Indentity in Flux. Chernobyl.

I thought it could be useful to write my personal story, its aftermath and describe some circumstances around how my sense of identity and belonging are formed.

In 1986 a human-made nuclear accident of an unprecedented scale happened. Chernoby’s impact was felt from Belarus to Sweden, Ukraine to France. Communities, homes, lives, memories, dreams, and futures planned, were shattered and lost forever. Scientists invited across borders came together to understand and repair. I always saw it as a testament to international collaboration, and collective problem solving. And an example of unforgivable professional and sociopolitical negligence. Scientific progress and power are a double edged sword.

My family deeply experienced this loss. Two medical doctors in their mid twenties, and my little brother, who only a few years ago found their new home in Ukraine, reunited with their parents, and found career opportunities in Pripyat’, Ukraine. My father worked at Chernobyl power plant, and my mother was finishing her degree in epidemiology. They got incredibly lucky, and both were away when this happened. They lost their home, all belongings, their jobs, friendships and a newly found sense of belonging.

My father volunteered to look after the health of workers working on the cleanup in the exclusion zone. I still find it hard to talk about it. I’m deeply impressed and touched by his act of kindness. He volunteered for 6 months, and due to visible health deterioration he stopped.

My parents met in San Petersburg, Russia. My mother comes from Kola Peninsula, far northwest of Russia, mostly north of the Arctic Circle bordering with Norway and Finland. And my father grew up moving every couple of years following my grandfather’s military engagements across the USSR working at secret strategic locations with nuclear weapons during the Cold War. My paternal grandparents ultimately retired in Ukraine, where my father was born during one of their military missions.

In the aftermath of this accident, my family was relocated to Lithuania, where my father continued his work in the nuclear sector at Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant, and my mother found a role in a bacteriology lab. In 1991 the Soviet Union collapsed. It created a lot of fear and anxiety in my family for many years, as the world transitioned into a new order. They were uncertain if they could stay, and what citizenships they should hold. Money devalued, and the Lithuanian nationalistic wave felt alienating to us.

People impacted, and as a result evacuated from Pripyat share a lot of similarities with environmental refugees. More so people who were relocated to different countries due to this accident, share a lot of similarities with how people of color are defined in critical race theory. The definitions I resonate with are: difficulties integrating into new communities, being labeled as “Chernobyl victims”. Not classified as refugees under international law, deprived of benefits and support, experiencing systemic discrimination.

Some statements that are correct about me:

• I was born and raised in Lithuania, and never lived in Eastern Europe, or slavic speaking countries.
• My first language is Russian, same as my parents’. This is because I went to a Russian speaking school, my parents were uncertain whether staying in Lithuania in the aftermath of the collapse of the USSR in 1991 was a good idea, and they liked that the STEM programme was stronger in that school.
• My genome shows that I’m about 85% Russian (predominantly Moscow region), and the remainder is Finnish, which is likely from my mother’s nordic side (Kola Peninsula). No one in my family speaks Finnish.
• I left when I was 20, studied in Spain, USA, and worked in Uruguay, and Hong Kong. As a result I experienced some discrimination (US), got somewhat closer to fair treatment (Spain & Uruguay), and experienced reversed discrimination as an “expat” in Hong Kong.

Some context:

• Lithuania is a Baltic, Northern European country, with its unique language and over 1000 year history. It is frequently misidentified as “Eastern’’ due to 50 years of occupation, and some similarity in economic aftermath post USSR. However, 50 years of oppression compared to one thousand years of history, shouldn’t misguide understanding. Lithuanians dislike being called “Eastern Europeans’’ because it resurfaces associations with times of cultural oppression.

I’m comfortable with being called a russian-speaking Lithuanian. Although, some Lituanians might have mixed feelings about it. I guess they just need some awareness of their nationalism, need to tone down on discrimination, and deepen their understanding of what true inclusion should look and feel like.

Due to this experience, I inherited a perspective on global interconnectedness and the vulnerability of our world. One country mismanaging its safety protocols needed international-level cooperation in order to mitigate its consequences.

I’m sensitive to fairness and equal treatment. I also developed strong resilience, adaptability and coping mechanisms, coupled with distancing from cultural identity and above average detachment from material possessions. Because life is unpredictable and everything you hold on to, can be suddenly lost. I crave belonging, and understanding. While this is not always possible, and I feel compassion towards human need for simplicity, cognitive shortcuts and easy to digest groups and labels. I really appreciate it when one takes the time to learn about my personal story and how I view and experience my third culture identity.

P.S. As much as I like a growth oriented mindset and positive thinking, I don’t agree that all events can make one grow and be stronger. I live with existential anxiety, and the world frequently feels unsafe.

I’m drawn to this line by Rainer Maria Rilke:

“Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final”.

It provides a poetic and meditative lens on embracing life’s full spectrum of experiences — teaching us that both joy and suffering are temporary states through which we must pass with equanimity and persistence.