Pink baby clothing, a small crib for her size, the perfect little socks for her tiny feet, and the knitted pink hat to cover her ears from the cold – are the thoughts my family was thinking when first bringing me home from the hospital. There were many laughs and smiles when I arrived to my new home – a home with three other siblings and a set of parents. I think I felt happy. The moments from when I was just a small child – shaped my identity as a human being on planet earth. Of course, it wasn’t just the first day of my day at my so-called “home” that shaped me; it is the every day from birth until today that shaped who I am today. I am a happy, positive person who has learned to be accepting and empathetic for all people. I am a Ukrainian woman who still enjoys her Ukrainian culture but also accepts other cultures and rituals when it comes to meeting new people.
How did I become that way? Good question. It was the very moments when I heard my neighbor singing on top of his lungs about the beautiful foggy weather while fixing the tops of his roof. The moment when an “American” was passing by my street and gave me a long, pink, yummy gum! I still remember the way I ran inside the house to share the one thing we never had: gum. I remember the days when my dad had to shovel the snow in order to get out of the house to work. The snow was taller than me and I had a hard time walking because my legs were constantly getting stuck in the snow without any knowledge of why it could be so. I was the one who my mom saved the last candy for, since I was the youngest for four years of my life. It was me who told my dad, in an irritated tone, that the sun keeps running after me wherever I go and won’t stop doing so!
Growing up in Europe, I didn’t ever see people different than I was. Everyone in my block had similar interests, similar clothing, similar toys, and even food. The only difference I remember is my best friend in my day care. Her father was an official in the army and she always had items that were from far away and I envied her. One day I saw a beautiful hair clip on her hair, after admiring it and asking her to let me hold it, I carelessly threw it on the concrete floors under the many bunk beds of the room. Until this day, I have no idea why I could have done such a thing; perhaps, I was so jealous. My friend would not stop screaming until my provider ran in and forced me to find the hair clip to give back to my friend. She hit my bottom and I was crying; it was a memory I will remember for a long time. I never did anything bad to that friend ever again. I did smile at her during nap time while the care provider wasn’t looking. The only difference I knew then – was that there were rich and poor.
My family’s immigration to America in 1996 wasn’t a very big difference for me, since I was always around my cousins and family. When I was just five, my brother called the cops from our home phone and I remember getting in trouble with him, since I was there with him. My parents told us that if we were to ever do that again, the cops would come and take us away from our home. Since then, cops seemed cruel and unjust; I avoided them completely until I found that it was “cool” to wave to them when I was in 8th grade.
I remember my first days in Kindergarten; I didn’t cry, I was a strong child. My mom was obviously very proud of me and constantly waited for me by my bus stop. After several month, as I stepped out of my school bus – my mom wasn’t there waiting. I walked home. Alone. I knew the route even though I was only 6. At first, it was surprising for the while family and eventually, my mom got used to it and it was soon considered to be the norm: Nina walked home everyday. My parents were more of old style, they walked to school all the time and we were to follow their steps. I remember not having certain toys that I wanted, so I started looking for those things in school. A girl from my class won a kitten and as soon as I saw it, I stole it from my cubby into my own backpack. I remember her pointing at me and crying to her mom, but I didn’t understand what she was saying, I felt bad. When I won a Kitty, it got stolen from me and I made a big fuss of it too. I remember how my mom tried so hard to buy the same toy that I won but couldn’t find one since I was making it sound much bigger and fluffier than it really was. A black girl in my class was constantly pinching me and all I did was say, “stop.” My parents told me to keep saying “stop” and said that she’ll eventually stop. I don’t remember them saying anything racist about black people back then.
Since our neighborhood was in the north east of Portland, we had only white people living in the area and had two parks near our house. I remember playing at the park with my siblings when a black girl was calling me to play with her. I immediately ran away because I “knew” in my mind that if I came close, she would pinch me. I ran back to my siblings and stayed close to for the rest of the time. I kept growing in the circle of my friends and relatives; rarely did I see a person from another culture or race. I went to a Slavic church and a Slavic school where everyone I knew were Russian/Ukrainian and Christian. I knew no other. I thought the world was perfect, parents were perfect, pastors were even more perfect, and God was the perfect-est. Until I noticed that a National Geographic Journal had a picture of a baby boy, brown-colored, covered in dirt and as skinny as something I have never ever seen before. I then started reading books about helping others in the world, I read of a boy who decided to send his toys to the poor children. I, together with my cousins, learned a song about how Jesus loves everyone, and it doesn’t even matter what color you can be! It was the start to accept others, since Jesus loves them all.
I remember my dad saying some things that would be considered as racism but he said those things more like jokes rather than something serious. The jokes didn’t really affect me too much, but I see how they affected my brother. He still calls people “Mexican” if they do a sloppy job. My parents talked about positive things more often than the negative, they were optimistic about other cultures but strictly forbid any of us to marry a non-Russian/Ukrainian person. It was a very obvious thing that I grew up with; it isn’t even a question to be considered. All my siblings and I somehow grew up to know that we would NEVER marry a non-Russian/Ukrainian person. For whenever we heard of someone getting married to somebody other, my parents’ tone sounded serious, as if a terror occurred.
The scenarios mentioned above are just a little piece of the story of how I became me – Nina. Through all I have been through and all I have heard, I am a white woman with much respect to diverse groups of people. I know my values, I know my choices, and I know the goals that I have. But I also understand that other people have values other than mine, they make choices other than mine, and they have goals other than mine. I learned to respect that and I have learned to have empathy towards everyone I set my eyes on.
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