But in all seriousness, it just makes me helplessly furious to meet people in cozy West European homes who don't even take that cowardly, self-deluding stance of "uwu if we keep giving Putin what he wants then SURELY he'll be satisfied one day and leave us alone", but just. outright. go "the people of Ukraine (and Poland and the Baltics and Finland and...) are a good and virtually cost-less sacrifice to Putin for us to make to keep us cozy".
The first kind of people are making me despair with how WILFULLY ignorant you can be.
The second kind. Just this helpless fury. I wanna hit them with furniture. Pure hatred. Fucking scum.
Oh and "well if they don't want to be attacked by the Russians they could just move away from territory Russia wants", which is??? So beyond words???
193 notes
·
View notes
Really really don't get why so many people seem to have this burning hatred for Ukraine where they'll just... bring them up randomly purely to drag them through the mud and it's like... ok... but... do you actually know a single thing about Ukraine or what's been happening there?
Do you for instance remember when a major dam was destroyed by russia causing massive ecological damage?
Like I'm dead serious here, can you tell me a single thing that's happened in Ukraine in the last 2 years? Can you in any way demonstrate any basic understanding of the situation?
Cause if not... why do you think you should have an opinion on it, especially if your opinion is gonna be how awful people getting bombed are?
Just legit bothers me and... even more so bothers me the number of smart and caring people I see doing this. Basically I'm not even trying to be rude here, I'm trying to remind you to pay attention and remember that not everything you read on the internet is true, a tumblr post isn't a source unless they're giving you a reputable source
Cause like me? I can go track you down articles about the Nova Kakhovka dam being destroyed, and I can talk about all the reason why it's pretty clear that russia destroyed it
Can you do the same for me? Can you back up your claim about Ukraine with something concrete?
In many ways I'm not even asking you to support Ukraine, I get we have a limit to how much we can focus on, it's ok if you focus on your cause and I focus on mine and... both of us giving our undivided attention, maybe we both make some small impact on the world
What I'm asking is you don't be an asshole for no reason. You don't need to throw Ukraine under the bus. Don't you think your cause stands up on it's own two feet?
And again I'm not Ukrainian, I don't know as well as someone there, though... I spare you a lot of the stuff that crosses my dash because I don't want to burn people out with horrible stuff, but please understand it's worse than you probably think
So no, not Ukrainian, but I'll tell you why I'm still worth listening to: I've followed this every day since the invasion began. I keep my ear to the ground. I do know a fair bit and again can back what I have to say up
Anyway, my plea is to just not be a dick to people for no reason. The correct number of bombed civilians is zero, that's my stance
3 notes
·
View notes
sorry but i am going to be very american and selfish and navel gaze-y for a moment but this is on my mind a lot as we approach february. just... ignore me.
i'm of ukrainian heritage. i'm also completely disconnected from my heritage because my great-great/great-grandparents fully assimilated as americans.
with the exception of my great-uncle (who lives far away and i rarely see), i have no living relatives who know much about our heritage (or are willing to talk about it in any detail beyond the romanticized ~*immigrant experience*~). everything i know about our family comes from my uncle because everyone else is dead; either died elderly and comfortable in the US or likely died in the holodomor. trying to research my family is useless bc my great-grandpa changed his last name to something completely made up so he could find work when he was in his early teens. this has always been a "fun" legend in our family; the choice to disconnect. it's a story our family has always told like it was some sort of wacky hijinks and as a kid was very funny but now, in my 30s and watching a cultural genocide unfold in ukraine, it feels devastating.
there are a small handful of things my family has held onto while also losing. there's the lost recipe for my great-grandma's holubsti (a word i didn't know how to spell until recently) that my family mourns every time we get together. i used to make pysanky for easter with my parents, which was passed down from my great-great aunt. my dad inherited her pysanky dyes after she passed away and we had them for years before most of the jars broke in a move. we have one remaining unbroken pysanka from her that i think she made in the 70s. i cannot imagine having hands so steady to make those intricate designs. mine always came out looking like shit.
i've always been curious about this part of my heritage but never felt any great need to seek it out until now. it feels fake and disingenuous to be interested in learning about this part of my heritage as a result of a war. that i didn't seek it out sooner. what is wrong with me that i care now.
i'm not sure where i'm going with this. i'm not sure what or how i'm supposed to feel. what i do feel is lost and angry and sad and selfish for feeling this way.
7 notes
·
View notes
I have nothing but contempt for people who are in free countries yet support a dictatorship, support the war on a free country. I suppose russian propaganda has gotten to them here, but that's no excuse. They should know better. It's so obvious to anyone with half a brain who looks at the russian invasion that it's wrong and must be stopped. Russia is a huge country who attacked its smaller neighbor. No justification. Any "justification" is propaganda. It is merely a war of expansion.
Fighting against it is as morally right as fighting the nazis in world war II. Because russia is also doing nazi like things to pieple, not "just" bombing peaceful cities and killing civilians on purpose. It's committing grotesque war crimes. Just because Ukrainians dared to be free. Just because they dared to resist the russian machine that wanted to spread darkness and tyranny over Ukraine, not satisfied with keeping it in their own country.
12 notes
·
View notes
I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
27K notes
·
View notes