Braless TV News Anchors Ignite Intense Public Debate

In a bid to boost viewership, Albanian TV station Zjarr made headlines with an unconventional approach: hiring young journalist Enki Bracaj, who delivered news segments without wearing a bra. Albania, a traditionally conservative Balkan nation where about 60% of the population identifies as Muslim, reacted strongly to the station’s choice, sparking heated debates and garnering widespread attention on social media.

Despite the initial backlash, Zjarr’s strategy proved remarkably successful. “In Albania, where political influence often manipulates the news, viewers were ready for a medium that delivered information ‘naked’—both literally and symbolically,” explained Zjarr TV owner Ismet Drishti in a 2016 interview with AFP. 

Drishti emphasized that the presentation aimed not at sensationalism but at promoting transparency in news reporting. “We aren’t selling sex; we’re presenting the news as it is. This approach is both symbolic and effective for publicity.”

Enki Bracaj, then 21, quickly became a local celebrity after joining Zjarr in 2016. She explained that the idea to present braless was her own, inspired by her decision to wear an open blouse to her job interview. 

“In this competitive industry, I just found a way to stand out,” Enki said, noting that her family was supportive of her choice. “To succeed, I knew I had to be bold and offer something different.”

When Enki eventually left Zjarr, rumors circulated that salary disputes were to blame, but the station felt she overstepped when she took a modeling opportunity with Playboy. 

Her successor, 24-year-old Greta Hoxhaj, followed a similar style in her on-air presentation. “I worked in local television for five years with little recognition,” Hoxhaj said. “In just three months at Zjarr, I became a star.” She noted that her appearance on air was far more provocative than her everyday style.

Videos of these Albanian news anchors have since gone viral, igniting debate. While some viewers support their choice of dress, others argue that media outlets should prioritize professionalism and respect. 

“Too many women on TV have necklines that are way too low,” one viewer commented. Another added, “It’s disheartening to see such tactics used just to gain screen time.”

Despite the criticism, Hoxhaj remains unfazed. “What matters is that I’m succeeding in my work and enjoying my newfound fame. I have a beautiful life filled with love,” she shared.

What do you think about this approach to news broadcasting?

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My Rich Husband Forbade Me from Entering One Room in Our House – I Could Not Stop Crying When I Saw What He Was Hiding

When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.

I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.

“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”

I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.

“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”

In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.

“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.

Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.

Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.

My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.

“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.

“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.

That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.

Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.

“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.

He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.

“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”

“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.

I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.

“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”

I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.

A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.

Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.

A quick in and out, I thought to myself.

Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.

The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.

“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”

Robert’s face turned red with rage.

“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”

Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.

“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”

Robert led me to the living room.

“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.

My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.

What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.

In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.

In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.

Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.

We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.

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