Pushkin’s Nanny

For generations of Soviet kids, Alexander Pushkin’s nanny, Arina Rodionovna, represented a serf woman from the past, caring and supportive, but also living a very hard life. A recent study found that even today Russian school children think she was the most important person in his childhood. Her story, as Pushkin presented it in a few lines of Eugene Onegin, haunted my childhood:

 

“Tell me about your young years:

Were you in love – or something else?” –

Oh, no, Tanya, in those ages

We’d heard just nothing of all that,

Because my mother-in-law, late,

Would have killed me in other cases.” –

“But how then you still got married?” –

“It seems, the will of God prevailed it.

‘Your Vanya’s younger,’ I was told –

“And I was thirteen years old.

For two weeks, she-match-maker here

Called on my family, at last,

My dad gave me his blessing fast.

I wept then sorely for fear;

Braiding my hair, they wept much,

And, singing led me to a church.

And left me living midst the strangers.”

(http://www.poetryloverspage.com/yevgeny/pushkin/evgeny_onegin.html)

 

Another image of abject gender inequality was a painting by Vasili Pukirev “ Unequal Marriage” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasili_Pukirev). Every time I visit the Tretyakov Gallery, I remember my textbook passages about how unjust the women’s condition was in Tsarist Russia, and how the young man standing behind the bride was probably a painter himself, representing her lover who had to witness this young woman married off to a man three times her age or older. The thought of an arranged marriage was abject to my romantic Soviet self. As a girl, I was put in a position of comparison and identification with Arina Rodionovna, Pushkin’s nanny, and this young woman. If it were you, what would you choose: be a serf, married off at 13, or be given away to a wealthy family forever (since “forever” was the only option for women then, just think of Anna Karenina)?

 

Between these two images, Soviet girls learned how a poor woman’s life could turn out: being born a slave in a huge estate, given off as a child bride, become a single mother of four, and then leave your own children behind to take care of your landlord’s children; alternative, as in Pukirev’s painting, would be to get married off still very young (sixteen? eighteen?) to a wealthy man, often looking like your grandfather, so as to help your family with finances. Dostoevsky’s novels in the school program presented a similar girl’s lot. The whole Crime and Punishment is a curse on society where the most innocent young woman has to prostitute herself to support her loved ones, and this is where her virtue lies: she is a saint because of her sacrifice. Even if she questions the structural conditions that lead to her prostituting herself as the only option to make money for the family, “a girl needs to do what a girl needs to do.” And because she does it, she is saved. She is better than Raskol’nikov, the novel’s protagonist, who rationalizes his murder of a “bad old spinster” as beneficial to humanity (he is “forced” to kill to be able to afford his education). In short, it was a very vivid preparation for the Bolshevik revolution in my textbooks: one could not live like this for too long, and as a girl, I could not agree more.

 

Great literature (always and only by male authors) was used to tell me: look, you live a much better life now because you were born after the revolution. Not only there is no slavery. There are no arranged marriages, and no prostitution as the only option for a young woman to earn a living in the USSR. You can read, you can write, you can become whoever you want to become: a cosmonaut, a doctor, or a scientist. I was reminded time and again how bad it was for women, especially poor women, in pre-revolutionary Russia. Of course, I was grateful to be born as a girl in 1969, rather than 1769 or even 1869 (the vast majority of the population, especially women, could not read or write, or had any mobility outside of marriage). I understood only later how huge was the chunk of other literature that did not appear in my Soviet textbooks about post-revolutionary times: what happened in Soviet political prisons, camps, Gulag, to “sister-comrades;” what non-Russian women thought about Soviet Russian women coming to “rescue” them from their “backward traditions”; what happened to women across Europe after the Red army “liberated” them from Hitler; how family planning and marriage laws were continuously used for political Soviet goals and population control; and what Kollontai and other women writers of the Russian women’s movement had to say about the “woman’s question.”

 

I was supposed to be grateful. The patronizing and paternalistic quality of the Soviet discourse of “freeing women” (and little Soviet girls like myself) by the concerned and righteous men left me without much imagination about the history of women freeing themselves. Pushkin did not write much about Arina Rodionovna’s situation as a family slave, away from her own children, giving love to his family. These rare words by Tatyana Larina’s nanny, that could evoke sympathy, were quickly interrupted by the main heroine of the novel: Tatyana herself, with her own moral struggle for “doing the right thing” as a woman.

 

What was missing from that Soviet girl’s education was any other form of critical analysis but class analysis. Yes, economic independence is great, but the lack of feminist analysis severely downplayed sexual violence, systemic gender inequality and lack of reproductive rights, and after a short-lived critique of the notion of “bourgeois family” a newly established notion of a “normal” Soviet and now “traditional Russian” family brought back homophobic and patriarchal laws. Understanding these issues is not going to be easy, also because almost no “great” (according to school textbooks) Russian literature can help with that. Yes, it is nice not to be married off to a stranger at 13 or be a property of some landlord. But can we please agree that this is only a start, Arina Rodionovna?

Russian women for sale

My first choice of a name for this blog was russianwoman.com. It already exists. There, Russian women are being “matched” with foreign men. It is a common practice, and one artist even did an art project about women’s desire to leave for foreign lands: Tanja Ostojić’s Looking for a Husband with the E.U. Passport. There are movies now about Russian and other East European women as wives and brides of foreigners.

I remember the beginning of this process, which also had a much darker side to it: the formation of sex trafficking from the former Eastern block countries to Western Europe. In the late 1980s and early 1990s central Russian newspapers started publishing ads with calls for dancers, maids, escort services, and bar attendants among young Russian women to work in the UK, especially Italy (trafficked through Albania), Germany, and other Western countries. These were the scariest ads, I still remember them, even then it was clear that something was not right there. I do not know of anyone personally who answered to any of those, but I’ve seen many documentaries and reports about these ads being the beginning of a sex trafficking network. No one cared about women then enough to stop sex trafficking. On the opposite, that was the time when an attitude to women as “sex objects,” previously considered to be a Western capitalist curse, became suddenly fashionable. It manifested itself in friends and husbands displaying Playboy copies and talking about visiting prostitutes in Amsterdam. Certainly, many “respectable” men do it around the world, but only a few share these experiences back home. This is one interesting legacy of Soviet sexuality: men and women were often “buddies,” or at least, male sexuality could be as easily discussed as female, often as something “rational and scientific.” One day I’ll devote a special post on this topic, as it’s rather peculiar.

In the same classified space there would be women’s ads with calls for men to serve as “sponsors.” For example: “I am a 20-year old brunette with a beautiful body, law degree, and a toddler son, looking for a sponsor. I will give you all my love and cooking abilities, and you will give me your support and respect for life.” A few of my classmates in college had sponsors through personal connections. One had an American sponsor, and spent a semester at an university in New England. She was about 20, and he was at least 50, as I recall. She returned to Moscow with a credit card (we did not have credit cards then) and a new hair style. Shortly after she gifted me a selection of small-size shampoos and body creams. It was great. Years later I realized these were free samples and hotel toiletries (there were no toiletries in Soviet hotels. Not for locals, at least). I am still ambivalent about those gifts. On the one hand, it was nice of her. On the other hand… And, by the way, today you call a sponsor a driver who is speeding, and you can follow him. If he gets caught by the traffic police, you will just slow down. Hence, he is sponsoring your speeding. “He is her sponsor” just does not mean the same thing anymore.

What I am trying to say here is that yes, Russian women are for sale on the global market. Not all of them end up in brothels or as forced exotic dancers. But many do. And yes, many of them are educated in literature or math, have never been hungry, and would be assuring you that they do it because they want. They have never been educated, however, about the dangers of sex trafficking or overestimating one’s control over one’s own life, and still no one cares about them that much. Including themselves?