The Partisan's Daughter

The greatest gift I received from my father was the knowledge of who I was and, more importantly, who I could become. It was a framework, an attitude and a fearlessness that allowed me to move beyond safe definitions. It was not confined to gender, status, or job. It was not about the idea of “success” as defined by 20th century American dreams, although certainly that was an element of his teaching.

In a word, it was about freedom. Not the freedom to do as I pleased or some entitlement or resistance to rules of conduct. It was a spiritual lesson about free will and the choices and responsibilities that came with being born in a free country, with a deep sense of faith and a commitment to truth.

My father was a “Partisan”. A freedom fighter. As a young man, he became a soldier in the Ukrainian Partisan Army, an organized force dedicated to fight for the independence of Ukraine from the captivity of the former Soviet Union and the Nazi forces that occupied his country during World War II. [1]

I share his background not to dramatize or make his struggle exceptional. There are countless families living in America who have endured struggle and strife and certainly, throughout the globe, there is history of the injustice that results from man’s inhumanity to man, from the desire for power or the ceaseless insistence for retribution and victory. I share it because in his endurance, he found meaning and, in turn, gifted me with the wisdom borne of faith.

Many of the men and women gathered at our Sunday table had come from the same place and had found their freedom in America. As a child, I had overheard their stories, I had learned a bit of history and had, instilled in my heart, a desire that their country of birth, my country of Ukraine, would one day be free. This longing for independence, truth and justice resonated and has become part of my own DNA. Undoubtedly, it served as the underlying motivation to become a lawyer.

One Sunday, after I had reached the age of empathy, I asked him the details of his trip to America. Sitting in my safe and sanitized suburban home, he described how he had slipped away from his captures, a group of Russian soldiers, and took cover in the forest until he heard the woods grow silent. He began on foot through Europe, aiming for the rumored refugee camps of Germany. He slept in barns, under trees, relying on the kindness of people who would offer food or a ride to the next destination. It took him three months to arrive at the displaced person camp in Germany. He was bearded, filthy and lice infested. But he was saved by the kindness of others and by the good graces of Americans who pointed him toward his new homeland.

I sometimes visualize my father on that journey. I am driven by a sense of faith in the universe and a knowledge that we are not defined by any one moment but by the strength of our choices, the compassion of other humans, and our commitment to truth as we know it. We live in complicated times. But no less challenging than any other time in history. My mission is to explore truth, in politics, in religion, in spirituality and society. To do honor to the man walking on that road, as we all walk each other home.

[1] The history of Ukraine’s captivity under Soviet rule, and it’s occupation by the Nazi forces of Germany during WWII is beyond this article. I hope to write more on this as it is relevant to recent political events in the impeachment trial of President Donald Trump. Much has been written by Tim Snyder, Author and Historian specializing in Eastern European history.