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I love to speak Russian. But I've learned there are times to hold my tongue
"Yesterday, I called my mother.
We talked about the war in Ukraine. About the bodies and bombed buildings, about our relatives, about her tailor who is now making Ukrainian flags, about the Montreal nurse she knows whose parents are missing in Mariupol, about my cousin whose daughter lives in Poland and is worried about her boyfriend in Ukraine.
How, Anna? How is this happening again? She tells me that she was standing in line at the grocery store and overheard two women speaking in Russian about how their children were being bullied for speaking Russian.
This morning, I ran into Lyuba, a Russian-speaking woman I know. So seldom do I have the opportunity to speak the language of my childhood that I happily let loose my dormant Russian tongue.
As I waved goodbye, my nine-year-old-self reminded me that I've learned the dance between knowing when and when not to speak Russian.
Now is not that time."
Self imposed cancel culture.
"Yesterday, I called my mother.
We talked about the war in Ukraine. About the bodies and bombed buildings, about our relatives, about her tailor who is now making Ukrainian flags, about the Montreal nurse she knows whose parents are missing in Mariupol, about my cousin whose daughter lives in Poland and is worried about her boyfriend in Ukraine.
How, Anna? How is this happening again? She tells me that she was standing in line at the grocery store and overheard two women speaking in Russian about how their children were being bullied for speaking Russian.
This morning, I ran into Lyuba, a Russian-speaking woman I know. So seldom do I have the opportunity to speak the language of my childhood that I happily let loose my dormant Russian tongue.
As I waved goodbye, my nine-year-old-self reminded me that I've learned the dance between knowing when and when not to speak Russian.
Now is not that time."
Self imposed cancel culture.
