It has been two days since the first "successful" Pride Parade in Belgrade and I am finally able to sit down and write about what has happened. Belgrade is still somewhat demolished, but this is nothing we are not used to. The anger in me has faded for now although, so far, my emotions have been rather difficult.
The citizen in me has been afraid. Not only afraid to walk out of the house but, more importantly, afraid that, one day, my right to walk the city and make a statement will offend someone and cause similar onset. The child in me has been looking for someone to blame. The traveler in me has been humiliated. The liberal in me f-ing pissed at the right-wing hooligans who were so set on hate that they put the entire city at risk and fought with the police all day long. Belgrade resembled a war zone with fronts set at the approaches to the pride's meeting point. Today however, the sociologist in me awoke. Perhaps more than anything, I now feel sorry for these tough, yet very confused guys. I cannot fully understand them, but I can try.
Who are these young people? Why are they angry and who precisely do they hate so much? Most of them seemed like they were in their mid-teens. They looked just like the boys who burn the city every time change knocks on the door. They are 15-year-olds cloned in sweats and hoodies, with scarfs covering their faces and Nike airmax shoes fancying up their outfits (westernizing them, almost).
Yes, they are homophobes. But this does not surprise me as much because so many factors in Serbia expedite homophobia: isolation and lack of exposure to diversity of any sort; economic insecurity questioning our fathers' masculinity and developing macho egos; the Serbian Orthodox Church; the right wing movement; years of conflict with the US and the EU generating resistance to anything that seems to be coming from the west; general loss of a sense for love as companionship - the vast decline in happy marriages is resulting in the idea of love gaining a practical "get married and have kids" meaning; and we could go on and on.
However, I do not feel sorry for the kids who spent the beautiful sunny Sunday morning and afternoon wrecking Belgrade merely because they are homophobic, although I do believe that they would be much happier individuals if they spent less time on hate. I feel sorry for them because they are hopeless.
Someone risking to get arrested or seriously injured, exposing himself to scrutiny and judgement by national and international media, in order to make a statement of hate (while by doing so gaining no rights or benefits) has clearly been demoralized, to say the least. This is someone who has little or nothing to loose. He is insecure and lost. He explains himself with "I don't want my son to be gay!", a statement that gives him a problem to solve and an excuse to let out the beast in him - "Hide them, scare them, kill them all!" The poor fellow really is convinced that exposure makes children gay. He yells out to the cops a clever parole thought up by his politically motivated, rather intelligent leaders: "You're defending Kosovo diplomatically but protecting the gays with force!" All of a sudden he is an informed activist. He has a purpose. He has something to hope for. These are all things he cannot get elsewhere. On his way home, he will break a couple of shop windows and steal an additional pair of Nike's. This heroic day provided the unaffordable 200 euro pair of shoes he has been eying for weeks! Aha, happiness, for several minutes at least...
Maybe I am utterly foolish, but I feel sad for him. And I am awakened and heartbroken to know that there are thousands of boys like him in Serbia today. I am clueless as to what the next step is. What do we do with them? They need help. But can we find it in our hearts to see them as the victim after all? Extremely challenging, but direly needed.
