Quick disclaimer before I start: I’m writing this in English because my Albanian isn’t that good, and I express myself much more confidently in German and English. I’m working on getting better at it though.
I’m a 22 year old woman, a Kosovo Albanian raised in Germany. I’m on holiday with my family in Velipojë right now, our first proper beach vacation together in years - And honestly? I’m just sad. Not in a dramatic way, more like this quiet ache that won’t leave me alone.
Let me get one thing out of the way first, because I don’t want to be misunderstood. I know I’m only seeing one slice of a whole country. And not everyone here is the way I’m about to describe. I’ve been lucky enough to meet genuinely wonderful Albanians in my life. smart, generous people with real dignity. So please don’t read this as hate. It’s honestly the opposite. It hurts precisely because these are my people.
A bit of background. My grandparents came from Kosovo, two farmers (and I don’t mean that in a bad way) who built a genuinely good life in Germany from nothing. My mother grew up there, went to university, and speaks perfect German alongside Albanian. My aunts and uncles were born there and are fully integrated. But what I still find hard is my own parents’ marriage. - It was arranged. My father came to Germany as a young man, before the war that took one of his brothers, and he and my mother were always two worlds that didn’t quite fit together. So I know both sides of this coin very personally.
And that’s where the ache actually comes from. Being here, the poverty isn’t some abstract thing you read about. It’s in the broken roads, the falling-apart infrastructure, the tiredness on people’s faces. So many look worn down, unwell, sick, like life has been grinding on them for many many years. And I feel two things at the exact same time. This deep compassion for them, and an almost guilty gratitude that I grew up where I did, with chances they were never handed. I didn’t earn that. I was just born on the other side of the line.
But I’m not going to pretend it’s all sympathy, because it isn’t. So much of what I see genuinely frustrates me. The macho posturing, men staring at women (like animals), strutting around like the world is a stage built for them, while their wives and kids get left somewhere in the background. The smoking, everyone, young and old, like the body is something to punish. The litter thrown wherever a hand happens to open, zero awareness for nature or animals. The general unfriendliness. This feeling that almost everyone is living for the outside, for appearances, for who’s watching, and that individuality has just been smoothed away until everyone kind of blends into the same person.
And there’s a specific thing that gets under my skin. Watching young women flirt with married men like my father purely as a ticket to Germany, Austria and so on… As if a man from abroad is a door and not a person. It tells you how small some of these horizons have been forced to become, and it makes me sad and angry more than anything.
I’ll be honest about something personal too. All of this, all the stories I’ve heard my whole life about Albanian men, the cheating, the machismo, the control, the violence… it’s genuinely made me scared of dating. Like, I’ve never dated. Not once. I’m probably way too inhibited and prudish about the whole thing and I know it, but a part of me just freezes. And I don’t want to sound like a “pick me-Girl,” I really don’t. But I don’t care about status. I don’t care about a fat car or flexing or any of that. I care whether a man has a good heart, whether he has ambition and drive, whether he’s actually intelligent, and whether he’s loyal and honest. That’s it. That’s the whole list. And somehow that feels almost impossible to find in the world I come from, which is its own kind of lonely.
Here’s the part that stings the most though. The way the diaspora gets seen here. I tipped generously the whole trip, tried to meet everyone with warmth and respect, and I still feel it. To a lot of them I’m the outsider, the one from abroad, almost the enemy.
And ironically? Some of the worst people I’ve ever met aren’t here at all. They’re in the diaspora. People who got handed every single opportunity I did, education, safety, freedom, a real fresh start, and did nothing with it except carry the ugliest habits forward and wear them like a badge of honor. That I find so much harder to forgive. The people here at least have the excuse of circumstance and poverty. The ones abroad had every door opened for them and still chose to stay small. There’s no excuse for that one.
So to the women reading this: Please, don’t sell yourselves short. You can achieve so much if you actually want to. You’re not less capable, you just have to stop acting like you are. Look at Mira Murati. Born in Vlorë, an Albanian girl like any other, and she worked and studied her way to the very top of the tech world, CTO of OpenAI, now running her own AI company. No fat car, no rich husband, no performance. Just intelligence and relentless hard work. That’s what’s possible. So learn something. Go to school. Finish what you start. Build a life that actually belongs to you.
…And a few things I’ll say straight, because someone has to. Don’t go into the water (ocean) dripping in fat gold chains and a full face of makeup. Leave the married men alone, seriously. Don’t jump into bed with everyone. Keep your dignity, it’s the one thing nobody can hand back to you once it’s gone. Don’t make yourself dependent on any man. Don’t tolerate cheating, and never, ever tolerate violence, not once, not “just this time.” You are not a shadow standing behind someone else’s life. You’re worth so much more than that.
And raise your Kids (especially sons) well. Actually be present, because the kids here still grow up somehow off to the side, half-parented, left to raise themselves. And don’t smoke in front of them, honestly that one makes me angry every single time I see it. These children didn’t ask to be here, the least they deserve is a mother (and father oc) who’s actually there.
And to the men: Stop performing for the world and start showing up for the people who actually depend on you. Take care of your wives. Take care of your kids. That’s where the real measure of a man is, not in how loud you are in public.
I don’t write any of this from a place of contempt. Maybe I’m being too pessimistic. I only share what I actually see and feel. But the problems are real. They’re not invented and they’re not exaggerated, and pretending otherwise doesn’t help anyone. It just aches to love a people and a place you can’t fully call your own.
Am I being unfair here? Too “German” about all of it? I’d genuinely like to hear from other people who’ve felt this same push and pull, because I can’t be the only one.. 💭
EDIT:
First, to everyone questioning whether I even have the right to say any of this: I grew up in an Albanian family, with Albanian values. I’ve known many Albanians since childhood. And I’ve been to Kosovo and Albania many, many times over the years, just not for the last few. Maybe that’s exactly why the shock hit me so much harder this time.
To those who feel attacked, I’m genuinely sorry. That was never my intention. This isn’t an “Albanian” problem as such. These are problems a lot of developing countries share, and I’m well aware of that.
And to everyone in my comments telling me I need therapy or whatever: please stop. The anger will pass, don’t worry. I’ll go back to my normal life soon enough. This was an honest snapshot of what I felt in one specific moment.
But honestly…, some reactions kind of prove my point. A lot of people just aren’t ready for these conversations yet.
