User:Viktoriya
From The Peopling of Astoria, Queens
Pieces of an Autobiography
Before I learned anything about religion and ethnicity I never questioned the relationship between my parents. In Soviet Russia religion was repressed, especially Judaism. My mother’s family is Jewish in ethnicity, but they had stopped practicing as far back as my grandmother’s grandmother. And even though my father’s mother was a religious Russian Orthodox Christian, religious differences never stood in the way of their marriage.
My mom’s family had been in Kharkov, Ukraine since the end of World War II. Kharkov is an industrial city South of Kiev with Russian as its major language. My dad’s parents came from a city bordering Ukraine, Belgorod in Russia. Interestingly enough after the split, Kharkov remained a much more Russian city, while Belgorod was incredibly Ukrainian. My dad’s parents were divorced and his father, Nicholas remarried a woman who owned a farm. My father lived with his mother who worked a very low paying job.
Because my father enrolled in the army he spent many years traveling all over Eastern Europe, with my mother in tow. When my brother was born, they went to live in Poland until they sent him back to live with my mother’s parents. Nine years after my brother, I was born in Kharkov. The first four years of my life were spent in Baku, Azerbaijan, eating copious amounts of black caviar and babysitting myself while my parents were at work. When I was four we moved back to Kharkov to live in a tiny apartment that had once belonged to Nicholas. My mom got a job as an electrical engineer and my father began working for the railroad, and I started kindergarten across the street. I also began taking English lessons outside of school. It turned out that while we were moving around our little neighbor countries, my mom’s relatives had already begun to escape the Soviet grip.
When I learned my parents were definitely planning on getting out; it was a choice between Australia, Canada, and America, avoiding Israel to save my brother from the army. By that time my mother’s female cousin had already moved to America. Because my mom’s family was Jewish it was easier for them to break through the migration restrictions. My great uncle’s nephew was the first of my family to move here to New York. I think he won a green card. Through the family ties and Jewish ethnicity he was able to quickly get his mother, father, grandmother, and younger brother to New York. We were able to come when my grandmother’s sister, who was my great uncle’s wife, invited her over.
Our relatives got us an apartment in Kew Gardens. They had all settled around that area in Queens. My brother was 18 and enrolled in Queens College. He graduated very quickly and found a permanent position within two years. He is now the head of his department and bosses over about 20 other computers as well as three monitors, even at home. My parents had a tough time the first couple of years because they had to work and go to school at night. They barely got any sleep and never got to see me.
As I got to know more about New York and more about life in general I began to appreciate what my parents had done to bring me here. I went back to visit Ukraine last spring. My father’s family cannot come here. I don’t understand the politics that prevent it. But somehow it paid my mother to be Jewish. When I saw the country I had such fond memories off, I was horribly disappointed. People there live in shambles not knowing that there is a different way of life. Although they are not under Communist control, many still remain veiled to a better way of life.
