Fear of Judgment as a Reflection of Marginalization: The exile existence of Ukrainian people in the Czechia

 Many Ukrainians in Czechia experience social exclusion, prejudice, or passive rejection — even if not openly hostile, there’s often a subtle message: “You’re here, but you’re not one of us.” When someone lives in an environment where they’re constantly “tolerated” rather than accepted, they can develop a deep fear of doing something “wrong” that would reinforce stereotypes or attract negative attention.

So when mother says her kids shouldn’t play in the garden because “others are working,” (although all kids in Czechia have summer holidays) it may be a way of saying:

“I don’t want to give anyone a reason to think we’re noisy, lazy, inconsiderate, or don’t respect Czech customs.”

It becomes self-censorship driven by fear of reinforcing the idea that Ukrainians don’t “belong.”

A Deeper Emotional Layer

For parents who already feel like outsiders, letting their children play freely can feel risky. What if someone complains? What if someone looks disapprovingly? What if the children speak Ukrainian too loudly, and that triggers xenophobic attitudes?

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In Short:

This mother’s fear likely has less to do with actual Czech laws or norms, and more to do with the invisible social walls she feels pressing in around her. It’s a psychological response to a society that tolerates her presence but does not fully embrace it.

This reflects a wider issue: integration without real acceptance. People can be physically safe and still live in emotional fear if they feel they’re constantly being judged or don’t belong. And this way of thinking speaks to a post-communist mentality still present in Czech society. It could be a strong starting point for a larger commentary towards post-socialist societies deal with personal freedom or joy. 

Yeah, and in another EU country, Ukrainian people have barbecues near Ahoy in Zuiderpark. No one questions them enjoying these summer days in a Dutch park, because everyone has the same right to enjoy them.

Mainly Dutch

  When I often mention that I have sympathy towards the Dutch culture, because the Dutch is cultured, cultivated, even elegant, I happened to come across an Instagram profile of someone who shows exactly that.  

Yes, the German-Dutch girl who now live in USA is there too — she even jokes about how the Netherlands can seem cultured towards countries like are some things even in current Germany. I apologize to German people for this one, because I saw support from you towards Sidney, I like Germany, but when I criticize approaches in another different Central European country, this is the one of the case why I have sympathy towards the Netherlands. 

And it’s not just about Dutch elegance. She also touches on other things why I have smile when I thinking about the Dutch culture. On other side, she also protect German values by many streams. 

Here are examples: 

1) Schat liever niet 🤷‍♀️🇳🇱🇩🇪🎀

2) Lekker Fietsen 🚴‍♀️

3) Get rid of your kartoffelbauch and have a comfortable ride experience with @tenways_ebike 🥔🚴‍♀️

Overdose: Why Gabbers in the ’90s Stepped Back from Drugs

  I still see attempts at drug use similar to the ’90s gabbers in some places. I’ve been researching the reasons — whether the gabbers gave up the unsustainable lifestyle on their own, or if it was political. 

Here’s the post about it…

 Step Back From The Overdose

  In the early ’90s, gabber in the Netherlands was a beast. What started in Rotterdam as a reaction against polished house music became a full-blown youth culture, complete with shaved heads, Air Max kicks, pounding 180 BPM kicks, and a no-holds-barred approach to partying.

At the center of it all was speed — lots of it. Amphetamines, MDMA, LSD (even combined together) weren’t just part of the experience; they were the experience. Ravers pushed themselves to the edge of physical and mental limits, weekend after weekend. As the scene exploded in popularity, tragedies followed — young ravers collapsed, overdosed, or ended up in hospitals after taking unknown pills or mixing too much too fast. 

But by the end of the decade, the scene had pulled back. What happened?

For many original gabbers, the lifestyle wasn’t sustainable. You can only run on speed and no sleep for so long before your body shuts down — and your mind with it. People started disappearing from the scene, not because they stopped loving the music, but because their nervous systems were wrecked. Panic attacks, depression, paranoia — these weren’t rare cases; they were common exits.

And to the main reason why drugs were pulled back, belong: 

 * Public health groups like Unity and Jellinek entered clubs, handing out honest info, offering drug testing, and educating ravers without judgment.

They distributed flyers, information cards, and offered drug testing at events, which helped reduce overdoses and raise awareness. The Dutch government adopted a pragmatic, non-punitive drug policy, which paradoxically made it easier to talk openly about drugs and their dangers.

 * Media panic over overdoses sparked fear — even if exaggerated — and forced clubs and promoters to take safety more seriously. 

A string of high-profile drug-related deaths, especially involving overdoses and bad batches, caused moral panic in the media. This created pressure on promoters to tighten safety rules and distance their events from the drug-fueled reputation.

 * Commercialization shifted gabber from underground rebellion to mainstream youth culture. As the music softened, so did the drug culture.

- Gabber, originally a raw underground movement, became more commercialized by the mid to late 90s. With this shift came a broader and younger audience who didn’t necessarily share the same “hardcore” drug culture. The music also changed — from the raw Rotterdam-style hardcore to happy hardcore, attracting more mainstream ravers, often teens.

 * Burnout hit hard. Many original gabbers couldn’t physically or mentally sustain the lifestyle and either quit or moved on.

- By the end of the 90s, many of the original gabbers aged out or experienced burnout from the intense lifestyle. Many simply couldn’t sustain the level of speed and MDMA use long-term without severe mental and physical consequences. Some moved on to techno, trance, or even dropped the scene entirely.

 * Local governments began regulating events, requiring safety measures that made chaotic drug excess harder to maintain.

- Although Dutch drug policy was tolerant, local governments and police cracked down on illegal raves and unsafe venues. Promoters were forced to meet safety standards, provide medical staff, and sometimes even allow on-site drug testing. More organized events meant less tolerance for chaotic, drug-fueled excess.

 Summary of the Shift: 

 The extreme drug use didn’t just vanish overnight — it lost its centrality. And the culture matured. And crucially, it did so without needing a full-scale moral panic or brutal crackdown. In that sense, the Netherlands did something rare: it trusted its youth enough to educate them, not punish them. And over time, it worked better than repression ever could.

Back in 90’s when I was a kid in Czechia, I was already listening to happy hardcore — I just didn’t know it had a name. In Czechia this was “disco” or “dance”. Faster beats, chipmunk vocals, melodies that made no sense about Gabba but made you feel everything. Just cassettes, and joy in their purest form.