I'm here.

 

They call me Kubuś. I'm 9 years old. I'm Polish. I live in Warsaw at 15 Aleje Jerozolimskie Street. I go to school, get good grades, attend religion classes, and I'm Catholic. I have lots of friends and have no problem making new friends.

They call me Kubuś. I'm 13 years old. I'm... my mother mentioned something about history, something about my grandfather and fascists. I didn't understand much of it and didn't really want to listen. My friends came over and asked me to meet them and play football.

We had a history lesson. At first, I couldn't quite understand why this was happening. I went home right after class and asked my mother for an explanation.

My name is Jakub Zonnenberg. I'm 17 years old. I'm Jewish and I've never been baptized!! My Jewish roots have been in Poland almost forever, almost because they started in the Promised Land. I AM NOT POLISH!! I am Jewish!! My mother told me why she hadn't informed me for so long. She was afraid that if people found out, or if I told them, they would laugh at me, persecute me, and mock me. She was afraid I would lose my childhood. At first, I was afraid myself. I was afraid that what already existed would be ruined. However, out of curiosity about what was happening next, I didn't go to religion class. I sat on the ground in front of the classroom where the lesson was taking place and began reading "The Yiddish Language." After the lesson, the priest saw me and asked me firmly why I wasn't there. I told him the truth. At first, he explained that I had become Catholic and that I was no longer Jewish. He learned from me that I hadn't been baptized. Finally, he understood...

My name is Jakub Zonnenberg. I am 28 years old. I have a degree in Jewish studies and wrote a doctorate on the subject. I am Jewish, although a Polish citizen. None of my friends have ever bullied me or are bullying me, and I waited through what others did, and eventually they understood, and did you?…

***

My name is Dymitr… I have an ugly Russian name, I don't like it! I introduce myself to other children as Dymek. I'm 6 years old and in kindergarten. When I argue, others call me Dyńka or Rusak. At home, my dad teaches me Ukrainian, even though I'm Polish, because I was born there.

They call me Dymek. I'm 10 years old. Everyone who knows my real name still makes fun of me for being a Russian. I don't like it because... because I'm Polish, even though I speak Ukrainian with my father at home. I don't like going to Ukrainian concerts; they annoy and bore me. I don't know why my father drags me to them.

There came a day in my life when I understood why things were the way they are, and how they will be.

They call me Dymitr or Dymek; neither of these forms bothers me. I'm proud to have such an original name. I'm Ukrainian. I'm 16 and in my first year of high school. My father signed me up for Ukrainian classes at a different school than I'm currently studying. At first, I didn't want to go, but I thought to myself, "What's the harm in knowing this, let me call it, 'original' language, especially since it's my own?" Over time, I began to enjoy learning it more and more. I'm starting to become interested in my roots and more willing to attend various folk events.

Persecution? And then there's this idiot who wants to treat me like someone inferior, calling me "Dymitrii, even though you're a Soviet to us," as if I were "under Mensien." At first, I tried to overcome him with ignorance, to ignore him, hoping he'd leave me alone, but finally I couldn't take it anymore. I admit, I wanted to punch him, even though he was three heads taller than me. I wasn't afraid of him. I went to my father for advice, and he told me to complain about him, because if I accidentally hurt him, I'd get a worse blow than he did. I did. He got what he deserved; he understood what "human rights and having different names" meant. He was suspended. If I complained about him a second time, he'd get a bad rap for his behavior, and since he was going to high school (my school is combined with middle school), such a grade wouldn't have improved his image at all. He tried to humiliate me by calling me an informer, but I summed it up with two words: "You deserved it," and I ignored him until the very end, which is when he left my school. I don't know him; to me, he's nobody, he no longer exists.

They call me Dymitr or Dymek, neither of those names bothers me. I'm 17 years old. I'm Ukrainian, though a Polish citizen. I understood, do you understand?