“Tears of the Runaways: Who and Why Longs for Russia, and What Do Heteronormative Privileges Have…

Summary

The article discusses the complex emotions of Russian migrants who long for their homeland despite its issues, exploring the concept of nostalgia and the impact of heteronormative privileges on their yearning.

Abstract

The author of the article reflects on the phenomenon of Russian migrants experiencing nostalgia for their homeland, despite the country's political turmoil and the personal challenges they faced there, such as discrimination and violence. The piece suggests that this longing is often not for the country itself but for the happy memories and lost times associated with it. The author, drawing on their own experiences of migration and visits back home, distinguishes between missing a place and missing the people and culture, noting that the latter can be preserved and visited, albeit with difficulty. The article highlights a Twitter debate where some LGBT individuals who found asylum abroad contrast their experiences with those who miss Russia, pointing out that the privilege of feeling safe and at home in Russia is not universal. The author concludes that while being a migrant is challenging, the Russia they left behind is not the same, and the memories they hold cannot be returned to, advocating for focusing on the present rather than indulging in nostalgia.

Opinions

The author understands the nostalgia felt by Russian emigrants but also finds it incomprehensible, considering the changes that occur both in the individual and in the home country.
Nostalgia is seen as an irrational feeling that cannot restore the past in its original form, often romanticizing a time that cannot be reclaimed.
The author believes that what is truly missed are personal experiences and happy times rather than the physical place itself.
The article suggests that people can maintain connections with friends and relatives regardless of distance, mitigating the sense of loss associated with migration.
A divide exists among those who left Russia, with some deeply missing it and others, especially from the LGBT community, feeling no such nostalgia due to the lack of safety and acceptance they experienced.
The author agrees with the sentiment that longing for Russia is a privilege of those who felt safe and comfortable there, often overlooking the country's darker aspects.
The article emphasizes that Russia has changed significantly, and the past to which emigrants wish to return no longer exists.
The author's spouse expresses a more nuanced view, missing the cultural and human aspects of Russia, indicating that the connection to one's culture can transcend political and social issues.
The author remains open to the perspectives of others on what they miss about Russia, acknowledging that the question of nostalgia is complex and personal.

“Tears of the Runaways: Who and Why Longs for Russia, and What Do Heteronormative Privileges Have to Do With It?

Russian migrants miss their homeland. It has not even been a year since the start of the war, and many who left have already begun to yearn for birch trees and telogreikas. This is despite the fact that the majority left Russia immediately after the September mobilization. On the one hand, I understand exactly what those who have left Russia miss, but on the other hand, it is completely incomprehensible. As an experienced emigrant, I know a thing or two about nostalgia, and I am therefore wary of this feeling.

When I left Tashkent at 18, I really missed my hometown at first. Sometimes I wanted to go home so badly that I even thought — did I make a mistake?

But every time I came back, it took just a week to understand that I did everything right. The city seemed to be in the same place — the houses, the streets, the smells — but the nostalgia didn’t go away. Because there was nothing left to really miss. Friends scattered, contexts changed, and I myself became a different person. Nothing in common with the old life. I took a walk, smelled the air, and then what? Some phantom pains.

Then I realized that a nostalgic emigrant misses not his homeland, but the happy time he spent there. Someone misses childhood, someone misses their first love, someone misses the feeling of tranquility, and so on. Everyone has something of their own that cannot be restored in its original form. It reminds me of the nostalgia of the older generation for the USSR. Now it is used to justify mass killings. In general, nostalgia is an irrational feeling, and therefore it is harmful to indulge in it. Whether you miss it or not, nothing will change.

One more aspect of “homesickness” is close people. This seems to be a more realistic reason. However, people are not the same as places. You can meet with friends and relatives in third countries, visit them, or invite them to visit you. It’s much more difficult, troublesome, and expensive, but it’s doable. Many of my friends living in different countries are already waiting for their parents to come for the New Year holidays. I myself saw my mother twice since the beginning of the war. It’s not the healthiest situation, but it’s not hopeless either.

Not so long ago, the topic of longing for Russia was raised on Twitter. As always, people divided into many camps. Some people bit their lips and wiped away tears, saying, “Oh, if only I could walk along Mohovaya Street again…” Others laughed at them and accused them of petty and sentimental bourgeoisie. I especially remember the tweets from LGBT people. They wrote that having finally received asylum in Spain and Portugal, they don’t really miss homophobic Russia where they could simply be killed.

“Longing for Russia is some sort of heteronormative privilege,” they joked. I remember this phrase. I also spent most of my life in Moscow. I have favorite places and favorite people there. I also miss the times when we had picnics in the Hermitage Garden with friends, our parties, publishing zines, recording podcasts, music.

But those who stayed in Russia miss all of this too.

They also lost their loved ones and are forced to adapt to new realities. So it turns out that those who left and those who stayed miss the same thing?

Actually, everyone’s experience in Russia is different. People have different memories of this country. Besides the improved and fashionable capital, I personally remember endless humiliations, police searches, blocked squares with police vans, tanks and armored personnel carriers rolling along Tverskaya Street in spring. Constant feeling of anxiety, an atmosphere of hatred, a sense of powerlessness, everyday racism, homophobia, rudeness, and violence. Add to this the bad weather, high prices for terrible rental housing, and new post-war circumstances…

In short, I’ll speak for myself: for a year now, every morning I start with the phrase “how good it is that I’m not in Russia.” Especially now. So I largely agree with the gays on Twitter — the longing for Russia is the fate not only of heteronormative but clearly privileged people. Those who enjoyed living in the Russian-Moscow cocoon. I’ve already written about the problem with such cocoons.

At the same time, being a migrant is not a pleasant experience either. I declare this as a twice-migrant myself. Many who have left now are going through the most difficult time of their lives. But it’s important to remember that often people have nowhere to return to. Russia has rapidly become a different country, and airplanes don’t fly to bright memories. So what is there to miss? Personally, I think it’s better not to waste energy on it, but to cross oneself (or make a dua) one more time.

In general, I was walking and thinking about it until I stumbled upon an elephant in the room. “I miss Russia too,” my wife said. “I miss the nature, our homes, the way people talk, how unexpectedly kind they can be, how aunties in the stores sometimes joke. I miss our culture, which is more powerful than any propaganda.”

Perhaps I have been a migrant for too long to empathize with the nostalgia for the elusive notes in the air. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t born in Russia. Who knows. The question remains open. I also leave the comments under the post open. I’m curious what my friends who left and stayed think about it. Do you miss Russia? What do you miss?