I am participating in #MoreThanALabel: Immigrant Stories, Simmons College's online MSW Program's campaign to promote transcending labels. By participating in this campaign, I will be sharing my immigrant story and how I believe we can shatter the stigmas often attributed to immigrant communities.
Though this blog is ostensibly about food (Russian and Israeli food adapted to fit modern food sensitivities, to be exact), it is also just as much a blog about my personal migrant journey. Whether I've told you about my family's poverty, the complete sense of disconnect we experienced upon first moving, or the menial jobs that my doctor-trained parents worked to get us through life as newcomers, I've shared glimpses into the arduous road that got us to where we are today. Like a Mennonite quilt, I've shown you patches of the work that has built my life, my recipe repertoire, and my identity.
But today, I'd like to be more blunt about it all.
It's been hard to avoid the barrage of anti-migrant rhetoric that's been dominating the news lately. Photos of a small child, lying facedown on the shore, the waves rhythmically lapping around him; speculations about the intent of a young man of Muslim origin, who brought a homemade clock to school to demonstrate his prowess with mechanics; debates about hospitality and barriers, niqabs and hijabs, terrorism and good-old world domination.
Whether you have heard certain discriminating comments made by GOP presidential candidates, read the media's constant vilification in their portrayal of immigrants, or heard anything about the current migrant crisis in Europe, you have also been subject to anti-immigrant rhetoric. And for me, it's all felt like a punch to the throat.
So when a representative of Simmons College's online MSW Program approached me to take part in their #MoreThanALabel campaign, I didn't hesitate. I knew I wanted to join my voice to the chorus of protesters, nay-sayers, and migrants flooding the gates of another country like so many of my ancestors have done. I knew I needed to take part in a campaign about shedding a positive light on immigrant communities, defying labels, and combatting stigmas.
So here's my immigrant story. What's yours?
I am Ksenia Prints.
I am 29-years-old, on the cusp of what I am now comfortable calling adulthood. I live with my boyfriend and a cat in a beautiful one-bedroom apartment in Montreal, Quebec, a province that is forever torn between the politics of identity, language and religion.
I am a writer. I am a cook. I am a dreamer. I let my imagination run places it probably shouldn't. I let my fingers work their way around the outer layers of an onion, the hilt of a chopping knife, the peel of an orange. I let my eyes see what's around me: the falling leaves, the cat begging for more food, the Syrian refugee child dying on a shore in Europe. I let myself remember what came before me, and what's to come after.
I am a Russian Jew, born in the dusk of the Soviet Union, when lines for milk were as long as lines to buy tickets to a One Direction concert. Every day, I speak and read the language of my parents, making my way through the words on the page as one would through a field of corn, basking in the light and the love and all of the textures.
I am an Israeli. I love the sun and large plates with freshly baked pitas and hummus, and I also love arguing. I have clawed my way through the fabric of Israel, a country as tumultuous as the stories of those who call it home. I have bent and adapted, stood my ground and spoke my mind.
And now, I am a Canadian resident (soon to be a citizen!). I am an Anglophone living in a Francophone province. I am a Jew.
And everywhere, just a little bit, I feel like I don't fully belong.
I have watched my parents toil day and night to give us decent clothing. I have worn clothing from the trash. I have made my own clothing. I have bought designer-label clothing.
But above all else, I feel immense pride at myself and my family. I look back on our hard work and many accomplishments, and I feel relief: relieved that we had the courage to plough ahead when there were nothing but obstacles. Relieved that we had the humility to take handouts when they were given. Relieved that we had the strength to believe in ourselves and our rights to a good life even when no one else did. Relieved that we had the love to give one another when things got tough.
Relieved that we made the decision to immigrate when a new life offered better opportunities. We spend so much time debating whether a particular refugee had lost it all before trying for a new life; we expect people to be at the bottom of the barrel before they come knocking on the doors of a new country. But there should be no shame in talking about making the good choice of your family. There should be no shame in immigrating because another place had more possibilities.
If you or your parents are an immigrant, please, share your immigrant story below. If you have a blog, post about it and tag it#MoreThanALabel. Talk about your accomplishments and setbacks, the highs and the lows. Talk about your hopes and dreams for the future.
And work with me to break the stigma about immigrants.
Immigrant: It's #MoreThanALabel.
Darlene Tomes says
Your story is very beautiful, as are the pictures. My eyes are filled with tears and I am very proud to know you.
kseniaprints says
Darlene, it is I who am proud to know you and your family's immigrant stories. It's amazing how, no matter where we come from in the world, all immigrants have a shared history of resilience. Thank you for opening your home and heart to me.
Mom says
Дорога длиной в 1000 миль начинается с первого шага! Шагайте !!
kseniaprints says
A chto mi eshe mojem delat'? 🙂
Kellie MacMillan says
Oh, my goodness Ksenia this is just about the most terrific story I've ever read. My heart is brimming over with love for you, your family and the incredible journey you've had. I really don't have any words to say but know that I am deeply touched.
You are such a brave, wonderful soul and I am so glad I know you.
I fall in love with you as a person more and more all the time.
The pictures are just breath-taking and despite the hardships you all look so happy to be together.
YES, #MoreThanALabel
kseniaprints says
You are the kindest person I've met through blogging! Seriously, your words and emotions are just so uplifting, and you really know how to make a girl feel special 🙂 But the brave and wonderful ones are my parents, who took two little children and gave them a better life. I am forever in their debt!
Kathryn @ The Scratch Artist says
Ksenia,
These photos and your story are so beautiful. I can see your face in your mother's and vice versa. So beautiful. You all look so happy and tightly knit in all of these photos. My great grandparents migrated to Brooklyn, NY from Russia in the early 1900s. There was always a veil of secrecy around their Russian past. They assertively looked to become American and they eschewed their roots. I didn't know either of them, but whenever I asked my Grandfather about it, he said that they never talked about it. The stigma and challenges of being immigrants is part of what drove the secrecy, I imagine. From where I sit, it takes so much strength and courage to immigrate. I have such respect for those that leave everything thing they know for a chance at something better, when there is no guarantee of safety or success. My heart is with you and your family Ksenia. I am happy that you added your voice to this important endeavor.
kseniaprints says
I have been thinking about your comment for the week that I couldn't really type due to my hand... And it's caused me both joy and sadness. Joy, because you are getting to discover even just a little bit of your roots through the questions you're raising to your grandparents... And sadness, because your great-grandparents must have had such bad experiences that have driven them to eschew their past and try to forget about it. Russia for Jews at the turn of the 20th century was no paradise... And I honestly cannot even begin to fathom what they must have gone through.
Thank you so much for opening up your story to me and my readers.
Shmuel Prints says
I think that truth about immigration is more complicated. I is so hard to be adapted in new reality and be changed. But the country that gets new citizens has to be ready to changing too. The fear to be changed is really reason for anti-immigrant comments.
People have to be braves to leave there cradle. But the permanent residents have to be brave more.
kseniaprints says
Pap, I completely agree with you. You've said it much better and more to the point than I ever could!
Irene says
Thank You for sharing your story and beautiful family pictures. Our family immigrated to Canada also, my parents wanted a better live and more opportunists for their children. This is such a common reason for most immigrants...... Much like your parents mine also worked day and night at whatever was available to some income. Although we did not much there were always gatherings in our kitchen with friends and good food. Food was so important to my father especially fresh fruit, well maybe fresh everything.... Our friends really were like family as so many of us never had a Aunt, Uncle or Grandparents in Canada. So many happy times through such difficult times. My father is Polish and mother is Russian. They met after the War in Germany.
kseniaprints says
Thank you, Irene, for sharing your family story and memories. It's so true how in many immigrant cultures, the drive to make new connections and to share something of your background is stronger than the drive to save... and so, so many families opened their cupboards and kitchens to friends and new acquaintances, inviting guests and bringing food to potluck and just wanting to win hearts and minds through stomachs. I guess I'm not that different after all!
Elen G says
Kellie sent me! What a truly beautiful and moving story. Thank you so much for sharing. Unless we are First Nations or Aboriginals, we are all of immigrant stock. We immigrated to Canada from the U.S. because we wanted a quieter, slower pace of life. And while I love my country of birth, I love my adopted country, too. Nice writing. Cheers.
kseniaprints says
Completely true. I think that one of the reasons I am so comfortable in Canada is because, unlike the oft-vehement patriotism of the U.S., this is a country that recognizes its immigrant roots. Glad to meet you, Elen!
Elen G says
Likewise, Ksenia!
Sarah Carson says
You are such a gem, Ksenia! Thanks for sharing.
kseniaprints says
You're too kind. I just felt like I had to share something of myself for this important mission! And you know, introduce myself to the people who haven't been reading this thing for over a year and a half 😉
yana prints says
wowwww
what an awsam blog
loved it
waydagp sis
kseniaprints says
Thanks sis!!!
Karen Hecker, Bella Gurevich says
My wife, Bella Gurevich a Russian Jew, was born in what is now Ukraine, Odessa and lived in what is now Russia, Vologda. It was the USSR when she was there. She, and her six-year-old daughter left in 1981 for the United States. They had to stay in Rome for six weeks during the transfer. Some of her family went to Israel. She also stood in those long food lines with her baby. Unfortunately, her father, who was from Latvia, lost his whole family to the holocaust. He happened to be away from home when they came and got his family. He was 16 and went to Russia to join the military. She also lost family members on her mother's side. Her mom was a doctor in the USSR and, of course had to repeat medical school the USA since her degree would not transfer. Bella was born deaf but never had hearing aids until she came to the US. She has been a tailor for over 50 years and also does fiber art now that we are retired and have time. Her daughter is very successful in her career. Bella is the proudest American there is and gets so upset that so many people who were born here do not appreciate the country.
kseniaprints says
Thank you so, so much Karen for sharing your wife's story. My heart bleeds for what happened to her family, and yet rejoices at the fact she found solace later in life. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for adding to this important discourse.