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Born Norwegian, Raised American, not illegal

Linda Kristensen,
Grand Rapids, MI.

I am writing this for my daughter who is 34 with Autism. She became my daughter in 1980 when I was living in Norway. We returned to the USA in 1983 but my daughter even after 30 years is still not an American citizen. Here’s part of her story….

My oldest daughter, Maigunn was born on January 10, 1979 in Hammerfest, Norway (the northern-most city in the world). When Maigunn was 5 months old, she was sent to an orphanage across the county in a town called Vadso near the Russian border. There she remained until my now ex-husband and I received her at 23 months as a foster child. We were told that she was stiff like a doll and may be mentally retarded but the staff also thought it might be just the orphanage environment. Norway like most “Western” cultures believes that children should be raised in a home and not an institution. Most of the orphanages in Norway have only severe mentally impaired children with very strange behaviors. The staff felt that if Maigunn were part of a family that maybe she would be normal once she wasn’t exposed to these behaviors. When the woman in charge of adoption in northern Norway called and requested that we come to Vadso and see Maigunn; I was visiting my family in the USA; not having been back for 3 years. So my ex-husband went alone to see this little girl. When he arrived, he immediately fell for this little toddler, called me and it was agreed that we would take her. She would be our “long-term” foster daughter, just like an adoption. (This has come back to haunt us even today.)

So my mother and I began buying clothes, shoes, toys and other toddler supplies. I sent several boxes to Norway, prior to my return and remember that my ex-husband was in tears upon opening them.

My first impression of Maigunn when they brought her for a visit was that she was blind. She looked straight ahead with no eye contact. The other thing I noticed was that she loved spinning objects. (These are two of the classic signs of Autism) At the time if someone had said, “Do you think she has Autism?” I would have responded with “What’s that?” Even as a physical therapist, I had no exposure to this disability and very little was known and there were very few treatment options.
Maigunn at 2 years had no language, had just begun to walk so she had that abducted or teetering gait that is so typical in babies just starting out on their own feet. So the first task was to get language. I don’t know why but it seemed natural and was an international word so we started with, “Baby”. Phonetically and developmentally, I think “B” is an easier consonant to say than many other consonants. Well it took 9 months where she studied our mouths and felt our lips with such intensity that you’d have thought she was discovering the contents of the Rosetta stone. I remember one morning waking up to Maigunn’s chatter of saying and half singing “Hakke” which is Norwegian for chin. It must have stimulated me for after that I began singing songs to Maigunn with the word “Baby” in them; everything from “Rock-a-bye Baby to “I love you and don’t you forget it, Baby”.
As a physical therapist, I knew that we only had a limited amount of time to catch up. When she was almost 3 years old, she was evaluated at Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation Center. At that time, she was 1 ½ years behind and the gap would only increase if she couldn’t make significant gains in a short time.
The summer of 1982 was a turning point in our lives. My mother was very sick in the hospital with hepatitis, and Norway had no services for Maigunn until age 7; so we decided to return to the USA. Even then it took another 2 years until she was diagnosed with Autism and placed in special education through the public school system.

The negatives have been numerous.
Like the first pediatrician we encountered in the U.S. who upon doing a preschool check-up, found that Maigunn was in the 75 percentile for height and weight and told us that we should consider institutionalization since she was bigger than most kids her own age and therefore could be dangerous to the other children.
Like the time at a playground when a mother hit Maigunn for choking her child in the same manner her daughter had just done to Maigunn. Unfortunately Maigunn thought the other child was playing a game with her and didn’t understand that the little girl was being mean to her.
Like the children who chased Maigunn on the way to her school bus stop, so that she ran out into the street, almost got hit by a car and lost her new pair of glasses. And when I tried to get the school to change the bus stop just three blocks down the street, they refused.
Like the neighbor children at the end of the block who chased and teased Maigunn every time she road her bike past their house until she got wise and began taking an alternative route which of course was on a busy street.
Like the teacher who misplaced Maigunn’s lunch money envelope on her messy desk and blamed Maigunn for being forgetful (the underlying idea was that she was handicapped and therefore couldn’t remember her lunch money). Only later to find out that the lunch money was on her desk after all. However the Principal did call and ask if Maigunn wanted a formal apology. Of course she didn’t since Maigunn just doesn’t hold grudges.
Like at the Middle School Formal Dance where a bunch of students egged one of their group to ask Maigunn for a dance. He then made faces behind her back the whole time, while I stood by watching, debating whether or not to step in and deciding that these things are going to happen. But once again thanking god for Autism since she never realized that they were mocking her.
Like spending time and money to have Maigunn trained to take the city bus only for the bus system to change the bus route numbers the following year so she ended up taking bus # 5 which instead of going to our neighborhood, now went to the airport. So rather than getting home at 4:30, we got a call at 6:30 that the bus driver left her at a gas station 3 miles from our home. (Of course from 4:30 until 6:30, I had been driving around frantically looking for her.)
Like the time a boy made sexual advances towards her after she was done with a running workout at a high school track. But again she was saved by her ability to run away and fast.
Like the neurologist who sees her briefly, diagnoses her with schizophrenia and negates all the current literature and research on Autism even though as a parent, I have done more reading and researching on the topic than he’ll ever do in his lifetime. But still unwilling to listen to me.

But there have been positives
When I went to the first school Christmas pageant that Maigunn was in and watched as the children marched in line onto the stage. Then it was Maigunn’s turn to go on stage with the other students. She stopped at the entrance, stared out in to the audience and didn’t move until the student before her came back, took her by the hand and led her to her place. When they sang she stepped forward and sang with her whole heart. At the end of the performance she mimicked the audience and clapped her hands along with them. Friends who knew Maigunn and me looked my way and smiled. It was one of those priceless moments that I wouldn’t have missed for the world.
When the Brownie and Girl Scout leader, Sharon, had no qualms about including Maigunn in their troop and treated Maigunn like one of the girls. And Maigunn wanting to be just like the other girls was the first one to approach the principal and sell a box of cookies.
When her piano teacher, Maxine, was not a stickler for learning how to read the notes but let her enjoy the beauty of playing the music. Maigunn plays the piano by ear.
When my daughter says; “Mom you need a hug” when she really means, “I need a hug.” And realizing that we conquered the sense of Touch, which is extremely difficult for people with Autism.
When she succeeded not only in being on the High School Cross-Country and Track teams. But by being able to participate as a regular student in a regular Ed sport and achieving MVP (Most-Valuable Player) Junior and Senior years for Track and received “All-City” for Cross-Country her Senior year. She accomplished what most kids with Autism rarely get: the acceptance and respect of regular Ed students as one of them.
When one of the girls who, along with her friends, mocked Maigunn behind her back at the Middle School dance, now admired her in High School for her running ability since she could never run as fast as Maigunn even though she was not handicapped.
When at a track meet, a parent from another high school came up to me and told me that my daughter was an inspiration to their team. We had talked a year or two before about my daughter and her handicapped condition and he and his team had watched her develop over the years and used her as role model for their team.
When I know that living and raising Maigunn has made me grow both personally and professionally. I’ve become a more realistic therapist and now have more empathy with my patients and their families.
When I remember the wisdom, Maigunn has expressed. Like the time I asked her during her freshman year in high school if she wished that she didn’t have Autism and she replied that she thought it was part of her. Later in her junior year her response was that she wished that she wasn’t Autistic. And now she tells me that she has to get use to this Autism.

Then there are the challenges.
Such as the years of being on the Parent Advisory Committee for Special Education in the Public Schools then on the board for the local Autism Society and finally on the state Autism board.
Such as my many job changes to accommodate my children’s needs
Such as the numerous letters of thanks and concern sent out to try to get better understanding by the public and the politicians.
Such as the loss of a marriage
Such as the hours of running with my daughter so that she would be familiar with the cross-country running courses
Such as the hours of job coaching so that she wouldn’t loose her job while she was going through a rough time.
Such as taking the chance in signing up Maigunn with the G.R. Jaycees and watching her be able to be part of a group where she is not ridiculed for being handicapped.
Such as attempting to set up private housing for my daughter so that she is in a safe and secure environment before I die. Only to find that many parents of handicapped older children do not want to talk about it. And that they are content with letting the state take over when they die and not realizing how devastating their death and change in housing will be on their adult child.
Such as the wish that we as a society would be more handicap accepting. Knowing that most of my friends would not want their sons to date my daughter. And many of my friends would not consider living in a house with a ramp even if it were aesthetically pleasing.
And thanking God for good professionals who have an uplifting approach to disability and see that they have rare talents that the rest of us do not.

And finally, the Reward
When my daughter says: “Mom, you’re the best mom this girl ever had.”

Russian? You’re improving the race Amiga!

267329_10100111978595948_2713927_nMayra Velez
Buffalo, NY

Picture of us, a Belarussian and Puerto Rican, soon-to-be-married, couple. When we started dating, every time I said he is belarussian to my friends and family, I heard the “oh improving the race amiga”. I think is our colonial mind, in which status in society was determined not by wealth but by skin color. Marrying an european (or anybody of whiter skin) meant improving our status and family lineage (See “Regla del Sacar “or “Gracias al Sacar”as opposite to the “one- drop-rule”. ). Sometimes I wonder, is it possible that we are racist against ourselves? Can it be that the Spanish colonial social-structures are still deeply engrained in our minds, even if we want to deny it? We complain racism we face in USA, but we forget the racial dynamics we face in own countries.

Light skinned, biracial, Jewish, Arab American man.

Arturo Hull,
Anchorage, AK.

My mom is Syrian, Iraqi, Egyptian, Greek, Italian, Swiss-German, Austrian, South German, English, Norwegian and Danish. My dad is English, Scottish, Irish, Swedish, German, Polish, and Russian. I am light-skinned and can easily pass as French or Italian, but I embrace my Arab roots to the fullest and enjoy foods like Falafel, ful medames, and baklava. I also celebrate Arab holidays, such as Syrian Independence Day and Syrian Revolution Day. When I go to synagogue for Shabbat, I try to attend a Sephardic Synagogue and I eat qitnyot on Shabbat.

I don’t speak Spanish, just Russian

anthMichelle Del Pin,
Brooklyn, NY.

I can’t even tell you how many times people have come up to me and started speaking Spanish. Sometimes it even goes as far as telling me that it’s sad I don’t speak my native language. Yes my skin is brown and my hair is black. So? There are other types of people in the world who share this phenotype and are not Spanish. There was a time when I thought I should learn a whole new language just to make them happy. Today’s me really does not care what they think. I grew up in an English speaking country with Italian parents. I may be me and if you have a problem with that maybe you should learn a new language.

My great-grandparents fled pogroms in Ukraine.

Britt Trachtenberg,
Long Island, NY

p>I think part of my story is about how I ended up being born with privilege in an affluent community in Long Island, while my great-grandparents immigrated from Russian-controlled areas of the Ukraine in the early 1900s. My great-grandparents sought to leave because of instances of religion-based violence– called “pogroms” in Russia. They settled in Brooklyn, where they would open a hardware store and raise two children: my grandmother and aunt. My grandmother has fond memories of working in her parents’ hardware store and often speaks to how hard her parents worked to give herself and her sister a better life in America.

“Pogrom” is a Russian word that translates to “wreak havoc” in English. Historically, there are many instances of Ukrainian and Russian Jewish people being persecuted and attacked for their religion. For example, in 1903, Kishinev became a very unsafe place for Jewish Ukrainians to live after a newspaper used the minority group as a scapegoat for the death of two children. Such statements, unfortunately, resulted in many murders and homes destroyed (Source: https://www.history.com/topics/russia/pogroms).

Today, antisemitism is still a relevant topic all over the world. Many leaders, activists, actors, and members of our communities have spoken out against antisemitism and have started movements and calls to action to create change. The movement Grassroots Jews (www.http://www.grassrootsjews.org/new-page) works to bring together communities of Jewish people through things like services, communal meals, and even food recipe suggestions for holidays. Another movement called Bend the Arc: Jewish Action (https://www.bendthearc.us/) focuses on bringing together Jewish voices in America to fight for justice and equality in chapters across the U.S. Current campaigns include petitions to stand with Jewish communities in Florida against white nationalism. Movements like the ones named above are relevant to my story as an American Jewish woman because of how antisemitism hurts my Jewish friends, family, and neighbors and how much it has hurt my relatives and people that my relatives care about.

The cultural struggle is truly endless.

Nelly Shulman,
Russia

I am Jewish, Russian. Finnish and German. I have a very strong Jewish identity and no less strong Russian identity and they have always been very difficult to reconcile. Living with two cultures inside is incredibly difficult. I teach both Russian and Hebrew and can never say what am I at the moment. I guess it will remain unsolved.

Your families background doesn’t even matter!

Photo-on-2012-10-01-at-17.45-2Sara Proffett,
Healy, AK.

I am Russian, Scottish and Spanish. I’ve always been kind of tan and I have light brown hair. I’m short but not stout. I’ve always been made fun of for being a tiny little girl. I am a mix of different races so I was never really made fun of for being Spanish or Russian or Scottish. I hate it when people make fun of other people because of their background. Your background doesn’t mean anything!

White grandchild adoptive Native American grandparents

Charlie Cook,
Sacramento, CA.

My dad was born from a White Russian and American couple. At 6 days old, he was placed into the wonderful home of my grandparents, one of the Cherokee tribe and one of the Mohawk tribe. Race doesn’t define you, your history, culture, and family help you grow into the person you are. I may be “white” based on the way I look, but my family is Native American and we could not be more proud.

Russian? You’re improving the race Amiga!

267329_10100111978595948_2713927_nMayra Velez
Buffalo, NY

Picture of us, a Belarussian and Puerto Rican, soon-to-be-married, couple. When we started dating, every time I said he is belarussian to my friends and family, I heard the “oh improving the race amiga”. I think is our colonial mind, in which status in society was determined not by wealth but by skin color. Marrying an european (or anybody of whiter skin) meant improving our status and family lineage (See “Regla del Sacar “or “Gracias al Sacar”as opposite to the “one- drop-rule”. ). Sometimes I wonder, is it possible that we are racist against ourselves? Can it be that the Spanish colonial social-structures are still deeply engrained in our minds, even if we want to deny it? We complain racism we face in USA, but we forget the racial dynamics we face in own countries.

Oh, so you speak Russian, right?

sonjaSonja Racquel Bradley,
Flagler Beach, FL.

When I was a child, I confess that I hated my name. Of all the ‘s’ names my parents could have picked, why this one? Why not Sabrina, or Sasha? At the very least, they could have utilized the “normal, American” way of spelling it: Sonia or Sonya. But as they have told me, time and again, they thought the traditional Russian spelling was prettier. “Like Sonja Henning!” they’d say, except no one under 30 knows who the Norwegian figure skater and one-time actress is, except me. All of this wouldn’t be so bad, it really wouldn’t, if people wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. Instead, it’s been a long parade of mispronunciations, misspellings, and an inability to ever find a personalized mug or key chain while on vacation. On the first day of any and all classes I’ve ever attended, the following question: “Is Sewn-ja (or Sun-ja) Bradley here?” This situation always gets weirder when people find out my “origin story”. Mom and Dad were away on their first vacation alone, without my then 3 year old sister, and Mom forgot her pills. Not too weird, right? Except they were in Moscow, Russia, and though they have denied this up and down for years, I just know they thought it would be adorable to give their newly conceived daughter a Russian name. Once people find this out, the first question they always ask: “Do you speak Russian?” Mind you, I was conceived in a foreign country, I wasn’t BORN there. I don’t even have Russian ancestry. I’m German, English, Scottish, Irish, Polish, Italian – basically a whole lot of dead white dudes. This is such an oddly specific inquiry, and asked so often, along with the following comment: “I thought you’re name was Stephanie or something. You don’t look like a ‘Sonja'”. Which always leads me back to, what is a “Sonja” supposed to look like? Should I be darker? Taller? Thinner? A different shaped face? What is it about me that makes me look like someone else?

I’m a German Russian Nazi Jew.

Rachel Stahr
Bozrah, CT

This is my heritage. My maternal grandfather and father are both Pennsylvania Dutch, but my great-grandmother is where things get interesting. Her family emigrated from Russia and was Jewish. She studied German and later moved there. She married a man who I’ve been told was in the S.S. Before things got too dangerous, she moved back to the US with her two daughters. This is what I grew up knowing. In the early 90s, I felt I had to hide the fact that I was of German descent because all the school children around me meant that meant I was a Nazi-and of course it didn’t. In high school, I adopted this phrase to describe my heritage. I don’t use it unless I can then explain it, but it how my family was shaped.

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