Olga, Estonia.

I never liked people who claim they are ‘self-taught’. Yes, they have read all the books, watched all the tutorials, took all the right courses. And it may be true that nobody supported them during their journey. That they needed to come up with their own money to pay for the classes and equipment, gave up hours of sleep in order to train more, and ended up with little to no social life because of their focus on their goal.

It is not that I don’t respect them. It’s also not that I’m jealous.

It is the fact that all of them, the moment they claim that they taught themselves everything they needed to know and don’t owe anything to the world anymore, reject the fact that they did built their lives on top of the shoulders of orders. Who wrote those books? Who made those video’s, not to mention the smartphones or laptops you’re watching it on?

There is one thing I learned in university that stayed with me and that I love until this day: the idea that our world is interdependent. It humbles me to know that every single string of fabric on my body, trades back to a small individual, working on a cotton field in a burning sun, maybe experiencing that he or she is not contributing as much to the world as a doctor or an engineer. But yet, their labour crosses continents. Not to mention the contribution of all the others that connect the chain: sellers, retailers, entrepreneurs, truckdrivers, harbour masters, air cargo specialists, logistic planners. And probably many others I forget.

We need others. For not only survival, but also for enrichment of our lives. Even though the current global news make it seems like it is not the case, humanity is programmed for social support, contributing to society by providing their skills through a mindset of helpfulness and service. Just as in our eco-system: everything changes when you leave one out. We don’t just need others, we need everybody.

Russian in Estonia

Olga was born as the daughter of Russian parents and the sister of her 11-year old brother, in the post-Soviet Estonia of the 1990’s. As a member of the Russian community, she couldn’t help but feel excluded at her Estonian pre-school. It is challenging for her to make friends there. She smiles: ‘The only Estonian thing about me is my passport.’

The Russian minority in Estonia is a big one: about 25% of the Estonian population is ethnically Russian. The presence of the Russian community goes back to the Soviet occupations after the WOII, but already before that there is a long history of Russian influence. Already in the 1900’s the country was declared independent after the Russian Revolution (1918), only to be occupied twenty years later by Russia at the start of WOII (1940), followed by Nazi-Germany (1941), and then by the Soviet Union after the war ended (1944). The country counts as independent since 1991, but holds 24 February 1918 as its official independence day.

Over the years, both the Estonians and Russians have faced challenges to live and continue to build the country together. It raises the question to both the individual and the society: where do I hold on to myself and my heritage, and where do I open myself to integrate more of the others way of living in to my own?

Two sides

Just like how Estonia holds two communities with a shared history, Olga holds two sides with a shared background.

One is a hostess, with a warm smile that always has candy ready for the little kids that come by. A bachata dancer who may surrender to the hands of her partner, but keeps all eyes captivated on her and her straight brown hair sweeping from side to side. An outgoing dog lover, who takes her chocolate-coated labrador with her to the nicest parks in and around Amsterdam.

On the other side there is a tough chick that spontaneously bought a car, packed her bag, and drove off to the other side of Europe. A waitress who looked up at the girls twirling around the poles of the night club, and checked a YouTube-tutorial before she performed some of the tricks herself. An army commander who includes military drilling into her choreography classes, not letting her students leave before sweat is dripping off their backs. ‘Don’t come and complain to me. Repeat, repeat, repeat. This is how you learn!’

Amsterdam

Olga seems to have a natural crave for adventure. Before she came to The Netherlands she already lived a couple of years in Germany. During a holiday trip to Amsterdam, it was her experience in Noord that made Olga feel excited to move to Amsterdam. ‘There I saw the local life, where people were not only partying.’

Just like many, she struggled finding a home. All her searches lead nowhere, and she started to feel frustrated. She needed to force herself to do something that she is not used to do: asking for help. She explains: ‘Where I come from, people may shame you when you ask for help. There is this mindset that states that when you ask for help, there must be something wrong with you. So people often hide their problems and try to fix things themselves.’

But while dealing with Amsterdam’s housing market, Olga needed to reach out. While looking for the right platform, she found an online community of internationals living in The Netherlands. And here she experienced, that instead of the negative comments she expected, she receives replies from people offering help. ‘Without this community, it would not have been possible to find a place.’

Cultural differences

Even though she aimed for a place in Amsterdam, she ended up at a room in Akersloot, a small village with a population of around 5.000 people, about 30 km North from Amsterdam. It is here where she became a Russian minority again, but with a different experience this time. ‘Everybody in the street was smiling at me, greeting me. It was very new to me. Nobody knew me, but they were all so kind.’ Her nose wrinkles when she continues: ‘You will not see this in Estonia. People are more reserved and distant. I liked to experience that things can be different. The way that the Dutch people approach me makes me feel welcome.’ This feeling stays with her in the following years, also when she finds a place in Amsterdam a few months later.

One other thing that helps with feeling part of the Dutch society, is the directness. She sits back. ‘You know, people always complain about how Dutch people can be direct. And you guys are. But so am I.’ She laughs. ‘So it is nice for me. I can be myself here.’

Belonging

It is this, that excites me about life so much. While we navigate through life, it can be challenging to figure out where you belong. We grow up with a set of morals and values, and a community of family, friends and neighbours who tell you: ‘This is how life looks like, and this is how you should act while you live it.’ But as many of you may agree on, life doesn’t start until you start to question everything you were taught. And it gets really fun when you start to kick against it.

We all need those little rebellious phases where we discover our place in society. Many of us grow up knowing life can be a better place ones we step out of our safe bubble, but taking a step on an unknown path can be scary.

Olga didn’t seem to be scared, she was not build for that. Thinking back on how she must have looked like during the crossroad-moments in her life, I see her observing from aside, not so much calculating the risks but more weighing her feelings of excitement and curiosity on rather to take the leap or not. Her bold determination brought her to several places, but also, taught her how life can take surprising positive turns when you let softness and vulnerability take the front seat in your decision making.

Always be yourself

When we say goodbye, we agree that my friend and I will drop by at her new studio to take one of her classes again. ‘But,’ I warn her. ‘Michaela injured her foot. And I broke my thumb a few months back. So we are not in our best shape.’

She raises an eyebrow, and looks at me in silence for a few seconds. ‘A couple of weeks ago, I injured my arm in a traffic accident. And I continued by trainings. You’ll be fine. Come.’

---