I’m Ukrainian. All four of my father’s grandparents came to Canada from the same village in Galicia, Ukrainian-speaking ethnic Ukrainians from an area that was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at the time. Things were pretty shitty in eastern Galicia and a lot of the ethnic Ukrainians emigrated to Canada between the 1880s and 1914. My dad anglicised his last last name from Worobec (Воробек) to Barrick when he was living in the US during McCarthyism (when the Ukrainian SSR was part of the Soviet Union). Nonetheless, being ethnically Ukrainian is part of my history and identity. I leave my decorations up until after Christmas on the old Julian calendar. My cats have Ukrainian names, Malenky (Маленький, “Little”) and Vidma (Відьма, “Witch”). Maybe, if you’ve known me long enough, you’ve seen me drunk enough to pull some Ukrainian dance moves. I’ve lots of thoughts and feelings about what is going on, but nothing that feels like an insight that needs to be heard, so I really have no idea what to do or say.
Photo (CC) Ilya Dobrych - https://ift.tt/DUIiQuq
