My grandfather was born near Kiev, Ukraine when Russian pogroms decimated Jewish villages. Fearful for their lives, many countrymen immigrated to the United States. Over the next 100+ years, Russia fought in both civil and world wars interspersed with times of peace, albeit under repressive rule, rationing and other less-than-desirable conditions.

The end result was the tearing down of the Berlin Wall and the breakup of the USSR. Now, with the Ukraine no longer a part of Russia, the fighting continues. Why are they fighting? For the same reason many wars are still being fought: freedom to live the life of one’s choice. In a recent policy decision that catered to part of their citizenry, the Ukrainian government rebuffed the European Union in favor of mother Russia. In so doing and despite having achieved a measure of autonomy, the Ukraine threatens to tip the balance of their hard won freedom back toward Soviet influence, the same Soviets who criminalized the birthright of its LGBT citizens.

Recent protests in Kiev (Photo: The Independent)

Relatively speaking, Ukraine’s separation is recent history and living in a more Westernized society must seem tenuous. Thousands have taken to the streets in a show of strength and determination. Their message is simple: they want to be allied with progressive European interests. They want to enjoy a free life, whereas an alliance with Russia is a step backwards. This is unacceptable, yet so important that people are protesting. At first it was peaceful but now they are dying for their cause.

As I write this, the Sochi Olympics are winding down. Months before the games began, in typical showy fashion, President Putin chose to enact punishing laws aimed at their LGBT citizens. Bloody clashes made the news. In response, communities around the world loudly proclaimed their support of LGBT rights and gay Olympians, and decried the new laws. There was no shortage of publicity. I cannot know if this was part of Putin’s agenda as he reveled in his shirtless, misguided macho glory with his country in the world’s spotlight. He gave assurances that security would be in place to protect all visitors, though there were a few reports of conflicts. What happens after closing ceremonies is anyone’s guess.

While we watched the Olympic Games in Sochi, we were mindful of our LGBT brothers and sisters, knowing an incident could occur where innocent individuals might be harmed. And during that time, we also watched Kiev’s Independence Square turn into a blackened battleground. The stakes skyrocketed when rubber bullets were replaced with real ones. Riots are not a game. There is no medal for how far you can throw a Molotov cocktail or how fast you can run from a baton-wielding policeman.

I am an American, but I feel these people are my countrymen. I shudder to think what my life would be like if instead of watching the Olympic Games in safety and comfort, I was in the thick of it defending my independence while trying not to get my head cracked open. Surely, LGBT Ukrainians, their allies, and indeed, all Ukrainians, wish to live peaceful, open lives without fear of arrest or violence. Sadly, the Russian LGBT community protests under this threat. We must continue to fight for them, too. We are all countrymen.

Zoe Amos brings her lesbian point of view to articles and stories on diverse topics. Connect with her on Facebook and Twitter. “Superior” a novella, is now available on Amazon. Read her short stories on Kindle and Nook. Check out her other life at: www.janetfwilliams.com.

The post From A to Zoe: This is not the Ukrainian Olympics first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Maddow talks current events with David Letterman.

The post Rachel Maddow on David Letterman first appeared on Lesbian.com.

BY ZOE AMOS

Last week, tornadoes ripped through the heart of Texas. My friend, LW, a resident of Cleburne, huddled in the closet with her husband as their roof blew off. If you scream in a tornado and no one can hear it, not even you, did the sound leave your throat? Did the wind carry it to a distant place where it was quiet enough to be heard?

I uttered that moan the moment I got the news. Sadness filled me and my energy drained through my feet into the earth. Fortunately, they survived. Their home may be deemed a scrape and they will have to start again. They are better off than some of their neighbors, worse off than others. Rain soaked their possessions. It remains to be seen what is salvageable. Whatever they had planned for the next six months, a year, most likely longer, will take a new direction as they rebuild their home and their lives.

I remember the horrible spring conditions growing up in Michigan referred to as tornado weather. When we were lucky, the siren that normally sounded at twelve o’clock on Sundays would go off, warning us to take cover. The sky would change from dark grey to a sick green color. The barometric pressure would plunge, infusing us with a creepy discomfort, a heaviness, as if the atmosphere had attained an excess of gravity; and surely it had, judging by our furrowed brows. We had been taught to wait it out in the southeast corner of our basements. Many times hail would clatter against the windows and lightening boomed before we could count to one. It was a scary time for me as a child and I said good riddance to foul weather when I moved away.

In Southern California where I now live, we are one week away from the official start of fire season. We take preparedness instruction seriously. Fire has swept through the San Diego area on a grand scale several times in the past decade. We are advised to have water, canned food, radio, pet carriers, medications, etc., at the ready to grab and go should the need arise. The only reason my sister didn’t lose her house is because the firemen stood next to it while battling the ferocious Cedar wildfire. The three homes next to hers burned to the ground.

Given a few moments to evacuate, most people say they would fill their cars with photo albums, their computers, and irreplaceable sentimental or meaningful items. The folks in Texas, and now Oklahoma, didn’t have that option. Their lives and the lives of their loved ones — pets included — top any list, and now, that’s all many of them have. Some have less.

As I look around my home, I wonder how I would feel if suddenly, all my possessions, and perhaps the house itself, were gone forever. Grateful to be alive — yes. Grateful to have owned a home — yes. Grateful to be able to rebuild — a begrudging yes.

We do rebuild, not only our environs, but ourselves. We prop ourselves back up with the help of our support systems and our communities. Sometimes we look at these horrible situations as new beginnings, a way to start again elsewhere. It’s hard to endure any tragedy and imagine a better life on the other side. Any loss, whether it’s your home, a job, a relationship, or a loved one, comes with its time of mourning, followed by rebuilding.

The tornadoes touched down in the heart of Texas and Oklahoma, but they also touched the heart of a nation. Caring persons in all fifty states reached out as neighbors do. America transformed into a big, small town. People gave food, shelter, money and they gave blood. We feel compassion for those whose spirits have been pummelled, but like the spring, our hearts rise up like new seedlings from the wind-swept ground.

Zoe Amos brings her lesbian point of view to articles and stories on diverse topics. Connect with her on Facebook and Twitter. Read her stories on Kindle and Nook. Check out her other life at www.janetfwilliams.com

The post From A to Zoe: Heart in the heartland first appeared on Lesbian.com.