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The Nowruz Holiday celebrates the Iranian and Persian New Year, typically on March twenty-first of the Gregorian calendar. A similar holiday exists in Uzbek culture called the Navruz , which marks the first day of spring in Uzbekistan. The name translates to “new day” and is frequently heard of and celebrated in all 5 "Stans" of Central Asia: Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and of course, Uzbekistan. I had never ever imagined that such a unique holiday is celebrated in the U.S. In March 2023, my family and I---along with some of our friends with Central Asian roots---walked into the Seattle community college. Instantly, our mouths opened in awe at the representation of Uzbek culture. Even the entrance was decorated with Central Asian carpets and wardrobes! “It felt so exotic…like we flew 7,000 miles to my homeland,” My mom squealed with delight. We took a seat at one of the fifty-some circular tables, my stomach grumbling at the sight of appetizers that I had seen nearly a year ago in actual Uzbekistan: Meat and potato-stuffed samsa ( fried dough), Iranian lepeshka (flatbread), sugary Uzbek baklava (layered pastry)…and rich Uzbek plov ! Shoveling bits of everything, I lifted my head to a beaming crowd of Central Asians indulging in their cuisine. A rich aroma unexpectedly greeted us, sending everyone flying out of their seats and rushing outdoors to the other side of the hall. I gasped at the incredible sight: buckets and buckets of rice fried in this gigantic, heavy-looking black pot—a Kazan ! This steaming, delicious plov (fried rice with meat and vegetables) was simply the icing on the cake, with each spoonful of these rice kernels sending bursts of understanding of the importance of Central Asian culture—let alone Uzbek. The cherry on top? Multicultural performances! From Tatar to Uzbek genres, we clapped to the rhythm of Iranian songs, sang to the strumming of Kazakh instruments, and danced alongside Eurasian cultural dancers. The crowd went crazy with the beats of fun, celebratory music. “Enjoy it before it’s gone,” Mom whispered to me, before joining the contagious energy on the dancing platform.

9-year-old Ayyina Kozhurova lives in Yakutia in the Republic of Sakha, and has been blogging on Instagram since the spring of this year. Her videos about holidays in her village have gained millions of views in just a few months. In her blogs, she documents her life as an adventurous, curious child. Whether it’s going to the store to buy bread, swimming in her favorite Labynkyr Lake, or cooking traditional recipes, Ayyina speaks volumes about cultural maintenance and awareness. In an interview with  The Yakut , Ayyina emphasizes the importance of communicating in the native language: “I believe that we all should speak in our native language. I even think in the Yakutian language, and would sometimes translate math problems to make them easier to solve. At the same time, I insert modern slang into my everyday bits like “cringe” and “vibe.”  This year, she was even nominated as the best child blogger in the Blog Ema Awards — impressive, but not surprising, once you scroll through her content. Scrolling through her blogs, I was especially fascinated by her bubbly personality as she pours her heart out into her everyday activities. Sometimes, I forget that she’s only an elementary schooler by her mature, yet very true-to-herself presence. Here are my top tens (and hopefully, will be yours as well): Making sandwiches with homemade sour cream and onion and strawberry jam — just don’t eat this on an empty stomach, it’s quite a lot to take in! A masterclass on cooking delicious Yakut cakes (featuring ingredients of sand and mud) Get ready with me to go to an amusement park! Come with me to surprise my school teachers (with books and flowers and chocolates!) Let’s try some international food — intriguing, disgusting, and absolutely out of this world flavors! Singing at my annual school recital (side note: none of my family even knew about this!) Change my wardrobe with me — it’s the most wonderful time of the year (Autumn, not Christmas, you guys) …and more! You can find more of her bubbly personality at @aiyynka_kozhurova

“History is repeating itself” (Alexandra). Russia: 11 time zones and 22 federally-recognized countries. But are those countries recognized by the Russian Federation? With a closer look, it seems like they are hidden republics, each with an individual set of laws and cultures.  Heard of Buryatia before? Located in eastern Siberia, along Lake Baikal, this Mongolic republic of Russia has some of the most beautiful nature, with an enormous mountainous territory and sparkling pristine waters. Yet, despite its diverse background and culture, Buryatia struggles with economic beauty, which has been an issue since the rise of the Soviet Union. *** The city of Seattle bursts with Central Asian faces and a few Buryat as well! As someone who belongs to this group of people, I had the opportunity to meet my mom’s Buryat friend Soyola, who brought along her three-year-old Alina and older friend Alexandra, to our home on a sunny afternoon. Little did we know about the horrific truth of the Buryats’ lifestyle: then and now. *** Born and raised in Soviet Buryatia, Alexandra grew up during the USSR’s rapid expansion.   “We didn’t have to pay for education, medicine, housing [and] apartments, and I can say that pioneer camps were [also] free. Overall, I believe that societal education was on a very prestigious level,” Alexandra said. Yet Buryatia was a landlocked country, and many struggled to live in such a communist environment. “We were taught to think the same, not look different, and this mindset was perpetual,” Alexandra told me. My mom, whose parents lived during the Soviet Union, added, “We all had to live the same, talk the same, be the same.” This communist mindset has deeply wounded ethnic minority countries, leaving behind a trail of scars impossible to remove.  *** At just the age of seven, Alexandra struggled to fight against discrimination. “When I walked to my music school, it was very dangerous. From all sides…kids would call us names, “usckoglazie” (narrow-eyed), and throw boulders [at me].”  This racism worsened over time, and the perpetual fear of being injured led to heavier layers of protection. “My father would get his car, and we would drive through the walkway, [protected] by those thin glass windows, where [bullies] pointed and made fun of me. I would climb out of my car seat in a specific spot, behind the fence, so the [physical] damage could be avoided.” Alexandra added. Education should have taught discipline, but in Alexandra’s case, even her teachers and principal made her feel like an outsider. Russian discipline was so ingrained in the Empire’s system, that it affected the Buryats to the point that they stopped speaking their language. According to Alexandra, “[She] understands some [Buryat], but not everything, because [she] wasn’t allowed to speak Buryat in public, frightened to be mocked again and again.” Not only was it a challenge to reinvigorate in their native ways, which had set a strong platform for the people to live on, but the culture itself was also on the brink of extinction. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, there were slivers of hope left as Buryats fought to regain their individuality. However, corruption in their mother country left Russians standing on the pedestal. “There was so much Russification [and] brainwashing, too  much, that my attempts to preserve my traditions were nearly impossible. I now realize that I [only] celebrated Russian holidays such as Passover. Just a few months ago, I found out about the Buryat New Year,” She said. Alexandra still asks herself, Why did it have to be like this ? Yet she holds those dark thoughts to herself as much as possible, for the dangers of questioning authority—from back then to now— have reached a whole new level. *** Let’s switch gears to Soyola’s side of the story.  Growing up in Celtic housing, Soyola managed to cling to the remnants of her culture. Even today, she understands and celebrates the Buryat culture and holidays with her family.  “Because of the closeness and safety in my [household], my parents made sure to keep our culture alive. They encouraged me to engage in the Buryat ways,” Soyola told me. At the age of 16, she moved to Moscow, Russia, to study at a university. It was the time of nationalism, which was brightly shone upon by the Saint Petersburg flashlight. “On the day of Hitler’s birthday, we weren’t allowed to go outside. If we were to risk it, we would get shot by the police. I still remember that many youngsters died that day,” Soyola said. Regarding discrimination, Soyola briefly ties back to Alexandra’s point of getting hit by flying rocks. But, because this happened after the collapse of the USSR in 1992, there was a bit of a lighter negation on physical abuse. “In Moscow, there was immense pressure [placed] on the [shoulders] of Asian-looking communities. At school, teachers would act surprised by my intellectual talents, and automatically compare me to that of Russians. We were even split into groups based on our ethnicity, the fourth group mainly comprising us, Asians,” Soyola added. In 2010, Kyrgyz Asians flooded into the Russian domain, helping alleviate Buryat racism. Still, many Russians with Asian features endured years of name-calling and division. *** The “dying night” of the Russo-Ukraine War: Russian soldiers stormed into Buryat homes and workplaces, forcing their men into war. According to Soyola, “If you’re from Buryatia, you’re 75 times more likely to get killed in the war. The Russian government called it “partial mobilization,” but they saw huge Buryat numbers recruited and killed.” Indigenous groups in Russia are continually exploited, with the war being their worst nightmare. Alexandra admits that when she moved to the US, she felt these heavy bricks of hate lifted from her shoulders. She could finally “think how [she] wanted to think, without being labeled as the 2nd sort.” Unfortunately, the negativity hasn’t disappeared in her hometown. *** Siberian fires have been exponentially increasing each year, reaching unprecedented levels. Yet headlines don’t always accentuate the need to extinguish and preserve Buryat land. “It’s almost like Seattle last year…we could barely breathe,” Alexandra told me. As the Russo-Ukraine War progresses so does the industrial and chemical pollution in Lake Baikal. “Last summer, I visited Buryatia. I was mortified at the rising mounds of trash stretching across acres alongside the [Baikal] shore,” Soyola said. Determined to fix these issues, organizations such as the Free Buryat Foundation and the League of Free Nations of Russia have set a pathway for advocating for indigenous rights. “New events such as concerts and festivals help divert our attention. Discussing the war is scary—we might lose our friends and relatives. Right now, we’re just trying to enjoy our lives,” both women added. Yet Alexandra and Soyola continue to fight for their rights, determined to prove their country’s worth. “We must connect more, inspire more, and move forward with a stronger foot. At the end of the day, kindness should somehow win.” (Alexandra).

“Thanks to the fact that we’re hardworking people, we survived” ( Babulya ). Strolling along the streets of Tashkent, Uzbekistan, I can’t help but notice the vibrant palette of faces — from Uzbek to Russian to Korean — and feel a sense of belonging. Korea is miles from Uzbekistan, yet its culture vibrates through each bite of Uzbek-style Korean kuksi (cold noodle soup)   and begodya (steamed bun). Stepping into this land of Central Asia, one may wonder, why is that? *** In the 1860s, Russia shared the Amur region with China and the Maritime border with Korea. While Russia struggled to colonize the Far East, Koreans immigrated to the Ussuri region of the Maritime border. Disagreements over territories in Northeast Asia — specifically Manchuria and Korea — sparked the Russo-Japanese War of 1904, where Japan won and strengthened its hold on Korea. When Japan officially annexed Korea in 1910, a massive wave of 200,000 Korean immigrants greeted the Far East of Russia. Their desirable Asian attributes reflected the friendly contacts between Czarist Russia and Korea. Though it was difficult for Korean immigrants to gain Russian citizenship, their lives remained peaceful until the rule of “the steel man”— Joseph Stalin. In 1922, Russia became the Soviet Union and annexed the Far East Republic, further encouraging Korean immigration. Two years later, Stalin grew suspicious of Korean ties to Japan, their biggest enemy. Between 1928 and 1932, anti-Korean violence in Soviet land increased, pressuring Koreans to flee to Manchuria and Korea. In 1937, on July 17, the Soviet government decreed the official cleansing of Korean “spies of Japan.” Leaving behind all of their belongings, cramped into cattle wagons, and starving from malnutrition, the remaining Koreans were forced to evacuate their homes. More than half died from disease and their corpses were tossed onto the unknown fields. These victims were known as the Koryo-Saram  (Soviet-Koreans) . As a Russian-speaking Korean with parents from Uzbekistan, this story hits smack in my gut. Although my parents weren’t victims of this deportation, my great-grandparents were involved. When I interviewed Babulya about this topic, she was just as uncertain, to my surprise. “After I got married, my mother whispered to me about the Koryo-Saram , who had no clothes, no food, and no direction in life. Instead, they worked in kolkhozes (collective farms).” Despite her traumatic past, Babulya was a happy child. “Of course, my childhood differs from yours. We didn’t have any toys and played with others. I believed that this was happiness.” However, due to the majority ethnic Russian population, Babulya’s teachers and classmates mocked her with “ uzko-glazie (narrow eyes)” remarks. Like Babulya, my mother’s friend Olga Kim is a Russian-speaking Korean with Central Asian roots. Her father Doncher Shin was born in the Far East of Russia in 1933 and currently lives in Kyrgyzstan. Although Shin was just four at the time of the deportation, his parents’ memories have left indelible footprints behind. “I had nine brothers and sisters, and I was on the younger side,” Shin said. “When the deportation began, there was a high possibility that I would be separated from my family.” Life after the deportation was rough. In the mid-1900s, “The Koryo-Sarams  survived under Celtic housing (domed-shaped huts). There was only one school, where children were already taught in Russian,” Olga told me. “My father only went to school at the age of ten. During this time, the Russian community certainly treated Korean children as “unreliable” people. Everything changed when Shin’s father didn’t come home one day. He was a revolutionary who had moved to the Far East before the deportation. According to Olga, her grandfather couldn't be a revolutionary after moving because of his Korean ethnicity. With the government’s threats, he had to stay under the radar. “This is why he was taken from my family,” she added. The deportation would lead to the deaths of millions of ethnic Koreans in modern Central Asia. Doncher wrote letters to a government in the Far East, hoping to find out about his father’s sudden disappearance.  “After many years, he finally got a letter,” Olga said. “When my grandfather was taken, he was shot.” After Stalin died in 1953, restrictions for ethnic minorities dissipated. “My father graduated from a university in Uzbekistan and continued his education in Moscow. He’s the first one from my household to graduate from an institute. He later became a teacher in Moscow,” Olga said. After Olga married Misha in Kyrgyzstan, they both migrated to New York by winning green cards. They live in Washington State with their six-year-old daughter Valentina (Valia). My parents’ story takes a different turn regarding their U.S. migration. My father moved to the U.S. in 1998 before returning to Olmaliq, Uzbekistan, and meeting my mother in 2003. When they permanently moved to California in 2004, it was easier for Mother to adjust to the American lifestyle. “Despite his guidance, he would force me to memorize the prices of products in different stores so we could pick out the cheaper options.” Mother added. Even though she struggled with her music business in the first few years, her resilience transformed into fifteen successful years of domisolka singing and piano instruction. Thankfully, English wasn’t necessary for Mother’s business to take off, since she taught her lessons in Russian to Russian-speaking kids. Unlike Babulya’s and Olga’s forced migration, my parents came to the U.S. by choice. Yet a common thread in these stories remains laced through my upbringing. “My mother wanted us to study, forced  us to study,” Babulya chuckled. “Because of her iron fist,  I received a good education, which is what I did with your mother and uncle.” This emphasis on education continues to resonate with my mother. “Babulya was very fond of my and my brother’s education. It’s an integral part of raising you and your sister.  I must admit that the pestering paid off in her acceptance to Stanford and will hopefully do the same for you,” Mother told me. Whether it’s an extra hour of studying or preparing for a piano competition, “ Uchitsya, uchitsya, e uchitsya ( Study, study, and study)” remains our ultimate motto, a logical connection to the Koryo Saram : the hardworking  Russian-speaking Koreans.

Stretching from the southern region of the Sikhote-Alin mountains to the mystical greens of the forest lies the “tiger country”— Vladivostok —- where indigenous Asians hunt, fish, and gather fruits and berries. They are known as the Udege People: the People of the Tiger.  The Tiger symbolizes every aspect of the Udege lifestyle: culture to name the least. It’s believed that these wildcats on Earth originated in China, and spread to Northern Russia. Unfortunately, Siberian tigers have been struggling to stay alive since the 1930s, when Russian hunters exported millions of cubs to international zoos. In 1947, the numbers drastically decreased to about 30, and it was only years later that this endangered species label would be recognized on their Siberian stripes. Yet they continued to be shot, sold, and exploited for their fur until 1956. Today, only about 500 Siberian tigers exist in Eastern Russia, and along their territorial lines.  *** The Udeges are one of the Tungus-Manchurian peoples. According to the 2010 census, the number in Russia is 1.5 thousand people, and in Primorsky Krai—793 people. The Udege language belongs to the Amur group of the Tungus-Manchu branch of the Altaic language family. In the 1930s, a script based on the Latin alphabet was developed for the Udege language. Now, the Udege mostly speaks Russian. In the Primorsky Territory, the Udege live compactly in the villages of Krasny Yar and Olon in the Pozharsky District, Agzu in the Ternisky District, Roshchino, and other settlements in the Krasnoarmeisk District. The Udege culture has rich folklore, music, and arts and crafts. Historical stories, legends, myths, fairy tales, and other genres represent folklore. Historical, tribal, and other informative stories reflect the actual events in the history of the Udege.  The Udege musical instruments are diverse: tambourines, flutes, pipes, whistles, tweeters, one-string violins, rattles, kunkai, etc. Musical instruments are used in everyday life depending on the life situation or ritual actions. Rituals and everyday dances are held to the sounds of flutes and pipes of various designs. Women dance around the fire, and a special dance is organized by the  shaman , where dancers imitate the movement of animals. Collective game dances are arranged not only during shamanic rituals (in honor of successful crafts) but also serve the purposes of educating the youth and uniting the tribal team. Additionally, these dances are arranged on the occasion of a successful hunt. Each hunter, after getting a bear, arranges the so-called bear festival ( talasani ), where only men participate in the ceremony. The Udege fine arts are known in the forms of patterns, ornaments, wooden sculptures, and plot drawings. Household items, tools, and cult accessories are decorated with patterns and ornaments. Women's art is widely developed—embroidering patterns and ornaments on colored fabrics (fun fact: these designs on Udege national clothing highlight the culture of their animals), fish skin, and  suede , embossed on birch bark. Male art is associated with the processing of hard materials—wood, bone, and metal. Udege masters create ritual sculptures of large and small forms (figures of a tiger, dog, man, bird, etc.), decorated with carvings of objects of material life (tables for eating and cutting meat and fish, ladles, cutting boards, sticks for mosquito nets), and tool handles labor (awls, lintels in frills, oars, etc.). The basis of the traditional worldview of the Udege is animism, which divides the world into three levels: the sky, the earth, and the underworld. Each of these worlds has its own masters and assistants—good and evil spirits. The master of the universe is the heavenly ruler (god) Enduri  and his closest assistants, Tagu Mama  (the keeper of the souls of people and animals), the old man Chinihe  (the weather manager), Ganihi  (the owner of the sea and rivers), and Onku  (the owner of forests and mountains). The most independent and strongest is the owner of the fire Pudja , who supplies a person with warmth and good luck in crafts. The category of evil beings includes the humanoid creature Amba  with his assistant Ogjo —a bird with iron plumage, flying around the world with the speed of thought. Along with animism, the Udege have totemic views. The Udege believe that the ancient ancestor of man is a bear, and the tiger is an honorary relative, therefore these animals are inscribed in the pantheon of sacred animals. Rites of worship are performed in their honor and various honors are given. The cult of the tiger is characteristic of the peoples of South Asia, and the cult of the bear is widespread among the peoples living in Siberia, the Amur Region, and Primorye. The simultaneous deification of these animals testifies to the complex processes of ethnogenesis (origin) of the Udege ethnos. The shaman  acts as an intermediary between people and the masters of Nature. Not every person could become a shaman, but only those who had hypnotic abilities. Udege shamans are of three categories: a beginner or weak shaman (nicha samani ), an ordinary shaman ( samani ), and a big or strong shaman ( sagdi samani ). The novice shaman treats mild colds and headaches, the average shaman treats diseases associated with a violation of the human psyche, and the most popular is the sagdi Samani , who has supernatural powers. Household rituals and customs of the Udege are divided into trade and family rituals. Of these, fishing funerals and memorial rituals continue to be preserved in life. At present, traditional forms of marriage have completely disappeared from family rituals—the exchange of children, the ransom of a woman for a tori  ( kalym ), levirate marriage (the marriage of a widow with the brother of the deceased), polygamy, etc. Since the 2nd half of the 20th century, a family has been created only monogamous (marriage to one person at a time) and by mutual agreement (between man and woman). According to the custom of the Udege, it’s forbidden to talk about the upcoming birth of a child, so that the evil spirit Ogjo  would not know about it. To prevent the child from dying, it’s forbidden to give birth in a common dwelling. For a woman in labor, a week before the birth, a special hut ( yatau kava ) is built a hundred meters from the dwelling, in which the woman gives birth and lives with the child for 10 to 30 days. During this quarantine, the woman moves into a common dwelling and occupies a separate place closer to the fire. Funeral rites ( bugasa ), depending on the cause of death, have their own characteristics, which are strictly observed during the funeral. The Udege has underground, above-ground, and above-ground ("air") burials. The Udege believed that the violation of the funeral rite could lead to new deaths. The Udege are unsurpassed hunters, engaging in hunting from the age of 12 until old age. The hunter's equipment consists of a bow ( bei ), arrows ( tada bei ), a spear ( guide ), a large long-handled knife ( hokdo ), and a stretcher ( son or hanami ) for carrying weights, as well as skis and sleds. The Udege hunts almost all year round, but it’s forbidden to kill the beast more than necessary for the family in the near future. The Udege mastered various hunting techniques to perfection (pursuing in deep snow, using traps, setting loops, etc.). From the middle of the 19th century, the Udege began to hunt with the help of matchlock guns (meus), which they exchanged with Manchurian merchants. The Udege, preparing for the beginning of the fishery, weave nets, make arrows, repair sleds, perform shamanism, and ask the owner of the taiga  for good luck. Hunting for a fur-bearing animal (sable, squirrel) has been widely practiced since the 70-80s of the 19th century with the advent of fur buyers. In Soviet times, starting in 1939, the best hunters took part in the All-Union Agricultural Exhibitions (VSHV) and the Exhibition of Achievements of the National Economy (VDNKh) held in Moscow, where they were awarded orders and medals for their work. Fishing is of greater importance for the Samarga and Primorye Udeges. The Udege fish for chum salmon ( dava ), and taimen. An important time for fishing is September and October when chum  comes to spawn in rivers. Agriculture for the Udege is a new activity— a great difficulty. Significant results in the development of agriculture are among the Iman Udege who successfully engage in animal husbandry and crop production. For the annual high yields of soybeans, the collective farmers of the Krasny Udegeets artel repeatedly take part in the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition. The Soviet period saw significant socio-economic and cultural changes. All national collective farms in the 1960s were reorganized into state industrial farms, and cadres of national intelligentsia appeared everywhere: teachers, doctors, accountants, and scientists. The traditional settlements of the Udege consist of several residential buildings and piled barns. Specifically, the traditional summer and winter dwellings of the Udege in appearance resemble gable huts built of light poles and birch bark. Such a dwelling is heated by a hearth (fire) located in the center. The smoke from the fire escapes through a smoke hole left in the roof. Next to the residential building, outbuildings are placed—barns hung for yukola and other household appliances. The simplicity of the arrangement of residential and commercial huts of the Udege corresponds to their semi-nomadic life. The settlements of the Udege are small and scattered for tens of kilometers. Ritual buildings (jokers, maternity huts, burial houses) exist among the Udeges of all territorial groups. At the end of the 19th century, Chinese fanzes and semi-dugouts began to appear among the Udege, and in the 20th century, log houses of the Russian type. The nutrition of the Udege is determined by the season: from the end of spring to autumn—fish and vegetable food prevailed, and from the beginning of September—the meat of wild animals, birds, and fish. In October, meat is almost completely replaced by red fish. From the middle of summer, the Bikin and Bollypeussurk Udeges, along with fish and meat, consume vegetables. The Udege gathered wild garlic ( soda ), wild onions ( dasukhta ), wild garlic ( zyzokto ), and various roots, herbs, and berries. From December to spring inclusive, the meat of wild animals again becomes the staple food. During the years of Soviet power and the post-Soviet period, the composition of nutrition has changed significantly. The basis of modern food is both purchased products and from subsidiary farms. The traditional means of transportation— morochki and baty  (dugout boats)---are characteristic of all territorial groups of the Udege. Boats move with the help of poles and oars. Starting from the 1960s, traditional boats were gradually replaced by motor boats of the Kazanka type and others. In winter, skis and sleds are used by hunters and fishermen when walking in deep snow and transporting goods instead of boats. At present, motorized sleds prevail in the everyday life of hunters, and of the traditional means of transportation, only muddles, sleds, and skis continue to be preserved. On the territory of Primorsky Krai, 23 non-profit organizations are registered that unite the indigenous peoples of Primorye, including the Udege. Among them are 15 communities, 7 public organizations, and 1 union. The activities of the organizations are aimed at preserving and developing the culture of indigenous peoples, traditional types of management (hunting, fishing, collecting wild plants), and ecological and hunting tourism. In the village of Krasny Yar, Pozharsky district, an ethnocultural center has been created and operated. Its structure includes an open-air museum, which comprises the Udege camp, an ethnographic museum, a souvenir sewing and carpentry workshop, an ecological circle, and a Udege dance ensemble " Agdaimi " ("Joy"). *** About 20% of the Udege population took part in the battles with the enemies of the Soviet Union. The Udege fought not only on the western front but also defended the socialist fatherland from the Japanese on the eastern one. During the hostilities with the Japanese, the Udege scouts from the reconnaissance battalion of the 88th separate Far Eastern brigade, who obtained important information for the Soviet command, especially distinguished themselves. For their ingenuity and courage behind enemy lines, many Udege were awarded orders and medals by the Soviet state. Despite this, the Udege were neglected and tricked, like the Indians who fought for the British and believed that the rewards would mean something greater—independence. I spoke with Udege human rights activist Pavel Sulyandziga, who fights for his people’s rights through organizations such as the Batani Foundation and SIRGE Coalition.  “The Batani Foundation was established in 2004, when business stormed into our land, and exploited Udege resources. It was a few years later that political activism really erupted,” Pavel said. Currently, Pavel and his team are working on fixing a climactic issue that has deeply affected their pristine Bikin River. “2020 brought the biggest catastrophe: an oil spillage. I emailed Elon Musk, who bought Nornickel, the largest mining company in Russia. We offered three solutions, one of which he only accepted, which was to help clean up the mess through ecological organization communication. Meanwhile, the minerals from the oil spilled into other areas like a virus. Long story short, this event remains an issue to this day,” Pavel added. A delegation from the Nornickel coalition met up with Switzerland, where its “daughter” is registered and buys products from Nornickel. Investors of Switzerland banks had sponsors, which halted to a stop when they collaborated with German companies. Unfortunately, the meeting between the outraged indigenous people and companies didn’t add many resolutions to the table. That’s when the SIRGE Coalition came about, but had to be closed due to extremism in Russia. Aside from political issues though, Pavel Sulyandziga’s son Pasha continues to fight for his people’s rights in unique ways.  Pasha Sulyandziga is a Udege opera singer who made his vocal debut at Carnegie Hall in 2015. His approach to the underrepresentation of his culture is giving back to his community with music. “I created an album that encapsulates both Udege and Russian culture, which I have sung to my people this summer. With the help of the Udege, I added my vocal accompaniment to the Udege poetry and songs that had been written in both of our languages. It truly was an amazing experience, to see my community’s smiles and joy as they sang and danced to my music,” Pasha told me. Culture thrives through diverse modes of expression, and the echoes of Pasha’s lyrics will hopefully continue to encourage the Udege people to celebrate their culture and speak up for their independence.

Since the Russian colonization of the Sakha Republic in the 17th century, the region has experienced a depletion of natural resources, pollution, poverty, and systemic cultural erasure. Russian settlers, or priyezhiye (incomers) as they are euphemistically called, first came to the region in search of luxurious furs. In the Soviet times, gold and diamonds were discovered, attracting even more settlers, who derived significant profits from these resources. However, no money has been recirculated into the Yakutian economy; instead, it has been invested in larger cities such as Moscow and St. Petersburg. The Russian government has also used Yakutia as a dumping ground for toxic cosmic waste that has contaminated the region’s water supply and, subsequently, has given the native population health issues such as cancer and chronic dental issues. The radioactive decay from the waste has also led to mutations in animals. According to Yakut activist Evdokia, she lived in an area "poisoned by underground nuclear explosions, river pollution, and space waste." The Russians have also attempted to systematically expunge Yakutian culture via assimilation and subjugation. Indigenous peoples are treated as second-class citizens, and their cultural identities are portrayed as something to be ashamed of, even to the point where they believe that their ethnic names are slurs. Growing up, Evdokia believed that the word Tajik was derogatory:  "Ethnic Russians occupied all management positions in Russian cities. Therefore, there were only three of us in the ethnic Sakha class, and we were forced to encounter racism. My classmates constantly told me and two other Yakut students that we were strangers, that we should go back to our village, and that we were “overrun.” They constantly called me churka , mambetka (a derogatory name for Yakuts). A group of girls even pushed me into a puddle. Because of these attacks, I wanted to change my appearance. So, I pretended that I didn’t know my language." These shameful practices have been perpetuated by not only the Russian government, but also by the Russian people. According to Historian Alexander Morrison, the Yakuts suffer from a “colonial allergy.” One incident that Edvokia mentioned in the interview was a shop displaying its store name in Yakutian, before being changed to Russian due to local Russian protests.

Who knew that during my rhythmic gymnastics volunteering, one of the beginner coaches working on the other side of the gymnastics carpet mirrored my Asian appearance and Russian language? Her name is Maginur, and she’s a fitness and rhythmic gymnastics coach from Bashkortostan. An interview with her has captured yet another unique glimpse of a hidden voice in Russia. Taya: What’s the history and culture of your people? Maginur: Bashkirs are a Turkic people living in Russia, in Bashkortostan, Tatarstan, and other regions. Their history and culture are rich and interesting. The Bashkirs have ancient roots and their history goes back several centuries. It’s important to note that the Bashkirs have ties to various cultures and empires, including the Golden Horde and the Russian Empire.  Bashkirs are rich in traditions, including national clothing, music, and dance.  Kurai  is a national musical instrument. National dances mainly describe the life of the people and emphasize character traits. The Bashkir language is part of the Turkic family of languages and has its own alphabet based on the Cyrillic alphabet. Yet, the Arabic alphabet was also used in the past. Islam, particularly Sunni Islam, plays a vital role in the culture of the Bashkirs. A majority of them are Muslims.  Taya: Who was an important historical figure in your country? Maginur: Salavat Yulaev is a historical figure who left a bright mark on the history of Bashkortostan and Russia. He was a Bashkir poet, folklorist, and hero of national history. His name is associated with the period of Bashkir history when the Bashkirs resisted Russian conquest and preserved their culture.  Highlights in the life and work of Salavat Yulaev include his poems and songs that inspired the Bashkir people to resistance and patriotism, especially during the resistance to the Russian Empire. During the cataclysmic events associated with the conquest of Siberia by Russia at the end of the 18th century, Salavat Yulaev is considered one of the symbols of the Bashkir resistance. In the history of Bashkortostan, Salavat Yulaev became a legendary figure, symbolizing Bashkir's national pride and resistance. His name survives in modern culture, and Salavat Yulaev is often mentioned and celebrated as a hero and symbol of the Bashkir nation. For example, in Ufa, the name of the sports club is “Hockey Club Salavat Yulaev”, which participates in the Continental Hockey League (KHL). Taya: What are some National dishes, holidays, and music of Bashkortostan?  Maginur: Bashkirs have a rich cultural heritage with a variety of dishes, holidays, rituals, festivals, and music. Here are some of them and their distinctive features: Chak-chak : A sweet dish consisting of dough fried in honey and sprinkled with small sugar candies.  Belyash : Pies with various fillings, often with meat and onions.  Bish Barmak  (translated from Bashkir: Five fingers): A dish made from lamb, boiled vegetables, and squares of dough, which is eaten with your hands, which is why it got its name. Holidays and rituals include the Sabantuy —the main national holiday of the Bashkirs—associated with the celebration of the harvest. It includes traditional games, songs, and dances. There’s also the Kurban Bayram —a religious holiday of the Muslim community— which is celebrated by the Bashkirs with a special celebration. The music is very diverse, incorporating both vocal and instrumental. For example, the use of throat singing and national instruments like  Kubyz  and Kurai  are components that make Bashkir music unique. Taya: Have you ever felt stereotypes or racial discrimination among your people? Maginur: No, I was just faced with the fact that little is known about my people. Therefore, while living in Moscow, I created a folk dance ensemble,   Altynay Dance , which brought together three age groups: children, students, and adults. We learned folk dances that are part of the golden fund of the Republic of Bashkortostan. We performed at various government events and gave recitals that conveyed the history of my people. Taya: Let’s switch to your side of the story.  What was your childhood like? How did you begin your rhythmic gymnastics journey? Maginur: I was born in the Republic of Bashkortostan. Since childhood, I lived in Moscow and got into rhythmic gymnastics because I had a lot of energy and my parents decided to give me up to the sport. The closest sports school was actually for rhythmic gymnasts. Our parents raised us with respect for all people and instilled love for our people. We learned to speak the Bashkir language, prepared national dishes, and read Bashkir literature. I’m fluent in the Bashkir and Russian languages, have professional proficiency in English, and know a bit of Arabic and Greek. Side note: This interview was originally in Russian.