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Storytelling For Social Justice, Dialogue and Inclusion Book
Storytelling For Social Justice, Dialogue and Inclusion Book
INTRODUCTION
"Storytelling for Social Justice, Dialogue and Inclusion" is an Erasmus+ youth exchange
project which took place in the village of Drugan, Radomir municipality, Bulgaria
between 5-14.08.2021. It included 22 participants (16-30 years old) residing in Bulgaria,
Serbia, Hungary and Italy among whom were natives from Pakistan, India, the
Philippines, Mongolia, USA and Tunisia.
Every project brings together a unique group of individuals with different lived
experiences and insights which provide opportunities and challenges to discuss and
address different social issues that impact a wide range of people. The range of
personal perspectives we had in the group enriched our ability to address important
social issues such as race, class, gender, ethnicity, economic status, ability and
disability. Through these conversations participants were able to reflect on how their
individual positionality might be affected by their perspectives and how through
engaging with others they could transform their worldview.
Our project aimed to raise awareness about the importance of storytelling, as well as
to develop the skills of young people to critically analyze stories and utilize
storytelling for social transformation. Every day participants engaged in discussions
and interactive activities to explore various approaches to social justice and dialogue,
as well as deepen their understanding how pursue social change through storytelling.
They created poems and writing pieces daily to enhance their skills, and gain
experience with different approaches to storytelling.
In this digital book you can read selected works developed during the youth exchange.
We hope that by doing so you will be inspired to reflect on your own stories, and
consider how you can use your voice - or your pen! - to be part of the change you
want to see in the world.
International partners:
Colony of Creators, Portugal
Alternativni centar za devojke, Serbia
Youth in One Association, Hungary
CONTENTS
PART I: STORIES OF SELF
OVERWEIGHT, IVAN GEORGIEV PAGE 05
LIFE AS A CLOUD, IVANA POJARSKA PAGE 06
PANIC ATTACK, SELIN ALI PAGE 07
GUILT, TAMARA PAVLOVIČ PAGE 08
FEAR, ZAIN ZAMIR PAGE 09
ROOTS OF TRAUMA, MILICA LAZAREVIČ PAGE 10
ALIVE OR ASLEEP?, FRANCISCO SILVA PAGE 11
QARANTINE, NIKOLA KUSHEV PAGE 12
DYSLEXIA, RUTURAJ PATEL PAGE 13
HIDDEN ACCIDENT, ALYSSA MISOLAS PAGE 14 - 15
MY UNCLE, NIKOLA KUSHEV PAGE 16
MOM, AMINAA LKHAGVASUREN PAGE 17
OTHERS, CARLA TEIXEIRA PAGE 18
US, MILICA STOJKOVIC PAGE 19
CHILLI PEPPER, ALI SHAIR PAGE 20
BUTTERFLY, MILICA LAZAREVIČ PAGE 21
TWO TAKA, SHUKOOR PAGE 22
CLIMBING THE SUCCESS LADDER, ZAIN ZAMIR PAGE 23
A BELIEF, SHUKOOR PAGE 24
THINGS CAN GET BETTER, IVAN GEORGIEV PAGE 25
LIFE IS PRECIOUS, ALI SHAIR PAGE 26
HUMAN CONNECTION, CARLA TEIXEIRA PAGE 27
DRUGAN CAMPFIRE, SHUKOOR PAGE 28
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 03
CONTENTS
PART II: STORIES FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE
Part I
STORIES OF
THE SELF
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 05
So I was having a walk among nothing, literally, there were just the rocks to mitigate the
sense of an absolutely inane scenery. In my hands I was holding a copy of "Brave New
World" by Huxley and in fact reading it. I suppose I was in desperate need of isolation due
to my oldest brother's latest arrival who challenged my comfort zone by introducing me to
his wife. The icing of the cake, which I didn't necessarily feel at that exact moment, was
the torment caused by the sun, which again was only considered as suffering after
conscious realization of its existence.
But back to the story. Do you remember Linda? Linda the savage, the ugly and disgusting
creature who became the mother of a child in this brave new world. Being a mother is
unethical, being fat and ugly - unseen, being sick - completely unacceptable. So this
unique woman, who denied her uniqueness and preferred death over it, disrupted the
equilibrium which made her a target for all equals. "Too much equality is the reason for
inequality. It makes flaws stand out too much", I thought to myself and continued reading,
but my mind was already searching for new pathways. My thoughts were bouncing to and
from the book, I couldn't concentrate and I finally came to the conclusion that it's better
to walk without reading for a moment.
A beautiful human being was levitating in the air. Its hair was long and curly, its eyes
shining, its skin flawless. At once the individual hairs on its head started falling down, one
by one, like golden strings ripped from a violin. It became bold and then its eyes fell out as
well. Its skin was then peeled by a magic force, just like a banana peel. With nothing to
keep hold of it, the blood was lifted and separated in tiny drops in the air which
disappeared immediately after. The bones fell apart and suddenly there was nothing but a
cloud perceived by the Pure Reason.
This cloud of vapor, its purpose as if to disprove the mercilessness of the drought, started
flying in many directions, emitting light in a specific frequency. The number of vapor
clouds began increasing until there was no blank space to be seen. Millions of them were
moving chaotically, bouncing off one another and giving off different spectrums of light.
Some of them would unite after these unintentional crashes, and would then develop into
beautiful and voluminous clouds that were brighter and more perfect than the previous
ones. They grew larger and prettier until one could not differentiate between the separate
clouds. Their union emitted immaculacy.
I found myself laying on the ground contemplating the restrictions caused by human
nature. I wished I was a cloud with no limits.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 07
I am guilty
It hurts my heart
I am guilty
I told a lie
I am guilty
I hurt someone
I am guilty
I opened my heart
Guilt inside me
Starts to spread
There is just fear
Of making another mistake
I am guilty
For feeling alive
I am guilty
For saying this out loud
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 09
But you see that smile was not an expression of my genuine feelings. That
child was alone facing fear, confusion, sadness and a person that child was
attached to, dependent on, her primary caretaker was consumed with the
very same emotions and was not present for attachment.
I smiled at my mom, but my real feelings were fear, confusion and sadness.
I didn’t want to add more stress to my caretaker, so I tried to make her feel
better so she could be present for attachment.
Quarantine was honestly quite a weird time. You can't really go through it without
being fundamentally changed, for better or worse. Well for me it was a mix of the
two, although to be frank the negatives definitely outweigh the positives, by a long
shot.
At the start of March schools were closed because of the ongoing flu epidemic - for
me it was basically a holiday. Then when the day schools were supposed to open
came closer I got that really awful feeling. Not exactly anxiety, but the thought of
going to school after spending the past two weeks sleeping and playing video
games was dreadful.
Well I was quite fortunate. We never went to school again that year. We moved to
online classes for the remaining months. And so the cycle of playing video games
and sleeping continued mostly undisturbed. I managed to ignore most of the
classes with the aim of doing something more entertaining. I didn't skip all of them
but I only focused on the ones I considered important - English, math and
chemistry.
I can't say that anything good has come after that. It can be clearly seen from the
condition my room is constantly in. I became incredibly disorganized and I am still
struggling to overcome that.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 13
He can not follow multiple instructions and has poor motor skills. Being different from
other normally growing children, he is always thought to be dumb and lazy. His teachers,
classmates, neighbors and even his own family do not realize what he is going through.
Until Ram Shankar Nikumbh, a substitute art teacher comes to school and is able to
recognize his special needs. other teachers think that he has to be dealt in special
education program, not to be placed in the mainstream. But, Ram insists that even a special
child has the right to formal and quality education. Ram believes that every child has his
own capabilities, desires and pace of learning.
Ram helps him to learn to manage the deficiencies brought about by being dyslexic. He
unveils the potential of the boy by employing educational psychology. Appropriate measures
like constant practice, drills and problem solving are given to him.
There should be social consciousness on individual differences. Society plays a vital role in
a child’s development. Thus, it has to be sensitive and responsive especially for those who
have special needs. Criticisms should be discouraged for the child to overcome his
difficulties.
This child, now grown up, is standing in front of you. Psychological knowledge is an
indispensable tool in teaching. Every learner has its own pace of learning with different
weaknesses. So, the teacher has to be creative in employing different teaching strategies to
be able to cater to the needs of every learner.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 14
We get to the dive spot 60 miles from the coast and the captain gives me the
thumbs up that I’m ready to descend. I put my weight belt on then my jacket
(buoyancy compensator) with the air-tank attached on; tightening each strap
to ensure it’s streamlined against my body. I then walk to the side of the
boat, put my mask on my head and carefully put each fin onto each foot.
Deep exhale. You’re fine. You’ve done this multiple times before. You can do
this by yourself. You earned that certificate to dive alone. You’re fine.
With the regulator in my mouth and my hand on my weight belt, I roll back
into the water. With full confidence, I descend down. Down. Deeper into the
water. I look onto my wrist computer it says I'm down 5 meters.
8 meters.
10 meters.
15 meters deep.
Hold on. Why can’t I breathe?
I look at the pressure gauge of my tank and the needle is fluctuating. Okay,
you’re fine. You just need to turn the valve to the air tank so you can breathe. I
raise my arm and reach for the tank valve. Where is it? I can't reach it. It’s
placed too low. With my chest tightening, eyes going blurry, I felt like I was
about to faint.
The easiest option was to ascend back up the ocean surface to breathe then
turn the valve. But what is that noise? I look up and see other boats and jet-
skis operating at fast speeds. Alright. You can’t go up, you’ll get beheaded. No
choice. Remove your jacket and turn that valve.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 15
Finally, after this struggle, my equipment is off and held within my hands. It’s
the only thing anchoring me down. You don’t have much time left. You’re
starting to lose consciousness. Your muscles are feeling weaker and you’ve
already swallowed some water while fighting with your own equipment. Hurry
up. With my legs floating up in the air, I blindly feel around for the valve
holding it tight then I feel around for the hose of my regulator and place it in
my mouth. I slowly turn the valve on while pressing the button of the
regulator. You can’t have your tank crack underwater. Slowly releasing the
valve, I inhale the sweetest air I’ve ever tasted. Few breaths in, my panic
subsides. I then put my jacket back on with just the familiarity of the feel of
my equipment. Finally, It's on me. You’re not dead. You’re fine.
Combing through the ocean floor after a few minutes I find my mask and put
it on and release the water in it with my breath as I was trained. You’re fine.
Just check your equipment before diving in and never go diving alone again.
No matter how dire and helpless you are in a situation, being calm will keep
your head steady and decisive enough to help you go through it.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 16
My uncle had always been a positive influence in my life. From a child, seeing him
and hearing his jokes always put a smile on my face. He was caring and responsible.
Two qualities in which I still strive to reach his level.
But he was not without his problems. It was common knowledge that he was
addicted to alcohol. That isn't to say he was a bad person. I can't force myself to
imagine him doing anything whatsoever to hurt me or anybody else, whether
verbally or physically.
He would get drunk every single night. The local hospital was where he spent a lot
of his time. He would spend one or two weeks there, without drinking. He seemed
so happy and energetic every time he did that. It gave me hope that one day he
would get over his addiction.
That day never came. It happened slowly. His condition worsened over time, to the
point where he had to constantly consume painkillers. Even then his pains were
unimaginable.
He passed away on the 9th of September 2019. I was shocked to say the least. When
I was told the news I couldn't even cry. I stared at the wall for hours, thinking
about doing things I don't want to talk about. I knew for a long time he was going
to die but it was still shocking. Nothing can prepare you for this, no matter how
much in advance you know about it.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 17
MOM!
I am sorry
I am sorry that I can’t do anything
except sorry
Even though I was never asked to
be born in this place
I am immensely grateful that you
are my mother
Mother!
What a blessing to have a person to
call a Mother!
Mother!
I miss you
My every piece is missing you
My heart is aching
I am sorry
I am sorry that I have never been
there when you are tired, broken,
hurt and crying
But you are
I am sorry mom
My heart belongs to you
Your daughter,
I have always been told what I could or couldn't do. Be a good girl. Do not piss off
others. I need others to love me. So, I shouldn't argue, raise my voice against them. I
need to be a pretty girl. Do what they tell me. Don't doubt it. Others know best. And so
I trusted them, I became what they wanted me to be.
No matter how uncomfortable I feel, I keep silent. Don't bother them. Even if you see
something that shouldn't happen. My opinion, my feelings don't matter. Better hurt
myself than break their pride.
All I need is to look pretty, perfect. Smile. Can't cry in public. Crying people are
annoying. Smile, no matter how you feel. You have to smile.
If they need something from you, say yes. If they disrespect you, don't tell them. Keep
It to yourself. They'll probably make fun of you. They won't like you. But I don't like
them. I don't like their attitudes. Why do I need to please them? Cause they're the cool
kids? It's good for my image if I just, please them.
What about me? I respect others, but why should I not respect myself just to not
bother others. Why do I have to sacrifice myself? Why is my appearance so important
to the others? I'm a free soul, I don't want to imprison myself due to the others. I want
others to know who I am, not by who they wanted me to be. I want to say what I feel.
Love me or hate me. I am going to be me. I choose me. I won't hurt you, but you have
to let me be me. Let me be free.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 19
Portuguese is hard
Obrigada's fine
I want you to teach me
But stay in the line
I feel so inspired
But in a real need of a quiet
Time and space
My soul asks for an embrace
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 22
SHUKOOR, PAKISTAN
TWO TAKA
Minted in the year 1972 to date, the two-taka coin of Bangladesh sends out a
very simple but a powerful message. That a country cannot prosper unless the
girls and the boys are educated hand-in-hand. This subtle strategy was
boosted and used to promote co-education. Now Bangladesh boasts an
incredible figure of national growth.
There is a stock story in South India that boys should be engineers and girls
should be doctors. The career of a kid is predetermined upon birth depending
on its the gender. Same was the case with Zara who was waiting for the result
of her senior high school grades. As anticipated, she got a perfect score in
mathematics. Her happiness was soon followed by fear; fear of confronting
her parents. How on earth would she convince them to let her pursue
engineering? Who would take care of her younger siblings if she went to live
in another town? What would the neighbors and relatives say?
Zara succumbed to these questions and went with medicine anyways. She is a
doctor now and an independent woman. Is she happy though? She has
appeased her parents and taken care of their insecurities but at what cost?
When she saw similar behavior of her parents towards her younger sister
Asma, it enraged her. Would Zara let her sister Asma go through the same
pain she went through? Would she let her sister kill a part of herself to keep
up the social norms just the way she had? It was time for Zara to guard her
sister’s interest; to talk sense into her parents that the interest of their
daughter stands above all social norms; to break the status quo of the society.
And so she did.
Sometimes it’s hard to make a change when you feel powerless. Sometimes it’s
important to make sacrifices. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. Zara
compromised her career because she had to; she was powerless. But climbing
the success ladder, she was able to change the fate of her siblings. Siblings
who will now become what they want to become. Because this is how they will
put the best of themselves to work. Because this is how nations are made.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 40
I, Muhammad Zain Zamir, was born on 14th of December 1998 in Islamabad, Pakistan as
a mute child. I wasn't able to speak a word for 5 years. I used the expression of hands
to deliver messages to my family. My family talked to me in my native language
(punjabi).
I got admission in a public school at age 5 but without any knowledge of a language.
English was the medium of conversation in my school but I was unaware of even a
single word. So, I just tried to stay alone, away from people as I couldn't communicate
with any of them. For the same reason I was very bad in academics as well.
One day, my teacher was handing back some tests. She called me on the stage and
slapped me in front of the whole class because I had left the test blank. In that moment
I felt embarrassed, I felt hopeless but I realized I had to regain my self respect. I had
to focus on my education. I had to decide on a career.
My family helped me a lot and I tried to learn as much and as quickly as I can. So, I
succeeded and by the final term I was at the top of my class. Now, whenever I think of
that incident, I only have respect for my teacher as that one slap changed my whole
life.
After high school I got a scholarship in Hungary and this was my first foreign
experience. I met new people there from different countries, with different cultures
and they broadened my mind, my thoughts. Living alone in a foreign country made me
patient and independent.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 24
SHUKOOR, PAKISTAN
A BELIEF
Up until the age of 7 I had a hard time in life, to say the least. I won’t
go into many details, but for me those times were hellish. My parents
were constantly arguing for many reasons, the most important one
being my father’s alcohol abuse.
He used to get drunk every single night, which would often result in
a loud argument during which a lot of hurtful stuff would be said.
Little me could barely take this. I would cry into my pillow every
night, wondering why my parents were having yet another quarrel.
On rare occasions, it would get physical. Later, it also turned out
that my father had been cheating on my mother, but that didn’t
bother me as much.
When I was seven years old things took a turn for the better. My
parents divorced. At that time, I thought this was the worst that
could happen as my entire life had just undergone a major change.
However, now that I look back on it, that was definitely the correct
decision. My father, having realized his past mistakes, decided to
stop drinking alcohol. Today, both of my parents are joyfully living
their own lives, unlike before. I prefer my family the way it is now to
my family during my childhood. I love seeing my parents happy.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 26
Five years ago I was in high school. My school was 2 km away from my house. There
was a stream of canal which I had to cross every day to go to school.
Once I was going back home after finishing my school lessons. I was super tired. I was
walking beside the canal memorizing some lessons which I had to deliver in the next
day's class. I was in my school uniform with shoes and a heavy bag on my back.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of children at the bank of the canal laughing at a 5-years
old girl who was drowning in the water. After watching all this, earth came out of my
feet and instead of losing my consciousness something pushed me into the canal and I
got this girl out and gave her first Aid.
I could not believe that I saved her life. I was very happy and tears of happiness were
in my eyes. Her parents were very thankful to me. After 3 years when I went from
Hungary to Pakistan her parents came to my home with some flowers full of affection
and love.
I will quote a verse from the Holy Quran: “Speak kindly to mankind “ and
“Life is a divine bestowal on humanity that should be secured and defended by all
means" (Islamic bioethics).
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 27
I had a lot of such connections, but never like the one I had with Grace. Grace is a 20-
years old girl with an enormously kind heart although some people in her path had
mistreated her so badly that she feared for her life. She believes in the best in people.
She holds on to her life, fights to take back all that was taken from her. Bruised, not
beaten.
Grace wants to make an impact in the world. She has a lot to say. Hearing her talking is
incredible. She easily empathizes and does not judge at all. I was the most honest
version of myself with her. That's the best I could ask for! She is someone I have been
looking for in a while and who unexpectedly bumped into me!
I met plenty of people like her - people who light the room as soon as they get in. I
recall all of them, but she's the one that went straight to my heart. No matter how busy
I was, I would always be glad to go for a coffee. We would talk and that would make my
day. I would miss track of time with her. Three hours in her company felt like 10
minutes. I didn't want to go home.
I care so much for her, I would do anything to not let anyone harm her again. But I'm
powerless. There are boundaries I can not cross, things I can not do.
I do see many people waiting for a hero to rescue them. But the ultimate hero is always
inside. At the end of the day, we are alone dealing with our demons. It's an inner
struggle no one can entirely solve for us. All we can do for each other is to show
compassion and empowerment. Give a hand.
I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I could go in and just take everything hurting her out.
But I can't. I did all I could or at least all I could think of. Now I'm just hoping for her
to find her way out. Distantly supporting her. Waiting for her to come back. Looking
forward to our next coffee, our next comforting hug.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 28
SHUKOOR, PAKISTAN
DRUGAN CAMPFIRE
There is something about the atmosphere the campfire creates around us. It’s
the reddish haze of the fire in the dark that attracts and compels people to
gather. It’s the distinct crackle of the burning wood that intrigues people. It’s
the brilliant radiance of the amber that gravitates people. It’s the comforting
warmth of the fire against the chilling night that makes people want to get
closer.
This is a story that gives birth to other incredible stories. And this is a story I
will always cherish and remember.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 29
Part II
STORIES FOR
SOCIAL
JUSTICE
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 30
darling,
my sweet girl
you are as intelligent
as a woman can get
you know I support you
but you can't go against
the laws of nature
women are love
women are care
women are emotion
men - discipline
men - security
men - reason
warrior,
my clever girl
fuck the stock stories
fuck the laws of nature
make new laws
like Curie won
the Nobel prize
twice
you won't get lost
use GPS, bluetooth and Wifi
and say thank you to
Hedy Lamar
breaking news
the second woman to win two
nobel prizes in history
her name is
you
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 31
Fear shall not block your trail. Great job but not quite.
You know your shit, girl. You'd think as a woman you'd be
Just summon the confidence of an used to package yourself better
average male. into a cocktail bite.
Yet practice makes perfect.
It's a room full of a hundred men Right?
and 4 more women, true,
but c'mon, don't screw this too. Four nice guys in rich suits
predict the faith of your social
Forget your self-created cage. enterprise.
Drop the critical lens. Don't forget to thank them,
Pitch your start up. Can't risk to hand a bitter
Yalla, step on the stage. surprise.
Be nice.
An insult often is how a man
compliments.
Surprise?
Take it as a win.
The equality charade has been
revealed from within.
Защото си момиче
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 35
EMILY, PORTUGAL
TELL ME WHAT TO DO
Playing in the little house was one of the most desired activities, back in the
kindergarten. While the garden was an immense imaginary space, where all could
join, the house itself had a physical dimension which limits were not expandable,
and as so, no more than four kids could fit in.
Inside the house, we were never friends – we were family. There was always the
mother. Sometimes, but not always, the father, and then they had their own kids,
which consequently were brother or sister to each other. While the father, when
present, was the person in charge, the mother would take care of the house and
tell her kids in which tasks they were supposed to help.
One day, four of us were playing – 3 girls and one boy. Sara was the mother, and
me, Marta and Ricky were her offspring. A cake was on the make, I had a knife in
my hand, and was cutting the most delicious chocolate I could imagine. Marta was
mixing the flour and the sugar, so fast that we could almost see small white
particles coming from the bowl. Mom was spreading butter throughout the cakepan
and since it would be a two-layer cake, Ricky was beating egg whites to connect
the two of them.
The oven’ s temperature was rising, as was the sound of someone’ s footsteps. Joana
arrived – she came late that day, and now wanted to be part of the family. We
started a healthy discussion about who should be in the house, and who should
leave. The heat escalated, but not because of the oven. There was no physical
violence, but the discussion was getting pretty serious and the teacher felt she
needed to intervene.
I remember what she said, word by word – “there's no place for discussion, Joana
also has the right to play in the house. And well, OBVIOUSLY Ricardo is the one
who’ s leaving, since cooking is a task for girls. Just go play football with the other
boys”. It was better to have learnt that democracy doesn’ t always work than being
taught, from such an early age, that we live in a society where your gender defines
what you can, and can’ t do.
"LOVE IS KIND" ART BOOK PAGE 36
Dear mom,
Thank you for taking me to a shopping mall to buy a dress for grown ups for the first
time. I know that I'm only 14 but I really want to go to the club with my friends. You
know them all. I'm so excited about the upcoming event. Thank you for letting me go
out.
It's 2012 and you know that sleeveless knee-length dresses combined with extremely
high heels are a thing now? I'm in a dressing room, trying to fit in a quite stretchy
dress. I'm struggling a bit since I'm not used to this kind of clothes. Wow, looking at
myself in the mirror in this emerald green dress is so empowering. I'm so elated! You
must see me! I'll come to you in a minute.
Mom, I knew that you were gonna like the dress. Hah, yes, it definitely matches my
eyes, thank you. I'm gonna be the queen of the dance floor. Can't wait to go out!
Time is flying, wow, it's Saturday already. I'm in front of the mirror again, dressed up
perfectly for the occasion. My mind is wandering. Am I going to meet the love of my
life in the club? Am I gonna grab someone's attention? Do I look underdressed? Maybe
I can add some earrings as well that match with the whole outfit. Yeah, that's what I'm
gonna do.
Mom, I'm leaving, bye! Oh, wait, why do you look so disturbed? Sorry but did you just
say that I look like a slut?! Why are you trying to talk me out of going to the club?
Didn't you just love the dress when I put it on in the store? Can we talk about what
you just said? I don't understand why you keep saying these horrendous words to me.
Alright, I'm not going out, just let me lock myself in my room.
Dear mom,
It's 2021 and I'm not angry with you anymore. Now I'm able to grasp your standpoint.
The dress from the dressing room wasn't gonna be the same dress outside our house
that you viewed as a safe place. You had no other means of communicating with me but
to say the words that I'll never forget. I forgave you pretty recently, actually. Now I
know that your soul was screaming: 'I'm worried about you. I don't want you to leave.
Can you please stay with us for just one or two more years? I've been mulling over the
decision I made previously and figured out that I'm not mentally prepared to let you go
yet, honey. But I still love you, no matter what.'
I thought this was going to be the last day of my life. I took a turn at the next street to
avoid them but they didn’t stopped. I was feeling helpless because at that time there was no
one on the road. I stopped. All the boys gathered around me. Someone held my hand. I
pushed him. He started shouting at me. I was begging them to leave me. They touched every
part of my body. I was begging, crying but nothing happened. They took my clothes off. My
body stayed in the factory where they brought me for two days before the police found it.
The media, social media shared my story for a month to try to get me justice . There were
candle marches in every state for me. But did I get justice? People kept saying that girls
shouldn’t wear small clothes to provoke boys and that girls shouldn’t go outside at night.
This gave me a reason to stay alive.
I started my own organization, an emergency help centre for girls. Every year there are
thousands of rape cases happening in India. There are thousands of cases of acid attacks on
women. And still people think that’s women are the ones who have to change. I will get
justice when there will be no cases of rape. When girls and women can live freely in this
country.
Yours, Shabana.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 38
I'm Aurora and these are some sentences I have heard all my life. I have
felt invalidated, embarrassed, powerless. Powerlessness has been a
feeling that has always surrounded my life. For all the times I could not
feel I owned my emotions, my existence, my own form of just being.
What it's in the mind?
Why does it have to be this hard?
Why do I have no space for mistakes? Why do I feel in danger?
I get it, what I'm writing it's probably confusing until now. But that's,
that's how anxiety works. Confusing, messy, overwhelming, intense,
exhausting...
And I come to talk about this struggle, this journey.
And I did. I didn't tell anybody, and I left. I just wanted to go. "Pack a
toothbrush teeth , pack your favorite blouse" like Lumineers say, and I
went "Into the wild" like Mcandless desired.
Ireland, 1998.
Can you recognize the feeling of when you look at a certain landscape,
person, connection, kindness gesture and you get emotional for the
beauty of it.
It is the 5th day of the journey. I just walked alone 20 miles today on a
beautiful mother nature construction and I'm amazed. I look to the left
and there's sea. I look to the right and there's mountains. The path is
simple sand.
I'm here, I'm present, I'm me. That feels like finding the truth. I never
needed to be rescued, I never needed to look anywhere. The peace is
here. The peace is within. The peace will always be within.
For every time you stood up even though you were shaking. For every
time you went forward your limits even your mind was screaming you
can't do this. For every time you felt something too deeply and couldn't
put it in words. For every time you countered your negative patterns,
rooted in traumatic experiences. For every time you got up even
though you were scared and exhausted. That will never be weakness,
that's bravery.
And I'm learning about it.
Well,
What if everything you wanted to be is yourself?
Written in Howth,
Aurora
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 40
No fighting, no war
Enough of keeping the score
Of who has less or who has more
Rule number 2
Is all about you
This guy is working in a restaurant in Hungary as an assistant chief. He does his best to
serve the guests and uses his full energy to prevent any complaint. There are rules at the
restaurant but they don't apply to everyone. The guy is always punished but the Hungarian
employees - never.
Why does it happen to him only? Why do people ask him about the bag on his back
wondering if there is a bomb inside or not? Why do people ask weird questions like "do you
know how to make a bomb"? He is a 22-year old boy from Pakistan who is Brown and he
faces injustice daily as an Asian Muslim guy in Hungary. His response is always that he loves
humanity, that a true Muslim will not hurt anybody, and that he was not involved in 9/11.
Religion has nothing to do with terrorism. But no one understands. Yeah It's a big tragedy.
The solution to Islamophobia could be starting a movement. If you'd like you can also help
by:
This is not only Ali’s story, this is the story of all Muslims and all human beings suffering
from injustice.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 42
On one instance, when she was returning our tests, she was visibly unhappy with
the class' performance. Her way of expressing this frustration was to unload her
anger on the Roma kids. She called one girl, Marinella, a monkey. A boy named
Plamen, she called a failure of a human being because he was a gypsy. They stared
silently at her and seemed shocked. For this, she never apologized. In fact, she
never acknowledged that it happened and to this day her behavior goes
unpunished.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 43
MILENA LOPIČIĆ
WHEN SCIENCE SUCKED
Fifth grade, geography class, eleven year old me carefully writes down the
teacher's words. Topic: demographics. Finally - I thought to myself, we are
talking about people.
There are four main races - white, black, yellow and red - the teacher
dictated.
Europe, Africa, Asia and South America, respectively.
T h e r e a r e a l s o m i x e d r a c e s - s h e c o n t i nu e d - b l a c k a n d w h i t e i s c a l l e d
"melez", and black and yellow is "mulat".
I felt my stomach turn. I couldn't write it down. I looked up at my classmates
in confusion, but everyone's heads were buried in their big, hardcover
notebooks with squares. It's fine - I thought- maybe they don't know what a
"mule" is. An animal bred from a donkey and a horse. My stomach turned
again.
I hesitantly wrote down the teacher's words.
***
c o l l e g e , s ub j e c t : c u l t u r a l a n a l y s i s , 2 2 - y e a r o l d o v e r c a f f e i n a t e d m e , 3 . 1 0 a m ,
reading an essay, rushing to finish my paper and there it was. Scientific
research doesn't fall from the skies. People are the ones who conduct it.
People have unconscious biases. Racism and sexism are embedded in science.
Those opinions are often unquestioned and referred to as the "laws of
nature" or even "common sense".
Early humanity science was extremely racist - and those ideas trickled down
from Academia to the common people - it was systemic. Another stock story
- I think to myself at this very moment - the so called "conservative
opinions" didn't originate from the uneducated, but from the elite itself. My
geography teacher was still teaching us early anthropology, which was
scrapped after world war II. Its "findings" and many other "scientific ones",
fueled and, provided "proof" for the ideology behind Nazi Germany and their
cooperators.
***
Every human being is important and has equal rights. If a scientific paper
says otherwise, it's not science. It's a crime.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 44
At the same moment my teacher was approaching and she caught what my
friend had said. She gave him a death glare and ordered us to go inside the
classroom immediately. Then, instead of teaching us English, she spent
her entire lesson talking about racism, trying to instill into our heads that
everyone is equal.
I still remember her exact question: “Gypsies are just a group of people,
why do you guys use that word as an insult when it means nothing but a
group of people?” At that moment a switch flipped in my head. I really
couldn’t think of a single answer to that question.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 45
EMILY, PORTUGAL
FAST TOYS
I want to tell you about Piggy. Piggy is a 10 cm pink stuffed pig which I have used
in my badminton bag for 7 years now. Does it mean something to me? Not really – I
don’ t particularly like pigs, nor the pink color, and it was not a gift from anyone
special. I found it among my childhood stuff, with a label with that characteristic
letter that you immediately recognize belongs to MacDonald’ s. It was one among
many other fast toys that I got in happy meals or as a souvenir. I have no childhood
memories with Piggy, nor with any of those toys. When I found them, and realized
how meaningless they were to me, I gave away most of them, but some found
eternal hell in the trash. As for Piggy, he probably had the best fate – as he had
been in many competitions and many different countries.
Unfortunately, this is the only part of Piggy’ s life that I know. He was probably
made in another continent, where the labor force is cheaper. Some chemicals were
used to give him color. Hundreds, maybe thousands of litters of water were used to
give him life. And the question I ask you is – for what? So that I, as a kid, had 30
minutes of fun?
I ask you, how many of these toys, that you played with once, do you keep in your
place?
Why do we need so many things?
Why do we like free things so much?
They might seem free, but the price we as a society and the environment pay are
too high, and most of the time unconsidered. Most of these toys are not recyclable,
people will not be interested in having them second hand and they just give you a
few minutes of enjoyment. Is it worth it? Isn’ t it time for us to do things
differently?
Reducing consumption is a must. But also, choosing right is a skill that we should
work on. Demand from corporations. They have the tools to change, but we, as
consumers, need to press them into doing it.
I don’ t want anyone to have a colorless life, without things that give them
enjoyment. But what are these things? 30 minutes of fun with some plastic toy that
will never be picked up again? Our grandchildren should also have the right to have
fun, and I believe it is our duty to make sure they have the means to. What do you
believe in?
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 47
AI doesn't understand
They say it's okay
They say just don't care
Humanity is so confusing
I don't think this is fine
But what do I know
I am just an AI.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 49
EMILY, PORTUGAL
WHAT REMAINS?
We have phones
We have laptops
We have bluetooth,
and wifi, and 5G
Lost connection.
We build factories,
We build walls
We build prisons
and re-educate and brainwash.
Broken bridge.
We arrest
We punish
We envy
And hate, and demonize.
Log out.
We shoot guns,
We rape,
We electrocute.
We shoot cannons,
And rifles and pistols.
Shut down.
"Look at me.
Look at my worn out shabby clothes crying for change.
Look at my hair falling down, full of dandruff, full of lice, needing care and
not receiving it.
Look at my face. Look at the swollen eyes, missing cheeks, chapped lips,
wrinkled forehead. Look at my runny nose. Take a look at my snot. It's black.
It's toxic. It's contagious.
Do you see my skin? It's peeling, it's scaling, and underneath there is metal
and virus. There are fluids and gases and poison and plastic and death. Lots
of death. I am death. Though death doesn't die. Death suffers. By sheltering
former life.
Now look at my hands. Look at my feet. Look at me. Look at me. See me as a
whole. I am demoralizing, diffracting, decaying.
Now take a look at my heart. It's beating lively and vividly. It knows me and
my strength and never gives up. It's strong and mighty and human and
passionate, knowing, understanding, wanting. Wanting to live. To live a life
full of hope and adventure and purpose. Life. I am life. And life never dies. It
fights. It fights for existence, survives and endures and survives. Always
survives. Life. I am life. And life never dies.
And how about you, Mars? How are you feeling?", Earth asked.
"STORYTELLING FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE, DIALOGUE & INCLUSION" PAGE 51
I have some simple rules to help us survive: Let the future be the future.
One, it is okay to cry. Focus on now.
Two, take care of your body and mind. Small steps then we will run.
Three, allow yourself to do nothing. Fuck productivity.
Four, free yourself from the old white guy. Be human, have fun.
Five, people helping you is good, and you
should help, too. Free yourself from the world made by old
Six, there is no socialism without white guys.
socializing. People always tell you:
Seven, the last one, embrace chaos so we Do this, Don't do that.
can survive. Its normal, society does that.
But don't listen to some old white guys.
You ask me: "Why should you cry?"
I will tell you They want to keep us apart.
It will release stress We need to make space for us.
And free your mind. Start small.
Two people working together -
Crying is normal response Its better that one.
To all the chaos that surrounds us.
Embrace crying. We can build new bridges
No fighting emotions. And try to keep us
Safe and sound.
And our bodies
They say stay healthy People helping you is a good thing And you
They say eat that should help, too.
Be fit, not fat. This is sometimes the hardest part.
Ask for help, accept help.
But no more shaming. I understand, easier said than done.
No more discriminating.
Our bodies keep us alive. Survival of the fittest
Size and color doesn't define us. Doesn't suit us right.
Stay healthy for us, So reach out
Not for those motherfucks. And be there to help us survive.
Reading together,
Working together,
Protesting together,
Buildings things together.
Not for me,
Not for you,
Not for them
But for us.
In the end
Embrace the chaos
Imperfections are gonna follow us around,
This is going to be a long ride,
Its gonna be messy sometimes,
But we will help each other survive.
THANK YOU!
"Storytelling for Social Justice, Dialogue and Inclusion" is an Erasmus+ youth
exchange project which took place in the village of Drugan, Radomir municipality,
Bulgaria between 5-14.08.2021. It included 22 participants (16-30 years old) residing in
Bulgaria, Serbia, Hungary and Italy among whom were natives from Pakistan, India,
the Philippines, Mongolia, USA and Tunisia.
Every project brings together a unique group of individuals with different lived
experiences and insights which provide opportunities and challenges to discuss and
address different social issues that impact a wide range of people. The range of
personal perspectives we had in the group enriched our ability to address important
social issues such as race, class, gender, ethnicity, economic status, ability and
disability. Through these conversations participants were able to reflect on how their
individual positionality might be affected by their perspectives and how through
engaging with others they could transform their worldview.
Our project aimed to raise awareness about the importance of storytelling, as well as
to develop the skills of young people to critically analyze stories and utilize
storytelling for social transformation. Every day participants engaged in discussions
and interactive activities to explore various approaches to social justice and dialogue,
as well as deepen their understanding how pursue social change through storytelling.
They created poems and writing pieces daily to enhance their skills, and gain
experience with different approaches to storytelling.
In this digital book you can read selected works developed during the youth
exchange. We hope that by doing so you will be inspired to reflect on your own
stories, and consider how you can use your voice - or your pen! - to be part of the
change you want to see in the world.
International partners:
Colony of Creators, Portugal
Alternativni centar za devojke, Serbia
Youth in One Association, Hungary