Language Dance Act Two: Russkiy
Nearly a decade ago I went to visit St. Petersburg with a friend. I was interested in the white nights, the bridges, the canals, the cathedral, and an odd museum submarine. But my friend had a higher goal. He wanted to "check it out", to see if it fits him. He wanted to try out, role play a self-identification as a Russian, to see if he can belong to that kind of national and scientific culture.
I grew up speaking the Russian language, the one my family uses. It was the language of my friends, my school, newspapers, TV, localisations of movies and video games. I spent many childhood summers in Russia, an overnight train away from home. Other than being a smaller town and using different money, it did not feel any different.
A large part of my education happened in Russian, that is how I learned math. Several of my teachers fondly pointed out the missing naming of theorems: it is not the Gauss theorem but Ostrogradsky-Gauss! Only by translating my calculus syllabus to get transfer credit I learned that in English "derivative" and "antiderivative" have the same root, for in Russian those are unrelated words. Access to the Soviet scientific literature published in Russian helps me to this day, like in the chase of Landau free energy origins.
In the 2010s, when I moved out of Belarus and into the wider world, I actively used Russian to bond with other people from under the post-Soviet umbrella - even as that umbrella was getting desperately more tattered by the day. The Russian language opened many opportunities for me overseas, from getting research internships, to running outreach events, to discussing the haggling strategy in a souvenir shop in Beijing. Russian-to-English translation gigs got me quite a bit of social capital in certain circles. I did not come across as one of "them", I came across as one of "ours".
At a Russian party run among grad students of a prestigious American university I met a young ethnically Russian professor. He was advertising and discussing the merits of a service that texted him a Pushkin poem every day. He grew up in Canada. He wanted to stay in touch with his deep roots. Other people at the party liked the Pushkin service. They also liked Russian bard songs, performed in a circle to a guitar. They liked comparing the local Russian grocery stores. I could chill with them and partake in Russian culture far from home. They can't partake in mine.
When asked what language people speak in Belarus, I answer that it is Belarusian and Russian. But this equal-rights enumeration doesn't do justice to describing the power dynamics between them. Deviation from usage of Russian is a punishable offence - sometimes by misunderstanding, sometimes by humiliation, sometimes by bureaucratic barriers, sometimes by jail terms. When in the 9th grade the teaching of History of Belarus switched to Russian language textbooks, I welcomed it. I was equally tepid to both Russian and Belarusian literature back then. I was much more interested in physics and math, and Russian was a better tool to learn those. But this tool has never been innocuous.
Russia is the capital and the origin of russkiy mir. What is that? Can you please define, precisely, what is russkiy mir? No, because any definition would defeat its power. Follow this logic, just not too closely: the Russian people speak Russian. The people who speak Russian are thus Russian. Let's round that up a bit to whole countries where those above live. But then there are so many Russians. But then they should learn Russian. Et cetera. Each of these iterations expands the claimed domain of Russian culture and cements its "special role". Anyone not fitting within this stellar logic, be damned. You are but a province that needs to evolve.
The Russian language is used as an excuse to launch numerous military campaigns of the Russian state. The Russian language is then used to lie about the course of those campaigns. Next to tanks and Kalashnikovs, Russian language is an essential weapon of offense. And that alone should suggest a weapon of defense.
In recent years I switched to thinking of Russia as a terra incognita, a place that I essentially don't know. Russia is vast, untameable, with lots of beautiful nature hiding quasicrystals. But since I happen to know the language imposed across this land by its colonizers, it becomes accessible, knowable to me. I can read, first hand, the thinkpieces from both conservative and liberal parts of Russian society. I can watch their movies about revolutionary demons in steampunk decorations. And most importantly, I can follow their musical scene.
As Russian belongs to a broader Slavic family, it is hard for me to imagine understanding only Russian and having trouble with all other related languages. That seems to be the case too often with those coming from Russia. But, as in any culture, the artists are sensitive to this russkiy mir boundary, they want to understand it and negotiate it. They explore anxieties of Russians coexisting with non-Russian, non-Slavic peoples. They play with the very texture of the language using complex alliteration дабы за гендер нелепый гон сбить. They comment on Russian political and social reality using either local non-titular languages of the Russian Federation or something from outside at all.
I am unlikely to disown Russian. That would cost too many treasured relationships. That would deny my real, factual, personal history. But it no longer has to be the superior or default option. And since you asked, there is no standard Russian phrase for drinking. Nobody says "Na zdorovie". People invent toasts to suit the particular occasion or celebration.