April 1, 2016
Community
the Racquette
5
What’s Left When Your Culture is Gone? Julia Zakaryan
Contributing Writer
As an American student of Russian heritage, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience American culture from a unique perspective. I grew up as a heritage speaker of Russian and I delighted adults, as well as everyone else who gave me language I.Q. tests. Being a heavy reader, I caught on to the American language and its syntax fairly quickly for a child. I was able to maintain a double life: inside my home and outside it, at school. I’ve felt for most of my life a straddling of my identity as an American and a Russian. I grew up seeing personal interactions and customs in my own home as embarrassing compared to my friends who, though mostly immigrants as well, passed as my own sense of what normal was. My parents’ accents became things of shame, and it seemed like we would never be like my American friends’ families. I turned a blind eye to the rich diversity and history of my culture.
It took me years to learn how to sympathize with my parents’ struggles of entering an entirely new world so different from the Soviet oppression they faced. I finally faced that my culture needs to be validated within myself, so I can feel a sense of connection to the deeper aspect of family that I haven’t been able to connect with within myself so far. My connection to the deeper part of my ancestry is lacking intellectual depth. Oftentimes I find myself thinking in Russian, but I have no one to build a connection with and learn from at SUNY Potsdam. I have never taken a course in Russian history, culture or language and I feel as if a gap exists within myself. This led me to pick a path that would let me to work with communities I can help empower economically and celebrate their cultural uniqueness while improving livelihoods. I picked up a major in International Relations because I feel an overwhelming desire to entrench myself in American culture. It’s helping me expand my worldview and beliefs in a way that I can translate to other parts of
my life. It’s not that I’ve never been exposed to other cultures; I am from New York City and so that’s unavoidable. However, I’ve never given the culture I was born with a fair shot or really been given the opportunity to. It’s hard to be a part of something I don’t understand. The most common things I’ve heard about Russians are those “in Soviet Russia” jokes, and they get old fast. As you may know, Russia and America don’t hold a good political relationship. That bad relationship
especially doesn’t help me get a clear picture of what Russian culture is really like. I’m not so naïve to think that Russia is a holy-golden land I’ve been missing out on, but with all these misconceptions floating around, it’s hard to understand what I really am missing. I hope that everyone gets a chance to explore their roots by starting a club, like the Ummah in Potsdam. If not, maybe by feeling comfortable enough to express themselves and finding the right people. This summer I
hope to go to Russia through a study abroad program Dr. Derek Maus, an associate professor in the Department of English and Communication, had talked me into. There I’ll get to meet other Russians and people who want to explore the Russian culture as much as I do. I recommend taking any chance you can to find the fulfillment you need. Knowing people who will understand the subtle things you do that are unique to your culture is something that is great to experience.
Submit to the Community Page! If you have story about cultural experiences or stigmas you have faced, then share your story with the Racquette. The Community Page is dedicated to presenting stories about the various cultures here on campus and the stigmas that have challenged members of our community. Send your stories to racquette@potsdam.edu or to Dr. Jennifer Mitchell of DIAC at mitchejk@potsdam.edu.
Creative Writing Me and My History Sandra Cruz Soy de aqui como el coqui. I’m as Puerto Rican as the coqui. The symbol of Puerto Rico. The land mi abuelita nacio. The land she had to leave to find a better place to live for. The stories that were told to me as a kid as my curiousness grew of what Puerto Rico was like. The culture I grown to love, to cherish, and expressed con mi corazón. The melting pot of Taino Indians, Spain, and Africa. Yo soy Boricua. The word that was derived from the Taino people ‘Boriken’ to devote the island of the Taino heritage. The word that translates to “the great land of the valiant and noble lord.” The word that was used before Christopher Columbus took over and practically wipe out the Taino nation. The people and the culture that has and will forever be a part of me
along with the faint African blood that lingers through mi cuerpo. I may be from NYC, but I’ll be damn sure to express the nationality that I am so embedded in. The dominos yo siempre juego con mi familia y mis amigos. La comida yo siempre como-ya tu sabe. There’s a lot more so don’t get me started, but then there’s my flag. In 1895 the meaning of my flag represented the pride that Puerto Rico had for its country ‘til 1952 when all that had changed. The white star had once stood for the beautiful island I call my own. The three points of the triangle expressed our sky and coastal waters. The red stripes on the Puerto Rican flag once represented the blood from the brave warriors that fought for my country; while the white stripes reminded us of the victory and peace for obtaining independence from Spain. But now, the white star represents Puerto Rico as the commonwealth. The three-point triangle now represents the three branches of the damn government and how the red stripes represents the blood that feeds on those three.
The white stripes symbolize the rights of man and the freedom of an individual; the main reminder of the need for vigilance of a democratic government. It’s amazing how things change, but I will not. Soy Nuyorican y nadie puede decirme nada. I represent history. The history that you see today as the mixture of blood that my ancestors passed down to me I am the blood I have yet to carry towards the next generation. More to teach, and has yet to learn. I am Puerto Rican. I am what you see today. La Reina. The Queen that I was created to be.
Realization Steve Aponte
It is only when I want you, that you make the point clear that I cannot. It was only when I needed you, that you decided to yearn for something else. And yes, I use the term “something” sternly because you
would use any excuse to be rid of me. It was only when I was lonely, that you’d inform me of what I cannot control. I realized that you’re in no more control than myself. The waves still crash against the shore. The trees still sway with the wind. And I am still able to stand. Still able to breathe. Still able to cry Or to laugh To love… It was not until I realized happiness comes from within. The embodiment of everything I felt for you was not caught in the wind. Only then was I able to manifest that creation and make it a part of myself. I could act on those emotions, and from those, sprout new ones. I’ll never laugh like that again. I’ll never cry like that again. I will never smile like that again. I will never create those feelings again. But, I will laugh more joyfully. I will cry with more sorrow. I will not smile, I will beam.
And yes, although I will not replicate those feelings, I will make every effort to create stronger ones. I will set out on a path that brings my prior one to shame. If I should see you, there won’t be any feelings of spite. I will not pretend to have never loved you. But I shall not attempt to set things right. Because there is simply no need. We took a lot from the palms of each other’s hands. With malice and greed, We ripped apart each other’s souls and became entangled in the strings of fate. I still stare at your devilish smile. That beautiful look of devious intent. I must indulge in those sweet poisonous lips again. Or for the rest of eternity, myself, I shall resent.