Filmmaker Statement

Riding the B train into Brighton Beach is like taking a time machine for the price of a subway ticket. Beneath the rumbling train tracks runs a long avenue lined with an eclectic array of mom-and-pop cafes, gaudy clothing stores, crowded newsstands, and busy farmers' markets under giant Cyrillic signs. Snippets of conversations echo all around, and very few are in English. Many of the people experienced hardship and persecution in their homeland. This is where life begins anew for many immigrants from the former Soviet Union. When I was a teen, my parents decided to move to the U.S. from Russia, where they were already immigrants. Their hope was to give my younger brother and me a better future, one without the struggles of being a minority due to our Muslim Dagestani heritage. Back then, I didn’t understand the true reason for the move, but I distinctly remember feeling that something was off, that something was missing. My assimilation was hard. My parents argued a lot, our fin