and other lies I’ve loved”

Bowler talks about the hyper-instrumentalisation prevalent in our cultures, in which everything has to have a purpose. Laughing in the face of life’s absurdity is also about acceptance. Accepting that there is no guaranteed reward for good deeds, nor is there necessarily everlasting happiness if you “just love yourself enough”. As time goes by, what I see in the self-help industry’s constant production of the new “Secret” is a search for simple answers to complex questions. We want to take shortcuts to reach our goals. But happiness is not a destination you can reach and settle into. Life is unpredictable. Manifesting your dream life, dream job, dream partner, child or planet will not necessarily make them real. Therefore, some of your efforts or focus not paying off are not signs of your shortcomings. They are signs of life being just what it is.

The greatest quality I see in the personal growth, positive-thinking trend is that it allowed us to take back some of the power we had reserved for God or fate. Whether or not there is a God, humans should hold some of the power and responsibility for their own wellbeing. However, like the superlatives flooding the American (English) language today, having replaced “good enough” with “totally amazing”, the former ambition of having SOME power is now the belief that we can have ALL of it. This excludes the many factors in life that are wholly beyond our control.

*The slogan on the supermarket bag reads “Act today to have a better life tomorrow”. Photo of a homeless Romani woman taken by Eric Roset (c)*

Likewise, the individualisation of our societies implies that all problems should be solved by the individual. And this means that we alone are at fault if we are not sublimely happy or incredibly successful. While the concept of “self-help” was born out of workers unions’ efforts to empower the workers (as is explained in the video posted below), it is doing the exact opposite today. It is taking societal problems (wage gaps, systemic racism, gender inequalities, mass pollution) and convincing us that we should fix these at an individual level. After all, if Oprah made it to stardom and wealth, there is no limit to what each of us can do… or is there?

A critical view of the self-help industry and facts about its origins

Hence, as growing numbers of people wear motivational quotes as fashion items, ever fewer take to the streets to protest against social and economic failures of the system we live in. Not just because we have lost faith in the effectiveness of these measures today, but also because we are convinced that we must change what we can by our lonesome. As for the rest, we can share our frustration on social media to combat the feeling of powerlessness in the face of ever-present injustice.

Still, a lot of good can come out of this personal growth trend. As always, it is all a matter of dosage, perspective and expectations. As individuals, where we feel there is a need for improvement, we should indeed try to change what we believe we can – with the knowledge that we will sometimes succeed and sometimes not. On the other hand, in order to identify which of our problems are part if a wider societal problem, we should remain informed of what goes on around us, communicate with others, remain connected beyond social media. In this manner, we will soon find that there are harmful side effects to the system we’ve been living in for decades, which cannot be solved merely at an individual level. We can each do our part to recycle, shop local, fair-trade and organic, do our best to preserve a healthy work-life balance, take care of ourselves and our families. However, all our efforts will not suffice to prevent industrial pollution, the extreme inequalities between the Northern and Southern hemisphere, nor the rapid polarisation of our societies. There, I believe that we must join collective movements that will have a significant political and economic impact. There are thousands of such budding collective initiatives, and some will come to grow and become influential over time.

I do believe that change is coming. It is as slow as it has always been, but it is coming. I also see some of my peers questioning the self-help movement and its consequences on mental health and collective action.

A first step in the right direction may be to accept that not everything is as we dreamed it would be, but that it’s not any less worthy. Another might be to start thinking of realistic solutions for our societal problems, and use those supposed “universal laws of attraction” – or perhaps more rationally just our personal network – to build a critical mass towards an improvement of the system we live in. For the benefit of the greatest number this time, not just for our individual selves, nor only for the ones at the top.

* (“Be all that you can be” is also the US Army’s slogan)

(Title: Quote by John D. Rockefeller)

“Dripping Water hollows out Stone”

The quote “Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but through persistence” is often used to inspire consistent action for change. However, it can be seen from another angle, namely the slow and consistent process of victimisation.

We have probably all, at one point or another in our lives, been victimised, and we may also have victimised someone ourselves. For my part, I was bullied by classmates at school, then later by my boyfriend and then again by my boss. And yet, I am by no means subdued, submissive or any of the common stereotypes about bullied individuals. On the contrary, I have always had a strong personality, I am outspoken and extroverted, communicative and enthusiastic. But none of us are ever just one thing. And so, while I flourish in a welcoming environment, I shrivel in the face of aggression.

Like most victims of bullying, I only blamed myself at first. I then went on to solely blame my bully, pulling myself out of the equation. Finally, I realised that both parties play a role in this power game. The fault, I believe, still lies solely with the bully, even if they are often themselves former victims of bullying. Nonetheless, bullying rests on dynamics between two or more people, who all play a part in it. Blaming the tormentor will not help the sufferer in the long run, but I think that understanding the dynamics which turn self-confident adults into self-doubting children can be helpful. The question is: how does one person take away the power from another without the use of force or threat thereof?

If bullying is a power game, manipulation is its motor, and whether it happens at the level of the individual or the group, it can only be effective when it is slow and gradual. No wife beater ever attacked their partner at their first encounter, nor did Nazi leadership expose its true goals to the masses as they initially ran for election. Like propaganda, any manipulation functions as a poison you slowly and unwittingly ingest every day. Before you realise it, your sense of self has shifted or crumbled. The impact of verbal and psychological abuse is indeed like dripping water on stone: the constant repetition of a message over time impacts our perception and also self-perception. This slow process is illustrated in one of my favourite films, George Cukor’s classic “Gaslight”, in which Joseph Cotton’s character Brian Cameron reveals to Ingrid Bergman’s Paula Alquist at the end: “You’re slowly and systematically being driven out of your mind”.

This scene shows an already self-doubting and weakened Paula (Ingrid Bergman)
blatantly manipulated by her husband, Gregory (Charles Boyer) in Cukor’s 1944 “Gaslight”.

The film is based on a play that inspired the term “gaslighting“, used to refer to a specific type of manipulation where the manipulator is trying to get someone else to question their own reality, memory or perceptions. Thus, day after day, the bullies insidiously isolate their victim, question their worth while feigning, or even believing, they care about the victim’s welfare. More often than not, the bullies feel they are justified in their actions. When they don’t see themselves as victims, they believe they are helping their victims become tougher. Whether male or female, bullies generally mistake toughness for strength, which is still common in the workplace or school and in the personal sphere. A bullied child is often simply branded as “too sensitive”, and a bullied adult is commonly advised to seek therapy for him-/herself or practice yoga, rather than being encouraged to flee or question their bully.

As a great believer in the premise that we always have a choice in life, I am baffled by this feeling of powerlessness that comes with being bullied. Like Jean-Paul Sartre, I like to believe we always have a choice as to how to act, or whether to act. Even when the outcome is inevitable, even when death is staring us in the face, we can still choose how we reach our final destination. As Jimmy Cliff sang in the 1970s Jamaican movie “The harder they come”: “I’d rather be a free man in my grave, than living as a puppet or a slave.” How come, then, do so few victims of bullying stand up to their bullies or flee?

Jimmy Cliff’s song from the film “The Harder They Come” (dir. Perry Henzell, 1972)

This question was raised in a very different context by István Szabó and Israel Horovitz in the 1999 historical drama “Sunshine” about a fictional Jewish Hungarian family. In one scene, Ivan Sors (Sonnenschein), who survived a labour camp, shares with his uncle Gustav how he and 2000 other inmates watched his father slowly be killed, and did nothing to stop it. To this, Gustav indignantly asks: “How could 13 guards hold back 2000 people?”

After all, as the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising proved, resistance to the Nazis was possible, albeit unsuccessful. One of the few survivors of the uprising, Marek Edelman, said their inspiration to fight was “not to allow the Germans alone to pick the time and place of our deaths”. So why was this such an exception? How come entire populations were rendered powerless, in much the same way a bullied individual feels?

I looked at several psychology studies to better understand how masses could be turned into ruthless killers or helpless victims. The famous Milgram Experiment on obedience to authority figures showed that a majority of people would obey authority figures, even when instructed to perform acts conflicting with their own conscience. As we see in our everyday lives, when the burden of responsibility is lifted from the individual, most can be manipulated to abandon their values, morality and humanity. Thus, one element of response to how victims are rendered helpless by their bullies or offenders is the uncontested rule of authority.

I found another element in the Stanford Prison Experiment, which simulated a prison environment, where the participants were divided into guards and prisoners. After six days, the experiment was cut short due to the increasingly brutal psychological abuse of the “prisoners” by the “guards”. This experiment illustrates how being granted power with little or no accountability awakens a propensity to harm others. On the other end of the power balance, when stripped of their rights and individuality, most people will be rendered powerless and submissive, even if they would not be so under different circumstances.

Trailer of “The Stanford Prison Experiment” (dir. Kyle Patrick Alvarez, 2015), based on the actual experiment

And then, of course, there is fear, this very powerful instrument in the victim-bully dynamics. Totalitarian leaders, authoritarian bosses, the media, as well as domestic abusers all have this in common: they use fear to mould and subjugate. But while gaslighting an individual requires isolating the victim to achieve this goal, large-scale indoctrination requires the opposite, namely the individual’s inclination to conform to the collectivity. The Asch Conformity Experiments showed that a majority of people will at least partially conform to the group, even against their own beliefs or better judgment. In view of this, should we not ask ourselves how many of us would dare to speak up and say “nay” in a room full of yaesayers?

I’ve been trying to understand these dynamics for decades, and this quest for answers has helped me. Still, some questions have remained unanswered for me. Although I have very little respect for the silent conformist majority that, like sheep, goes along with anything a loud-mouthed leader says, I can see why this flock of followers act the way they do. They are afraid to go against the flow and be ostracised. Although I despise this cowardice, I can understand it. But those I still cannot understand are the bullies themselves. As most of them have been bullied before becoming bullies, I cannot comprehend how they can inflict the pain they have known on others. And yet, many are those who thoughtlessly repeat the patterns they recognise, mistaking ruling by fear for character strength. Forunately, there are others. Just as grass can grow through concrete, there are former victims of bullying who will tap into their own emotions to connect with other such victims, empathise and even empower them.

This is the path I have chosen for myself. My being excluded by the class bully and her minions at school led me to identify with discriminated communities, particularly Roma. This motivated me to found a non-profit organisation and a multidisciplinary festival dedicated to Romani cultures and history, informing a broader audience of the harsh realities faced by Roma worldwide. Being shut out as a foreigner drove me to chair the International Students Committee at University in the UK, to help create a supportive community for them. Being bullied also forced me to question how I raise my daughter, which inspired me to write a children’s book about bullying in primary school.

Cover of the children's book "Leona, My new school" by Ljuba Radman and Tijana Djapovic.
(All rights reserved) — *Cover of the children’s book I wrote about Leona, who gets bullied at school*.
*Text and story: Ljuba Radman, illustrations: Tijana Djapovic (c)*

Though my childhood scars did not prevent me from being bullied later, as an adult, they have helped me develop empathy with others and become an advocate of inclusion. Fortunately, I have also grown to better recognise early signs of manipulation and violence. Likewise, this experience has taught me to truly value human kindness for the great treasure that it is.

Oversimplifying the vast issue of victimisation would be a mistake, since these human interactions are extremely complex. Regardless of our best intentions, we all carry the weight of our past, which can taint our behaviour and the way we communicate with each other. But I do think we need to strive to remain critical and introspective, while developing honest communication channels, so that we can continue to grow, both through nurture and pain.

(Title: Quote by Ovid)

“Should I stay or should I go?”

People everywhere are slowly resurfacing, after the COVID whirlpool engulfed us all, in one way or another. Since then, several of my friends have been echoeing what I’ve been reading about, namely that now, whoever still has a job should be so grateful, that they are expected to sacrifice everything to keep it.

A dear friend of mine recently asked whether she should stay at her current job, stick it out and keep hoping for a positive change – or whether she should get out before becoming cynical. I’ve decided to share her recent journey and dilemma on my blog, because her experience is a reflection of a general tendency I have observed over the last few years.

Ida is a passionate film producer, who traded her longtime exciting career for a more stable job in a young, dynamic and prominent lobbying organisation. Since she only moved to Belgium a few years ago, and has young kids to provide for, advising her to “throw caution to the wind” might not be the best advice I could give her.

After all, it is true that in this day and age, good jobs are hard to come by. Especially as a forty-year-old foreigner and mother of two. Jobs in organisations that awaken your enthusiasm, working with skilled and kind people are a rarity. And yet, even with such a job, staying is not necessarily the best option either.

During her first year in the organisation, whenever Ida spoke of it, it seemed too good to be true. She could hardly believe it when they hired her, though she was visibly pregnant. And yet, she still feared being fired afterwards, and suffered from the much-talked-about “imposter syndrome”. She thought that being hired must surely have been a mistake on the organisation’s part, as all her colleagues were performing so well and fast. But as time went by, she learned the ropes and got to the same level of productivity and quick thinking as her teammates. As I’ve often observed, mental agility is something one can reacquire quite easily, when motivated. So why should she leave?

For one thing, even though she was promised a nine-to-five job, Ida regularly ends up working evenings and weekends. Even nights, since she had to take care of her kids after work.

Secondly, in spite of her initial impression that she was working in an organisation with a horizontal structure, the underlying hierarchy seems as present there as in any state administration. The day her manager told her, that he expected her to “make him shine” was the day she realised her chances of advancement were non-existent. Initially, she was led to believe that being ambitious was good, but this rule ended up only applying to management-level employees. Just as the old saying reminds us that “the fish stinks from the head”, one bad leader can ruin the experience of working in any organisation for the entire team.

Thirdly, as time went by, we all saw Ida’s enthusiasm crumbling, as she started seeing cracks in the structure and promoted ideals. For a while, she hadn’t seen them because, as an employee, she was made to feel that she was special. Like in any cult or totalitarian regime, she was repeatedly told how lucky she was to be working in such an organisation. All of us tried to warn her, that the friend we knew and loved was slowly disappearing. But the feedback she was getting at work was that she was “amazing” or “awesome”, which reinforced her perception of being in the best of organisations.

At first, Ida was thrilled to hear that her colleagues prompted her to “bring her authentic self” to work. But the definition of this authenticity, it turns out, needed to remain within the boundaries set by the organisation.

Like me, Ida has always been passionate about inclusion. So when she saw that this was a major point in their campaigns, she was overjoyed at the prospect of being part of the change she wanted to see in the world. Soon after, she realised that inclusion was only understood through the prism of narrow racial and gender issues. Members of countless underrepresenrted ethnic minorities targeted by systemic racism all over the world, were sorely missing across the board. As well as workers with disabilities, solo caregivers, employees over the age of 50 or talented and experienced individuals with no graduate degree.

I’ve often observed that the success of organisations or companies in today’s fast-paced world is built on hyper-dynamic, driven, young nonparents, ready to sacrifice their nights, weekends and mental health, because they are among the chosen few who are lucky enough to have a great job.

It is easy to buy into a shiny image and professed values, which echo your own. But when the honeymoon phase was over for Ida, and she discovered that the Great and Powerful Oz was an old man hiding behind a curtain, she had a hard time dedicating her energy and time to serving an illusion. In the end, our group of friends all gave Ida the same advice: in this instance, her mind should give right of way to her heart. And in her heart, she already knew that a steady paycheck and perks were lighter on her scale than daily abuse from a narcissistic boss.

Excerpt from “The Wizard of Oz” (MGM, 1939) when Dorothy, Toto and their three companions discover the Great and Powerful Oz.

Many of my friends are now in their forties. At that age, the prospect of climbing back up on the merry-go-round of job seeking isn’t thrilling. But it is the only right decision if you are truly unhappy at work, and still have the opportunity to regain your dignity and enjoy your time on earth.

I, too, have sometimes taken my time here for granted. But these two years of the COVID-19 pandemic partly isolated me from a broader and larger world, than that of productivity and practicality. Which is why I am following my own advice to Ida, and making time to reconnect with friends, family, my broader network of activists and artists – and myself. Both Ida and I have decided to go back to our own creative projects, and also make time for our kids.

And to document this post-COVID chapter, I am trading in my slick MacBook Pro for an old-fashioned paper notebook and pen. Back to the roots we go.

(Title: Song by the Clash)

“42 Up”

Some ten years ago, I watched a documentary film that had a deep impact on how I perceive life. It was entitled “42 Up”. It followed a number of Brits from different regions and social backgrounds every seven years, from the ages of seven to forty-two. I saw them go from being sparkly-eyed kids to awkward teenagers to responsible adults to middle-aged men and women. Some more ordinary than others, some happier, some more successful, some more fulfilled than others.

Seeing the result of this film, spanning over thirty-five years, left me feeling both amazed and sad. What I found in all of them was the inevitable loss of innocence that comes with age and experience. That also went with a loss of ideals in many. And loss of beauty as well. Today, at forty-two, I should watch it again and see how I feel about it. Or better still, I should watch the latest film in Michael Apted’s series that began with “Seven Up!” (1964), which is now “63 Up”. Somewhere along the line, the title lost its exclamation mark… which, incidentally, seems a perfect way to sum up the difference between the ages of seven and sixty-three.

In this COVID-19 crisis, I am fortunate to have a new job that I’m excited about, to have my wide-eyed child by my side, to live in a home and a neighbourhood I love, to be in regular touch with my loving family. But these times of relative isolation have also brought on a new wave of reflection which, combined with the Netflix content I’ve been watching (such as “Marriage Story” or “The Last Dance”) reminds me that life doesn’t turn out the way one expects. Ever. There are unexpected successes, joys, falls and pains. And while love and hope inspire and drive us, suffering and pain play a significant role in shaping us as well. I saw this in “42 Up”, too. There is so much we do – or avoid doing – for fear of being hurt.

Though I don’t believe that we are born as clean slates, I do see us as clay shapes that life hits, carves, moulds over time. Bit by bit, we evolve into complex beings, growing increasingly unique and different from each other, as life adds one texture after another to our initially smooth clay. At middle age, I perceive love and hope in my peers. But none has kept that initial innocence we all used to have. That faith that there will be a “happily ever after”. Because our lives have taught us otherwise. There is no “ever after” as such. There is only happy, then unhappy, then happy again, and so on and so forth. But over time, erosion makes us less affected or moved by unhappiness and happiness alike. Our skin gets thicker, we roll with the punches and we enjoy well-deserved rests after each round.

In this time of contemplation for the whole world, I do appreciate what I have. I also look forward to many more moments of happiness. Even though I know better than to expect what I imagine for myself to come true (in the positive or the negative sense), I do know that joy comes back to me after every struggle. But where am I right now? If I were to do my own “42 Up” recap of my life, it would probably go like this: At age seven, my world was enchanted, almost perfect. At fourteen, it was painful and filled with self-loathing. At twenty-one, it was hopeful and looking to the future. At twenty-eight, it was harsh but glorious. At thirty-five, it was awakened to what adult life is. At forty-two, it is unsettled and I am searching for steady ground.

For three years, I have been feeling like the earth under my feet has been shaking. And, like in a seismic zone, every time it stops, another earthquake rocks the ground I walk upon. And it isn’t easy to build on moving ground. But I have been fortunate enough to join a company built on the concept of constant transformation, flexibility and adaptability. And my travelling companion is a little girl who loves the circus so much, she now excels at finding her balance in any situation like a tightrope walker. What I must now learn from both is not to expect the ground to ever stand still, but rather to function and grow on moving ground. Perhaps by the next seven-year mark, my spirit will be as agile as my daughter’s nimble body.

(Title: Documentary Film directed by Michael Apted)

“Dear, don’t hope any more”

These are the words spoken by dying Beth March to her sister Jo, in Louisa May Alcott’s classic “Little Women”.

Three nights ago a childhood friend of mine passed away. His name was Sasha (Saša).

I remember him as the bright-eyed beautiful boy with a mischievous smile I once knew. Since hearing the news, images of him pop up in my head. I see his face, which his cousin justly described as that of a cherub: rosy-cheeked, curly-haired, sun-kissed and sweet. I hear his voice, his accent and intonation. I especially hear his laugh. Throughout our childhood and early adolescence, he was my brother’s closest “summer friend” (those friends we see every summer, who mean so much to us). He was also the cousin of my closest “summer friend”. And though Sasha and I were not that close, he meant a lot to me. He was my first childhood crush. It was a crush that lasted into my early teens and was reignited every summer for years. I never told him that. I remember the feeling of anticipation before that first annual encounter with him, summer after summer… and my invariably blushing when it happened.

For years, our families got together on the Dalmatian island where our grandparents lived. We spent every day together. For the most part, we naturally split into groups: parents with parents, boys with boys and girls with girls. But we were also part of a whole, which reunited one month of every year. A whole that I can now only describe as “a very merry bunch”. To me, Sasha is a symbol of our enchanted childhood summers, of jumping into the translucid Adriatic waters, splashing the tanning tourists, of eating sweet and salty peaches washed in sea water, of excursions to neighbouring islands with our Tomos 4 motor, of knees scorched on the island rocks that we used to run on barefoot along the sea, of us kids escaping the house at “post-lunch siesta time” to play cards in the shade… I also remember one evening when all the families on our street gathered at a nearby hotel for a huge raffle, in which our two families won almost all the prizes. His family won bottles of red wine, ours won a huge leg of prosciutto. For days after that, we all gathered in the evenings to share all that ham and wine on the waterfront.

The enchanted years lasted until the war broke out in Yugoslavia. Sasha’s parents were a mixed couple, so they moved to Canada, where they knew they would be safe. Those were the years of disillusion in so many ways and the island was never the same to me after that. Nor were any of us. We were growing up, and adolescence was a rude awakening for me. Over a decade later, I moved to Montreal. That very first summer in my new country of residence, I visited Sasha in Toronto. I met his girlfriend, who has since become his wife and the mother of his child. I was so happy to see that, in the man before me, there was still that lively, witty, charming boy I’d known and fancied. He had been kicked around by life, as had I. But he had not let the light inside him die. And now it has gone out.

Last night, my daughter crawled into my bed after having had a nightmare. In her sleep, she held on to me and said: “I want you to stay with me”. It brought tears to my eyes. Sasha’s little girl wanted her daddy to stay with her too, but he couldn’t. When I received the message announcing his death, I was in the middle of a conversation with a girlfriend who, like me, lives alone with her kids. Just then, we were saying that we couldn’t risk getting seriously sick because our children depended on us. Sasha probably thought the same. All his hope and positive energy, all the love and support of his family and friends were not powerful enough to keep him alive. Life seems to have neither rhyme nor reason, and death takes people away at random. I do not believe that good things happen to good people, and bad things to bad people. Sometimes I even get the impression that the opposite is true. Montherlant’s quote “Wickedness, like alcohol, preserves” often rings true.

Thinking of Sasha, I think of all the things he had wanted to experience, and now never will. And I wonder what it is that I want to achieve or experience while I am alive. What do I think I absolutely need to do before I die? The only thing that seems to be essential is being there for my daughter, while she needs me. For the rest, I have ambitions and dreams enough, but when I think of my friend’s death, I feel like none of those really matter. Of course, I wish to write and direct films, to achieve professional success doing something I love, I would like my children’s book to be published and I want to write more, I wish to fall in love again and be loved, I want to dance and sing and see friends and travel… But if I were to leave tomorrow, the great world would go on spinning, other stories would be told, other books would be written, other films directed and other women loved by the men I could potentially fall in love with. Still, no one is replaceable, so when a loved one dies, their family and friends miss them forever. But they, too, go on living. The one person who would be rendered dysfunctional for life by my absence is my daughter. Until she is able to be independent, I am responsible for her health, her well-being, her safety. That is my higher purpose here. The rest is what makes life good, exciting, beautiful, worth living, while I’m here. But it will not matter in the afterlife – if there is such a thing.

And so, once again, my thoughts turn to Sasha and, this time, to his wife. She will have to be strong enough for two now, courageous enough for two, loving enough for two, constant enough for two. I wish her well, and may she never have to suffer such a loss again as long as she lives.

Dear sweet Sasha, may you rest in peace. Počivaj u miru. I shan’t forget you.

(Title: Quote by Beth March in “Little Women” by Louisa May Alcott)