From the shadows to citizenship: Alexander’s journey out of statelessness
From the shadows to citizenship: Alexander’s journey out of statelessness
Alexander stands on a pedestrian bridge over the Gjanica River in Fier, Albania. Behind him is the Saint George Orthodox Cathedral. He smiles gently, relaxed, quietly confident, and fully present.
No papers meant no health coverage, no school registration, and no ability to travel beyond Albania. Routine childhood milestones, like seeing a doctor during a fevered night, joining the local soccer team, registering for a school field trip, all became logistical nightmares. In Alexander’s words,
“I took for granted that I could go to school, until someone told me they needed to ‘sneak me in.”
By his teenage years, Alexander faced a stark reality: without legal status, he couldn’t sign an employment contract. Still, he refused to let that define him. He dedicated himself to self-teaching programming, spending hours hunched over laptops. By day, he laboured: lifting 30 kg drywall sheets at construction sites for meagre pay. Each inspection was a potential catastrophe.
“If a random inspection happened,” he recalls, “my father would have been accused of human trafficking, and I’d be treated as if I didn’t exist.”
His father, worn down by years of delays and stalled processes, had given up, but Alexander refused to let that be the end of his story.
A turning point came when Rudina, a dedicated lawyer working with UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency’s partner Tirana Legal Aid Society, entered his life. For the first time, Alexander had confidence in someone with the knowledge and experience to navigate the system. He told his father,
“If you won’t act, I will.”
With Rudina’s guidance, and for the first time in his life, Alexander was able to move forward.
In 2024, after years of working with Rudina, Alexander finally received his Albanian nationality card. It was more than a document, it was validation. Suddenly, what had only been dreams became tangible. A formal job contract at a glass-and-materials company materialized, replete with social security, health insurance, and retirement benefits, milestones he had once thought unreachable. No longer invisible, he could finally breathe, plan, and grow.
Near the Gjanica River in central Fier, Alexander stands in front of a pedestrian bridge. His expression is calm and open
With citizenship, Alexander entered a new phase. He embraced the security of employment and found freedom in travel; he could visit his uncle in Greece and explore the borderless opportunities ahead.
Today, Alexander’s days blend precision glasswork, where his millimetre-perfect cuts literally hold structures together with evening coding sessions in pursuit of formal education: computer science now close enough to grasp. His message is simple.
“Statelessness feels like sitting in a dark room with no exit."
“Statelessness feels like sitting in a dark room with no exit. But whether the bulb is burnt out or the switch is off, there’s always a way to bring back the light: one person, one advocate, one legal ruling at a time.”
Alexander’s journey stands as testament to how the invisible can become seen. It shows that while statelessness robs individuals of school, work, and protection, the steadfast support of advocates and the dignity of citizenship can restore everyone’s right to belong.
