A few months ago, I reconnected with my former fellow students from my Academy. The males are beyond the point. Twenty years ago they were vulgar misogynists. What they are today like I don’t care and don’t want anything to do with them. The women then, I thought. They might have some value for me.
So, I became a member of their Telegram group. I was met with a cool caution. They didn’t know what to make of me. Lenka (a casual version of my name in Russian) is with a woman? Bouncing on a boat around the world? Why in the hell?
Not one of my former girlfriends praised me for getting away from my oppressors and living my life freely, without any dogma. Of course they didn’t! They are a part of the very tyranny I ran from. Though, I tried to convince myself otherwise all these years. Telling myself that they didn’t actually do me any harm, that I must give them a benefit of the doubt.
By the way, everyone whom I have known in Russia reacts with bewilderment when I tell them I fled. Ran from Russia?! I read between the lines. What’s wrong with today’s Russia? Only my late grandmother’s sister communicated anything at all in regard to my escape. She thinks I am not in Russia because I found myself greener pastures. This is the prevalent rumor among my numerous relatives, with my Mother hiding the true reason for my escape.
Despite the chat being virtual, it was creepy to find myself among my former fellow students. I’ve changed. I am no longer the former Elena, meek and scared. This time I wouldn’t give an inch of my freedom. I fought for it too damn hard.
Only one of the three women who were closer to me than the rest, was willing to talk to me. The two others kept their distance. Watching me, criticizing me, no doubt. They are proud and boasting mothers. Seeing me traveling the world and having no man or children in my life wouldn’t have passed unnoticed. There would have been other reasons, too. My father died several months after I ran from home. My cat, too, died right away. They wouldn’t care that my cat and Father were living with a psychopath under the same roof. And they would never consider my mother to have any shortcomings or be responsible in any way. Olga had nothing to do with any of it, she fell victim to her heinous daughter.
And there was not a peep about the war in Ukraine, in the group. When one of my girlfriends told me I “better not talk about it otherwise we will fight” I left the group and forgot about it.
But a few days ago I am receiving a message on Telegram from one of the two silent mothers. She is wondering why I am no longer a member of the group. And here I thought I managed to get away unscathed, without a scandal (me finally giving them a piece of my mind).
Just before I got my girlfriend’s message, I read an article on Medium where a young Ukrainian woman describes how she feels around Russians, she goes into full-blown panic mode. I recognized a lot of it in myself. I, a Russian, am uncomfortable around Russians.
My anger gave me courage and so I answered what I thought. Pored it out, that I have nothing to do in the group where the war is ignored and where I have absolutely nothing in common with the members. You are all mothers and wives, I say. Where as I am an adventurer and free of children.
I knew I was getting into hot water with this one. In Russia, having no children is as bad as being a criminal. Maybe even worse.
But when she wondered for what possible reason one other groupie of ours, like me, remained free of children, I defended the guy. Saying, What difference does it make why he hasn’t become a parent. He may have millions of reasons. We should just be happy that he is happy. And Being a parent is just one option. Me and him made a different choice.
I knew she, on the other side of the world, in Russia, awake for some reason late at night, was fuming. And that I would get my ass kicked for that one. And I did. Here is the English translation of what she told me, because this is priceless:
“You can learn what chocolate is only if you taste it. The same with parenthood.”
I am staring at it, stunned. She compares food curiosity to life choices. Simplistic, but effective. For a second, such an argument might just stop her opponent in their tracks. I figure she got that one from somebody else, likely online, on some Happy Mothers group.
Then she fires another one, can’t let go of my defending our child-free groupie. That me and him are happy the way we are and don’t wreck our life for the sake of societal approval.
“For certain, children are self-sacrifice. But at the same time, it is unconditional love. You can’t get such pure love from anyone else in the world. This is my conviction and my choice. Thank God for everything.”
I am dumbfounded again. Unconditional love? Is there such a thing? My psychology professor was saying the same kind of nonsense to us in the Academy. As I recall, that love between mother and her child is unconditional. I wondered for a second. Could it be true? But then I thought, Wait a minute, what about my psychopathic mother? Do I feel an unconditional love for her? Any love at all? Is what she feels for me, love? The woman did everything she could to have me killed, have me seriously f*cked, to the very least. Yeah, you gotta laugh at that one.
And don’t get me started on the Thank God for everything thing. It is a new shtick now in Russia. The Communist party perished with it’s ideology, so, believing in the bearded guy in the sky took it’s place. But it makes you feel like you are a part of a greater structure. And you get praised for being a good breeder.
What now? I am back to having just one Russian to communicate with, my journalist friend now living in Serbia. I am wondering if I will ever have another Russian friend. A girlfriend would be nice. But I am not counting on that. And I am thinking I might be overrating Russians. I can’t wait to get to Balkans to find out.