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FLEEING PUTIN’S RUSSIA War in Ukraine leads some Russians to look for a new country to call home TATIANA GLEZER’S STORY
ST. LOUISAN HELPS RUSSIAN FRIENDS
Editor’s Note: The Jewish Light learned of Russian Jew Tatiana Glezer, 41, and her plight through a network of friends in the United States. Largely fluent in English, she agreed to write her story exclusively for the Light. Many thanks to author and journalist Linda Himelstein for assisting with this process.
BY BILL MOTCHAN SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH LIGHT
Eight years ago, during a photography workshop in Greece, Edward Tsimerman met Anastasia and Ilyia, a Russian couple (they asked that their last name not be used). Tsimerman, a Jewish St. Louisan, kept in touch with the couple and in recent weeks, learned his Russian friends were distressed about the war in Ukraine. Actually, they were prohibited by law in Russia from calling the conflict a “war.” Doing so on social media can cost Russian citizens their jobs and friends. It also carries a jail term of up to 15 years. Vladimir Putin refers to the situation in Ukraine as a “special operation” and Russians who don’t follow suit do so at their peril. “They were very upset about the war,” said Tsimerman, 44. “They said they couldn’t keep living there and bringing up a child, that it was difficult previously, but now it was intolerable. So we were messaging and I told them ‘Come here.’ I told them I would be their sponsor and that I have a house I’m remodeling where they are welcome to stay.” On Sunday night, Ilyia, 42, Anastasia, 44 and their three-year-old daughter Daria arrived in St. Louis with a little cash and the clothes on their backs. They speak no English and have no family or jobs here in St. Louis. What they have is a warm bed and a safe home in Olivette.
BY TATIANA GLEZER SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH LIGHT
It has been more than a month since I fled Russia with my two daughters, a cat and a dog. Like thousands of other Russians horrified by the senseless war in Ukraine, we left with few suitcases and no plan. The decision to leave my country was excruciating. Our life in Moscow was full and happy. I had a job I loved as the Jewish Community Center’s creative director. My daughters — Varya, 14 and Katya, 12 — loved their school and the many friends they had there. Our cozy flat, with two balconies in the center of the city, was a cherished home. Why would I give all that up? Why would I leave everything I had worked for—and leave my father? I am still coming to grips with the answer. All I know for sure is that I simply couldn’t stay in Moscow. The war against Ukraine, and the accompanying laws aimed at silencing all dissent, broke my relationship with Russia, perhaps forever. Day after day, I was hearing about friends being arrested for attending peaceful demonstrations. One friend was asked to leave her job after her boss found out that she had gone to a protest. A sociology professor from the university I attended was badly beaten by police for speaking out against the war. I feared I could be next, or worse, my oldest daughter, who insisted we take to the streets and revolt. I had already signed a letter condemning the war. I had put up anti-war flyers on buildings in my district. I had posted unflattering comments about Vladimir Putin on social media. At the same time, media outside of Russia was being censored. People around me feared talking openly on the phone. I was seriously afraid of being cut off from the rest of the world, stuck behind a newly erected iron curtain. I started to feel claustrophobic in the biggest country in the world. I couldn’t sleep at night. In the day, it was literally hard to breathe.
See FAMILY on page 7A Clockwise, from top left: A “selfie” of the writer, Tatiana Glezer; her oldest daughter Varya, at a street demonstration; Tatiana with her new Estonian friend, Masha; and an anti-war sign near the Russian embassy in Tallinn, Estonia. All this to wage war against Ukraine, the place where my great grandparents are buried and home to some of my dearest friends and colleagues. I spoke to the mother of one of those friends on Viber as she hid in a bomb shelter. It was heartbreaking. I love Ukraine and I am ashamed that my country has caused so much pain and destruction. This is why I decided to leave Russia, despite the many obstacles in my way.
Trouble getting money and plane tickets As a result of Western sanctions, I was unable to use my credit card to buy airplane tickets, book a hotel or do much of anything that might help me escape Russia. International travel was mostly halted. Prices for flights that were taking off skyrocketed tenfold,
with demand far exceeding supply. I stayed online late into the night, desperately looking for tickets to take me anywhere, from Uzbekistan to Casablanca. My friends in Europe and the United States tried to help me, but their money couldn’t pay for flights that were no longer allowed to fly. I decided I might have better luck speaking face-to-face with an airline ticket agent rather than on the phone. After a fruitless search to find tickets, the agent asked to speak to me privately, away from her colleagues. She told me how scared she was because of the war; how hard it was to see so many people trying to flee Russia. She told me how unbearable it was to watch other Russians living everyday life like nothing had happened. Then, she startSee TATIANA GLEZER on page 6A
Ilyia, Anastasia and their daughter a day after arriving in St. Louis. PHOTO: BILL MOTCHAN