The heart of an empath beats behind every page of The Roma: A Traveling History. The book is, first and foremost, a critique of stubborn stereotypes and historical crimes against the ethnic group known variously as Romani, Travelers, Zigeuner, and by other names. It provides a useful overview of the political and legal mechanisms behind institutionalized racism and ethnocentrism against the Roma in Europe. But at its core, this book is an ode to Madeline Potter’s people and culture. Her upbringing in a Romani family during a time of upheaval—as nomadic traditions are eroding rapidly in the face of globalization and technological advancements—lends an important authenticity and lived experience to her writing. The book rests on a foundation of her nostalgia for those years and her desire to celebrate and revivify her heritage.
Potter repeatedly applauds the humanity, beauty, and resilience of the Romani, and while this core message remains tremendously valuable and worth emphasizing, it began to feel well-worn by the halfway mark. Ironically, Potter uses a broad brush to paint the entire diaspora in uniformly warm, approving sepia tones, rather than bringing out the messy humanity in their individual stories. Her similar approach to each anecdote gave the narrative a flat, predictable quality when a closer look at each Traveler, perhaps even an acknowledgment of each person’s faults or foibles, would have served to complicate and enrich Potter’s argument overall.
Each chapter corresponds with a different country, or “stopping place,” in the story of Romani migration—Romania, Bulgaria, Germany, France, and more. Potter offers a curated overview of relevant history and public policy toward the Roma in each country, touching on Nicolae Ceausescu’s dictatorship in Romania, for example, and the violent hate crimes against Romani in Austria and Hungary. For Potter, the historical context serves as a formality and a precursor to her main concern, the individual Romani themselves. Potter’s dedication to oral history is admirable. She lingers lovingly and with equal fascination on the life stories and anecdotes of famous Travelers like Django Reinhardt as she does on Auschwitz survivors and “regular” people like the persecuted Englishwoman Mary Squires. While I appreciated the importance of their individual stories, I was disappointed by Potter’s decision not to widen her lens or diversify her approach to the topic. The book is heavily researched and bristles with citations, but shies away from explicit dialogue with other scholars or prevailing views among historians. Such context would have helped me, a relative neophyte regarding European history, to better understand how The Roma is meant to carve out new territory.
The order of the chapters (Romania, Bulgaria, and so on) seems less important than their juxtaposition. The symmetrical structure of each chapter implies that the differences between countries matter less to Potter than their similarities; namely, the tragic repetition of racist policies and social practices and, in turn, the inspiring resilience of individual Roma in response to hate and adversity. I was genuinely moved by stories like that of Johann Trollman, the Romani, or “Sinto,” boxer who fought bravely in the ring against Nazi favorites in the 1930s and then fought on the eastern front during World War II before his murder at the hands of a jealous inmate while imprisoned at Wittenberge. I also enjoyed learning new things about my own country, like the fact that there are one million Roma living in the United States today, with about a fifth of them in California alone, and that many emigrated from Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Potter points out their “invisibility” in the States, recounting her own visit to Santa Barbara, where she was addressed by a waiter in Spanish and asked by a cabbie if she was South Asian:
“People were curious about my origins, even if their guesses were wild: Middle Eastern, biracial, or just generally ‘exotic.’ The word ‘Romani’ conjures up associations with Romania; ‘Gypsy’ with the free-spirited aesthetic. In the blink of an eye, Romani identity can be sucked into oblivion.”
These insights, based on Potter’s lived experience, were refreshing, and I would recommend her perspective for its authenticity and compassion. I wonder, however, if The Roma could have fulfilled a more unique vision if it had engaged directly in conversation with other thinkers and historians on the topic or if it had addressed the clear and present dangers of the moment rather than reiterating abstract praise for the inherent resilience of its characters. Instead of invoking the Romani “strong spirit,” could the book have more aggressively explored the systemic forces contributing to the modern assimilation of the Roma, especially given the author’s warning that her people are currently undergoing one of the most profound lifestyle shifts—the shift to sedentary living in mainstream residential housing—in their entire documented history?
The Roma is a helpful addition to a body of knowledge that benefits from “wondrous stories of those who have decisively resisted their marginalization, who have refused to be silent,” but those stories will continue to be told. As Potter reminds us in her conclusion, “The road goes on.”
NONFICTION
By Madeline Potter
Harper
Published July 8, 2025
