“Leaving Russia”

If Maxim D. Shrayer’s account of refusenik struggles were an art piece, it’d be a triptych. “Leaving Russia: A Jewish Story” fits the categories of a memoir, a historical work and a literary book. A prequel to his 2007 “Waiting for America: A Story of Emigration,” the latest volume illuminates what life for Soviet Jews was really like and focuses on the plight of refuseniks – those who were denied permission to emigrate by the authorities. Shrayer elaborates, “This book captures the first twenty years of my life in a way that suggests a loving ambition to alchemize the raw material of the collective, historical Soviet hours, months and years into the timeline of an individual, private, Jewish story.”

During a discussion of “Leaving Russia” with The Jewish Voice, Shrayer, author of more than ten books and a Boston College professor of English, Russian and Jewish studies, says that he wants his latest work to be read by a broad audience: “There is still not enough of a popular understanding of what we, Soviet Jews, represent.” While the story is set in Russia, it is a distinctly Jewish tale, one that reveals the pressures and discriminations his family experienced because of their religion. He emphasizes, “The Jewish perspective and the Jewish identity are central to my story.”

Precisely because of the traumas the Shrayers experienced from the time they attempted to leave the country in the late ’70s until the time they were finally allowed to emigrate in the late ’80s, writing the book was painful for Shrayer, who dealt with such difficult topics as anti-Semitism, persecution of refuseniks by the Soviet system and the KGB, and physical harm by agents during refusenik demonstrations. Nevertheless, he persisted because he feels that theirs is a compelling story that belongs in the mainstream. Shrayer clarifies, “Jews from the former Soviet Union are so important to the fabric of our daily lives here in North America and in Israel.” That’s why Shrayer was eager to ensure that readers learn not only about the sobering facts of a refusenik’s life prior to emigration but also about Soviet Jews as a people.

At one point in the book, he describes an unpleasant conversation with a certain American rabbi who suggested that he, a Soviet emigrant, needed to grow as a Jew. Shrayer explains that “the notion that Jews from the Soviet Union are somehow almost a severed branch of Jewish spirituality” is offensive to him. Shrayer points out that refuseniks were willing to sacrifice everything to be Jewish.

For him and his parents, these sacrifices had unfortunate consequences. After their desire to emigrate became known by the authorities, they had to come to terms not only with remaining in the country they wished to abandon but also with having to do with less. Shrayer’s parents lost their prestigious jobs, his father lost his membership in the Union of the Soviet Writers, and they were shunned by various people who were afraid to be associated with “betrayers” of the motherland. A teenager, Shrayer was forced to live a double life and quickly learned that he should keep some facts secret.

Constantly having to choose between self-preservation and an urge to express himself openly as a Jew, he slipped a couple of times. For instance, on an expedition in 1986, Shrayer sang a song in Hebrew in front of his classmates. Whenever he felt that he was being discriminated against because of his “nationality” (in the Soviet Union, “Jewish” was considered a nationality, not a religion), Shrayer stood up for himself and for his beliefs.

He documents many such instances in “Leaving Russia.” One example of anti-Semitism was evident in his unfair Moscow University entrance exams marks; Shrayer ended up arguing for justice during an appeal session, which he attended despite discouragement and which allowed him to enroll in the school notwithstanding the disastrous beginnings. Explaining, he says, “You have to be very strong. You cannot let anyone trample on you and humiliate you. … The worst is conformism and silence.”

One of the most excruciating experiences for Shrayer was watching his parents suffer due to the persecution and violence they endured because of their refusenik status. The reader can sense his almost reverential love for his parents, whom he calls “the co-authors of my being.” In addition to shedding light on their hardships, the book celebrates their strength. Shrayer describes the cultural events they hosted at the apartment, the demonstrations they attended and the hunger strike they organized. Witnessing the plight of his family, Shrayer sees the world through the lens of a refusenik, someone always on his toes and looking out for possible oppression. Describing the young man he was during the year they emigrated, he writes, “Accustomed to expecting antisemitic [sic] behavior everywhere, I was ready to fight for my honor.”

Living with discrimination from a young age, the boy began to see it as a given. Besides abuse by children who called him nasty names to refer to his Jewishness, Shrayer experienced mistreatment from adults who should have known better. He writes of an incident that took place in kindergarten. Serving lunch, an aide gave him an extra helping of chicken while saying, “You little Jews like it with the skin, don’t you.” Occurrences of the sort caused the child to view himself as different from the rest. Unwilling to put up with prejudice, he fought his tormentors: “I was fighting for my Jewish dignity.” Later, referring to his teenage years, Shrayer uses the term metaphorically: “My life as a refusenik was a fight, a Jewish boy’s desperate ascent.”

Shrayer observes, “As early on as the age of four I felt my own otherness.” Discussing his school, he catches himself using the word “us” as he refers to his classmates: “Of about sixty of us … I hesitate to use the first-person plural pronoun. Was I ever one of ‘us’?” He goes on to share that, out of the 60 students in the two parallel classes, he was the only one officially registered as a Jew. Another student whom he knew to be a Jew was listed as Russian in the school documents, a common practice by Jewish parents who tried to shield their children from anti-Semitism.

Coming from “a very strong Jewish family,” Shrayer doesn’t believe in changing his nationality for the sake of acceptance. Yes, he suffered for his differences, “I never felt that I was one of them, I never felt accepted as one of their own. What I didn’t have in common with my classmates was my Jewishness.” However, he saw the nationality in his passport as a matter of his Jewish pride. That’s why, as a 16-year-old youth, he dismissed the officer’s hints at the passport office to choose “Russian” instead of “Jewish.” Incredulous, he now says, “The police officer probably felt that he was giving me a break and was disappointed.” The teenager chose to be stigmatized rather than reject his identity. Wanting to belong and failing, Shrayer decided to remain faithful to Judaism, the only constant in his turbulent young life full of intolerance and rejection.

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IRINA MISSIURO is a writer and editorial consultant for The Jewish Voice.