It’s Not a Trend. It’s Not a Niche. It’s Home.
I’ve never been good at pretending. If I feel something, I say it. If something’s off, you’ll see it on my face before I open my mouth. And if I’m proud of where I come from, I’m gonna yell it from a cracked window in Sheepshead Bay while holding a plastic bag full of kielbasa, frozen pelmeni, a container of borscht, and a single slice of rye bread.
Being part of the Russian-speaking Jewish community isn’t something I chose casually. It’s something I carry with weight and with love. And not like oh look at me I made a nostalgic post about borscht. I’m talking about waking up and knowing who your people are. Knowing where your humor comes from. Knowing that everything you create is filtered through a million years of your family surviving things no one should’ve had to survive.
It’s not a brand
It’s not a phase
It’s not a trend
It’s home
I’ve done a lot in this space. Stand-up. Videos. Dinners. Community programs. And twenty yes twenty Birthright trips. Which is wild to even write. The fact that I’m about to staff my 20th Birthright trip this summer is insane.
Like who does that. Who keeps getting on buses in the desert with 40 sleepy kids and saying let’s talk about identity
Apparently me. Thank you Sergey Polyachok & Sasha Zoiref for being the best tour guides/Best friends.
And I keep doing it because I believe in it. I believe in showing up. I believe in creating spaces where Russian-speaking Jews from Brooklyn LA Toronto and anywhere in between can feel that little click in their chest. That moment where they realize oh I’m not alone
Last year was different
In April and again in July I went to Israel. Not as a performer. Not as the guy in the funny wig doing Baba Fira. I went as a volunteer. As a human who couldn’t sit still after October 7. Who couldn’t keep watching from a screen posting sad emojis hoping someone else would handle it
So I got on a plane. Twice
And let me tell you Israel wasn’t quiet
We weren’t there to pose with camels or buy magnets in the shuk
We were there to cook for wounded soldiers
To pack food for displaced families
To pick grapefruits strawberries tomatoes and cucumbers in fields that were short on workers but full of dust and heart
We chopped. Stirred. Lifted. Bagged. Joked. Sweated through it all
We helped where we could
We laughed in between
We were tired but we showed up
And then there was Nova
We visited the site of the music festival
And honestly while we were there all I could think was
When are we leaving
The silence. The heat. That feeling in your chest you can’t name
And then right in the middle of the field one of the girls from our group saw a photo. Not on a wall. Not in a museum. Just out there in the grass
It was her friend
Someone she actually knew
Someone who was murdered there
She stood in front of that photo and it stopped all of us
Because this wasn’t a story anymore
This was someone’s person
This was real
I’ve heard a lot of someone who knew someone stories
But this one was right in front of us
And it hit even harder when I remembered that one of my own friends
Dan Kiselevich, I met years ago while doing comedy in Toronto
Now lives in Israel and works in security
He told me he had been offered a security job at Nova before the attack
But he turned it down because it was too far and he couldn’t find housing
And I thought what if he had said yes
That’s how close everything is
One yes away from tragedy
One no away from surviving
That’s how fragile this all is
That’s how random
That’s how terrifying
But I’m grateful I went
Grateful to have been there with other Russian-speaking young adults who got it
Who knew what it meant to feel deeply to cry without shame and to laugh even when it hurt
And I saw that same strength again on the two trips I helped organize for Russian-speaking Jews from across North America
We didn’t go to escape
We went to remember
To connect
To grieve
To give
Because one day when our kids or our nieces or our students ask what we did after October 7 I want to have an answer
I want to say
I showed up
I flew out
I helped
I prayed
I picked fruit
I passed the onions
I cracked jokes when the room was quiet
I honored the silence when there were no jokes to tell
I didn’t wait for someone else to act. I acted. In my own small weird Garik way
That to me is the deepest form of pride
Not the kind that lives on a flyer or a hashtag
The kind that lives in your actions
That shows up with you in the kitchen on the bus in the field standing next to someone who finds their friend’s photo in the grass
We’re not a perfect community
We’re messy. Emotional. Passionate. Loud
But we are real
We are full of heart
And we don’t forget each other
If you’ve been thinking of doing something. Of showing up. We have a volunteer trip coming up this summer for ages 18 to 40
We’ll be in Israel July 13 to 22
Flights leave from New York and Los Angeles
You pay 600 and that covers your flight and your stay
You’re more than welcome to extend your flight and stay longer to visit those relatives your babushka always told you about
This will be the third Russian-speaking volunteer trip I’ve organized
On this site you can go to the Trips tab and fill out the form to get more information
Come. Let’s pay it forward together
I’m grateful to be part of this community
Grateful to stand with you
Grateful to build something that matters
Something bigger than any one of us
Here today I am who I am
From all of this
And I wouldn’t want it to be anywhere else
Thank you to Nate at Israel Outdoors, Birthright Israel,
and every single donor who made these trips possible.
If we don’t tell our stories, someone else will.
It’s Not a Trend. It’s Not a Niche. It’s Home. It’s Israel.
PS: I love you, Poopsik <3
