Opinion: New York to Ukraine
I was waiting for the 12 o’clock Jersey-bound train at World Trade Center last Sunday night when I realized the vast difference that a few thousand miles could make. A friend and I were making our way home after a night of dinner and drinks and, looking at the crowd of travelers around me, there was a silent comfort in the air. The soft taps of fingers on screens and the robotic voice of the MTA somehow reassured us that we’d make it home that night. But for our friends in the East, the thought of another tomorrow was not guaranteed. In fact, that very same day, dozens of Ukrainians would suffer at the cruel hands of war.
Russia’s continued attack on Ukraine has entered its 230th day, and although the latter has demonstrated persistent strength and agility in its defense, it has come hand in hand with approximately 14,000 civilian casualties and around 13.7 million citizens fleeing to neighboring countries in search of safety. Amidst this tragedy, the world has witnessed the incredible leadership of Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy. From his refusal to abandon his homeland to the demanding calls for other countries to join the fight against Russia’s terrors, true patriotism has taken the flesh of the former comedian-turned-politician.
This courage has touched the minds and hearts of the Ukrainian people, as thousands of men and women have willingly and proudly taken up arms against the Russian invaders, with many Ukrainians living abroad having gone back to serve their country. This, alongside images of mothers giving birth in bomb shelters and apartment complexes turned into ash and rubble, is enough to make one stop and think: “How can two lives be so different?” How can I, a girl whose biggest fear is losing her MetroCard, live in the same world as a girl whose biggest fear has already come true?
Perhaps it’s the unrestricted access to information, thanks to the tiny computers in our pockets, that causes us to distance ourselves from the horrors of the world. As Americans, we are afforded a certain level of safety by simply stepping foot on this soil. And though we have repeatedly seen how our government turns its back on the most vulnerable communities, communities it is responsible for making vulnerable in the first place, our attention span quickly dissolves, and we become distracted by other more “important” issues. But what can be more important than families being torn apart by the hands of oppression or the looming fear of violence at any given moment?
See, what’s happening in Ukraine is not so different from what is happening, and has happened, in the United States. Black people have already had their lives taken too soon by white leaders. Latinos have already been denied access to refuge by merciless lawmakers. Women have already had their bodies politicized by tyrannical men. Our fight and their fight are one and the same. A fight for the right to choose, the right to work, the right to love, and the right to exist. This morning when I was waiting for the train again, I had the same initial thought: what difference can a few thousand miles make? The answer is that there is no difference, because whether I’m in New York or Ukraine, we are still fighting for our lives.
