Today isn’t the first day of spring. Today is the sixth day of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Today Russia bombs Kharkiv’s Freedom Square and opera house. Russia continues to bomb residential areas. Russia continues to kill civilians. Russia continues to commit crimes against humanity and deny that because for Russia it has always been this way: a human life was and remains dispensable for “a greater good”, which is neither great nor good. Russia's past isn’t without a black stain but it does want everyone to believe that it’s all white. Stalin’s crimes haven’t been reflected and condemned by the Russian nation, and we’re all reaping the “benefits” of such a reckless wish to forget and move on.

The problem is a civil society can’t just move on — it’s a privilege that’s only available to barbarians. A barbarian can win a war and go on into the next fight without remorse, a civil human being cannot — they will mourn every loss on their way to victory but they will also admit all the wrongs done by their own kind. In this sense, many Russians are barbarians. How else can you characterise those who, instead of showing a strong repulse against oppression, continue to meditate on “gathering Russian lands”, deny the war by calling it an “operation” and claim that those in power always know the best? That makes it even more surprising that some people in Russia still have the courage to stand up to injustice and go out to the streets — the numbers are small, but not nonexistent.

My personal experience shows that war isn’t only between past and future — it’s also between old and young. My parents and I reached the point in our relationships where very little is left to be discussed without falling into a melodramatic spectacle with screaming, shouting, at least no shooting so far. It starts in the roots and ends at the edges of our tree’s branches. They live in Lithuania, in Europe but they believe in Russia and Russian propaganda. They say they get information from different sources but they also say that Zelenskiy is a junkie and Ukraine is governed by neo-nazists. They say that Russia doesn’t bomb civilians and residential areas but they also see real evidence of that everywhere, all over the internet. They don’t want war but they also defend it by saying that war has been going on in Donbas for eight years — a strange logic that means it's time for the rest of Ukraine to pay.

No words can change their mind — it seems that to look at this war from a different angle would mean giving up everything that shapes them as individuals. I see fear. I see disbelief. I see bitterness towards the world. I also see a tiny ray of hope that wants to break out and be free but it’s trapped under the rocks and ashes of unfulfilled dreams, aspirations and hopes. They dedicated their lives to raising their children — but they did so at the expense of their own well-being, at the expense of pursuing something that they really wanted to pursue. Life for the “greater good”. I will be eternally grateful for such sacrifice but I also understand that it’s not just a sacrifice — it’s a loan that I couldn't and wouldn’t ever repay.

For to repay this loan would mean doing things I don’t want to do. To stop speaking about things that really worry me — like Putin’s attack on the people of Ukraine, on reason, on my life. To stop being a gay man who stays with his partner in Ukraine despite all the horror and unpredictability of such a decision. To say “I love you” because that’s what a son is supposed to say to their parents — but I don’t understand how to say “I love you” to all the hatred I hear from them. To understand that their behaviour is a defence mechanism and I mustn’t take it for granted — but their defence feels like an attack, and it seems that I’ve permitted those attacks to go on for way too long.

I hope that the war in Ukraine will end soon, Putin’s regime will shatter and all Soviet people will be released from the black plume on their backs. Maybe it would also mean the end of the war between us, between parents and children. Maybe we’ll go hand in hand into progress and stop dragging each other into regress.

For now, the war goes on, and with every single day, the conflict becomes more and more irreconcilable. I know that this experience isn’t unique — it’s shared by many children and parents alike. In some sense, we’re all children of the Soviet Union because the Soviet Union is so deeply rooted in our parents that we cannot escape it either. Still, I believe that we can demolish whatever is left of this failed experiment and build something new, something better together.