Romani women are subjected to racialized, gendered, and class-based violence, exposing them to a particularly toxic blend of minority stress. Judit Ignácz critiques this structural violence and explores how Romani women navigate social systems that were never designed for them to thrive. How is survival nonetheless possible? How can oppression be undone?
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In Europe and beyond, Romani people face deeply-rooted inequalities and injustices. These manifest as segregated schools, racial profiling, exploitation, and systemic obstacles to quality education, healthcare, employment, and housing. For Romani women, these injustices are shaped by the intersection of multiple structural forces such as racism, classism, sexism, patriarchy, and social exclusion – topics that often remain overlooked in mainstream feminist discourses that center the experiences of white, middle-class women and perpetuate colonial views and subsequently sideline racialized as well as working-class perspectives.
Each of these forces is harmful on its own. However, when they intersect, they create a unique burden that has a lasting impact, particularly on mental health and well-being. What could be called minority stress, is not just a theoretical concept. For many Romani women, it is an integral part of their everyday lived reality. Despite this, minority stress has rarely been discussed concerning Romani communities, and even less so through the lens of Romani women’s experiences. As an activist, trainer, and consultant who happens to be a Romani woman, I have felt the weight of these intersecting pressures. In this article, I share reflections from fellow Romani women activists in the hope of raising awareness of our struggles and amplifying our voices.
What is minority stress?
Psychologist Ilan H. Meyer first developed the Minority Stress Theory (MST) to understand the mental health disparities among LGBTQI+ individuals. Since then, this theory has been expanded to apply to other marginalized groups, including racial, ethnic, and religious minorities. Unlike everyday stress, minority stressors come from structural inequalities, racism, sexism, classism, ableism, homophobia, ongoing prejudices, societal stereotypes, and their internalization.
MST identifies external/distal stressors and internal/proximal stressors. External stressors include overt acts of discrimination, threat of violence, harassment, hate crimes, or being denied opportunities based on race, gender, or other stigmatized identities. Internal stressors are more subtle but equally damaging, including internalized racism or sexism, fear of rejection, hiding parts of identities, or maintaining constant hypervigilance. Adding the anticipated stigma, rejection, or violence, as ongoing mental preparation of expecting discrimination, prejudices, and exclusion, also affects daily behavior and emotional well-being.
While we all develop coping mechanisms and strategies, the continuous effort to manage constant pressures can be emotionally and physically exhausting, particularly without adequate support. Social connections and strong communities can be helpful, but in an increasingly individualistic world, accessing, building, and maintaining such support is becoming harder. Constant racism creates chronic anxiety and hypervigilance, while exclusion often results in marginalization, depression, and isolation. The cumulative impact of minority stress leads to sleep disturbances, substance use, burnout, and even suicide. Stigma within both mainstream and Romani communities, coupled with institutional racism in healthcare systems and inaccessible, unaffordable mental health services, leaves Romani people without psychological support.
The weight we invisibly and silently carry
When multiple marginalized identities intersect, as for Romani women, the stressors are often intensified. For Romani women, minority stress shows up through a combination of emotional, psychological, and structural burdens of inequalities and injustices shaped by racism, patriarchy, classism, and sexism in classrooms, workplaces, healthcare, everyday life, and in some cases, within their communities or among so-called allies. Here, I share some anonymous, deeply personal reflections from Romani activists, highlighting the emotional and psychological impact of their lived realities.
“I’ve been followed in stores, assumed to be a thief because of how I look. More than once, shopkeepers have asked to check my bag. Now, even when I know I’ve done nothing wrong, I tense up near security gates. Every time I walk past the security gates, a part of me is alert: what if the alarm goes off? That feeling never leaves.”
“For years, I avoided wearing gold and held back from discussing my background in professional settings, fearing that revealing my identity would lead to judgment or exclusion.”
“When applying for jobs or trying to rent a flat, my name reveals my Romani background, and I rarely receive a callback. It often made me question whether I should hide who I am just to be given a fair chance.”
“I’ve been told I’m ‘too angry’ when I talk about racism, and ‘too sensitive’ when I talk about sexism. When you’re a Romani woman speaking up, there’s no right tone. You’re either too loud, too radical, or too emotional. Expressing feelings is a luxury. Remaining calm while carrying so much pain is overwhelming and unfair.”
“Once a colleague told me, ‘You’re so elegant, I’d never guess you were Romani. You’re not like the others.’ I froze, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. I smiled politely, but inside I was boiling. Afterwards, I looked in the mirror and wondered if I had to keep dressing in a certain way to be taken seriously. These daily microaggressions build up and wear you down.”
“For years, I believed I had to overachieve just to prove I was ‘worthy’ of being in certain rooms. If I failed, I felt it would confirm every negative stereotype about Romani people or that I was not enough. That pressure and carrying the weight of constant representation chips away at your confidence and your sense of belonging.”
“I grew up always alert to how others perceived me, how the neighbors looked at me, if I was followed in shops, whether the teacher would single me out again. That constant vigilance can become your default. It impacts your nervous system. I constantly prepare for rejection even in progressive circles, in academic or activist spaces. A racist remark, a backhanded compliment, or someone questioning the legitimacy of my presence. Sometimes your body and mind do not let you relax.”
“At a doctor’s visit, instead of offering help, he asked if I gave my kids fruit and told me to ‘just give them vitamins.’ He dismissed us, saying, ‘It’s your lifestyle,’ without asking a single question about our needs. I left feeling humiliated. It was another reminder that in a healthcare system shaped by racism and sexism, I have to fight just to be treated with basic respect and dignity. And sometimes, I don’t have the strength to fight.”
“In school, I was discouraged from applying to university. A teacher said, ‘It’s great you’re thinking about further education, but maybe aim for something more realistic.’ I was one of the few Romani girls in my class, and I internalized that message: this world isn’t for you. It took years to unlearn that lie.”
From stress to health
Minority stress develops through structural exclusion and accumulates through the subtle, everyday humiliations that erode dignity, safety, and a sense of belonging.
Security guards might inspect young Romani girls in a store. Police officers might stop Romani men without cause. Romani mothers may be treated with condescension or outright hostility during childbirth because of their social class or financial background. Romani students might face bullying and racial slurs in a classroom. These repeated acts communicate a clear message: you are not trusted, welcomed, or safe. This is what minority stress feels like: persistent accumulation of many moments of harm, layered over time and across every aspect of life, even in so-called ‘progressive spaces.’
Those who personally went through or witnessed police brutality, hate crimes, or physical violence suffer severe mental health consequences, but are rarely offered psychological support to process the trauma. For Romani women facing intersectional discrimination, these compounded harms create a psychological environment marked by hypervigilance and chronic stress.
Yet our emotional labor and experiences are rarely acknowledged through mental health or well-being. Instead, we are told to take care of ourselves: to ‘breathe.’ But how can you breathe when you are suffocating inside a system that was never built for you to thrive? Romani women are expected to bear these with dignity and silence, to be strong, resilient, and adaptable. But what if resilience becomes another word for internalized suffering and shifting responsibilities?
Minority stress is a mirror that reflects the society in which we live. For Romani women, this stress is a chronic response to systemic racism, structural discrimination, patriarchy, and classism. We must stop asking individuals to ‘cope better’ and start dismantling the structures that cause the harm in the first place. Whether you’re reading this from a university, NGO, media platform, policymaking, or donor desk, ask yourself: Are you willing to listen, learn, and share your power and resources for real?
From grassroots organizing and advocacy to education and storytelling, Romani women are active agents of change, reclaiming space, reshaping narratives, and building alliances. Romani feminist thinkers emphasize an intersectional approach, recognizing that gender, race, class, religion, ability, sexual orientation, and other identities do not operate in silos. Romani feminist movements demand justice, access, and mental health awareness in its fullest sense, not just for women, not just for Roma, but for those at the margins of all categories.
Want to get involved?
If you are willing to listen, learn, and genuinely share your power and resources, then here are eleven ideas you can put into practice.
1. Follow and support Romani feminist voices, art, and collectives.
2. Include Romani women in decision-making processes.
3. Talk about mental health, not as a privilege, but as a right.
4. Challenge racism even in ‘progressive’ spaces.
5. Do not reduce Roma to victims or problems.
6. Embed an intersectional approach in every policy, program, and strategy.
7. Listen to Romani women and ask them about their perspectives and needs.
8. Build coalitions across feminist, anti-racist, LGBTQI+, and disability movements and organizations.
9. Develop partnerships instead of tokenism and a top-down approach.
10. Share power, resources, and social capital.
11. Hold people accountable and uphold the human rights of Romani people.