being part of a fragmented diaspora really does ache sometimes. most of the time, really. I take so much pride in being rromani, I hold everything that I have so close to my heart, but it also just feels so overwhelmingly lonely. I'm the only living practitioner left in my family, my nan and her craft died years ago now and all I have left are scraps. I feel like I'll never have more than I know now, because I don't have anyone to learn from or to guide me. all I can do is build on it myself, but that doesn't fill the hole. that doesn't nurture my desperate want for connection.
the rest of my family don't practice, no longer even live in the same country as me. I get why, I know the connotations of being rromani and associated with witchcraft, I know why they ignore being rromani at all. I'm just forever pining for a community, but one that's distinctly rom.
I want to rokker the jib kushti, feel connected to mandis folki and follow the drom. all I do is pine lately 🛌🏼
