Eurovision Reminds Me of a Country That No Longer Exists

As a child, Vesna Jaksic Lowe loved Eurovision, writing how she “cherished the whole sequin-heavy, three-hour, glittery, multicultural spectacle that was our continent’s pop music Olympics.” The year she remembers most clearly was 1989, when her country, Yugoslavia, won the contest. Soon after, “Yugoslavia would cease to exist altogether, perishing from maps, passports, and Eurovision.” Now watching Eurovision feels different, offering “a snapshot of my childhood before my family’s cross-Atlantic move, before my life became diasporic, before my motherland evaporated.” A fascinating look at how this night of glitter, pomp, and silliness can hold so many memories, both treasured and sad.

My American friends used to stare with bewilderment when I squealed wide-eyed about all-things-Eurovision, but most are aware of it now. The pyrotechnic-loving show has grown into a global phenomenon and is the world’s most watched non-sports event, behind only the Olympics and the World Cup. Each spring, as nations announce their Eurovision representatives, I browse YouTube clips from my desk, six hours behind and an ocean away from where I grew up. Last year, Croatia’s Baby Lasagna came in second with “Rim Tim Tagi Dim,” whipping our little nation into a frenzy with the highest standing since it became independent in 1991 and joined Eurovision two years later. The year before, our band trotted out rockets and underwear-clad men who crooned about a mom buying a tractor. The New York Times called it an “insane, highly theatrical antiwar track,” and HuffPost described it as “Monty Python meets ‘Dr. Strangelove.’”