Collective responsibility as a Russian immigrant who came of age in the United States
A few weeks ago, my sister posted an Instagram story touching on atrocities against Native Americans/First Nations and saying something to the effect of "I used to think that this doesn't affect me because I'm an immigrant, but I don't anymore."
Which got me thinking why I don't feel that way, at all.
I'm still not sure of the answer. At this point, I lived in United States most of my life. I think it's fair to say that many of my formative experiences happened in United States, and those experiences shaped who I am today.
Yet I don't feel that sense of collective responsibility. Not for what happened with Native Americans, anyway. I do feel a sense of collective responsibility for a lot of things that Russia did.
I thought about how, when I was reading "In Order to Live," a book by North Korean escapee Yeonmi Park and I was still going through the parts about what she and her family experienced in DPRK during the so-called "Arduous March," I was surprised at how intensely guilty I felt. I wanted to get on my knees and beg her for forgiveness. Another part of me thought that it was a strange response, since my family suffered under Stalinism too, arguably worse than hers did... But I always took what happened in North Korea more personally than in PRC or Vietnam, since Kim Il-Sung got installed by the Soviet government, and while DPRK would've probably committed repressions against its people no matter who was put in charge... I'm not sure it would have gotten anywhere near as bad as what happened when we installed a rabid Stalinist who was desperate to shore up his power. More than in most other socialist bloc countries, the chain of responsibility was clear - and I felt, and still feel, like my people are responsible.
I thought about how, when I was a kid, I would learn about how those imperialists, colonist, bourgeois Americans committed atrocities against Native Americans, in contrast to how we Russians didn't mistreat natives of Siberia/Far East. Things weren't, and still aren't, that rosy, by the way - Soviet Union had its own version of residential schools, for starters - but I think that a lot of it prepped me for how I perceive Native/settler-descended relations in United States.
I thought about watching protests in Russia and Belarus, and how police brutality over there always hit much harder than anything I witnessed here. How the violence against journalists hit me harder than anything over here. Part of it may be that most of my Twitter feed comes from America and other English-speaking countries, and while tweets about Black Lives Matter protests and American police abuse gets retweeted constantly, but almost nobody comments on what happens in Russia and Belarus, and I almost feel duty-bound to use my Twitter and my ability to understand Russian to amplify it... But this isn't the only reason why. In the end, injustice in Russia just cuts deeper, feels rawer, feels more important... Even though I spent most of my life outside of Russia.
I thought about how I used to think American race relations didn't affect me... but how my thinking on it evolved some. I don't have any ancestral connection to slavery and segregation, but covering majority-black neighborhoods for six years now does drive home racial disparities. How some of the stuff I pulled in high school probably would've gotten a harsher response if I wasn't white. How the fact that I am white does affect how I'm perceived, and how my actions are perceived. I may not be part of the historical legacy that led to the current status quo, but it seemed foolish to act like I was somehow completely unaffected by it.
Heck I'm not going to pretend that some of the messages about majority-black neighborhoods and African-Americans never affected me at all. it's something I had to start coming to terms with back in college, and it was hard to admit, but I knew that I had to be at least honest with myself. I still see it as something of a work in progress. We are all creatures of our environment, informed by our experiences and exterior influences, and there is always an opportunity to learn more, and do better.
But, even with all that in mind, I still don't feel that sense of collective responsibility I feel toward Russia's legacy.
I know there are people who lived here less than me and people who, more importantly, lived in Soviet Union/Russia longer than me who feel like they're Americans, the way I just don't.
Which of course ties into why, after 24 years in United States, I still refer to Americans as "they." Maybe it's because, growing up, Americans were always set up as the other, foolish idealists at best and destroyers of Russian culture at worst. Maybe it's because, in the months leading up to my move to United States, Grandma Nina did her damnest to turn me against United States and against the move (which, I will be honest, mostly worked). Like I said, we are creatures of our environment and our influences. Maybe it's because the longer I live here, the more I realize that most Americans simply can't relate to some of the things I grew up with, the hunger, the poverty, the sense of decay and hopelessness, the legacy of political repression. I've struggled to explain Putin's rise to Americans, but my college roommate from my senior year (who, incidentally, was the one who pushed me to recognize my own racial biases) understood perfectly.
Maybe my attitude will change as I get older. Devil only knows. But for now... I know that I can't force myself to feel the guilt I don't feel.
And besides, as a Russian whose great-grandfather was involved in political repressions before the Stalinist machine ensnared him and his family... I have plenty to feel guilty about already.
Which got me thinking why I don't feel that way, at all.
I'm still not sure of the answer. At this point, I lived in United States most of my life. I think it's fair to say that many of my formative experiences happened in United States, and those experiences shaped who I am today.
Yet I don't feel that sense of collective responsibility. Not for what happened with Native Americans, anyway. I do feel a sense of collective responsibility for a lot of things that Russia did.
I thought about how, when I was reading "In Order to Live," a book by North Korean escapee Yeonmi Park and I was still going through the parts about what she and her family experienced in DPRK during the so-called "Arduous March," I was surprised at how intensely guilty I felt. I wanted to get on my knees and beg her for forgiveness. Another part of me thought that it was a strange response, since my family suffered under Stalinism too, arguably worse than hers did... But I always took what happened in North Korea more personally than in PRC or Vietnam, since Kim Il-Sung got installed by the Soviet government, and while DPRK would've probably committed repressions against its people no matter who was put in charge... I'm not sure it would have gotten anywhere near as bad as what happened when we installed a rabid Stalinist who was desperate to shore up his power. More than in most other socialist bloc countries, the chain of responsibility was clear - and I felt, and still feel, like my people are responsible.
I thought about how, when I was a kid, I would learn about how those imperialists, colonist, bourgeois Americans committed atrocities against Native Americans, in contrast to how we Russians didn't mistreat natives of Siberia/Far East. Things weren't, and still aren't, that rosy, by the way - Soviet Union had its own version of residential schools, for starters - but I think that a lot of it prepped me for how I perceive Native/settler-descended relations in United States.
I thought about watching protests in Russia and Belarus, and how police brutality over there always hit much harder than anything I witnessed here. How the violence against journalists hit me harder than anything over here. Part of it may be that most of my Twitter feed comes from America and other English-speaking countries, and while tweets about Black Lives Matter protests and American police abuse gets retweeted constantly, but almost nobody comments on what happens in Russia and Belarus, and I almost feel duty-bound to use my Twitter and my ability to understand Russian to amplify it... But this isn't the only reason why. In the end, injustice in Russia just cuts deeper, feels rawer, feels more important... Even though I spent most of my life outside of Russia.
I thought about how I used to think American race relations didn't affect me... but how my thinking on it evolved some. I don't have any ancestral connection to slavery and segregation, but covering majority-black neighborhoods for six years now does drive home racial disparities. How some of the stuff I pulled in high school probably would've gotten a harsher response if I wasn't white. How the fact that I am white does affect how I'm perceived, and how my actions are perceived. I may not be part of the historical legacy that led to the current status quo, but it seemed foolish to act like I was somehow completely unaffected by it.
Heck I'm not going to pretend that some of the messages about majority-black neighborhoods and African-Americans never affected me at all. it's something I had to start coming to terms with back in college, and it was hard to admit, but I knew that I had to be at least honest with myself. I still see it as something of a work in progress. We are all creatures of our environment, informed by our experiences and exterior influences, and there is always an opportunity to learn more, and do better.
But, even with all that in mind, I still don't feel that sense of collective responsibility I feel toward Russia's legacy.
I know there are people who lived here less than me and people who, more importantly, lived in Soviet Union/Russia longer than me who feel like they're Americans, the way I just don't.
Which of course ties into why, after 24 years in United States, I still refer to Americans as "they." Maybe it's because, growing up, Americans were always set up as the other, foolish idealists at best and destroyers of Russian culture at worst. Maybe it's because, in the months leading up to my move to United States, Grandma Nina did her damnest to turn me against United States and against the move (which, I will be honest, mostly worked). Like I said, we are creatures of our environment and our influences. Maybe it's because the longer I live here, the more I realize that most Americans simply can't relate to some of the things I grew up with, the hunger, the poverty, the sense of decay and hopelessness, the legacy of political repression. I've struggled to explain Putin's rise to Americans, but my college roommate from my senior year (who, incidentally, was the one who pushed me to recognize my own racial biases) understood perfectly.
Maybe my attitude will change as I get older. Devil only knows. But for now... I know that I can't force myself to feel the guilt I don't feel.
And besides, as a Russian whose great-grandfather was involved in political repressions before the Stalinist machine ensnared him and his family... I have plenty to feel guilty about already.