Fuck, Sorry For All the Expletives

My dear, lovely Aster,

Hi. I missed you last week. Pausing for perspective is crucial, but like it or not — the wheel of life keeps turning, and we must keep up with it or else get swept into the undercarriage.

You asked me about something that I used to have a totally different perspective of in the past; you also used your retrospective realizations about your past relationships and the red flags therein as an example. Well, it’s ironic that between your last post and now, the world has radically changed.

In the past week, I’ve seen several rather poignant content pieces that try to explain the history and dynamic between Russia and Ukraine by comparing it to a romantic relationship. Well, I suppose I’d like to address my own relationship with my Russian-ness, call out all the red flags, and well… you know what happens when such realizations occur.

Before I begin, I would like to lay out a few caveats:

1. The following is not meant to be a direct commentary on what is happening in Ukraine right now. I have lots of thoughts and feelings, as you well know, but this particular blog post is not the space I would like to share those in. The events of the past week and a half have certainly affected what I’m now writing, but they are not the focus here.

2. What I am about to say is based on my personal experience with Russian and Soviet culture. It is not a polemic, nor is it a generalization. I am not implying anything about all ‘Russian people,’ in any definition of that phrase.

3. Not really a caveat, but I am also very tired of so many things right now, the least of which is tiptoeing around the possibility of offending someone. So, honestly, I don’t fucking give a shit how this is going to sound. I’m just going to type.

The Honeymoon Period

I’ve always joked about how my birth in 1990 was The Great Catalyst for the break-up of the USSR. Like, oooh I broke up the baaaand. But in all honesty, for most of my life, I felt very positively about the Soviet Union. When I was very little, I read books about pioneers and wanted to be like them, sometimes fashioning a red tie out of scarves. I watched movies about the bravery of Soviet soldiers in WWII.

(It really did not occur to me that I was growing up in a satellite nation that had zero choice in becoming a part of the USSR. A nation whose culture, religion, and language became secondary as the Soviet regime took over. I never wondered why my dad is Korean, or why there are so many Korean people living in a Central Asian country; it wasn’t until grad school that I learned that in the 1920s, Stalin forcefully carted a large population of Koreans living on the Russian border to the Soviet -stans — in cattle cars, with just a few possessions they could carry. Because they sort of looked Japanese, and because Stalin didn’t feel like he could trust them at the time.)

So yeah, I was a smitten kitten with the fairy tale presentation of the Soviet Union I encountered in my early years.

Как За Каменной Стенной

That Russian phrase, translating to “as if behind a stone wall,” describes the next stage of my relationship with my Russian-ness. It means something really positive, actually — it means feeling stable and safe and taken care of. As if nothing can hurt you because there is something big and strong in your life, protecting you. (It’s the very way I feel about my significant other, and the way any human hopes to feel in a happy relationship.) Well, when I came to America — and especially when I started understanding the perceptions and stereotypes that exist in American culture about Russians — I quickly learned that this part of my ethnic and cultural identity can serve as a very good shield against many social dangers.

The image of Russians often portrayed in American media is that of a person who just doesn’t give a shit. Someone almost indestructible, and therefore dangerous. Someone who is not afraid to wrestle a bear, scale a building with a bottle of vodka in hand, piss on a cop or a teacher, etc. (Look up the keyword “meanwhile in Russia,” for reference.) The stereotype of a Russian woman has an added coloring of sexual power and cunning: like, watch out for them Russki gals, fellas, for they might seduce you, (give you the best night of your life,) trick you into marriage for a green card, and leave you in a bathtub full of ice without a kidney.

As you can imagine, this image was beneficial to me when I was learning to navigate American social environments because it was a template for presenting as someone who is intimidating, who’s not to be fucked with, who’s automatically interesting, who commands respect and attention. And I filled out that template, and I used it to my advantage, and I loved the crap out of it. I felt proud any time I would hear some dumb story about yet another outrageous thing that Russians did. Those are my people, I thought. I am in league with these crazy fuckers, come at me, I dare you.

(I didn’t realize that when one is behind a stone wall, they might be safe from attacks, but they are also blind, insensitive, and closed off to the rest of the world. Which is exactly what is fucking happening in Russia right now… oh wait, I wasn’t going to fucking comment. Never mind.)

Growing Up, Growing Apart

At some point, thank whatever deity is up there, I began finding my strength in my own accomplishments, in my own life. I gradually stopped being afraid, stopped needing an automatic shield when entering new places. I spoke to people. People who recently left Russia as adults. My parents, who chose to leave to give me a better life. I found out about the lives of my family and friends, still back in Russia. The red flags started popping up, slowly and timidly at first.

And yet, I couldn’t let go of my love for Russian-ness. It is so intermingled with everything I am. I will forever treasure countless aspects of both Russian and Soviet culture. And up until very recently, I could not help but admire the determination, the precision, the control that often drives the Russian mentality, (when vodka is not involved, of course). I remember when my face was raw from my palm slapping it on a daily basis between 2016 and 2020, I sometimes thought, “Man, I wish we had a leader who is truly in charge of his people, who has a vision, who is not an embarrassment;” and yes, in those times, I did think of вовочка. That’s mr. putin to our non-Russian speaking friends.

(But really, that mentality is just an immature, self-centered desire to get what one wants at all costs, without any regard for consequences. And that’s exactly what is happening right now. Somebody, get this fucking child a good spanking and send him to his room to think about what he’s done. Fuck, there I go, commenting again.)

Babe, We Need to Talk

I was going to end this post on a somewhat positive note: something about the good parts of Russian-ness, the things I still love and want to retain. But then I tried to think of something uniquely Russian and good, and it occurred to me — there is not a single thing that is amazing about my experience with Russian culture that does not also exist elsewhere. I love our passionate ability to love and form connections with just about anyone. Not unique. I love our sense of humor and our sarcasm. Not unique. I love our appreciation for erudition and intelligence. Not unique. Even vodka is really not just ours anymore — hello, bottle of Tito's in my freezer!

Truth is, what I am clinging to is memories of the honeymoon period. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for so many things. But time has come for this relationship to end. Don’t call me, asshole.

Love always,

Your Orchid.

P.S. Baby, it’s so fucking hard right now. I love you so, so much. I just want to wrap you in a blanket of positivity and rock you to sleep. So, perhaps this will help just a little. Tell me about your favorite memory. A time when you felt truly, truly happy and peaceful. Dig deep and let it fill your soul. That’s all.

Alternatively. Because I realize that now is a time when we either want to focus on IT or NOT, and either is okay...:

What are your thoughts and feelings on everything? Use this as a forum to say what you need to say --- no more, no less --- the way I did. <3