Free to Be

By Anya Groznaya
University of Illinois at Urbana/Champaign

I was asked to devote this essay to freedom. My family emigrated from the former Soviet Union to the United States in the late nineties. Well, looking back at this move almost seven years later, what kind of freedom did it bring us? Religious freedom, financial freedom, freedom to say what we think, freedom to achieve what we want… To sum it up, freedom to be who we are, or may want to become.

The religious aspect of being free is particularly pertinent to me, considering my family is Jewish. I was born in 1980 in what was then Soviet Ukraine, in the city of Kharkov. I always knew that I was Jewish, and until I was in 2^nd grade, I didn’t know that there was anything "wrong" with being Jewish. In the spring of my 2^nd grade year, my mother took me with her to pick up matzah for Passover. It was a very secretive procedure. Someone told my mother about a man who brought the matzah from Kiev, the capital of Ukraine, and was selling it illegally out of his apartment. We were not allowed to go into his apartment. We were to tell the messenger that we wanted "two" (kilograms of matzah) and wait outside. Finally, the messenger came out with our bag filled with "two," my mother paid him and we headed home. As we were walking towards the subway station, I saw my art teacher. I wanted to run to say "Hi" to her and tell her what we were doing. My mother stopped me abruptly, and told me I could not tell the teacher what we had just bought. Why? She told me the story of Passover and why we ate matzah for this holiday, and also that most non-Jews (the art teacher included) did not like us very much. So, advertising the fact that we were Jewish was not a good idea.

During the next four years I heard my parents’ stories about being chased down the street and beaten after school by their classmates who were screaming: "Kill Jews, save Russia!" During those years I also found out that although everyone called my mother Asya, her real name was Basya. She changed it to Asya in order not to sound so obviously Jewish. Moreover, my grandmother Maria was actually Malka, and my uncles, Leonid and Vitaly, were named Yonatan and Israel respectively at birth, and had also chosen to change their names. So, I followed my family members in trying to conceal my Jewishness by lying that I was Russian when asked about my nationality and hoping no one would ever find out the truth.

Then, in 1990, when I was in 5^th grade, my classmates found out that I was Jewish. It happened on a day I did not go to school because I was sick. My friend stopped by after school and told me that they read the class list with everyone’s nationalities (yes, class lists in Soviet schools listed everyone’s nationality) and, when they got to my name, it said that I was Jewish. They ran up and down the school hallways and yelled: "Groznaya is Jewish! Groznaya is Jewish!" I was afraid to go to school after that, but when I did, nothing happened. A couple of people remarked that they would continue to be my friends even though I was Jewish, but nobody openly expressed a desire to kill me for the sake of saving Russia.

At the same time, the Soviet Union began to fall apart. In 1991 Ukraine became independent. Instead of being considered the "opiate of the masses," religion suddenly became trendy. Soon religious freedom became official. A Habad rabbi came to town and took charge of the synagogue, which during Soviet times was turned into a gym. Then, other Jewish organizations started coming to Kharkov and doing programming for people of all ages. In the spring of 1992, my parents took me to the celebration of Israel’s Independence Day. To them, it was incredible: a large number of Jews gathered in the same room, openly celebrating independence of a Jewish state, dancing with white and blue flags, and singing in Hebrew and Yiddish. To me it was surreal, because so far, being Jewish had no significance to me, though that event seemed kind of cool. After the celebration, my parents signed me up for the Jewish summer camp. That was the turning point, when being Jewish became a good thing for me. While I was in camp, we found out that a new Jewish school was opening in Kharkov in September. My parents were glad to sign me up, because they were not satisfied with the local school and the Jewish school promised both higher quality education in all subject areas and a Jewish education.

Although I resisted at first, because I didn’t want to leave my friends, once school started I loved every minute of it. The students were better; the teachers were better… Soon I started to take pride in being Jewish. I gained a sense of belonging to a nation with rich history, culture, and religion. With it came my desire to wear Jewish jewelry and t-shirts with Hebrew writing and stars of David on them, which I got at Jewish camps. I wore them in public (not without fear), mainly wanting to challenge the society and yell out loud: "Yes, I’m Jewish! And, yes, I am proud of it!" I got a few angry looks and a few questions from strangers about my shirts, I attracted the efforts of "Jews for Jesus," but mostly I brought on my parents fear of anti-Semitism and their pleas that I not wear those items in public. While for me the sense of pride was bigger than the fear, my parents’ childhood experiences were so strong that the fear continued to be among the strongest emotions associated with being Jewish.

Our invitation to come to the US came in the summer of 1996. On August 1^st we interviewed at the Embassy in Moscow and were granted refugee status. So, during my final year of high school, I watched my classmates frantically prepare to take the college entrance exams, think about future careers, etc. When the time came for our diplomas and final transcripts to be prepared, we were given an option to include or not to include the Jewish subjects on the transcripts. All of my classmates who were staying in Ukraine chose not to have those subjects listed on their transcripts, because they were concerned that this information, if seen by an anti-Semite, would prevent them from entering a college and/or negatively affect their lives after college. Knowing that I was going to America, I decided to include the Jewish subjects on my high school transcripts. It is sad to say, but if I were to stay in Ukraine, I probably would have chosen to exclude them from the transcripts. In June 1997, I received a diploma stating that I graduated from the "General School # 170 with Enhanced Study of the Jewish Language and Culture" and a transcript listing the Jewish subjects in alphabetical order, together with the rest of the high school curriculum.

A month and a half later, my family boarded the van that would take us to the airport in Moscow, to fly out of the country. I was going to bring my siddur into the car, so that I could say the traveler’s prayer. I just held it in my hand and headed out, when my mother became very concerned and begged me not to take it out there like that. Why? Because her former co-workers were there to say good-bye, and she didn’t want them to see her daughter with a Jewish book in her hands. She was still afraid, even though she was leaving this country and those people behind forever. So, I carried the siddur out in my purse, the doors of the van closed, and about thirty hours later we landed in the United States. That was the end of the era of shame and fear for being who we are for me, and my family.

How are our lives different now? My mother now introduces herself as Basya when she meets people, and she does not feel ashamed or afraid. My parents are not ashamed to have Jewish literature in their apartment and a mezuzah on their door. They feel free to attend Jewish concerts and other events. They openly buy matzah at the supermarket every spring. Living in the US, I am never afraid to wear a Star of David or a shirt with Hebrew writing or carry a Jewish book in public. I tell people that I’m Jewish without any fear at all, and every time I do, I feel good inside. I can take a Jewish subject in a college or a university, and not have to exclude it from my transcript. However, as a somewhat observant Jew, I find this country not free of certain "inconveniences." For instance, every year I miss several days of classes on Jewish holidays. However, I feel free to come and tell the professors the reason why I miss class, and over the last six years of being a student I never had a problem with being excused from class. Also, this year I need to take several state and national examinations for certification and licensure in my profession. These tests are scheduled on Saturdays, and it takes extra effort to reschedule them for a different day. While it is inconvenient, and I would prefer to just have several days available to take the test without having to prove that I can’t do it on a Saturday for religious reasons, I am glad there is an alternative option that is available, and I am comfortable with the knowledge that I will not be punished in any way for taking advantage of this option. Another "inconvenience" is that Friday is not a short day at work and making it home in time for Shabbat can sometimes be difficult. Again, however, all I’ve had to do so far was explain my situation and employers have had no problem letting me leave earlier on Fridays. As I think of the difficulties with being Jewish in the United States, I have to remind myself that this is not a Jewish country, and for a country that’s not Jewish, it has done a pretty good job of not discriminating against us. It is good to be free.

[Posted 3/21/04]