ImmigrART: Between Two Lives, Anastasiia’s Story

What happens when leaving your country also means leaving behind some of the expectations that once defined you?

Anastasiia was born in Moscow, Russia, where her professional life was closely connected to the Ministry of Agriculture. She remembers carrying wheat-shaped brooches, a small but meaningful symbol of the work and identity that shaped one chapter of her life.

Her story is also about something less visible: the expectations placed on women.

In Moscow, beauty, elegance, and being perfectly dressed were often part of how a woman was expected to present herself. But moving to a new country allowed Anastasiia to look at herself, and at others, with a different perspective.

Immigration has changed the way she understands people.

Today, she feels more open and kind. She has learned that everyone makes mistakes, and that starting over is rarely easy. Instead of judging others, she believes in supporting them. Sometimes, she says, a hug can say everything that words cannot.

Finding a new sense of belonging

New York has introduced Anastasiia to something she had not experienced in quite the same way before: being surrounded by people from all over the world.

Books, friendships, and community have gradually become new symbols of who she is.

In her story, colors also have a meaning. Blue and purple continue to follow her, while the ocean represents the future, a vast space that is still open and unknown.

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful parts of her journey.

When asked where she sees herself in the future, Anastasiia doesn't have a clear answer.

"Hopefully I will be helpful. I don't know where."

There is something powerful in that uncertainty. Not knowing exactly where you are going does not mean you are lost. Sometimes, it simply means that your story is still being written.

Two chapters, one story

For ImmigrART, I wanted to capture this space between what was and what is becoming.

Anastasiia carries two lives, but not as two separate worlds. Her past has not disappeared. It continues to shape the person she is today, just as her new experiences are changing the way she understands the life she left behind.

The wheat-shaped brooches speak of her past. The books and the people around her speak of her present. The ocean looks toward a future that has not yet been defined.

And perhaps, somewhere between all of them, Anastasiia is finding her own way.

Not perfection.

Not certainty.

Just something much simpler: peace of mind, support, and the freedom to become whoever she wants to be.

This is Anastasiia's story.

And this is ImmigrART: one immigrant, one story, one visual journey at a time.