Decked out in red, white and blue, my family and I watched the Olympic Games. It was February 7, and the historical torch has just been lit in the Russian town of Sochi: The Winter Olympics have started.
Eighty-eight countries gathered together to participate in an ancient tradition. All over the world, people were glued to their televisions, shouting at the screen and most importantly, united together with a country that they may not even live in. Perhaps generations ago, their ancestors immigrated to Britain from Germany, from Egypt to France, or from Russia to the United States. For me, it was not generations ago. It was during my lifetime. The red, white and blue that I wore was in support of Russia, even though I live in the United States.
Even though I have been removed from Russia, I still hold that culture close to heart, regardless of belittlement or vexation, sort of like how Canada can’t let go of the monarchy across the sea, even though the US has pushed for them to do so. They reinvented French into a new language, “Quebecquois”, and adopted many new cultures, creating something unique and their own. In her portion of the “Encyclopedia of Children, Adolescents, and the Media”, Elizabeth Bandy wrote about these “fan cultures”, and said that “a fan culture forms when a group of fans organizes around their shared interest … and like any culture, organized fan communities operate within a set of norms and rules of behavior.” She goes on to say that “frequently, behaviors that are acceptable within the fan culture carry a different meaning for the outside observer.” It is important to establish the fact that cultures that have been removed from their native geographical location can no longer be considered “pure”. Thus, the “Russian culture” I grew up in, is in fact, a copy cat or fan culture. Like a lot of other fan cultures (think “Harry Potter” or “Doctor Who”), my culture and what I did was not understandable to the outside observer. The fact that it was called “Russian” applied a lot of other stereotypes and misconceptions that were applicable to Russia as a nation. This construct fused my fan culture to the actual culture and was the root of most of my problems (think Russian American, not Russian Stalin-Supporter-Communism-Lover-Genocide-Inflictor Person.
The truth of this statement manifested itself when I went to public school for the first time. On the first day of fifth grade I stepped into the classroom looking at the world through my big, round glasses. My frizzy red hair was already managing to escape the braid my mom had painstakingly woven not an hour before. Instead of a two strap backpack, at my side hung a one strapped purse. When I got to talking with my classmates and they found out I not only didn’t have a Myspace, but I’ve also never heard of it before, they ostracized me. Looking in to the culture I was a part of, one where watching TV was not normal, nor did family dinners include the family, they did not understand why I didn’t want to share a kiss by the playground equipment or why my packed lunch was never a sandwich.
Every day became an effort to prove myself: just because I only got a Facebook a month before I started university didn’t mean I didn’t have friends. Not having a phone did not mean that loving parents were not a part of my life.
In the past I have had to hide who I was (pretty hard to do when you’re named after Catherine the Great). In a recent class, I was afraid to say I was natively Russian because I did not want my opinions to be labeled “Russian propaganda” like they usually are. I wanted to speak out in support of something Russia did and not have it waved down like a pesky fly. As the class went around introducing themselves, I learned that there were native Italian, Ukrainian, German and Irish students. It was shocking for me to see that none of the other students seemed to care. When I was in high school, I was careful to inform the teacher before the beginning of class at the start of the school year how my name was pronounced, and still, as role was called, “I’m not even going to try to pronounce this,” warranted me raising my hand and wearily saying “here”. I still have to do this and then explain how you pronounce my name, and where it’s from, and why I can speak English well and that no, I’m not in fact a Stalin sympathizer. However, the emphasis has shifted in a dynamic way: I am no longer the only person bombarded with such questions. After having served my time in the spotlight, it has shifted to the next foreign student; who gets to experience his few minutes of fame as well.
America truly is the land of opportunity. I grabbed hold of that at a young age and now study at this prestigious university. However, I still consider myself a Russian. I speak the language, read it, write it, live it. My parents were born and raised in Russia, and have raised my siblings and me in the same way. I was home-schooled most of my life, so many of the pop culture trends that came and went were lost on me. I did not watch “American” shows or participate in “American” events. I have never drank or smoked or been in a romantic relationship. My dogs don’t know how to “sit”, they know how to “sidet”.
As a student body we are moving away from objectification and judgmental habits and that, in and of itself, deeds cultural importance to non-American students. We’re not in grade school anymore and I am proud to know that as a community, we acknowledge that there are people who are different from us and that I am no longer just the “token Russian”.
