Shi Ying
Shi Ying came to the Netherlands from China with her parents in 2015. As Christians they were no longer safe and had to flee.
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Read Pavel and Evgenii's story
It started with our love. We lived together in an apartment in Moscow, on the 9th floor. We both studied medicine. Hardly anyone knew about our relationship – not even our parents – just a handful of very good friends. The neighbor once asked us suspiciously what our relationship actually was. Why did we share an apartment? We told him we were brothers: that's safer than saying you're friends.
We had experienced hostility and threats before, so we had to be careful. Yet we trusted that the Russian state would protect us.
Despite the risks, we decided to get married in 2018, in Denmark. We flew there for five days, completed the legal matters and returned to Moscow. Once we were back, it felt strange to be married without anyone knowing. That is why we investigated whether it was possible to have a same-sex marriage recognized in Russian law. To our surprise, it was possible! The municipality was obliged to recognize the international marital status from our passports. Suddenly we were the first gay marriage in Russia to be legally recognized. We couldn't believe it.
We had to share this with others. We sent a photo of our passport to friends. One promptly referred us to the opposition television station, called 'Dozht', which has been operating from the Netherlands since the invasion of Ukraine. Our TV interview attracted a lot of attention from like-minded people. We had experienced hostility and threats before, so we had to be careful. Yet we trusted that the Russian state would protect us. It couldn't get that bad, could it?
But it did get that bad. The Russian government dismissed our interview as 'fake news', stating that our gay marriage was clearly not legalized in Russia – that was impossible. That same day, some police officers surrounded our apartment in Moscow. They cut off our electricity and water and forbade us from leaving the house. We were stuck, and felt threatened and terrified. Were these really our fellow citizens, the police, to whom we paid taxes, who were now intimidating us?
The next day our apartment was completely surrounded by police officers. We couldn't get out.
We didn't know what to do. We called the NGO 'LGBT Network', an organization that helps people in the community to get out of difficult situations like ours. They sent journalists and supporters to our apartment to serve as witnesses to what would happen to us. The next day our apartment was completely surrounded by police officers. We couldn't get out.
Through our lawyer, we received an ultimatum that night from the head of the Moscow police: we had to surrender our passports and remove our marital status as spouses. If we did not do this, 'the police would no longer be able to guarantee our safety'. The message was painful to receive – we had lost all support from the institutions we once believed in. Of course, we knew about the regime's corruption. But we never expected to be treated as non-citizens, as outlaws, or enemies of the state.
We decided to surrender our passports. Thankfully, the police left, but we no longer felt safe. That same night we left for the airport. We had to leave this country. Just two days earlier we thought we would spend our lives in Russia as doctors, and now we were forced to flee and leave behind everything – absolutely everything we had built.
And that's how we ended up in the Netherlands. We were treated better here than we could ever have expected. We spent our first two and a half weeks in a detention center in Schiphol, then six months in an asylum center. Afterwards we received a residence permit and a house in Nijmegen. We are very grateful for how we were treated. It helped that we started learning Dutch from day 1, which made it easier for us to connect with the people around us.
We still miss Russia. We miss our family and friends. In particular, we miss traveling – not because we did it often, but precisely because we have seen so little of our enormous country.
If there is something we might offer as advice to newcomers coming to the Netherlands, it is that you must be assertive here. In Russia, people are quite hierarchical: your role within the group is often already determined. Therefore, if you, as a student, are quiet and listen, you are 'smart'. However, if you do not make yourself heard in the Netherlands, you are sometimes seen as 'stupid'. People asked us during our studies: 'why are you so quiet?'. As a result, we have also become more assertive in recent years.
We still miss Russia. We miss our family and friends. In particular, we miss traveling – not because we did it often, but precisely because we have seen so little of our enormous country. Now we have been to the Hermitage Amsterdam (now “H'ART”) with our Museum Card, but never to Saint Petersburg!
Funnily enough, we feel more Russian here in the Netherlands than we did in Russia. Many people here approach us as “storytellers” of Russian culture. They like to see us as carriers of Russia’s rich literature and music history, for example. And we actually think that's nice. When a friend comes to visit who we know is interested in the writer Dostoyevsky, we even read up a bit so we can learn more about our culture. I feel responsible to show both sides of Russia: the difficult and beautiful aspects.
Here in the Netherlands we can be ourselves, and live our lives the way we want to.
Interview: Joost Backer
Editing: Joost Backer & Izzy Bauman
Photography: Esther Frank
