The Maidan protests of 2013-2014, now often referred to as the Revolution of Dignity, remain a turning point in Ukraine’s fragile development as a 21st century democratic state. It was a time when a shift in social consciousness on a large scale transformed into action that actually changed the political landscape of the country. What followed – not only the ongoing war resulting from Russian incursion into Ukrainian territory, but the will of Ukrainians themselves to clear the Maidan and go back to “life as usual” – has been a lesson in the power of familiar ways of doing things, in humility, and in honoring steady perseverance toward one’s dreams, beyond the spotlight of fame and glory.
On February 20, the fourth anniversary of the greatest bloodshed on the Maidan, Wesleyan University’s Memorial Chapel was filled with song, movement, and reflection on those events and the unpredictable power of action in concert. The evening-length program “This Side of the Curtain: Ukrainian Resistance in Uncertain Times” was subtle, powerful, elegant, and down-to-earth at the same time. Initiated and organized by Katja Kolcio, associate professor of dance and environmental studies at Wesleyan, it began with a panel discussion with Mustafa Nayyem (Ukrainian national deputy and former investigative journalist), Dr. Daniel Hryhorczuk (professor emeritus of Public Health at the University of Illinois, Chicago) and Yuriy Didula (founder of Building Ukraine Together, an initiative joining Ukrainians from different regions to rebuild war-damaged homes in the east), moderated by Dr. Olena Lennon (adjunct assistant professor of political science, University of New Haven).
After the discussion, the chapel was filled with the movement, sounds and sights of Wesleyan dancers (Mo’ath Almahasneh, Kiara Benn, Zachary Farnsworth, Iris Ridley, Arielle Schwartz, Lauren Stock), the Hartford-based Yevshan Ukrainian Vocal Ensemble (directed by Alexander Kuzma), bandurist Julian Kytasty, spoken word artist Naomi Williams, singers Leslie Allison and Alice Markham-Cantor, and the Wesleyan student vocal group Slavei.
From the moment that the dancers, standing on pews in the center of the chapel, threw their arms into the air as Yevshan sang from the choir above, I was transfixed. This motley assortment of artists of various backgrounds, who work in different modes, each doing their own thing, whose interaction was subtly and thoughtfully organized by Prof. Kolcio, reminded me of the principle of equality that underlaid Maidan at its best moments. For Maidan was a very individual affair: participants-protesters came to the square for different reasons and with different dreams and desires. For a couple of months they stood side by side, sometimes even talking to one another about their different views rather than fighting one another for dominance.
As the artist organizing “This Side of the Curtain,” Prof. Kolcio demonstrated the value of minimizing one’s own creative gestures with precision to let other things – in this case, the talents of participating musicians and artists, the rich and varied space of the memorial chapel, even the audience members – become visible as they are, in their own beauty and authenticity.
The sensory journey brought “Ukrainian resistance” to life through references to historical figures like the “dudaryk” (a traveling musician whose songs could also contain biting political commentary) and dissident poet Vasyl Stus (who died in the Gulag in 1985). Recent photos from eastern Ukraine by Evgeniy Maloletka (video by Waldemart Klyuzko), accompanied by music composed by Julian Kytasty after visiting Mariupol and other areas affected by the war, tied this history of resistance to current Ukrainian realities.
Mr. Kytasty also performed a late 17th century Ukrainian moralistic song “Song of Truth and Untruth” whose words are remarkably pertinent to today’s disputes around fake news. Without trying to retell the story of what happened during the Maidan protests, the artistic gestures (both abstract and concrete at the same time) allowed me and other audience members to make connections in our own imaginations and memories.
One of the tasks of “This Side of the Curtain” was to present recent events in Ukraine and the responses of intrepid Ukrainians in a way that may have some value and political meaning to Americans struggling with the current tumultuous political climate. For me, everything came together when Wesleyan student Naomi Williams, a young black woman, took the stage and began speaking: “There’s a revolution happening outside. I just wanted you to know / Because the revolution will not be televised or broadcasted live…” Her presence and her voice created a bridge, revealing that this commemoration of an event four years ago in a country far away is also about us in the U.S. right now.
Ms. Williams’s poem is deeply personal, yet implicates all Americans: “The revolutionaries I grew up with, / Who have skin as threatening as mine / Will continue to die at the hands of badge and policy / Because people just don’t care.” It provided both an insight into her reality and another point of view from which to examine my own. The experience of crying “My people are dying” and nobody listening or believing that it’s really true is familiar to Ukrainians and African Americans alike. Common also are the abuses of power and apathy she describes, and the revolution that is continually marginalized, whose participants remain vulnerable to attack as long as they are in the shadows.
With the words, “You want to know about the revolution? Go outside! Because it’s happening,” I felt as if she were speaking of Maidan, and I remembered sitting in Kyiv, turning off the live-stream on the computer and leaving the house to go to see for myself.
“This Side of the Curtain,” a show rich in music, words, vocalizations, is ultimately about voicing your own truth. It’s not by chance that the concert was preceded by a public discussion with three very different speakers and ample time for audience members to ask their own questions. Maintaining public visibility of events in Ukraine and making them accessible to people with different experiences requires persistently sharing one’s own truth and speaking from the heart. This is what the diverse group of participants in “This Side of the Curtain: Ukrainian Resistance in Uncertain Times” had in common. The individual authenticity of each performer’s relationship to whatever he or she was doing is what resonated in the space and communicated with the audience. Paradoxical as it may seem, a certain humbleness of this live performance made it electrifying. It was a situation of being together without requiring identity or unity.
If the last Maidan “revolution” was really about preparing the ground for Ukraine as a political nation, as a new experiment in democracy suited for the present day, then it will not hold together by embroidered shirts and calls of “Glory to the Heroes!” alone. Building and sustaining this nation requires the humble perseverance of individual people, consistently using their own talents toward a common goal – a Ukraine with stable, defensible borders that can be home to diverse peoples pursuing their own dreams. Resistance is about being true to who you are and what you are doing, and being able and courageous enough to risk doing it in public – in front of and together with others.
Both live performance and street protests involve experiencing something hitherto unimaginable unfolding in the present moment, in the presence of other people. Prof. Kolcio’s choreography involved the audience as participant-observers who were no less important than the artists putting on the show. We were invited to look this way and that, sometimes in front of us, to the side, behind or above, sometimes guided by sound and searching the room to see what was happening. So we were also inevitably looking at one another, taking in the composition of this audience – Wesleyan students and faculty, Ukrainian diaspora from the greater Connecticut area, others concerned with the topics being addressed. Really seeing your neighbor, the one with whom you inhabit the same country, state, town, these days is not such a common occurrence.
“This Side of the Curtain” included everyone present in the movement and visual field, which was both radical and reminiscent of the radical shift in social cooperation that briefly flourished on Maidan. If something of that spirit persists and can reappear on the Wesleyan campus four years later, then who’s to say that it can’t happen somewhere again?
Larissa Babij is an art critic who writes for The Odessa Review, a bimonthly English-language magazine that covers contemporary Ukrainian culture, arts, policy, events, business and current affairs.