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Diasporic Postcards: DREAD While growing up, the Cold War was in full swing and life was black-and-white. Capitalism and democracy were good. Communism was bad. America was noble. The Soviet Union...

Diasporic Postcards: GRIEF I had a day last week where I woke up feeling energetically paralyzed and even felt incapable of doing any kind of self-care. It caught me off guard because the previous...

Diasporic Postcards: LANGUAGE Ukrainian was my first language, and my brothers and I were forbidden to speak English at home. To my parents, it was considered a sign of disrespect. My facility with...

Diasporic Postcards: MOTHERLAND I've been dreaming a lot about my parents since Ukraine was invaded. It was nightly at first, but it’s now less frequent. But, the other night, I woke up to the voice...

Diasporic Postcards: SOLDIERETTES In the fight for gender equality, there have been some developments that I have found disappointing and consider regressive. One has been the adoption by some women...

Diasporic Postcards: NATIONALISM Слава Україні (Slava Ukraini/Glory to Ukraine) is a national salute symbolizing Ukrainian sovereignty and resistance. The salute was forbidden in Ukraine’s historic...

Diasporic Postcards: VYSHYVANKY The only article of clothing that I have from my youth is an embroidered Ukrainian blouse my mother made for me when I was a teenager. Despite my neglectful storage,...

Diasporic Postcards: ACTIVISM One dreary night in 1971, my father, elder brother, and I set out for Toronto on a bus filled with members of Hamilton’s Ukrainian Youth Association with the intention...

Diasporic Postcards: MOTHERS As my soul crumbles at the sight of images from Kyiv and Kharkiv with train platforms bursting with women and children, I cannot help but be reminded of my mother’s...

Diasporic Postcards: GUILT There was an occasion when my father was lying in a hospital bed recovering from a heart attack and he confessed he had felt guilty his entire life about being the only...