“ It was my mistake. I was working and had to care for a child, I had my own problems and solving documents just was not a priority in my mind. When I eventually got around to it… It was too late.”129 Also S.M. (a 62 year old man) gave the same reason: “I know, I know, everybody told me to. There was no particular reason… How do I put it…? I was naughty. I didn’t listen to everybody. I thought tomorrow, then the next day.”130 Of the remaining nine participants who could not obtain citizenship, some had temporarily moved abroad and were not aware of the “zero option.” Upon their return home to Lithuania, they were told they were not eligible for Lithuanian citizenship because they were not considered permanent residents. Others were in prison during that time and were at no point informed about the process by the prison authorities. Still others were children whose parents or care institutions did not make sure they acquired Lithuanian citizenship. All but one were born in Lithuania and found the fact that they had fallen through the cracks very unfair. In interviews with migration officers, it was explained to the researcher that the only benefit stateless people permanently residing in Lithuania are not entitled to, is a voting right in Parliamentary and Presidential elections, and that citizenship in itself was not really important to them. However, the majority of the interviewees refuted this statement, expressing their clear desire to obtain Lithuanian citizenship. Half of the interviewees said that the right to vote in national elections was one of the reasons why they wanted to acquire citizenship. In particular, those born in Lithuania spoke passionately about their links to the country. S.R. (a 50 year old man) said: “ I want to acquire citizenship because I am Lithuanian. I was born and raised here, I am not a genius, but I can take the necessary exams. I have no problem with that.”131 G.K. (a 41 year old male) agrees: “I simply don’t understand why. I was born here, I went to school here, my parents were born here, I have never lived anywhere else. I consider myself a Lithuanian citizen, but I am not one. I am not some kind of a refugee, I am Lithuanian.”132 The same feeling is shared by others: “I am ashamed to tell foreigners I am stateless, you see. I don’t want to embarrass Lithuania. We, the Roma, call the place we live home. We don’t have our own homeland. Our homeland is where we live” (A.M., male, 61 years old);133 “It was absurd. What else can I be if not Lithuanian? It was not my fault that my parents lost custody rights and that the State didn’t do what it had to do” (S.R., male, 35 years old);134 “I’m Lithuanian, I know I’m Lithuanian, I have never left this place and I will be buried in Lithuania… This thing about citizenship… Do they think you stop being Lithuanian if you don’t have citizenship? But I must admit having papers is important. What will people say, they will think you’re a refugee from somewhere. So I do want citizenship, yes” (S.M.).135 The face of statelessness in Lithuania is diverse. Those interviewed for this research were entrepreneurs, workers, homeless persons, prisoners, irregular migrants, farmers and refugees; people who have become stateless for different reasons. Nonetheless, most of them expressed a desire to acquire Lithuanian 129 Interviewed on 7 September 2012. 130 Interviewed on 10 September 2012. 131 Interviewed on 31 August 2012. 132 Interviewed on 29 August 2012. 133 Interviewed on 29 August 2012. 134 Interviewed on 10 September 2012. 135 Interviewed on 10 September 2012. U N H C R S TO C K H O L M , M AY 2 0 1 6 37