“Ukrainians don’t have to pay!” I am trying to buy three shawarmas in a market in Tbilisi, Georgia, but the street vendor emphatically refuses to take my money. I try to explain, even though I was warned not to say this: “I am sorry, I am not Ukrainian, I am Russian.” The vendor looks at the Ukrainian flag pin on my lapel; he doesn’t believe me.
Before 24 February, I never thought about what it means to be Russian. Now it’s all I think about.
