#roma

Or a short history of the first collection of dramas by Roma authors When someone asks me what a Gypsy is, I see people in front of me. Men, women, children, elderly people. I never thought of anything else. No images of abject poverty come to mind or stereotypes about Gypsy musicians, not even the […]

My father was a lifeguard at the swimming pool in our small town, and every summer he tanned a darker brown than you ever would have thought possible. Not like most Hungarians, not a flaky, reddish bronze, he was really the color of chocolate. He was proud of his brown skin, he liked to show […]

It’s winter, a winter ten years ago. We’re sitting in the office of the national child protection network, we’re sorting the adoption papers of our child to be. Worn chairs, tired employees, tired paint peeling in flakes on the windowsill. I’ve been watching it for minutes, and the lead-grey sky outside above the rooftops. We […]

The dog is barking because Roma are walking down the street. The dog can tell they’re not familiar. By smell. They’re strangers. More barking, more passing Roma. Roma are walking down the street, the man says as the couple prepares for bed. How do you know? The dog’s barking. The dog’s only doing what’s expected […]

“It’ll be great!” the teacher said, wanting to forget that morning, “it’ll be great.” She had staggered into the kitchen, not quite herself because she hadn’t yet had her first coffee. As usual, she’d been holding her phone in one hand, filling the kettle with the other, and for some reason the phone had slipped […]