Open Minds, Open Hearts

This is the transcript of my digital story, which engages the question of what it means to be American. I wanted to share it in case anyone is interested!

*WALKING TO HOUSE*. 

Everyone has an ethnicity, a culture they have roots in. Many people follow in the footsteps set by their forefathers, barely skirting the edges of the beaten path before them. They let history and tradition define who they associate with, how they live their lives, and who they will become. These individuals’ perspectives and definitions become so rigid that it isolates them from the people that are walking by their very side. We create these barriers on our own, and persuade each other that “like attracts like” and that “we are better off with our own kind.” But, what if culture and ethnicity were more than just a part of a linear, or some would say, circular journey. What if…they were open doors? 

*DOOR OPENS*

What if everything that made us who we are, that which we treasure most, that which some of us work so hard to keep, we simply give to others. I think that we will find that it is less a relinquishment of identity than an opportunity to grow and learn as an individual, a stairway leading to enlightenment and a diverse knowledge set built upon acculturation and sharing. This can only occur if we WAKE UP and understand that this diversity will only strengthen our individual cultures, as well as our world. How do I know? Well…let me tell you a story. *Door closes and we see a picture of mama and papa*

My mother was born in a large city in Russia called Bryansk. My father was born in the capital of Ukraine, Kiev. But really, they were born under the same communist regime: The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, or the USSR. The USSR stifled religious freedom and expression, especially Judaism. So, my father, whose family is Jewish, grew up with almost no religious experience. My mother, on the other hand, is Christian, and grew up with much more religion in her life. The two of them married under one condition set by my father: “We will raise the children to be Jewish.” My father had never expected to marry anyone other than a Russian Jewish girl, but in May, 1991, the two were married. They arrived in America on December 5^th. 1 month later, I was born in Coney Island Hospital, in Brooklyn, NY. Because my parents barely knew any English, my first language was Russian. I went to a Russian-run Yeshivah for my first two years in school. A Yeshivah is a private educational institution that focuses on Judaic texts, mine was taught by Russian speaking teachers. As a result, when I transferred to a public school in the 1^st grade I was put in ESL. As the years passed, my English got better and better. To preserve my cultural identity I was mostly encouraged to play with kids of the same kind as me, kids who were Russian, Jewish, or both. But, even from an early age, I did not share their apprehension. I understood that my family was guarded around cultures and colors they had not seen in Russia, but I wanted so badly to befriend every person I laid my eyes on. Despite my best intentions, though, I still found that I identified best with my Russian friends.

Things began to change when we made the move from Brooklyn to New Jersey. I was 12 years old and entering my awkward phase. And oh how awkward it was… and quiet. With my grandparents far away, and my parents now intent on improving their English, I was using less and less Russian. In fact, I didn't say much in any language at that time. I think I was confused. The Russians at my middle school were scattered. I did not know where I belonged. I was still always smiling of course. That is forever a part of me. But I will tell you something people may not have known back then. At that point, I didn't mean it.

              

           You know, I actually remember the exact week I found my reason to smile. It was the week of October 6th, 2008, and I had just found dance. Or…dance had found me. It’s hard to say for sure which one is correct. Whichever it was, I could not be happier. My every moment, whether awake or asleep, was filled with dance. I hungered for knowledge and expertise. I found my opportunities for both within the abundance of people that were quickly filling my life. Although my shyness remained, this thriving sub-culture overpowered it, and I became, not exactly talkative, but never afraid to ask a question. The response was overwhelming. In my years in the dance scene I have met people from all over the world. Although, we could not always find a common language, I found that, amazingly, we did not need one. Believe it or not, a person’s story is as much in their movement as in the back of their minds.  And almost every single dancer I have ever met has welcomed me with open arms and a giving heart. I have learned about, and been inspired by so many things over the past few years:  In the beginning, I fell in love with Asian Culture. The people I danced with in New Jersey were mostly Filipino, Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Taiwanese. From them I developed an intense love for Korean movies, certain Korean music, Japanese Anime, and lots of Asian Cuisines. I share these interests with another friend of mine, Tanz, who is Bengali. As most Muslims and Jews do, we text each other saying: “Happy Hannukah” and, “Eid Mubarak.” Actually, I think my favorite part of our friendship was the day he invited me to his family’s Eid party. The food was amazing, and his accepting family was even better! As I currently venture into New York I am exposed to so much more than just Asian cultures. Recently I have been really interested in learning Latin and African dance. I cannot wait to learn more about each style, and the stories behind them. I know that these experiences will help me grow by leaps and bounds as a dancer. After almost 6 years of dance, I have realized three things:

1. You do not know the person beside you without first turning in their direction, and meeting them halfway 2. You cannot understand a way of being without first opening the door obscuring your view and peering inside. And last, you cannot hope to achieve individual growth without taking the hand of whoever is on the other side of that door, and simply….trusting.

              Finding myself wasn't easy. There were times when I thought I was losing more than I was I ever thought I should.  I ended up having to explore so many different avenues to arrive at my current route, but it was all worth it. And this journey of mine would not have been possible without America. Remember how I said that dance gives people a way to share without any verbal interaction? In that same sense I see dance as a microcosm of America.  America has given people a common ground on which they can stand and interact on. Why should we segregate ourselves when most of us have purposely left behind our borders oceans and generation away? There is too much knowledge for the knowing, and it can be found in the person by your side. I feel so blessed to live in a country of such opportunity. And I have to say, learning has never been so much fun.