One hot june day in 2006, I saw what slavery really meant. In a rundown mansion in a slum of Bucharest, Romania, a pimp offered to sell me a young woman he described as "a blond." She had bleached hair, hastily applied makeup, and she apparently suffered from Down syndrome. On her right arm were at least 10 angry, fresh slashes where, I can only assume, she had attempted suicide. The pimp claimed that he made 200 euros per night renting her out to local clients. He offered to sell her outright to me in exchange for a used car.
...apărut în Los Angeles Times, în 23 martie 2008.
When I was offered this young woman in trade for a used car at the Romani brothel in Bucharest, I could have done one of a few things: I could've paid to redeem her. I was with a couple of guys and I could've fought physically with the traffickers to get her out. Or I could've gone to the police the next day to tell them, which is what I did.
The response from the police was, "These are the Roma, they have their laws, they have their blood." The Roma are this incredibly oppressed and marginalized community within Romania -- and have been for centuries. That's why, I think, the major human traffickers in Romania over the past several years have been Roma.
...apărut în Salon, 27 martie 2008, interviul cu autorul art. din L.A. Times.
Fuck you, Romania, you should've done more to prevent this.
Cui are chef să-şi refuze partea de vină (ca societate) şi să se ia strict de "Romani" şi "Roma", îi sugerez să se ducă dracului cu rasismul lui în altă parte, fiindcă aici o să-i şterg comentariul imediat.