On Learning Toleration and Tolerance
A Twitter conversation with mysticowl inspired me to think back on how I arrived at my current, socially liberal philosophy and how much moving to United States had to do with it.
Growing up, I was taught that prejudice was wrong. That whatever differences there may be between various nationalities, human beings are the same on the inside, and they deserve to be treated the same way as you would treat a fellow Russian. I was just barely old enough to be exposed to the old Soviet propaganda about how all the workers from all over the world would throw off their capitalist oppressors and unite together in peace and harmony.
As i got older, I learned that many people who taught me this didn't actually practice what they preached, but as a kid, I pretty much accepted it wholeheartedly.
Granted, this sort of rhetoric is easy to maintain when you don't actually have to deal with any minorities. I grew up in a society where people of visibly different races were either tourists or international students - not completely unheard of, but rare enough to seem exotic and removed from my every day life.
There were two major exception to this. One were the refugees from the first Georgian civil war. They had a visibly darker skin, they spoke a strange language and, unlike the tourists, they didn't just vanish overnight. To be honest, I don't really remember much about them, but I do remember my mom abolishing me to be nice to them.
She told me that they lost everything, and they didn't know anyone here. She asked me to imagine how I would feel if my home was blown up and I had to go to some strange country.
And I did remember feeling sorry for them. Sorry and a little guilty. I'm not sure for what, but I remember feeling it.
The second time was when we went to buy milk from a Romani family. I heard all sorts of scary stories about how "Gypsies" stole little children. My mom took me with her, and I remember that I didn't want to go, that I tried to find any excuse not to go, but my mom would hear none of that.
When I did meet the Romani family, I found that they were nice people. They didn't even look that different from the Russians we'd see out in the country. And their milk was delicious. As strange as it sounds, it was that last part that ultimately convinced me that all the stories about Romani were silly. Anybody who raised cows that made such good milk couldn't possibly be evil.
Then, there was the issue of homosexuality. I am not sure when I first heard of the concept, but I do remember coming home one day and asking my mom to explain why "goluboy" - one of the milder slang terms for a gay person - was a bad word.
My mom explained simply and clearly. Some men liked men. Why? Because that's the way there are. There are men who like women and men who like men. There is nothing bad about it. It's just different.
But the things my family taught me weren't really tested until I came to United States. All the sudden, I was thrust into a society where all kinds of people lived and worked together. It was almost like old Soviet propaganda come to life. It was very exciting. With my English skills very much limited, I used to pass my time watching my classmates and marveling at all the skin colors and eye shapes, the seemingly infinite variety and combinations. And they were all American. Sure, some very immigrants, but most were born in this country.
That was fascinating to me. Fascinating and mind-blowing.
As I learned the language and adjusted to the American culture, I started to understand what the American diversity really mean. There were more options. I learned that the Russian perspective on history I grew up with wasn't always the right one - or, at least, that it didn't always tell the whole story. I got in touch with my Polish ancestry. i learned a bit about Russian Jewish traditions. In Russia, there is a lot of pressure to stay true to your nationality, but in America, I could branch out and explore. And that was okay. It didn't make me any less Russian.
In Russia, for the talk about gender equality, the values still tend to be a bit... patriarchal. A lot of emphasis on being a man, on acting like man. But in America, again - there was multiple choice. I could be open about interests I could never quite embrace in Russia. I could enjoy soap operas and romantic comedies. I didn't have to pretend to care about sports I didn't particularly like.
It's been 14 years since i came to this country. I met all sorts of people from so many backgrounds. I got introduced to countries and faiths I never even knew exited. I attended Pride Parades and other Boystown events. And, when my brother came out... I supported gay rights before, but it was in a more abstract way. Knowing that the life and happiness of a family member was at stake made it urgent and intensely personal.
The reason why I bring this up - and the reason why I got into a discussion with mysticowl in the first place - was because, looking back, I can't help but wonder. If I stayed in Russia, would I believe what I believe now? Would I still believe in diversity, personal freedom and equal rights the way I do now?
I'd like to think that I would still be able to do the right thing. But I grew up under the shadow of the Soviet Union. I know how powerful and persuasive propaganda can be. So, honestly - I don't know.
And, if I had a way to know, I would probably be too afraid to find out.
Growing up, I was taught that prejudice was wrong. That whatever differences there may be between various nationalities, human beings are the same on the inside, and they deserve to be treated the same way as you would treat a fellow Russian. I was just barely old enough to be exposed to the old Soviet propaganda about how all the workers from all over the world would throw off their capitalist oppressors and unite together in peace and harmony.
As i got older, I learned that many people who taught me this didn't actually practice what they preached, but as a kid, I pretty much accepted it wholeheartedly.
Granted, this sort of rhetoric is easy to maintain when you don't actually have to deal with any minorities. I grew up in a society where people of visibly different races were either tourists or international students - not completely unheard of, but rare enough to seem exotic and removed from my every day life.
There were two major exception to this. One were the refugees from the first Georgian civil war. They had a visibly darker skin, they spoke a strange language and, unlike the tourists, they didn't just vanish overnight. To be honest, I don't really remember much about them, but I do remember my mom abolishing me to be nice to them.
She told me that they lost everything, and they didn't know anyone here. She asked me to imagine how I would feel if my home was blown up and I had to go to some strange country.
And I did remember feeling sorry for them. Sorry and a little guilty. I'm not sure for what, but I remember feeling it.
The second time was when we went to buy milk from a Romani family. I heard all sorts of scary stories about how "Gypsies" stole little children. My mom took me with her, and I remember that I didn't want to go, that I tried to find any excuse not to go, but my mom would hear none of that.
When I did meet the Romani family, I found that they were nice people. They didn't even look that different from the Russians we'd see out in the country. And their milk was delicious. As strange as it sounds, it was that last part that ultimately convinced me that all the stories about Romani were silly. Anybody who raised cows that made such good milk couldn't possibly be evil.
Then, there was the issue of homosexuality. I am not sure when I first heard of the concept, but I do remember coming home one day and asking my mom to explain why "goluboy" - one of the milder slang terms for a gay person - was a bad word.
My mom explained simply and clearly. Some men liked men. Why? Because that's the way there are. There are men who like women and men who like men. There is nothing bad about it. It's just different.
But the things my family taught me weren't really tested until I came to United States. All the sudden, I was thrust into a society where all kinds of people lived and worked together. It was almost like old Soviet propaganda come to life. It was very exciting. With my English skills very much limited, I used to pass my time watching my classmates and marveling at all the skin colors and eye shapes, the seemingly infinite variety and combinations. And they were all American. Sure, some very immigrants, but most were born in this country.
That was fascinating to me. Fascinating and mind-blowing.
As I learned the language and adjusted to the American culture, I started to understand what the American diversity really mean. There were more options. I learned that the Russian perspective on history I grew up with wasn't always the right one - or, at least, that it didn't always tell the whole story. I got in touch with my Polish ancestry. i learned a bit about Russian Jewish traditions. In Russia, there is a lot of pressure to stay true to your nationality, but in America, I could branch out and explore. And that was okay. It didn't make me any less Russian.
In Russia, for the talk about gender equality, the values still tend to be a bit... patriarchal. A lot of emphasis on being a man, on acting like man. But in America, again - there was multiple choice. I could be open about interests I could never quite embrace in Russia. I could enjoy soap operas and romantic comedies. I didn't have to pretend to care about sports I didn't particularly like.
It's been 14 years since i came to this country. I met all sorts of people from so many backgrounds. I got introduced to countries and faiths I never even knew exited. I attended Pride Parades and other Boystown events. And, when my brother came out... I supported gay rights before, but it was in a more abstract way. Knowing that the life and happiness of a family member was at stake made it urgent and intensely personal.
The reason why I bring this up - and the reason why I got into a discussion with mysticowl in the first place - was because, looking back, I can't help but wonder. If I stayed in Russia, would I believe what I believe now? Would I still believe in diversity, personal freedom and equal rights the way I do now?
I'd like to think that I would still be able to do the right thing. But I grew up under the shadow of the Soviet Union. I know how powerful and persuasive propaganda can be. So, honestly - I don't know.
And, if I had a way to know, I would probably be too afraid to find out.