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Taisiya Stetsenko Kyiv Post editor Katya Gorchinskaya writes: Growing crowds take on to traditional Ukrainian dress, but what actually is the core of modern Ukrainian identity?

If there is one thing that struck me at the latest Krayina Mriy ethnic music festival, it’s the crowd of people wearing traditional dress. Their number seems to be growing rapidly each year, and just about outnumbered us, plainly clothed, this time on June 27.

It’s as if people are coming out of the closet more and more and are becoming proud to be Ukrainian. They are ready to show off their ethnicity and celebrate it. But what is it that they are celebrating? What does it mean to be Ukrainian? What makes the essence of the modern Ukrainian identity? There is plenty to be said here.

When I first went to Scotland about 15 years ago, I was astounded by the ease and pride with which this small nation slipped into traditional clothes for grand celebrations and everyday living alike. Impracticalities of the kilt did not seem to bother the local men.

In Ukraine, it was different. Nobody wore the plakhta, the wonderful female skirts whose patterns varied from region to region, and even from family to family. Traditional embroidered shirts, or vyshivankas, seemed to be reserved to the freaky mustachioed old men in the center of Lviv debating something hotly. Some politicians wore them too, but it always looked out of place and out of context.

There has been a slight shift since then. Although traditional Ukrainian clothes have not yet been adapted to modern requirements, patterns, colors and other elements of national dress have been seeping into street and high fashion, and increasingly inspiring the younger generations. It’s a lot more common now to see people wearing vyshivankas, and not all of them come from western Ukraine. National dress is slowly reintegrating into the national identity.

The national cuisine, I would say, has always been there. Few Ukrainians would argue that cherry-filled varenyky were the nation’s wonderful and important contribution to the world cuisine. But traditional dishes are an inescapable part of the Ukrainian diet and identity. Stereotypical salo, of course, comes to mind. It was an important part of diet in the past, but the younger generation often takes it for a joke.

The proof of inseparability of the Ukrainians and their national cuisine can actually be found on convenience food shelves in supermarkets. Pancakes and holubtsi, varenyky and Chicken Kyiv can be bought, deep-frozen, in Donetsk, Simferopol and Ivano-Frankivsk alike. Also, you will rarely find a fast-food restaurant anywhere in the country that would fail to serve borshch, plov and bitki. Kids are still reared on buckwheat, and love it.

The national cuisine is inseparable from everyday life, like communication. It is a part of Ukrainian identity to be able to speak and understand at least two languages. The issue has been the bone of content in the nation, but the problem of bilinguality has often been exaggerated by politicians. Regular people simply know and understand both Ukrainian and Russian, and often another language or two, depending on closeness to borders, level of foreign language teaching in local schools and strength of local ethnic minorities who speak other languages than these.

Historian Yaroslav Hrytsak wrote in his book Life, Death and Other Troubles that the Russian spoken in Ukraine is also very peculiar, and historical evidence points to it having been such for centuries. Whether one likes it or not, this particular version of the Russian language is also a part of the modern Ukrainian identity.

Knowing several languages is very common in Europe, and is a great advantage of the Ukrainians. But too often it has been spinned as a drawback by those who thrive politically on fear and attempts to split the nation.

The reason why their spin works lies in Ukraine’s painful, sad and divided history. The nation arose after – and despite – mass murders and repressions, hungers and wars. Its history is also reflected in the typical character traits. There is a saying “Moya khata skrayu, ya nichoho ne znayu” (My house is at the end of the village, I know nothing) that points to a high level of individualism and low integration by Ukrainians into communities.

But I believe that this typical feature has hindered, but also has helped the nation. Minding your own business and your close family’s welfare first and foremost has not helped to create a strong state with a clear strategy and a good management system. But, on the other hand, this is what helped people survive attempts to colonization by the Poles, the Austro-Hungarians, the Nazis, collectivization by the Bolsheviks, and other historical tragedies. It is this very feature, embedded in the nation’s psyche, that helps people start businesses, succeed and prosper, despite the involvement of the state, rather than thanks to it.

There is another something that many Ukrainians share: They are a friendly and peaceful ethnos, and it works on personal level as well as the national. Personal friendships are deep and meaningful; friends are often many and close.

The quality that amazed observers during the 2004 Orange Revolution was the peacefulness of the process. One elderly American lady rightly told me then: “Nobody is even so much as pushing in this crowd of millions. Ukraine can teach the world a lesson here.” Even hot-blooded Yulia Tymoshenko then told her Orange supporters to feed and clothe and give shelter to the needy Blue camp, to embrace the political enemies. Incidentally, disappointment in both sets of the leaders is something that unites the Ukrainians who had been pushed to opposite sides of the barricade by the Orange revolution.

As a nation, Ukrainians love their neighbors, including the Poles, despite a bloody and controversial common past. They love the Russians, even though their feeling often remains unreciprocated: a recent poll conducted by the Russian Levada center showed that nearly half of Russians view Ukraine negatively, while 91 percent of Ukrainians like the Russians.

These are my recent observations of what it means to be a modern Ukrainian. I guess for me they also make a good reason to buy a vyshivanka. My e-mail says there’ll be a chance to show it off at the next ethnic festival on July 6-7 in the village of Rokyni in Volyn.


Katya Gorchinskaya is an editor of the Kyiv Post. She can be reached at gorchinskaya@kpmedia.ua.