Each time I came to, I cried uncontrollably, begging for the man to kill me. “No,” he said, “I won’t kill you. You will suffer more this way.” When the horror ended, the officer returned me home.
Trigger Warning: The following story contains a graphic description of sexual abuse, rape during war, and violence. It may not be suitable for some readers.
STANOCI I ULET, Kosovo ꟷ At 16 years old, in the late 1990s, the Kosovo War erupted. Living with my family in the small village of Stanoci I Ulet in Vushtrri, I enjoyed a good childhood, but the war left with me scars. It all began when a Serbian police officer broke into our home to question my mother and I about my father and brother, who were in Germany.
Accusing my mother of lying, the officer said he needed to take me to the police station for my statement. My mother pleaded, “Leave her and take me instead,” but he refused. Rather than take me to the station, this officer took me to the village of Babimoc where he and another man raped me. For 17 years, I remained silent while my abusers roamed free. Then, the #MeToo movement empowered me to step forward and speak.
The village of Babimoc in Kosovo consisted mostly of Serbians at that time. After pulling me out of my home, when the officer arrived in Babimoc, he took me to an empty house just off the main road. I saw a stack of dried corn piled up against the house. When he threw me on top of it, I began to scream at the top of my lungs.
The officer then moved to his car and hissed, “You will pay for what your father and brother have done.” The officer began to rape me. A few hours later, another Serbian man arrived and joined the assault. I remember every moment. He held me at gunpoint, abusing and raping me repeatedly. As the shock and exhaustion set in, I lost consciousness.
Each time I came to, I cried uncontrollably, begging for the man to kill me. “No,” he said, “I won’t kill you. You will suffer more this way.” When the horror ended, the officer returned me home. I said nothing about what happened in Babimoc, but seeing my condition, my friends and family knew. It took me days before I reported the crime to the Kosovo Liberation Army.
After 13 years, my case finally saw its first indictment by the Basic Prosecution in Prishtina. Two men – both Kosovo Serbians – stood accused of war crimes against civilians, including my rape. For seven days, the trail moved forward, seeing more than 10 witnesses. Despite this, the court acquitted both men due to a legal violation during the investigation regarding how the men were identified. In short, the photos used to confirm the perpetrators identities became inadmissible.
[According to the The Kvinna till Kvinna Foundation], some 20,000 people fell victim to sex crimes during the Kosovo War and only a few perpetrators have been convicted. Of those men who received 10 to 12-year sentences in 2014, on appeal the Kosovo Supreme Court annulled the verdict and acquitted both men.
Further, as someone who endured this crime, I say, “Justice delayed is justice denied.” Too many women remain silent and lack justice. A close friend of mine who endured rape during the war never even told her husband and children. When she gave birth to her son on the very anniversary of my rape, they opted to change his birthdate. This boy now says, “I changed my birthdate because it is the day my mother’s friend was raped.” My heart breaks for the day he discovers his mother also endured that horror.
I felt very disappointed in my government for letting the perpetrators who raped me roam free. After moving to Texas in the United States I finally spoke publicly for the first time, concealing my identity on television. Someone needed to speak first to change the course of history, so I took on the task. I continue to fight for justice and remain hopeful, one day, other women who fell victim to abuse during the Kosovo War get justice.
My mission remains clear: to advocate for survivors in Kosovo and around the globe, and to demand action for the crimes that took place during war. I feel ready to do anything it takes to achieve that end – for myself and for the women around me.
As an activist, I tell my story, and spread the word about what happened in the Kosovo War. Yet, I need to do more; to find some source of power. To that end, I ran for a seat in the Kosovo Parliament. I want more women to enter government service to reduce crimes against us, expedite legal proceedings, and grow empathy for victims. In the elections, I garnered 61,885 votes, putting me in the top 10 of all candidates. It marks a beginning.
Happiness will come when I see these criminals behind bars. I do not forgive the lawmakers. For 25 years, they furthered our pain, and they must change. In addition to being a victim in the war, I lost my home and my country. Gaining a seat in the Kosovo Parliament brought me home, and these four years as an elected official will be precious.
I envision my fight for justice; of putting perpetrators behind bars and spurring change for wartime rape survivors. It remains my hope to force Serbia to turn its back on its criminals and for survivors to get compensation beyond a simple pension. Many cannot afford to go to the doctor, and they need lifetime medical coverage.
Difficulty always arises when bringing change and breaking stigma. The fight is and will be long, but I refuse to tire. Society has not accepted the truth about wartime rape. I see the stories out of Israel – women abducted and held hostage – and I refuse to believe these women did not endure sexual trauma. Rape is how men torture us into destroying our dignity. When the issue comes up in discussion and debate, people quickly bury the topic. I understand recent victims cannot speak this soon. It takes a great deal of time behind closed doors to recover, let alone share.
To this day, I have nightmares about the night I was raped as a teenager, and I shudder at the memory. The nightmares cause me to cry and scream. I find comfort and strength from my husband and children, yet I still wish April 14 never happened. It remains the most painful day of my entire existence.
Each day, I gather myself and repeat, “You are a strong woman. You are a survivor.” Since sharing my story, a flood of survivors reached out. Some time ago, with great courage, I wrote an open letter to my perpetrators, sharing it on Facebook. The overwhelming response from women all over the world who survived sex crimes generated a network of solidarity and support.
For some of the victims in Kosovo, I am the only person they ever told what happened to them. It takes an emotional toll to carry not only my pain, but others’ as well. I wish their families supported and gave them space to speak. On the other side, I have received serious threats for speaking the names of my perpetrators and supporting survivors.
When the threats come, I refuse to see them as intimidation against me personally. They are attacks against all the girls standing up: girls pleading for the help of the legal system. The attackers want to silence women’s voices, so they stop speaking about the Kosovo War.
This only emboldens me. After 25 years of war and the fight for justice, if I get one person behind bars, I will celebrate with all the victims of sexual assault during war. I cannot die without some form of justice. My soul demands it.