I didn’t think that my nationality framed my thoughts until I met my Ukrainian friend, Nazarii. He often told me stories about his life, and one day he asked me what stories I had to tell. I asked if he could give me a topic, and I said I didn’t really know what to share. What I should have said is I had a difficult childhood because of some family dynamics and most of the stories I have to share aren’t happy. He told me to share what I wanted to share. I was pleasantly surprised by his response. I could tell he was really thinking about what I was saying before he spoke.

One day, I was having a hard time because of some of those family dynamics. Nazarii noticed and he asked me what was wrong. I told him it was a lot to explain. He said “Go ahead and explain if you want, I will listen.” It’s such a simple sentence, but I can’t convey how much care and compassion it held when he said it. I shared everything and when it was over he just sat in silence and held my hand. He reminded me he was there. He reminded me I wasn’t going through it alone. He was the human personification of the support I can draw from the people around me and from God.

In time, Nazarii lifted up my backpack to move it off a stool in art class. He was shocked at how heavy it was and insisted that he carry it to my next class for me. I absolutely refused because in American culture even if your leg is broken and you’re on crutches you’re expected to wear your own backpack. He persisted for quite awhile, days if not weeks, and I continued to refuse. We never really explained why we were so stubborn to each other until one fateful day. I explained to him that if I let him carry something for me I would feel guilty. I would feel like I was making myself less for accepting help I don’t really need. I would feel like I was making him less by accepting his offer to help because if he carried my backpack that’s all others would notice. I felt like I had made myself an inconvenience for him and I needed to free him from it. I saw my refusal as his way out. He could still be a good person and a good friend. I would be the stubborn one.

He explained to me that helping me by carrying things is common courtesy in Ukraine. He explained that he felt guilty not helping me with things because Ukraine has more traditional gender roles. He said that it was also an opportunity for him to express his gratitude for my friendship. He ended up caving first and said that if I didn’t want to give him my backpack, it was my choice and I didn’t have to. I told him that I wanted to compromise because I value his perspective.

The way that grace impacts our relationship is inexpressible. It allows us to be honest about how everything makes us feel. With this honesty we are able to adapt and make each other better. I had no idea how much my nationality as an American shaped my thinking until I met Nazarii. I used to think help was diminishing to everyone involved but now I understand how important sharing the load with others is. Whether it be emotional weight or literal weight, sharing the load is vital for continuing on. America emphasises productivity and progress so much that I forgot we can’t get there alone.

© Mikaela. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.