I was a third-year medical student in Bratislava.

Born in Brezno, I grew up outdoors, feeling free, unaware of the power politics held over us.

At school, I first learned what it meant to be undesirable.

Not for bad grades, but for not being active in the Young Pioneers.

That’s when I saw how fragile freedom is.

I dreamed of becoming a doctor, but the regime blocked me, twice.

I refused the military oath.

I was imprisoned, sent to the tank corps in Šumava.

I remember the cold of the cell walls. Still, I never gave up.

I had no idea that the moment everything would change. When November 1989 came, we were ready.

Right after my wedding, we launched a strike at the faculty.

We occupied the rooms of the International Union of Socialist Youth and began drafting our first statement.

With our hearts pounding, we handed out freshly printed leaflets in front of factories, challenged our professors, and spoke to people in the streets.

Every day, more joined—doctors, actors, students. We knew we were no longer alone.

I remember guarding the archive, the rustling of paper, and the moment we cried with joy as the Central Committee of the Communist Party resigned.

They could no longer lock us up. It was snowing outside, and for the first time, we tasted freedom.

Ever since, I’ve believed that people have the power to drive change.

Not just through politicians, but out in the streets. That’s how it was in November 1989.