I'll Never Change My Name by Valentin Chmerkovskiy

Author:Valentin Chmerkovskiy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-02-10T05:00:00+00:00

Part 4

A Journey in Life

Rising Stars

Just like the Bronze Age or the Iron Age, in our family we had what we called the Pickles and Milk Era of the mid-90s—where if I swung open the refrigerator door all I saw inside were pickles and milk. I guess it could’ve been worse—I could’ve been lactose intolerant.

A few months after arriving in the States, we had moved into low-income housing in Brooklyn, and the struggle for money was a daily grind. At the time we weren’t the only ones in the neighborhood having a hard time making ends meet. Being poor and hustling was an immigrant’s rite of passage—at least, that’s how I looked at it, even at a young age. We did what we had to in order to survive, to assimilate, and, one day, to thrive. The mood was stressed-out and intense.

I’m not sure all my current peers can relate to waking up in the morning and hearing endless talk about money, money, always money. My parents never argued about anything else. They clearly loved each other. We all loved each other. But there was a huge elephant in the room at all times, and that was lack of money.

There was love everywhere in our household, mostly unconditional—except, of course, when it came to my report card. Then love came with one condition: I had to get straight As. But no matter how well I did in school, or how rich we were in “love currency,” in reality there was still no money. And yes, money isn’t everything, but when you don’t have any, it becomes paramount.

This awareness we had as kids, my brother and I, gave rise to a heavy sense of accountability. We knew that our parents were going through tough times and we couldn’t bear it. We couldn’t stand seeing them struggle, sacrificing their own happiness, their own needs, and sometimes even their own sanity for my brother and me to have whatever we needed. In those circumstances, you tend to grow up quickly, accepting a responsibility that not all kids that age have to embrace.

My brother and I would speak at night in whispers, top bunk to bottom bunk.

“Blyat, it sucks that they have to work so hard,” Maks would say, speaking about our parents. “You know how to dance. You and I, Valya, we need to start working. Why not?”

No one needed to tell me twice. I was twelve going on twenty-five, overflowing with energy and curiosity, always seeking adventure. I was ready to contribute. I was ready to get my hands dirty, or in my case, get my dancing shoes dirty. I knew my brother was podrabatyval (Russian for “hustling” or “moonlighting”) in Brighton Beach restaurants on the weekends, dancing with his partner for $25 a night. I wanted to be part of it. I, too, wanted to perform and get paid, using my skills to take some of the pressure off my parents and help us all make a living.

I mean, shit, I could do it by dancing! How much fun was that? It wasn’t like I had to wash dishes or lift bricks.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.