I would like to tell something about how I found out about racism. I live in central Asia in The Republic of Kazakhstan. There are more than 130 nationalities…and you know …we all live together in harmony I would say. I remember when I first learnt the word “racism” I was about 9 or 10 years old.
But before that, when I was younger, it was around the time when Michael Jackson’s skin started to become lighter and lighter (when we didn’t know he was sick with Vitiligo), I remember as my mom said “Why do dark skinned people lighting up themselves, isn’t it actually beautiful?”
Then after some time I saw a movie trailer where a white policeman said to a black women something like “What the hell are you doing in this park? Only white people can be here”…and I was in kind of shock…because aren’t they think that the dark skin is beautiful? After that moment I realized how bad things are on the west. That they have such a stupid ideology about skin colors. Even now I actually can’t get over it.
I have a very international family. We have russians, ukrainians,byelorussians, germans,armenians,kazakhs,tatars, there are muslims and christians and we all are a happy family. And I have so many friends whose moms are kazakhs and dads are russians or ukrainians. Christians and muslims celebrate their national holidays together, like nauryz or easter. And again, we all live together in harmony.
All I can say is comparing to all the situation with attitude to black people or asians on the west, I am so happy I was born and bred in my country. You can call us The Third World countries or make stupid movies about Kazakhstan like “Borat” but you have so many things to learn from us.
Of course I can’t say there is totally no racism and nationalism in Kazakhstan. I felt it in school and in university, there were some teachers who hated russians , half kazakhs and russians, kazakhs who actually don’t really understand kazakh language. But it means nothing to me, when I am surrounded by people, despite their race or religion, who are lovely, supportive and kind.
Я шла сегодня домой и мысли мои шли ровно одна за другой. Они были просты и приятны, лишены всякого негатива или трудностей. На улице стало попрохладнее и солнце уже почти скрылось за горизонтом.
Подходя к моему перекрестку я задумалась. Он красив. Красив по-своему и никак не похож на другие. Потому что это мой район, моя остановка, мой тротуар, мое родное. Настанет день, когда я не смогу вновь начать свои приключения с этого перекрестка и в моей жизни уже будут другие тротуары. И я решила запечатлеть его, такого летнего, пустынного и такого родного.
Качество фото нарочно плохое, мне почему-то так нравится больше.
Вот и решила, что надо больше делать снимков моей жизни,чтобы с годами их памяти ничего не смогло стереться.
This weekend we went to Astana, the cold, northern capital. We took an overnight train, stayed in a hostel, saw the sights, and went to a play. Unlike Almaty, there are no mountains and everything is completely flat. It was snowing and just under 30 degrees fahrenheit, which is considered a warm November weekend.