When the first reports of Russian troop movements began to appear in the Ukrainian media a few months ago, Vironika Jakki, who runs a jewelry store in Manhattan, signed up for a first aid course near her Staten Island home. If Russia launches a full-scale invasion, she said, she would return to Ukraine and volunteer as a nurse.
“I love Ukraine, this is my country, and if there is a need to defend it, I will definitely return.”
More than 150,000 Ukrainians live in New York, the largest such community in the country, with pockets in the East Village in Manhattan and Brighton Beach in Brooklyn, and the population is scattered across five boroughs. There are Ukrainian banks, restaurants, bars, schools, churches, synagogues and cultural centers.
Some arrived in the 1970s or 1980s knowing Ukraine only as part of the Soviet Union. Others, millennials of the fourth wave of immigration, grew up after independence with global connections via the Internet. Many have Russian relatives or Russian friends and get their news from the Russian media.
They left very different countries and arrived with different relationships with Ukraine, Russia and their new home. “The biggest difference is whether you were going somewhere or leaving somewhere,” said Dora Khomyak, president of Razom, a non-profit organization created in 2014 to support the independence movement in Ukraine. “People who came in the 70s and 80s, refuseniks, they left for a better life. People who recently emigrated because Google hired them here or something like that, they’re going somewhere.”
Ms. Jakka’s Red Cross class was filled with Ukrainians, and this highlighted some divisions within the community. Several people shared her rejection of Russian aggression. “But there are a lot of different opinions and it can be very hot,” she said. “I didn’t want any arguments, so I didn’t ask others.”
At the New Wave School of Ukrainian Heritage in Brooklyn, students drew postcards for Ukrainian fighters who died during the 2014 uprising against the country’s allied government. Michael Rozdolska, 8, whose grandmother is a school principal, said he didn’t know any of his classmates who were afraid. But if that were the case, he said, “I would tell them that Ukraine will win. Or maybe the Russian president dies and they get better.”
Last week, tensions were felt in the Ukrainian church cafeteria “Stricha” in the East Village. These days, the TV in the hall shows Ukrainian news without interruption, but this is still not enough for customers, says manager Dmitry Kovalenko.
“We all check for updates every 10 to 15 minutes,” he said. “Worry Time”
Mr Kovalenko, 41, emigrated from eastern Ukraine amid a previous clash with Russia and pro-Russian forces in 2014. He said that the current situation is even more tense.
“Back then, in 2014, we didn’t know what was in store for us, so we didn’t worry too much,” he said. “When they invaded Crimea and started a real war, shelling, killing people, now we know what can happen. There is more tension because we know what will happen after the first steps.”
Ukraine has become a technology hub in Eastern Europe, and many of the new arrivals work for technology companies that keep them connected to their former homeland. Anna Polishchuk, who splits her time between New York and the Bay Area, is a co-founder and product director at Allset, a startup that has offices in the US and Ukraine. Part of her work is now connected with the unknown.
What to do if the Internet connection is interrupted? What if she had to move her operations to safer parts of Ukraine or somewhere else in Europe?
“Communications in Ukraine can be easily attacked, so there is always a risk that there will be no communication,” Ms Polishchuk said. “If something happens and it shuts down, we need to move people very quickly. You never know before it happens. We need to have a plan just in case who goes where.”
Even if Russian troops don’t get past the separatist territories they entered on Monday, Russia could cause financial damage to Ukraine, said Bogdan Globa, an LGBTQ rights activist who was granted asylum in the US in 2016 and is still actively promoting LGBTQ ideas in Ukraine . .
“Ukraine will not receive much investment this year,” he said. “This will have a huge economic impact on Ukraine. This is what Russia wants. They need this mess forever on the border. People will leave Ukraine, the economy will be in a deplorable state. They don’t need to invade Ukraine. They can take over Ukraine politically with pro-Russian parties and win elections.”
The invasion warnings coincided with New York Fashion Week, when Russian and Ukrainian models, photographers and others gathered for the same shows and parties. Models Sasha Knysh and Helga Khytko, who moved to New York from Dnipro in eastern Ukraine, said their Russian counterparts have been very supportive.
“This is one of the hottest topics of discussion right now,” Ms. Knysh said. “They want to know how my family is. But it’s hard to tell them because no one knows.”
Like others interviewed, they said they felt uncomfortable talking to their relatives in Ukraine who refused to think about leaving.
“They choose not to believe it,” Ms. Knysh said. “They believe that there are many Russian troops on the border, but they do not believe that anything will happen. They think it’s all a huge provocation. I said maybe they want to move to the west of Ukraine, because it’s more stable there, but they don’t want to talk about it, because their whole life is there. They’re trying to keep hope, but you also have to see the reality.”
Because of the time difference, events in Ukraine reach New York in the middle of the night, adding insomnia to other stressors, says Marina Prikhodko, who works with Ukrainian women’s organizations at the UN.
“The fact that I open my eyes and wake up in the morning means that I have to look at my phone and potentially see that my idea of my home country no longer exists, and the people I love and know are dead or dying,” — she said. said. “That’s quite a lot to wake up to.”
According to her, stress does not go away during the day.
“I can be at a crosswalk in New York and calculate how long my family has to get to the basement before a bomb destroys their house, I calculate how long a Russian tank has to get to the doorstep. my home in Ukraine is from the Russian border,” she said. “When I get these updates on my phone at 4 am that something has happened somewhere, I am immediately alert and at that moment there is no hope of functional sleep.”
Katya Shokalo, a Ukrainian lawyer, planned to spend a year getting her degree from New York University and then return home with her husband, Vitaliy Peretyatko. All plans are currently on hold.
“It is very difficult to think about the future,” she said. “This is a real change. It’s one thing to plan when you’re planning just for yourself. But now you worry every day about what will happen to your family. Planning is no longer possible.”