User:Maxim
From The Peopling of Astoria, Queens
The Move
The question about where it is that I came from is one that has often been
asked of me, and with that the underlying question of what I am it terms of
nationality. How many people can actually say they come from an extinct country?
I, Maxim Bakaleynik, along with my parents and maternal grandparents moved to New
York City in September of 1991, fifteen and a half years ago, from the United
Soviet Socialist Republic. Geographically the city where I was born, Vinnitsa,
now lies in Ukraine, which is what most people expect me to say about my
nationality, but I can’t. I was not born in Ukraine, I did not live in Ukraine,
and frankly after going back for the first time two years ago and seeing first
hand the anti-Semitism that has been allowed to take root and breed there I am
disgusted at the notion of being associated with it. I am now, and forever will
be, a Soviet-Jew.
My family move to the United States was motivated, as all moves of this
scale, by multiple reasons. The first of course is job opportunity. My father had been a college professor of physics and advanced mathematics, but his career was being held back by the fact that it was very difficult for a Jewish person to get a PhD. Unlike other candidates he had to use connections, and do his work through a mentor in a different city because there was simply no other way. The anti-Jewish sentiment was so open that the college director actually publicly announced one year that, even though there was a quota for the number of Jewish students to be accepted, he decided not to accept any to “make his life a little simpler”. My mother worked in a history museum, giving tours and arranging exhibits, and too faced such problems when after leading a group of important officials they used her religion against her in the evaluation. Here my father is an engineer, and my mother is a manager in health services. Could they have made a good life for themselves in “the old country”? Sure, but being a Jew would have put an invisible ceiling on how far they could have gone. The second reason for immigration was religion. The USSR was coming apart at the seams, and there were rumors of pogroms to come. Every fall needs a scapegoat. My friend, who left after the USSR did fall apart, told me a story about how the door to her apartment was set on fire to “smoke out the Jews”. In the end, the move was made because there weren’t too many other alternatives. My father’s family (parents, 2 siblings, and uncle along with their respective households) moved to Israel. My mother’s sister and her household were in New York, and the only way to leave was by an invitation. While both sides of the family were appealing, but Israel wasn’t known for its opportunity, and moving to New York was necessary to get my grandparents out with us. There is no family left in “the old country”, in fact, there is even no “old country”.
The move itself, as told to me by my parents, was difficult. Even though, we had an invitation to leave the country that didn’t mean it wanted to let us go. There were a lot of interviews and background checks, and when permission was finally granted it was a very short time away. We were limited to one traveling bag of 20 kg. per person so a lot of sentimental valuables had to be left behind. Even worse was that certain items such as precious stones, money over a certain sum, and jewelry was forbidden to be taken out of the country so they were lost. Things had to be sold in a rush, and people tried to take advantage of you because they knew you were desperate to sell in a hurry. Worse then that my grandfather was very difficult about the move. He felt that he had a good job, and being an honored WWII war veteran, he could have a good life in the USSR no matter what happened where as he would be seen as old and useless in the United States. The flight was long with a stopover in Frankfurt, Germany, and having a 4 year old and two senior citizens didn’t help much in relieving the stress, especially when I, the four year old, decided that I was bored with flying and was ready to get off halfway over the Atlantic ocean. This is a story still laughed about at the table during celebrations with the extended family. From hearing them talk I get the sense that my parents only miss certain places in the city we lived in. “The school I went to, and my friends at the museum” says my mother “and the well known spots in the city such as the park where we used to walk you and the city center”. My father also recalls the university where he worked and his colleagues, and also mentioned “both our mother’s houses where we used to celebrate holidays”. I don’t get a sense that they miss the city itself or having lived there, just those places. I myself feel the same way; having gone back I can even say that while the places are still there as I remember them they too are no longer the same because the country itself is different. We all miss our memories. We are all glad that we’ve left behind the feeling of being burdened by who we are, Jewish. Obviously, my parents love the fact that in New York they were able to get good careers. My father never had the opportunity to teach again or to finish his PhD, but he is happy that he is licensed in several fields, and is highly respected by his co-workers for his expertise. He always seeks to find new licenses to earn, and I get the sense that it is partly because he loves the feeling of having the opportunity to do that. My mother is a department manager is a hospital, and has a fair amount of people who look to her for leadership. She too is a licensed professional and held in high regard. What we all dislike about living in New York, and I strongly agree with them on this is that there is a very severe difference in morals and values between those taught to American youth and those taught in Europe. Ideas such as chivalry, education before pleasure, and the importance of family, and so on are seen as archaic and out of date. I was raised on such values, and I feel that they have gotten me to where I am in life, and seeing people cut classes and settling for second best is simply disturbing to us. My parents are also were happy that I got a chance to attend a Yeshiva in New York, and study my heritage. I have been able to make an informed decision about who I am, and in an effort to hold our faith my family makes an effort to go to temple several times a year. Although the “old country” lives on only in memories I am now and forever a Soviet-Jew.
