I don’t talk politics. I always feel that I don’t know enough; aren’t educated enough; that the processes of the world politics are too complicated for me to grasp after watching couple YouTube videos; that I don’t know enough history behind current situation – to place any sort of judgement.
I also don’t invite any political discussion.
My INFJ brain operates on the level of emotions; feelings; basic human rights; decency. And even in those questions I never want to make a categorical statement; I’m always worried to miss a point, and an angle, to fail to hear another side, another voice.
But I’ll tell you this:
There is a reason why I always feel horribly uncomfortable when people make a comment about my accent; when they ask me where I’m from; when the question of heritage and childhood arises. It’s because I’m ashamed to be Russian.
I’m not ashamed to have read those fairy tales as a kid; or of my childhood with my Granny; or of the wonderful Russian literature I read, or films I watched.
I’m ashamed to say that I’m associated with the country that in its history has Stalin, and the Holodomor; and Gulags; and years of the Repressions; and the Pogroms.
When a person asks me, where I’m from, I say, “I was born in Russia, but…” and then I give some details of my later life. I studied French, I went to Nice, I’ve been to Egypt; I live in Canada.
When a person says ‘I’m Serbian,’ ‘My parents are Hungarian,’ ‘I’m Ukrainian Canadian,’ I always feel this sharp pain in the ribs on my left side. My brain starts screaming, ‘I am Russian, and I was born in a country that did horrible things to yours.” (And continues to do, by the way.)
I am not naive. I don’t think I’m personally responsible for the atrocities the Russian soldiers committed during the WWII, or the concetration camps. I also don’t care which country a person I speak to was born in, what their nationality, race, sexuality, or gender is.
But I’m ashamed to be Russian. And I feel it acutely every day.
And today I think I’d be ashamed to be American.
Not because the country elected a rapist and a sexual predator as a President. That’s my INFJ personality screaming in terror, and all my personal triggers making me vomit and curl in a ball, pain slashing across my stomach, when he pops up on my screen. That’s not an exaggeration, by the way.
(And again, I’m not naive. I know what people are like. And I know the scope and the horrors of sexual abuse and violence that humanity partakes. But I still can’t understand how. You have mothers, you have daughters! How?!)
(And after Obama, of all things! What is wrong with you?!)
I’d be ashamed to be American because yesterday that’s what you had: an illiterate, uneducated, grotesque, bigoted racist on one side, and only Hillary Clinton to oppose him. Hillary with all her flaws and her history that they happily dragged out to show in media. She is a product of your society, just as him.
(And then you voted for him! He isn’t even human! That’s my emotions screaming, you have to excuse them.)
I’m sorry. I started all sane and calm, but now I just can’t.
Shame on you, Americans. Shame on you.