Natalia Feduschak: The Ukrainian Jewish world opened up, captivated me, and kept my interest

We first met Natalia Feduschak, the Director of Communications for the Ukrainian Encounter (UJE) and a key figure in developing Encounter: The Ukrainian-Jewish Literary Prize, during the whirlwind of literary events in London in 2023. We began collaborating that year when I had the honor of heading the prize’s jury. In 2023, Sofia Andrukhovych’s “Amadoka,” an exceptional Ukrainian novel receiving international literary acclaim, won the Grand Prix.

Feduschak, a driving force behind the scenes, was born in Canada and raised in Colorado, USA. She studied in Washington, DC, and New York, earning a Bachelor of Journalism and a Bachelor of Arts in Russian culture and literature in translation. She continued her education in international relations at Columbia University and the Harriman Institute, and she worked as a journalist for many years. Feduschak collaborates with the Lviv Publishers’ Forum, organizing a special program each year, as well as with Chytomo.

Chytomo: How did you end up in Moscow?

Feduschak: It’s an interesting situation because when I first started at the Harriman Institute, I only studied in its certificate program. However, I also decided to pursue a master’s degree. The Harriman Institute required applicants to know a language from the then-Soviet Union. I thought, “That’s great; I know Ukrainian from home.” But when I approached the institute, they said, “No, Ukrainian does not count.” I asked them why, and they said, “You have to know Russian or Uzbek.”

Chytomo: Uzbek?!

Feduschak: Yes. They had an Uzbek teacher, but no one could teach, or at least evaluate, Ukrainian. So, I had a choice: either pay $5000-6000 USD and study Russian at Columbia University or travel to Moscow and study there. I decided to go to Moscow. When I arrived, the Ukrainian world opened up to me there.

Chytomo: So you took the Ukrainian language you learned from home. Have you been to Ukraine before?

Feduschak: I first visited Ukraine when I was 11 years old in 1974, traveling there with my father. My parents were Ukrainians, and we always spoke Ukrainian at home. My father was very strict. At the doorstep of our house, the attitude was “Here, America ends, and Ukraine begins.” I had to ask for everything at home in Ukrainian and communicate exclusively in that language. After my father passed away in 1977, my mother became more liberal, which meant my brother never fully learned Ukrainian.

My father had cancer and wanted to see his mother, who lived in Ukraine, one last time. It wasn’t easy to travel to the Soviet Union during those years, so we went on a tour. We had to go through [Russion tour operator] Intourist. We traveled either illegally or semi-legally to Buchach, where they met. Years later, I learned that the KGB was aware we were in Buchach. However, they also knew my father was dying of cancer, so they left us alone.

When I went to study in Moscow in 1989-1990, it was a time of unrest. There was a Ukrainian club in Moscow where I met many Ukrainians. It was a completely new world for me. 

Chytomo: Did they accept you as their own? Were they friendly?

Feduschak: Friendly?! I survived the winter because they fed me! There was no food in Moscow at that time, nothing at all. I remember standing in line for over five hours to get a piece of cheese. When it was my turn, the saleswoman said, “None left,” and smiled broadly. It was all abnormal.

Another time, a friend from Lviv said there would be a shoe sale. She invited me to go with her and stand in line. She said that as soon as the doors opened, I should grab any pair. I asked, “How do you know if the shoes will fit?” She laughed and replied, “It doesn’t matter. Just take anything so you at least have a pair of shoes.” The women then exchanged shoes afterward outside. This friend introduced me to a country and a reality I hadn’t known until then.

In time, I went home, finished my studies, received my degree, and decided to return to Ukraine at least for another year.

Chytomo: What did you do this time?

Feduschak: I worked with the [International] Renaissance Foundation for about a year, and then the Soviet Union collapsed. I started working as a journalist and remained in that profession for many years.

At one point, I wanted to learn more about my grandfather, an ambassador to the Polish Sejm. I visited the archives in Lviv and Ternopil to learn more about him and my roots. As I began studying archival documents, Ukraine’s Jewish community revealed itself to me. It was during this time that I first encountered the names of Jewish writers who worked in our region.

I sat in the archives and took photos. Those were the days of Yanukovych, and the archive’s director allowed me considerable freedom. There were concerns that the archives might close and access would be lost – I had to seize the moment. At that time, I was writing for the Kyiv Post, and somehow, I heard about the organization Ukrainian Jewish Encounter. I wanted to learn more about it, so I contacted its chairman, James C. Temerty. I interviewed him, and sometime later he offered me a position. It feels as if I’ve been coming to this point from the very start. It all began with a simple desire to learn more about my grandfather and his history. Then, the Ukrainian Jewish world opened up, captivated me, and kept my interest.

Chytomo: Tell us more about these “puzzles” that finally came together.

Feduschak: My grandfather represented his district of Pidhaitsi in the Polish Sejm, and you won’t believe it, just like today! The election was stolen from him! This is a very long and difficult story.

He had been interned in Bereza Kartuska Prison before going back to Pidhaitsi. A Jewish friend warned him, “Oleksa, they’re looking for you. You need to leave right away,” and he did. He had close Jewish friends.

This is a shorter version of the story, which is too lengthy for an interview. However, after learning about my grandfather’s life, I find it intriguing that there is an alternate version of the story. It’s false, and I don’t even know where it came from. The tale goes that a military officer fell in love with my grandmother from a distance and warned her that my grandfather would be arrested upon returning to Pidhaitsi. This officer had a wild idea that since he warned my grandmother, she would leave her husband and move to Kyiv with him and her two young children (my aunt and mother). Instead, my grandfather received the warning, and soon my grandmother, aunt, and mother, who was just an infant, set off for Krakow. 

I wonder why anyone felt the need to create a story that isn’t true. Why not just admit it was a Jew who helped save my grandfather’s life?

Chytomo: The question itself likely holds part of the answer…

Feduschak: For many years, I wanted to write a book about Ukraine, but now I believe I will concentrate on this story – everything I discovered in the archives about my family. My understanding of Jews in Ukraine and Ukrainian-Jewish relations has developed over time. I did not grow up with this perspective; I was raised in a Melnykite family, while Stepan Bandera was a relative “by marriage.”

I knew some of this history, but the story of the Jews was new to me, and it took shape as I learned more and explored the archives and history.

Chytomo: After all, just like most Ukrainians, it seems to me that after what the Soviet Union did to our cultural memory, we are all rediscovering our Jewish-Ukrainian history.

Feduschak: That is correct. For instance, I learned about the Holocaust in Lviv firsthand: I had the opportunity to meet with Jewish survivors, including those who were saved by Ukrainians. What I found in the archives, on the one hand, showed that the situation was both better and worse than people realize and the world understands. When people claim that Ukrainians were either one way or the other, that isn’t true. There were cruel Ukrainians. Those who shot Jews, didn’t even regard them as people but referred to them as “Jewish things” – “so many Jewish things were killed” – you know?! Yet, some risked their own lives to save Jews. Many Ukrainians who saved Jews are recognized as the Righteous Among the Nations. 

Chytomo: But in the end, fate led you to this topic — and we met through it. Was your decision to stay in it a conscious one?

Feduschak: I never imagined I would enter the field of Ukrainian-Jewish relations. However, when you see how the lives of these two nations are intertwined and understand their significance to each other, it becomes captivating. While witnessing the formation of the State of Israel, you see historical images of Jews, who immigrated there to build the nation and cultivate the land, wearing embroidered shirts.

RELATED: Sofia Andrukhovych: To survey a large territory, you need to step back in space, time, and emotion

We collaborate with an organization called Israeli Friends of Ukraine. Before the war, they ran a campaign that showcased historical embroidered shirts worn by their grandparents. The patterns and colors of the embroidery indicated which Ukrainian region the grandparents had emigrated from to Israel. This exhibition was incredibly popular in Israel, where people cherished the memories of their Ukrainian home.

When one begins to look at it from a broader perspective, the worldview gradually shifts. I think for those who recognize this, this cultural and ideological closeness becomes clear. We grew up in a common home, and although we are not alike, we still share this close upbringing.

Chytomo: I recently discovered how much Galician and Jewish cuisine share in common, especially regarding cooking skills. Since childhood, before I began working with Asia, I thought, “How can you mix fish and meat in one dish?” Many of our dishes for specific ritual events are rooted in Jewish traditions. This represents, above all, a strong domestic connection.

Feduschak: In the diaspora where I grew up, this wasn’t the case. These were two separate communities that didn’t engage with each other. Yet, when I look back, certain moments stand out.

For example, my mother was an artist, and she was invited to exhibitions at our local Jewish community center each year. She consistently explored Ukrainian themes using various techniques, and she received invitations annually because her Ukrainian topics were appreciated. One year, to honor the Jewish community, she created an etching of Moses, a central figure in Judaism. I still have the etching at home.

Or perhaps there’s another poignant story. In our home, we had lovely little cups of Napoleon and Marie Louise, which I admired. I always associated them with my father, who loved antiques. Many years after my father’s passing, I spoke with my aunt about the cups. I said, “I like them so much. Father must have bought them at an antique shop.” She replied, “Ah, those! Those cups were given to your grandfather, my father, by a Jew one evening in Krakow.”

My grandfather was a lawyer who moved to Krakow and became the administrator of a business. My family lived in Krakow’s Ukrainian neighborhood. It turned out that this business belonged to a Jewish man. My grandfather only managed the business; the owner was Jewish, and Jews worked there. He had a good relationship with them, but it was the 1940s – you know what was happening then.

One evening, a knock came at the family’s apartment door, and my aunt opened it. A Jewish gentleman she didn’t recognize was standing there, holding a package in his hands. He inquired whether Oleksa Yaworky was at home. She replied, “He’s in his studio.” She still remembers the man, who was not young. She led him to my grandfather’s office, which was located in their apartment, and listened to the conversation through a partially-open door. 

The man said, “Tomorrow, they will come for us. I’m giving you this box for safekeeping. If we return, I’ll ask you to give it back to us. If not, I leave it to you to dispose of as you wish.”

The man opened the box and said, “This was our wedding gift.” Inside, there was a set of small cups featuring Napoleon and Marie Louise. My grandfather took the cups. The gentleman never returned. He was most likely taken to Auschwitz.

Even after the war, even when they lost their personal belongings, my grandfather kept the cups and brought them to Canada. He divided the set into two parts: one part he gave to my mother and the other to my aunt. After learning about this story, I could no longer look at them calmly, so I donated them to a museum. Now, they are in Dnipro, at the Jewish Memory and Holocaust in Ukraine museum.

Chytomo: This is a truly powerful story. When you say you have never engaged with Jewish history, these cups, your mother’s works, and all these elements have always been present in your life; they were simply not conscious. Clear and obvious connections are made afterward…

Feduschak: I wrote about this for periodical The Tablet. When I was growing up, these cups were always in our house. I looked at them constantly and thought, “This is the story of my father; he was very fond of antiques.” But it turned out that my grandfather loved people very much. He kept his word given to a person whom he saw once in his life. 

Chytomo: And here you are at the Ukrainian Jewish Encounter, paying tribute to those lasting relationships and the trust that endures a lifetime. Can you tell us more about this?

Feduschak: My work with Ukrainian Jewish Encounter started as a simple acquaintance fueled by genuine interest, but later I was offered a job that became a significant part of my life. Over time, the nature of the work evolved as we expanded through books, festivals, and conferences. Now, the Encounter Prize that brought us together holds great significance for me.

RELATED: Paul Celan: Avant-garde poet after Auschwitz

Chytomo: Oh, yes! No one has yet encouraged me to read ten such challenging, exciting, and at the same time painful books in two months! I tackled the long list. But, joking aside, I believe that the Encounter Prize elevates Ukrainian-Jewish relations to a whole new level of recognition. It highlights the significance and interconnectedness of both relationship and the understanding of this shared, very difficult history of ours.

Feduschak: This award was established in 2019, with the first prize presented in 2020. When I started working at UJE, one of my first thoughts was how wonderful it would be for the organization to have a book prize. It took several years to develop the award and its guidelines, but the board approved the concept and funding, for which I am grateful. Each year, we celebrate the best works that contribute to Ukrainian-Jewish understanding and strengthen Ukraine’s status as a multi-ethnic society. The Encounter Prize is awarded in alternate years in two categories: fiction, for which you headed the jury in 2023, and nonfiction, which was awarded last year. With a cash prize of 6,000 euros split between the winner and the publishing house, along with four incentive awards for shortlisted books, this prize not only recognizes literary achievements but also promotes the further development of intercultural dialogue through literature.

Chytomo: In my opinion, announcing both the long- and short-lists for the prize is vital, as they require painstaking and careful work. So much is being published in Ukraine right now that it’s easy to lose focus; therefore, having lists of high-quality selections is incredibly valuable. It seems that the Encounter Prize should serve as a professional mark of quality.

Feduschak: In fact, if you examine the list of books that won in the fourth year of the award, you’ll find some very solid works, significant not only for Ukraine but also for the broader world, highlighting that this dialogue continues. Even in this extremely challenging time, writers are creating, and historians are actively conducting their research. This year, Yuriy Skira’s nonfiction book, “Solid: The Life-Saving Footwear Factory,” received the prize. “Solid” tells the lesser-known story of Lviv’s Solid footwear factory, where the Studite Brethren, with the blessing of Metropolitan Andrey Sheptytsky, sheltered Jews during the Holocaust. It recounts the tale of Father Josef Peters, “Lviv’s Schindler,” a monk and priest who established a successful venture that became the center of a rescue operation organized by the head of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. This book demonstrates that Ukrainians and their religious leaders are not indifferent to the fate of their Jewish neighbors.

My work is somewhat bureaucratic; it’s necessary to maintain processes. Additionally, I contribute to the UJE website, which is rich in content and offers a wealth of information. I take pride in it as it is the result of years of collaborative effort by a diverse group of individuals, including my colleagues in Canada, Ukraine, and Israel. This initiative supports media programs and helps journalists learn more about this relationship. Furthermore, it serves as an attempt to create a forum for writers in academia. Importantly, all of this content has also been translated into English.

It is important to note that UJE also has a parallel website called the UJE Timeline. This site, which chronicles the history of Jews in Ukrainian territories from antiquity to 1914, has garnered numerous international awards.

We have been working with Ukraina Moderna interdisciplinary journal, supporting them for a third year. We translate articles into English because not every scholar can afford to translate their work, either financially or professionally. Additionally, not every translator has the expertise to translate academic work. Hromadske Radio is another important partner for us, where we support a radio program focusing on Ukrainian-Jewish relations. We will soon celebrate our 300th show on this topic. 

Chytomo: And they call this a Nazi country! From the perspective of cultural diplomacy, the visibility of Ukrainian-Jewish relations is especially crucial today, as Russia claims that Nazis are in power in Ukraine.

Feduschak: Once again, our work demonstrates the fallacy of this statement. Ukrainians have no interest in Jewish issues? Look at the extent of what is being done, researched, and written. And don’t talk about Nazism in Ukraine because it doesn’t exist. This country has one of the lowest levels of antisemitism in Europe.

Russia has done its propaganda work well over the years, and it shows at all levels. Only now is it being discussed seriously. But it must be acknowledged that Russia worked in this direction for decades, maybe even centuries.

This is the same story that Myroslav Shkandrij discusses in the context of translation: a 100-year history of translating and aggressively promoting their literature, in stark contrast to our Executed Renaissance. Ukraine has not prioritized this in the past and has only recently begun to do so. And now demands significantly more effort.

Paul Robert Magocsi (one of our board members) and I have traveled over the years, presenting several publications supported by UJE. These include “Jews and Ukrainians: A Millennium of Coexistence,” “The Ukrainian-Jewish Encounter: Cultural Dimensions,” and the recently updated publication “Babyn Yar: History and Memory.” We recently returned from Scandinavia, where we had presentations and repeatedly stressed that what the Russians tell you is a lie – that this is a lie, and this is, too. We said, “You Europeans must understand that if Ukraine, God forbid, falls, your  lives will never be the same again.”

I want to raise awareness among Ukrainians about the wonderful literature that already exists and how it can help them understand themselves better. The prize’s long-listed books are a journey of self-discovery for me. I have a dream: in ten years, I want to have a large poster featuring all the covers of long-listed books – this will visualize my journey.

RELATED: “Solid. The Life-Saving Footwear Factory” by Yuriy Skira receives “Encounter: The Ukrainian-Jewish Literary Prize”

We appreciate the Ukrainian Encounter for their help in preparing the translation of this interview.

Copy editing: Jayson MacLean