«Today I want to share a very personal story. A story about the convergence of opposites…»
It’s a bit long, but I think it’s quite interesting. It’s about my long-standing—and tumultuous—relationship with my husband, Yannis Koronaios. A relationship between a Jupiter (as his name, Koronaios, suggests, after all) and a «steel-willed» and independent Artemis. And this story might help you dare to connect with partners who seem incompatible at first «glance»…
Those who know us personally—and not just through our work or our presence on social media—probably understand the title I chose. It relates to Yannis’s unique service as a member of the Presidential Guard. That explains the «Tsolias.» As for “Kyriá,” I’ll just leave that one without explanation….
Yiannis and I have known each other since our teenage years, from the summers we spent on our beloved Kythira—our parents’ hometown.
I was 13 and Yiannis was 18. We met under dramatic circumstances when my grandfather practically dragged me along on his boat to a celebration hosted by an uncle who was a priest in Platia Ammo, in the north of the island. I was happy to see that there were other young people there after all, and Yiannis still remembers the wild girl in the white dress who, like the Madonna, arrived by boat and livened up a boringboring celebration.
Two children from two different worlds.
I came from a middle-class, conservative family, and Yannis came from a working-class family still bearing the fresh scars of the persecution his leftist father had suffered during the civil war and the dictatorship. Of course, we were very surprised to discover recently in the island’s archives that my grandfather had also been in the Resistance alongside Yannis’s father. And from what I learned by asking around after this discovery, that is why he was forced—as an undesirable—to spend the prime of his life as a sailor outside of Greece. According to Yiannis, this gene explains my ’revolutionary« side.
We spent our vacations together on the island every summer during our teenage and young adult years, but in quite different ways.
I spent almost the whole day at the beach (or rather, from noon on) and went for walks, to parties, to bars, or to the disco until morning. Yiannis would start his day just as I was returning home. He’d work on construction sites or in the fields all morning to make a living, take a quick dip, have a little fun, and go to bed relatively early (for me…) at night.
But even so, we had plenty of opportunities to hang out, mostly at the beach and for a chat at the cafes in the early afternoon. I remember endless conversations while playing backgammon or checkers (we didn’t know how to play biriba yet), analyzing the current situation— matters concerning our island, as well as our personal love lives, which for many years were focused on other people. We danced both traditional island dances and the «fox anglais» at the festivals we’d go to in the backs of farm trucks… There was some chemistry between us, but it was never expressed, because Yiannis was probably afraid of the «beast,» and the «beast» was afraid of Yiannis…
We were friends, but also «rivals» who often fought like cats and dogs.
On how we view the world, the status of women (I was a suffragist from an early age), the economy, and society. And I admit we had relatively few points of agreement beyond Kythira and… Olympiacos.
Yannis was active in the KNE, and I was gradually (since it was also trendy) becoming a mild socialist and a culture vulture, though with some neoliberal tendencies(an ideological madhouse). Yiannis spent his winters at his school, doing day labor and marching in protests; I was at the Polytechnic, partying, traveling, and reading «highbrow» books on the couch… Both of us were hardworking and goal-oriented, but we expressed our ambitions in different ways.
We went our separate ways and drifted apart a little when I was around 25, each pursuing our own dreams.
I’m in business, and he’s in the media. He’s devoted to protest marches, and I’m devoted to quiet volunteer work. He’s devoted to Kythira, and I alternate between Mykonos and Santorini. Global changes (the collapse of the «real» system, etc.) didn’t leave us unaffected. We diversified our political choices, but without changing our values, which I have always believed shaped our lives.
Life brought us back together through our work, and we made a fresh start in our relationship -around 40 years old.
After both of us had been through failed marriages and had to redefine everything. For the record, the one who brought us together was Kostas Laliotis (but that’s another story that’s also worth telling sometime).
It was a difficult start to our reconciliation when Yannis reentered my life as the director of SKAI. Tasked with carrying out his boss’s agenda—which was at odds with the government at the time—he intended to prove that the new airport—where I was Director of Communications—was «a sham.» But I didn’t «swallow it,» and neither did he. Because I become a tough nut to crack when I sense injustice, and Yiannis can’t tell a lie. He considers journalism a calling. And so he told the truth in the report he prepared—that ours was a remarkable project that would be completed on time before the Olympic Games. In the end (partly due to a shift in SKAI’s editorial focus), he lost his job, but we gained our own relationship. A relationship based on honesty and respect that slowly and steadily evolved (it took two years of back-and-forth before it really took hold) into a bond of trust and deep love. A relationship for life.
Despite the gradual changes we had made to our ideological beliefs, we continued to to have differing views, especially in the field of economics.
But we’ve learned to listen to one another—with reasoned arguments, but above all with understanding and love. Without ideological fixations or the need to always be right (which is difficult for both of us and our egos).
And we brought our friends together. Two different worlds. This interaction was transformative. That’s how I realized that Yannis isn’t the exception. That «leftists» aren’t just stubborn, ideologically obsessed slackers and troublemakers. And Yannis realized that my other very honorable friends (former PASOK members and many on the right) are «normal people» and not crooks, nationalists, bigots, and self-centered individuals. I also realized how important a role the state can and must play in infrastructure and welfare, and Yannis realized that some private-sector companies can offer real value and operate withrespect for people and the environment. And that the “Golden Boys & Girls” aren’t always ruthless exploiters, unworthy of their hefty salaries.
And so we’ve journeyed together all these 20+ years (the last 9 of them married in a church ceremony with a priest and best men), constantly exchanging views with each other and with others—here and there —shifting our positions and continuing to «disagree creatively.» For democracy, justice, and freedom. For what is lawful and what is moral. On the memoranda, the Prespa Agreement, Mati, Golden Dawn, sexism and racism, the protests and the rioters, immigrants, universities and education, civil partnerships and human rights, military procurement, the healthcare system, and… surveillance…
But we don't stop at the dominant narratives, the easy sound bites and the «irrefutable» evidence.
Because, thankfully, our jobs have taught us to look «behind the label.» To spot fake news and parrots, hidden agendas and vested interests. And we’ve found both right and wrong on all sides. Sometimes in intent, sometimes in substance, and sometimes in communication. Because that’s how life is. Nothing is black and white. We live in the dozens of shades of gray.
But I’ve always tended to take the opposite stance. I’d give him a hard time for his misguided statements or for where the opposition stands. And he’s constantly explaining to me the insidious role of the biased media or why an overreaction at this stage could tear the country apart.
He taught me not to see things only in black and white.
I’ve learned to distinguish much better between the wheat and the chaff, between propaganda and news, and between patriotism and the exploitation of patriotism. I’ve learned to see the agendas behind what appear to be innocent, populist actions. And I’ve learned to express my opinion without fear, though not always without passion (I still have a lot to learn in that area.)
I owe a lot to my Tsolias.
Not just because he’s like a second father to my children and a son to my widowed mother. Nor because he stood by me through the hard times, illnesses, and deaths that have plagued my family. Nor is it because he supported me in my career more than anyone else. But mainly because he made me more of a lady than I was before—a lady in charge of myself, my opinions, and my desires. My left-wing husband didn’t «spoil» me, as many feared, but rather «made» me who I am.
We are together without being a couple.
Because we keep our friendships alive. And now that we’re both working at a more relaxed pace, we spend a lot of time—sometimes on our beloved Kythira, and sometimes in Koryschades, Evrytania. And we travel abroad whenever we can through a home-exchange program. We have our disagreements, but those are what spice up our lives. After all, the things that unite us are more numerous and far more important than those that divide us. And one of those things is that we will defend our right—and our children’s right—to express their opinions without fear. Because we live in a democracy and ’we have the right to speak,« not just to think. And that was, is, and will always be my opinion, because a lady has no need for borrowed…
Author of the article:
Anastasia Sideri is a Chemical Engineer, Communications Specialist, and Honorary Professor at the University of Glasgow.
