A personal reflection on GCIP '22, the community, and the self

It’s a question I’ve been asked countless times over the years: why? 

Why’d you choose your major? Why Michigan? Why GSP? 

The question, at times, can feel incredibly ‘other-ing.’ Explaining the reason behind your presence in a space, over and over, can eventually begin to make you feel as though you need to justify yourself—as though you don’t belong in a space, until you’ve justified yourself. From a young age I understood this, even if I didn’t yet have the words to explain it. I shied away from any such questions at school, trying desperately not to gain a reputation of being ‘other’ because my mom had a foreign accent. This approach backfired spectacularly. For the next ten years, I’d not only be known as ‘the Russian one’ in my tiny, exceptionally-conservative school, but also as the ‘shy girl’ who barely spoke. 

To wrap up the fall term, GSP hosts their annual Global Citizenship in Practice (GCIP) event, inviting program members and guests alike to offer their insight and experience in navigating an increasingly-intercultural and interconnected world. What I find so special about this event in particular (and, why I’ve opted to reflect upon it) is that through showcasing the personal stories, identities and experiences of the invited speakers, leaves me feeling more in-tune with myself and my place in this world. If my time in GSP has taught me anything, it’s that if we listen intently enough, there is always similarity to be found amongst our differences. 

Maritza Chan-Valverde, the first woman to serve as the Permanent Representative of Costa Rica to the United Nations, served briefly as one of the speakers at our most-recent GCIP summit. In regards to her experience as a diplomat, activist and scholar in the framework of international peace and disarmament, she was asked how she navigated an environment where she was one of the only women—let alone, Latina women—in a room, and to make these spaces more inclusive going forward. Her answer was one I’ll never forget: she said plainly, ‘don’t be afraid to take up space.’ Be the one who shows others it can be done, that you belong there, even if no one else looks like you—especially if no one else looks like you. Essentially, the only way to get a seat at the table, is to pull up a chair. 

Aside from Chan-Valverde’s powerful take on taking up space, another theme that really struck me came from the speech of GSP’s own Sarah Oguntomilade, who reflected upon her experience in balancing the different communities, nationalities, and identities to which she belongs. In summary, her answer was that balance lies in embracing what serves you from each facet of who you are, and not fearing to leave behind anything that doesn’t. As a global citizen—however that is realized in your own life—you are sure to become the holder of more than one identity. And no one of these, may be taken out of context from the rest. No one identity will ever feel truly ‘whole,’ but that doesn’t make them lesser. It’s an invigorating approach; one that’s fundamentally shifted the mindset by which I think about myself, and my own conflicting identities. 

A second-generation, Russian-American immigrant, I sometimes consider myself ‘conflict personified.’ Two inherently-flawed nationalities that exist on bad terms with one another, and one personhood in which they must find a way to coexist, to belong simultaneously. I don’t think it’s an uncommon dilemma that when we are younger, we feel as though we must choose ‘one or the other.’ It’s not that simple, however, when your native language is English and your first language is Russian. When you grow up watching American films with Russian villains. When you’re seemingly never Russian-enough, nor American-enough—and then you wonder whether you’d really like to be either, considering both nations have done some pretty horrible things. 

Finding peace within myself has come through reframing what it means to belong to a culture or nationality. Many of us might have backgrounds that are rooted in oppression, colonialism, or conflict. But recognizing a flawed past does not imply that we are, in turn, keen to perpetrate it. This is the beauty in identities that aren’t really ‘whole,’ in having the choice to carry forward only what we want from them. I am empathetic and understanding of others, because I live in a country harboring a rich blend of cultural, religious and racial backgrounds, each experiencing life here through a different lens. I am adventurous because I grew up being encouraged to try new things in my multicultural household. I am headstrong and loyal to those I love, because those were values instilled in and represented by my Russian family. 

I can interact with the world in two, beautiful languages. I can hold a conversation with the Russian woman in front of me at the airport, and keep her spot in line while she asks a security agent something about her documents. I can listen to how she consoles her young daughter, who also happened to be named Anya. I can go home and tell an irrelevant story from college to my 93-year old great-grandmother, who doesn’t speak any English, and have it become relevant when she laughs and tells me that I’m a ‘strong character.’ A ‘character’ that some of my family like to say, she’d been the one to pass down to me. 

I think that the meaning of the question ‘why’ comes entirely from the interpreter. It might feel interrogatory at times, but I like to think that even then, it can be reframed into an expression of self: an opportunity to reflect on who you are, and what’s important to you. So, why GSP? Because deep down, I knew that I wanted to understand and to be understood. I wanted to get to know myself better through interacting with others, and vice versa. To connect with people who made me realize that the question ‘why’ can be born of curiosity, too. And moments like those at GCIP, where I felt so deeply connected to the speakers and audience around me, are a perfect example of my ‘why’ brought to life.