You might have seen my April thread where I told the story of how my family got Russified throughout the XX century. I mentioned that my family started speaking more Ukrainian at home.
9 months later, we are all Ukrainian-only speakers.
Let me share what it feels like.
First of all, if you haven't read that thread, I urge you to go and read it first since it gives a lot of historical and political context of languages in Ukraine.
The story of my family's linguistic journey is common in Ukraine, but it's still one of many stories.
Now, back in April, I wrote this about my family's switch to Ukrainian:
When talking to my parents and two of my younger brothers, it just felt nicer and more natural to keep the conversations in Ukrainian after saying a couple of phrases.
The same was happening when I was talking to my close friends.
The shockwave of the February invasion was slowly starting to get absorbed.
But instead of reverting to all the usual habits (language use included), I felt a deeper, more rational sense in switching to Ukrainian-only.
I think two factors contributed to that feeling:
First, my family and I have always identified as Ukrainians, and I grew up as a bilingual who used both Russian and Ukrainian a lot (my pre-2014 Ru/Ukr ratio was around 70/30 ).
Switching to Ukrainian at home was on our minds since at least the Orange Revolution of 2004.
All that meant this switch wasn't decided in a vacuum.
It felt like the right choice because of our ethnic identity, our family history, and our political beliefs (pro-EU, against re-integration with Russia).
Not all Russian-speaking people in Ukraine have the same background.
Second, I was surrounded by friends who were going through similar things.
Studies have repeatedly shown that social ties are the largest factor contributing to the switch from Russian to Ukrainian.
If you have close Ukrainian-speaking people around you, you'll switch easier.
I am lucky to have loving & supportive friends who also wanted to switch to Ukrainian. I also have friends who were already Ukrainian-only speakers.
Many folks come from more Russian-speaking environments, and being the first person to switch in a family or with friends is hard.
So, by the middle of last summer, I became a Ukrainian-only speaker. How does it feel?
Well, I'm still the same person.
To be honest, I used to be afraid that if I switched to Ukrainian, I would lose the Russian-speaking part of my personality.
And it's not a baseless fear.
Many bilingual people feel that their personalities change a bit depending on the language they're speaking at the moment. I felt that as well.
And initially, I did feel like I was limiting my personality: my jokes were sharper in Russian, and my reaction was facter in Russian.
Still, after a couple of months, I stopped feeling this discomfort. My personality aligned with my new mode of speaking, and I feel just fine.
I still feel like I can improve some of my Ukrainian-speaking aspects, but I perfectly realize this is all a process.
Another thing that I felt after the switch was this deep sense of righteousness.
I love the fact that I am a Ukrainian speaker. After a century of oppression, famine, discrimination, and colonial traumas, my family is back to speaking Ukrainian.
We won.
This sense of pride came as a surprise to me.
For most of my life, language was just an instrument of life.
Now, the Ukrainian language feels like a small symbol of resistance, a personal victory over the oppressor exercised on a daily basis.
It feels awesome.
Also, it's so weird what only 9 months can do to your brain and vocal apparatus!
On the rare occasion when I do speak Russian these days, I can already feel an accent sneaking into my speech, and I find more and more words that I can't remember in Russian.
Now, to be fair, my family's transition was not complete until very recently: we spoke with my grandma in Russian.
Why? Well, my grandma is going through a lot right now, and honestly, I just felt like it would've been cruel to bother her with additional cognitive labor.
That was until she casually mentioned that she started to speak Ukrainian with my 14 y.o. brother Yarik because he asked her to.
So I speak Ukrainian with her, and she speaks in what she calls "the way I remember Ukrainian."
It warms my heart to hear her authentic Surzhyk.
With my grandma's switch, my family's transition was complete.
I know millions of Ukrainian families are still going through similar steps. Moreover, many Ukrainians will not switch eventually, and that's completely fine.
My background and my circle of friends played a crucial role in my transition to Ukrainian.
Many Russian-speaking people in Ukraine have different backgrounds and social contexts.
Many are in much harsher life conditions, and I can never demand them to make such a huge change.
I believe that personal decolonization is a private, intimate journey full of revelations, mixed emotions, and hardships.
What I want is for more people in Ukraine to live peaceful lives where this journey is much more natural and pleasant.
And while the societal change in language use is quietly happening anyway, the only way for Ukraine to have this peaceful space for reflection and policy-building is to beat the Russian invaders and kick them off our lands.
No "ceasefire" or forced negotiations will do the job.
That is why I want to end this thread with this simple message: keep supporting Ukraine in its fight against yet another neo-colonial aggression.
Alright folks, since there is no proper urban dictionary for the word “rusnia” (русня), I think it’s time for a short vocabulary lesson.
I recently saw another wave of Russians complaining on Twitter that they are offended by this word, claiming it is “racist”.
This is false.
“Rusnia” is a new word. It was coined by Ukrainians at some point after 2014, popularized on Twitter and went mainstream this year for obvious reasons.
In other words, it doesn’t have any weight of history or systemic oppression behind it — unlike most of actual ethnic slurs.
Now, “Rusnia” is made of the root “Russian” with a dirty sounding ending “nia”, similar to the ending in the Russian swear word “khuynia” (bullshit).
In the end, it sounds like a disrespective way to say “Russian.”
The term is not used as an ethnic marker. Let me explain.
Thinking about my grandma a lot lately: how she should be sitting on her porch, drinking cezve-brewed coffee and tending her garden of herbs and veggies.
Things would've been so different if there wasn't an empire seeking to submit and destroy Ukraine.
A 🧵on personal history.
I think her story illustrates how the lives of Ukrainians were shaped by #RussianColonialism and its unpunished crimes, big and small.
Let me show you why we are seeking justice in this war – not some "negotiated ceasefire" – by telling you the story of grandma Vira from Kyiv.
Grandma was born in 1946 and comes from a family of farmers living in a village near Kyiv.
In 1929-1930, like millions of Ukrainians at the time, her family had their land and home taken away by Soviet collectivization policy.
Exactly 9 years ago today, I was in a pub with my uni pals when we heard the news that then-president Yanukovych would not sign the association agreement with the EU, crushing Ukraine's European hopes and locking us to Russia.
We were not buying it.
Here's what happened next 🧵
In 2013, we were second-year social & political science students – we were young and angry, and we definitely were not ready to spend our adult lives in a post-Soviet dictatorship.
So the next day, we went to Maidan Square in Kyiv with thousands of others fed up with Yanukovych.
Thousands grew into tens of thousands as Yanukovych ignored our demands.
Here's a photo from a 50,000-strong protest in late November. Still peaceful, still hopeful.
So I spent some time thinking about why this tweet made me so sick and full of rage — on a scale that no Russian propaganda piece ever managed to enrage me.
Let me explain in this thread.
First of all, let’s make it clear: the Americans should care about how the war in Ukraine is going because if Russia wins, it would mean more regional conflicts across the world (because apparently war can be rewarded!), more nuclear armament (blackmail works!), more genocide.
Ukraine is the biggest test for the modern global security system: if a fascist totalitarian state on nukes can invade, exterminate, and crush a smaller democratic neighbor with the world just watching it on mute, then we’re all in for more war and global instability.
Part of the hate comes from Kyiv’s modern management, but another part stems from a specific trauma: Soviet rule.
In this 🧵I'll share how it felt growing up in a 1,500-year-old city that faced only 70 years of Soviet rule.
The photo in the first tweet shows the layout of Kyiv's Velyka Vasul'kivs'ka street in the 1900s.
It's a neighborhood where I spent a lot of my time as a child and to which I have a deep emotional connection.
(Surprise – the city took away the tram in the 90s 😔)
Kyiv is ancient, but it never *felt* ancient to me. I was born in 1995 and everything felt very recent: there were no businesses older than 10-20 years.
That’s why I was always fascinated by third-generation restaurants in other European cities: they were unimaginable in Kyiv.