Author: Mara DuBois

By Mara DuBois

Diana “Dida” Petríková paused for a moment on the steps outside Empros Theatre in central Athens, looking out at the hundreds of people filling the street. She saw other members of her team from HipHop4Hope, a program dedicated to empowering migrant and refugee youth in Athens, scattered throughout the crowd. She got goosebumps as she took in their work. 

The April sun streamed through the colorful graffiti-filled walls lining the block. With DJ Greetana on music, artists ran graffiti and dance workshops throughout the street and people of all ages and backgrounds joined together in an afternoon of music and expression. The night continued with performances on the Empros stage, capturing the essence of the third annual Raise the Bounce event: a celebration of art, dance, and diversity through community. 

“We had theater acts, big parties, so many people,” Husnain Shahid, 24, who is originally from Pakistan and has lived in Athens for eight years, said. “It was so lovely.”

Hundreds attend events like Raise the Bounce, and workshops attract groups from all over the city and beyond. “We take courage and create things,” Petríková, who moved from Slovakia to Athens last year to work as a dance teacher and coordinator for HipHop4Hope, said. 

But for all its success, the program is now threatened by a global shift in political and ideological priorities that has limited the amount of funding available for NGOs.      

Upon taking office on January 20, 2025, United States President Donald Trump severely cut back on the funding that USAID and the U.S. State Department could distribute to aid organizations worldwide. The impacts of these cuts have reached Greece.

HipHop4Hope fears losing funding as a grant-dependent program under Respect for Greece, a German NGO founded in 2015 to address the EU’s response to the influx of refugees and migrants arriving in Greece. There are fewer grants available for next year as philanthropists prioritize the funding of programs they deem most urgent, and ones that have supported HipHop4Hope for years are unable to give the same amount. “This is the biggest challenge,” Petríková said. “Without resources, we can’t live,” she continued. 

However, in such a divisive time, HipHop4Hope is essential. Over the past 10 years, immigrants from Africa and the Middle East have arrived in Greece hoping to find a new home in the country. Not only does HipHop4Hope provide a space that fosters diversity and is inclusive of these communities, but it also gives migrant youth an outlet to change the trajectory of their lives. 

Shahid joined HipHop4Hope as a student in 2019 where he learned to dance. “Before HipHop4Hope, I was not so good at meeting people. I always had anger issues,” he said. HipHop4Hope made him realize, “you can leave a good impact on anybody.” 

Shahid now works as a receptionist on Kos, a tourist hotspot island in the Aegean Sea. While no longer able to frequent HipHop4Hope workshops or events, dance still holds an everyday presence in his life. He says he practices alone on the beach, and whenever he is back in Athens, dancing with his team is a priority.

Receiving two days off from work the first week of July, Shahid travelled back to Athens for less than 48 hours. Exhausted from a long day of travel, he was in bed early the night he arrived. At 10pm his phone rang. Momo Belhedi, whom Shahid met through HipHop4Hope, was on the other end of the line. “He called me and was like ‘no, no, bro come,’” Shahid said. Shahid went and practiced with his friends, dancers from HipHop4Hope, for two and a half hours that night. 

HipHop4Hope hasn’t only left a permanent mark on Shahid. Petríková has seen dance transform the lives of many youth in the program, and reflected on the role art has played in her life. “I think that’s why I do it, because I feel it also saved my life, in some sense, so I know that it can help others,” she said. 

HipHop4Hope provides an essential outlet for expression that would otherwise be absent from the lives of refugee and migrant youth. 

“I hope we won’t be forced to stop because of these politics,” Petríková said.

By Mara DuBois 

“This was one of my favorite beaches 20 years ago,” Nicolas Stephanou said as he stepped through a narrow gap in the stone and wood fence enclosing Faragas Beach Bar on the Cycladic island of Paros, Greece. 

It was a scorching June day, and the only way to access this once-secluded public beach was to walk through the bar—a sprawling structure that didn’t exist a decade ago. 

Stephanou, who has lived on Paros for 40 years, passed confidently by the hostesses and through the arrangement of restaurant tables, emerging onto the sunbaked sand. To his left, scattered towels lay haphazardly on the open beach. To his right, five neat rows and 11 columns of square umbrellas shaded matching sets of sunbeds. 

This split view represents a small victory in a much larger battle. In 2023, Stephanou and other members of the Paros Citizens’ Movement successfully pushed for enforcement of a national law requiring businesses to leave at least 50% of every beach unoccupied for public use—a policy now visibly upheld at Faragas. 

While abiding by this law, Faragas Beach Bar represents a growing threat facing the island: overconstruction fueled by booming tourism. 

According to data from Greece’s statistics agency, Paros had 349 new building permits in 2024, more than any other island in the Cyclades for the fifth year in a row. Most of these permits support the construction of hotels, vacation apartments, or other businesses in the tourism industry like Faragas Beach Bar.  

The Cyclades, already vulnerable to the effects of climate change, are negatively impacted by the environmental cost of this development. 

“Water scarcity is a very big problem in the whole of the Cycladic Islands,” said Giorgos Lalios, a reporter who covers overtourism for the Greek daily Kathimerini. 

Paros’s water supply is a concern of Stephanou. While the island is relatively well-off compared to its neighbors like Naxos, Stephanou warns that it’s approaching its limit. 

“There’s an incredible waste of water,” he said, pointing to the proliferation of swimming pools and the use of non-native plants in hotel gardens which require excessive watering.

Paros Mayor Kostas Bizas agreed, identifying the effects of overconstruction as the island’s most pressing issue. However, his office has limited power to meaningfully address the issue. He has sent proposals to the central government to limit construction but is pessimistic about prospects for change. 

“The government doesn’t seem very willing to listen to what we are saying,” Bizas said. 

With local authority constrained, responsibility has fallen to groups like the Paros Citizens’ Movement to suppress the irreversible climate impacts of overdevelopment. Their 2023 beach movement drew over 300 local supporters and gained wide media attention. But their latest focus on limiting new construction has been more difficult. 

“Everyone was with the Citizens’ Movement for the beaches,” Stephanou said. “This is a bit more controversial.” 

Why? Because limiting construction threatens local livelihoods tied to the island’s large tourism industry. The movement now consists of a core group of about 20 activists. 

Still, their efforts have yielded results. 

The Citizens’ Movement has taken to court new building projects in an effort to mitigate the threats to Paros’s water supply. In two cases, the court decided to freeze construction on new developments.

“At least this is working,” Stephanou said.

However, Stephanou remains worried. Having experienced the detrimental effects of the tourism boom on Paros first-hand, he warned, “Eventually, tourism can kill tourism.” 

The clock is ticking. If development continues unchecked, Bizas believes tourists will stop visiting the island due to crowds and traffic. When this happens, investors would likely abandon Paros as its quality-of-life declines under the weight of climate change. 

“Locals will have to stay back with ghost villas,” he said.

By Mara DuBois

The combination of the Athens summer heat and his determination to convey his thoughts despite our language barrier had John Gjeleveshi (JELL-eh-veshi) dabbing sweat from his forehead with a napkin he had retrieved from behind the counter at Stadium Cafe. 

Pangrati is the best neighborhood in Athens, and different from others in the city, he told me. “Maybe it’s the people,” he said. 

Gjeleveshi was born in Athens and has lived in the city’s neighborhood of Pangrati for 28 years. He works at Stadium Cafe, the coffee shop I quickly determined would fulfill my coffee fixation during my five-week stay in the neighborhood. After just a few visits to the shop, Gjeleveshi asked my name and introduced himself, immediately making me feel welcome in an unfamiliar city. Judging by the thank-you cards taped to the glass pastry case housing Greek treats, I wasn’t the only customer he had won over. 

With its grounded, local atmosphere, the popular cafe’s spot on Eratosthenous Street sharply contrasts the tourist-filled bustle of nearby Plaka or Monastiraki–neighborhoods characterized by their close proximity to the Acropolis. 

A 2025 article by Dimitris Rigopoulos “Archelaou: One street, many outlooks,” in eKathimerini, the English edition of Greece’s most prominent newspaper, detailed the evolving demographics of Pangrati. Following the economic crisis in 2009, the neighborhood experienced an influx of students and professionals in creative industries, drawn in by more affordable rents. 

In contrast to Plaka’s typical summer vacationers sporting woven straw hats and matching linen sets in an attempt to conform to European fashion standards, Pangrati has a distinctly artsy, hip, quality exuded by its creative and young population. Graffiti-lined walls throughout the neighborhood are indicative of the area’s strong political awareness, frequently exhibiting the messages “Free Palestine” or “Fight Fascism,” in a form of artistic expression. 

As a primarily residential area, much of the conversation that echoes out of the neighborhood’s many lively cafes, bars, and restaurants is noticeably Greek. These spaces, populated by stylish young adults and older men smoking beneath orange trees, are easily intimidating to an outsider. I feared my lack of language skills and an unshakeable American presence would make me stand out in this setting. Yet, my initial worries were quickly assuaged after interactions with locals like Gjeleveshi.

While speaking with me, Gjeleveshi frequently paused to check Google Translate, intent on answering my questions as clearly as possible. He modestly undersold his English skills, which far surpassed my non-existent Greek. Upon the conclusion of our 20-minute conversation, Gjeleveshi mentioned that he had anticipated the interview would take many hours. Having just completed a full work day, his willingness to meet with me despite this assumption and our language barrier was a testament to the character of locals in the neighborhood.

As I got up to leave, Gjeleveshi fist-bumped me and said on my next visit, he would speak to me in Greek. He would help me learn basic phrases while I helped him refine his English. Gjeleveshi embodies what he characterized as Pangrati’s defining quality: its people. 

As an outsider new to Athens, I was surprised by how quickly I grew to prefer Pangrati’s creative and diverse essence to the postcard-worthy steps of Plaka. The rich culture found throughout Pangrati is created by the neighborhood’s people, making them the defining characteristic of this unique area.