By Agate Rublovska
As an international student who goes home during the winter and summer breaks I sometimes feel that I have two distinct lives that are hard, even impossible, to reconcile: here at UCR, I speak academic English (or try to) and read about exciting things I never knew existed. Here, switching perspectives is encouraged and people, more often than not, have liberal attitudes towards a multitude of issues. But, most importantly, here it feels like an individual does, in fact, have some power to change the way of things.
As I return to Latvia, I have to re-establish my capability of expressing myself eloquently in Latvian. I have to get used to the general sentiment of doom prevalent in the society – the sense that, regardless of how much the government messes up, again, there is nothing we as citizens can do about it. I have to get used to being seen as stuck in my teen age – because most of my friends and friends of the friends are serious, employed people, attempting to settle down and set up families of their own. And on that background, what does it look like I am doing? Still going to school to study random things.
But this need for minor adaptations is to be expected, and I do expect it every time prior to returning home, just as I expect the typical questions from different people: “So, again, what do you study there?” or “Tell me once and for all, what will you be when you graduate?”
But this winter something else happened, something I really did not expect. Having lived in Riga for all my life, I did not expect to be suddenly confronted with all the racism, sexism and homophobia which, as it now appears, are rather prevalent in the Latvian society – and which I had never before noticed so clearly.
The sequence of unfortunate events that led me to arrive at gloomy conclusions about Latvian attitudes started rather innocently: as my pretty small family was reunited to have the Christmas dinner. It was to be expected that on this occasion, as on all similar occasions, there would be an abundance of heated discussions about politics and how all Latvian politicians are greedy, illiterate pigs. Well, these discussions did, indeed, take place, but, among other things, somebody mentioned that a well-known Latvian journalist had recently died. He had, apparently been on a long trip to India somewhat in 2014 and had done some yoga prior to that. Long story short, I have no idea what he did or said after he returned, but it did make my grandfather matter-of-factly conclude that “Yes, everyone who starts doing yoga eventually goes nuts.” Well, I started off by being shocked. Then I had to laugh. And then tell him that “let’s wait and see what happens to my common sense, shall we, because I also have done some yoga”.
To me, my grandfather’s statement seems to be a good example of how both, ’rusty’ and progressive, attitudes coexist in the Latvian society. I would be tempted to say that the older generation, naturally, is the one having the rusty attitudes and we, the young ones, are the liberal and educated ones. But this simply is not true, as I had the chance to observe during the break. I would also feel tempted to blame the Soviet regime with its brainwashing and focus on the (nonexistent and invented) homogeneity of the Soviet society. But then again, what is the point of blaming a regime. We should rather move on as we are now out of it.
But I know my grandfather. His statement about the influence of yoga, apart from being ridiculous, was innocent enough, and perhaps even was a joke to certain extent. But, rest assured, there were way worse and revealing instances of the above mentioned racism, sexism, and homophobia during my stay in Latvia. It already got worse a few days after this incident as I met the relatives from my father’s side for yet another Christmas dinner (since my mother and father are divorced, there are separate dinners with each side of what was once a family). At the dinner table I was eventually asked the question that I am asked a lot: “Do you have lots of those…well, all those Turks and blacks and other immigrants there where you live?”
I have never seen that there is much point in arguing with these relatives, for if they have an opinion, it seems that that opinion is shared and reinforced by all of them, and, since I am too young and too unemployed, my opinion, as well as that of my sister, does not really count if it is a countering one. So I just said ‘’no’’.
But this question had served as a prelude to start discussing the evils of migration, and that Europe is the unfortunate centre were all the inferior people end up. Thus, all too soon my aunt was talking at length how it is terrible to have ‘’all these immigrants in Sweden’’ that are ‘’Muslim’’ and/or ’’dark skinned’’. You do not have to point out all the ways in which this discussion was wrong. But what added to the wrongness of it was the fact that it never occurred to my aunt that she herself, along with her Georgian, dark-ish skinned husband, were non-Swedes living in Sweden and planning to stay there. They themselves were in the same position as the people they were criticizing. However, what puzzles me is the reason behind them viewing themselves as better. Is it because they are of a Christian background? Because their skin is lighter? In addition, I wonder if they have ever realized that when they ask me if there are many immigrants in the Netherlands – I am also one of them.
It seems, however, that there are clearly racial undertones to this question. But I doubt that these politically incorrect people, my relatives and others, would straightforwardly announce that white shin is the best skin colour you can get, because I do not think they believe in it. The problem rather seems to be lack of direct contact. Latvian society is almost 100% white (which is quite boring, if you ask me), and therefore any slightly different-looking individual does immediately attract attention. Also, this kind of make-up of the society is the only one they have known, and they are only slowly starting to learn that things could also be otherwise.
Unfortunately, I could continue for pages with various accounts of all the disturbing instances that I came to experience during the break: discovering, for example, that there really seem to be people in Latvia who think that a woman who has not given birth to a child is to be considered an incomplete person. Or, that there are people who do feel utterly disgusted if a person publicly makes a reference to the fact that s/he is gay. Or, that there are politicians who do make public statements in which they openly suggest that a woman who chooses to have an abortion is having psychological issues, and she should be protected from herself by implementing laws that make it more public (and thus more shameful), more difficult and more emotionally straining to actually get an abortion. That there are people urging us to return to our traditional gender roles…
Okay, you might be saying, these kinds of examples could be found within most countries. But I have to stress again that this sudden exposure to these opinions in Latvia was a complete shock to me, because I thought that, ok, we are small, we have economic and political issues, we may have been isolated from the rest of the world in some senses for some time, but we are not hateful towards the new and the different.
Sadly enough, I also cannot offer valid explanations of the causes for these attitudes, or anything else of the sort. I can only offer an account of an intense culture shock that took place where I did not expect to experience it – in a place which used to be my only home for 22 years. This, however, only shows that I should shake the shock off as soon as possible, and that there is some work for me to do when I return home for real.
Photo: The Latvian flag. There are normally straight lines between the red and the white, but here they are chaotically blurred out. This seemed like an image that symbolically links to the topic.
It is also important to note that this does not mean that everyone in Latvia has such attitudes. Like always, there are different people in the society, and these are nothing but anecdotal instances.
Agate Rublovska, Class of 2016, Linguistics and Cognitive Science major from Riga, Latvia.
