Пару месяцев назад я написала пост в Инстаграме. Удаляю его оттуда, но сохраняю здесь.
«It just happened that I’m super-apolitical (except early childhood when my grandfather struggled against communyaki and advocated for Yeltsin in 1996). My fault, yep, but either are most people in Russia. Or had been. Before every one of us had to chose own truth to believe in. Which is very painful as the deviding line often lies inside families, friends circles, and other communities. It’s a tough and exhausting fight in the heads, a lot of vital stuff unsaid, and a lot of hurting stuff said. I do feel fucking bad for the situation and the consequences.
But the whole world now seems to seeking ways how to make me feel twice as fucking bad just because I’m Russian. All that cancelling — it’s a fair of hypocrisy. How on earth will help the people of Ukraine and stop this unthinkable madness:
— Excluding Russia from the world culture and science?
— Excluding Russia from the world of sports? «Ô Sport, tu es la Paix» is no more relevant?
— Not seeing the loved ones because of the closed borders?
— Cutting off access to technologies hence compromising safety of e.g. medical equipment, aircrafts?
— … I can list further.
Please just consider that full support and love towards one land does not oblige to hate and shame another. We’re all people after all.
Single yet shared — please #stophatingrussians for being Russians.»
Нет, я не стала думать иначе, нет, это не перестало быть проблемой. Но мои чувства по поводу происходящего стали ещё сильнее, мысли — шире, и уже кажется невозможным говорить об одном-двух аспектах, когда их в голове у тебя, условно, десять. Сейчас мой пост кажется мне неполным, наивным, но сохраню, сохраню, потому как что ещё напомнит мне потом КАК я прожила этот период.