Russians in Minnesota find the Ukraine war both simple and complex

Maria Zavialova arrived in Minnesota 21 years ago from Russia with two small children, a box of books and $120.

Now curator and head of exhibitions and collections at the Museum of Russian Art in Minneapolis, Zavialova said she's brimming with "pain, indignation and rage at what's happening to Ukraine and Russia."

"All my thoughts are about stopping the war and dismantling the government that's doing this," she said.

Kate Jackson, who came to Minnesota from the Siberian city of Krasnoyarsk, has been keeping her heritage on the down-low since Russian armed forces invaded Ukraine last month on the orders of Russian leader Vladimir Putin.

"[People say] these things, like, 'Why can't you do anything?' " said Jackson, a Minneapolis resident. "I'm very self-conscious about saying I'm Russian."

Many Russian natives living in Minnesota have expressed shock and horror at Russia's invasion of Ukraine. The war has made for a highly charged atmosphere in Minnesota's Russian community, which numbers somewhere around 11,000 people, in addition to the 16,000 Ukrainians living here — along with Belarussians, Moldovans, Poles and others who come from nations in the region.

Several described Russia's history of repressive government as what prompted them to leave their native land in the first place. And some said they are now paying a price here for their nationality, even though they left Russia long ago and don't support Putin.

The restaurant employs nearly 50 people from around the world, including workers from Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Mexico and El Salvador.

"We are just a family business trying to feed our family," Liberman said. "We are not responsible for Putin's war. We left to get away from Russian oppression. We are Russian by birth, but that is it. We are Americans. I could not be any happier to be an American."

Liberman's 84-year-old grandmother is being shunned by the Ukrainian residents of her nursing home, he said, and a friend's children have been bullied at elementary school because they're Russian and speak the language.

Julia Yael Ramos, an Eden Prairie attorney, grew up in St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad) and came to the United States 44 years ago as a teenager.

"Here, the former Soviet community is extremely broken," Ramos said. "It's divided between people who are educated and informed, and people who just want to believe lies and spread lies."

"You're fed a steady diet of that as a small child," Ramos said. "How men, women and children defended against the Germans [in World War II], and you never gave up. Never, never." Putin has no choice but to hide the scope of the war and the reasons for it, she said.

"How much information can he keep from the Russian people until they figure it out?" Ramos said. "If actual Russians wake up and learn the truth, they will be horrified."

Zavialova learned her own truth early. As a young student in Leningrad, she was interrogated by the KGB, the Soviet Union's secret police, for translating a banned book by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, a prominent critic of Soviet communism. After that, she became part of the nation's underground culture — what she described as "that oppositional culture which was always there, and is still there."

Wearing a yellow-and-blue "Stand With Ukraine" button, Zavialova said she knew the Putin regime "was going from bad to worse," but she didn't think he'd have the audacity to invade another country.

"At this point, we just want [Putin] neutralized, that's all," said Zavialova, who is a U.S. citizen. "I think all Russians who have a conscience have collective guilt, because now we have to rethink how we look at our country."

"I think when he first took over, people had a lot of hope," said Jackson. "My family supported him in the beginning. Things definitely changed as we saw who he is and where he's leading the country."

In her circle of friends here, there's a sense of uneasiness, she added. In the United States, many Eastern European emigres tend to gather together: Russians, Ukrainians and other nationalities.

"It feels like there's just this tension right now," she said. "There's this big elephant in the room. That's also very discouraging to see."

For Zavialova, it's important to break down those barriers.

"If the worst happens, we will need each other," she said. "Now it's time to look at your neighbor and strengthen the connection."