My two sisters and I squirmed on the lounge sofa in anticipation of hours of performances vying for the title of Europe’s finest track. The Eurovision Music Contest was the one evening moreover New Yr’s Eve that our dad and mom allow us to keep up late. Mother repeatedly despatched us to mattress after the 7:15 p.m. Tom & Jerry cartoon, and we grumbled as we climbed the picket stairs to our room, nonetheless aglow from the Mediterranean solar.

However tonight was a uncommon probability to increase our bedtime into darkness. We wore high-rise denims, bottoms rolled up round ankles. On my T-shirt, an enormous imprint of a pink lipstick mark took up a lot of the white house. My twin sported a Huge Chicken T-shirt. It might be years earlier than I’d study the feathery yellow character was a part of a preferred TV present—we didn’t have Sesame Avenue on our three channels.

It was 1989, and a band referred to as Riva represented our nation, Yugoslavia. Riva hailed from a small coastal metropolis a number of hours north of Dubrovnik, our metropolis. Situated in Yugoslavia’s Croatia republic, Dubrovnik has grow to be identified to Individuals because the setting of King’s Touchdown in Recreation of Thrones. For me, it was house—I grew up racing down stone steps to the Adriatic Sea, choosing ripe pomegranates from Mother’s backyard, and watching Dad remodel his fish catch into dinner on his selfmade grill.

Taking part international locations select their Eurovision contestants, who then enter the annual worldwide track competitors, sometimes held in Might. The foundations have modified through the years, however the organizer, the European Broadcasting Union, emphasizes the occasion is strictly cultural and should not contain political statements. Nonetheless, nations have withdrawn or been banned for every part starting from controversial lyrics and monetary difficulties to armed battle. The final two years have seen calls to ban Israel for its destruction in Gaza—I used to be glad to see that greater than 70 former contestants not too long ago signed a letter to this impact. In the meantime, Russia has been banned from taking part for invading Ukraine.

As a child, I didn’t take into consideration any of this. For weeks main as much as Eurovision, my sisters and I imitated lead singer Emilija’s dance strikes, shaking our hips to “Rock Me,” fingers fisted into microphones, scrunchy-clad ponytails bobbing sideways. The tune endlessly rotated on the radio as all of Yugoslavia received behind our chosen performer. We recorded it by sliding a cassette tape in our JVC participant, then urgent the pink “File” button at simply the fitting time.

Switzerland was internet hosting the competition as a result of it had gained the earlier one, due to a 20-year-old singer in a white tutu named Céline Dion, whose efficiency in French catapulted her profession. She was Canadian, however at the same time as a few of at the moment’s contenders embrace nationalism, Eurovision has by no means imposed citizenship necessities on its contestants. Now, Dion opened the night—a Eurovision custom. Sporting a blue leather-based jacket and pants, a glowing corset, and gold hoop earrings that just about touched her shoulder pads, she belted out “The place Does My Coronary heart Beat Now.”

“I like her glittery high,” my twin mentioned.

“And the blue outfit,” I added.

“Cool lipstick,” our older sister chimed in, noticing how the orangish-reddish shade matched her wavy bangs.

I held my breath as Riva stepped on the stage lit by fluorescent lights alternating between pinks, purples, and greens. Emilija, a number of days shy of 21, wore pink gloves, pink lipstick, and a pink high propped by shoulder pads, stretching her skinny body. Her brief brown hair shaped a surfer’s wave that cascaded onto her brow. Huge triangles hung off her ears, and a shiny bow of a necklace adorned her neck. Males in white blazers—in fact, extra shoulder pads—pranced round her whereas pecking moveable keyboards and electrical guitars. “Rock me, child!” my sisters and I screeched alongside, hips cocked, three units of thin legs zigzagging in each route.

When the twenty-two taking part international locations began calling in to report their scores—a nail-biting expertise accompanied by Eurovision’s trademark awkwardness, due to time delays and accents as thick because the shoulder pads on stage—we plopped again on the sofa. I adored Eurovision—staying up late, understanding all my mates have been watching the identical present and cheering for Yugoslavia, the joys of a stay contest being broadcast proper from our lounge TV. Over-the-top outfits, multilingual hosts remodeled by a number of robe modifications, anxious viewers members waving tiny flags—I cherished the entire sequin-heavy, three-hour, glittery, multicultural spectacle that was our continent’s pop music Olympics.

When Riva took the lead, we catapulted from the sofa.

“Idemo, Rivaaaaaaaa! we cheered, fingers cupped over mouths in disbelief. “Idemo, Jugoslavija!”

My Mother is Serbian, Dad is Croatian, my sisters and I have been born in Serbia, and my household lived in Croatia. The 2 republics have been amongst six that made up Yugoslavia. Whether or not it was tennis’s Davis Cup, basketball’s European championships, or Eurovision, we cheered for Yugoslavia. We had Yugoslav passports and thought of ourselves Yugoslavs above all.

It was hours previous our standard bedtime once we gained, scoring 137 factors, 7 forward of Nice Britain. Riva’s members leapt from their seats and hugged, a espresso desk affected by Marlboro packs, porcelain espresso saucers, and glass Coca Cola bottles between them. I crisscrossed the lounge in sprints, all shrieks and high-fives. For the primary time because it joined Eurovision almost 25 years earlier, Yugoslavia completed first. Pleasure oozed out of me, my tween physique swelling with giddiness on the thought that we’d host subsequent 12 months’s contest.

I didn’t know that after that evening, Yugoslavia would solely take part in Eurovision three extra instances—and by the third time, it could be a skeleton, consisting of solely Serbia and Montenegro. Quickly after, Yugoslavia would stop to exist altogether, perishing from maps, passports, and Eurovision. Croatia and Serbia would grow to be separate international locations, like the opposite former republics.

By then, my household would not be dwelling in Croatia or Yugoslavia or Europe. We would go away on the verge of battle and immigrate to Canada, the place I’d hear much more Céline Dion. Within the a long time to come back, my household would maintain scattering, including extra borders and distance between us. Our dad and mom will keep in Canada and journey again to Croatia yearly. My sisters and I’ll divide between Canada and the US. Household reunions will contain flights, immigration strains, worldwide borders.

However with or with out Yugoslavia, the present should go on. This 12 months’s Eurovision simply completed, and identical to the 12 months when Yugoslavia gained, it was in Switzerland. Since its begin in 1956 with solely seven rivals, nations as remote as Australia have competed as a result of they’re members of the European Broadcasting Union. Austria gained this 12 months’s grand remaining, which was mired in controversy once more as Professional-Palestinian protestors interrupted Israel’s efficiency.

It’s been greater than three a long time since Yugoslavia perished—it now seems within the items that used to comprise it as Croatia, Serbia, and the opposite former republics compete towards one another. I cheer for Croatia, however Yugoslavia lives in my dad and mom’ 50-year marriage, in my blended roots, in my immigrant identification. It hides between the strains of my passport pages, the place Serbia is listed for my delivery nation, Croatia for citizenship. It emerges from my throat throughout Eurovision, the Olympics, and the World Cup, after I root for Croatia, and if that’s not an choice, different former Yugoslav republics.

Yugoslavia’s demise is a topic for historians, however I usually take into consideration its failed nationwide premise of unity—one thing a present referred to as Eurovision strives for. Now that I stay in a United States that’s jailing folks based mostly on political beliefs, trampling over elementary human rights, and espousing authoritarianism, I can’t assist however be reminded of Yugoslavia. My household left due to steeping ethno-nationalism and rising political tensions between the 2 teams that made up our background. Now, I watch those self same conflicts overtake my adopted house nation. 

My American mates used to stare with bewilderment after I squealed wide-eyed about all-things-Eurovision, however most understand it now. The pyrotechnic-loving present has grown into a worldwide phenomenon and is the world’s most watched non-sports occasion, behind solely the Olympics and the World Cup. Every spring, as nations announce their Eurovision representatives, I browse YouTube clips from my desk, six hours behind and an ocean away from the place I grew up. Final 12 months, Croatia’s Child Lasagna got here in second with “Rim Tim Tagi Dim,” whipping our little nation right into a frenzy with the best standing because it turned impartial in 1991 and joined Eurovision two years later. The 12 months earlier than, our band trotted out rockets and underwear-clad males who crooned a few mother shopping for a tractor. The New York Instances referred to as it an “insane, extremely theatrical antiwar monitor,” and HuffPost described it as “Monty Python meets ‘Dr. Strangelove.’”

It was bizarre, it was ridiculous, it was so Eurovision. Contestants have stood on stilts, danced on poles and discs, and hatched from an enormous denim egg. They’ve donned feathers and mesh and boas and leather-based and spandex and masks and heels and boots for kilometers. They’ve morphed into astronauts, puppets, pirates, horny Roman troopers, flight attendants, and vampires.

This 12 months, Croatia’s Marko Bošnjak inspired the viewers to have a chew of “Poison Cake” as he carried out his revenge tune in a fluffy black cape. There was smoke and fireplace, inexperienced and purple strobe lights, and back-up dancers flipping their waist-length hair as a result of Eurovision can be Eurovision. Marko didn’t make it previous the semi-final, however he was Croatia’s first overtly homosexual Eurovision performer. I take into account this a feat for a rustic the place Freedom Home discovered “societal discrimination discourages LGBT+ folks from taking part in politics.” I’m glad issues are a minimum of altering on the stage. It’s one of many issues I like about Eurovision—it’s extra queer, extra joyous, and extra open than the sum of its components. Final 12 months’s winner, Nemo, was the primary overtly non-binary particular person to assert Eurovision’s title.

Eurovision is hardly some good utopia, however it embodies beliefs that our particular person international locations might not. Behind these boundary-pushing acts and the crystal-encrusted microphone trophy, I wish to imagine it may be a drive for good, a shred of humanity in an more and more inhumane world. I hope it may be a platform for a future that respects all folks, as a result of I do know folks, borders, and international locations can disappear. Switzerland—this 12 months’s host and Eurovision’s birthplace 69 years in the past—leaned into themes of range and unity; it introduced that its three hosts have been bringing collectively the nation’s values of openness, integration, and group. The slogan “United by Music” was splattered throughout adverts, together with requires a “house the place love and music unite us all.”

As a child, Eurovision was a enjoyable household evening, a uncommon probability to remain up late. At this time, it’s nostalgia, a eager for my motherland earlier than battle splintered it. I now have a daughter a 12 months youthful than that child in Yugoslavia celebrating our first and final Eurovision title. I’ve a graduate diploma in Worldwide Affairs, so I do know higher than to assume something—a lot much less an occasion involving 37 international locations—is politics-free. I do know higher than to imagine that international locations can’t be erased, or {that a} track contest can save a spot like Gaza from day by day destruction. After I streamed Eurovision, I knew I nonetheless lived in a world the place fascism thrives, the place we tear households and international locations aside, the place governments are hell bent on ruining lives whereas erecting new borders. However for a number of hours, I relished the over-the-top costumes and the cultural quirks, the weird fantastic thing about a cross-continental pop contest in a world ablaze. One minute, I used to be cursing on the display screen about leaders who’ve discovered nothing from the previous, together with my damaged nation. The following, I used to be lip synching to “Poison Cake” and cheering for Marko, my tongue rolling the exhausting R in his title, freely giving my house at the same time as I reside 4,000 miles away from it.

Deep down the Eurovision rabbit gap, I regarded up Riva the opposite day, inquisitive about the place the band that introduced us Eurovision glory ended up. Emilija, now in her mid-50s, has lengthy brown hair, works as a solo artist, and runs a music college in Croatia. As a substitute of pink gloves, she confirmed off pink cat-eye glasses. I discovered that across the identical time Yugoslavia cut up, Riva broke up, every particular person member pursuing their very own path. This saddened me, as if studying it was reliving one other ending. As if one band’s survival may have modified something, rendered my nation alive once more.

I scrolled down her Instagram feed, unsure what I used to be looking for. She has about 1,000 followers, often posts a selfie. Half a dozen posts later, I paused on the first one to garner over 100 likes and any feedback. Above a sea of hashtags that included “#eurosong,” younger Emilija regarded by the display screen, head-tilted, brief brown hair and pink lips, their darkened define freely giving a bygone decade. The caption beneath, “Neka dobra vremena…”—the nice outdated days.

I paused and felt a shared longing—for her, a profession spotlight; for me, a craving for a rustic nonetheless intact. Eurovision is a snapshot of my childhood earlier than my household’s cross-Atlantic transfer, earlier than my life turned diasporic, earlier than my motherland evaporated. As I watch the present every spring, I cling on to those befores, and the naivety of an 11-year-old woman who solely noticed international locations coming collectively on a stage aglow with glitter and hope.