Riverdale resident shares her journey from Ukraine to the Bronx and the meaning of home

For Riverdale resident Liliya Snovida, building a life in the United States has been a years-long exploration of belonging. But even after decades of living here, her sense of home isn’t tied to a single place.

Snovida, 49, is a Ukrainian immigrant and a caretaker at Latvian Evangelical Lutheran Church in Yonkers. She volunteers often with the Riverdale Y, and throughout the city, organizing clothing and food drives, or arts and crafts workshops for the East Village’s School of  Ukrainian Studies. She hasn’t returned to Ukraine in more than 20 years, terrified of the grief and loss that have become such a strong presence in the country throughout a war-torn period in its history. Though the U.S. has become a safe haven in many ways, a piece of Snovida’s identity remains in Ukraine.

“I think every immigrant has a very dual personality,” she said.

Snovida grew up in the Soviet Union in what is now the western Ukrainian city of Ternopil, a region she said was more pro-Ukrainian than others. Still, she felt that while her humanity, past and Ukrainian heritage were inside of her, at school and work she put up a front of a Soviet citizen. But Snovida considered herself lucky. Life was calm, she thrived in school and enjoyed her childhood.

When she was 18, in 1995, Snovida moved to the U.S. on a scholarship to Marymount College in Tarrytown, New York, which is now a part of Fordham University. Her dad, the family’s primary breadwinner, was diagnosed with cancer five years prior, a result of the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear power plant meltdown.

Her dad is still living, but at the time Snovida and her mom started to wonder if they’d have to prepare for a life without him. When the Soviet Union fell, bringing an economic collapse along with it, Snovida solidified her decision to leave Ukraine for better opportunities in the U.S.

After her scholarship ended, Snovida was met with a choice. She recalled sitting atop a kitchen table, plane ticket in hand, and a coworker urging her to see the reality of the situation.

“Either you go back and you live poorly but comfortably,” she recalled him saying, “Or you stay, you work hard … there’s no guarantee that you will not end up a waitress for the rest of your life, but if you don’t take that chance and you go back, you probably would always think, ‘What if?’”

She transferred to Mercy College in New York, where financial strain took a toll. Snovida said she eventually scrounged up a couple hundred dollars for a room in an apartment with other students, but struggled between attending classes and paying rent. The experience became about proving herself more than anything.

‘There were days when I ate, there were days where I didn’t eat, and yet I continued,” Snovida said. “I wanted to prove to [my parents] and me that I can make it.”

More than 25 years have passed since Snovida last returned to Ukraine. Her identity — caught between the country in which she was born, and the country in which she has now spent the majority of her life — is complex, she said.

The last time she visited Ukraine, in 2002, Snovida said others told her she was “more American,” with her aunt commenting on how Snovida was already developing an American accent. Still, “here, I do not feel American,” Snovida said.

The U.S. gave her decades of growth, Snovida said. She built her life here. Had her son, now 13-year-old Markian Snovida. She got her bachelor’s and master’s degrees, and worked at American Express, Pfizer and International Business Machine Corporation, or IBM. Even when she struggled, “it was my choice,” Snovida said.

Markian currently lives in Ukraine with his grandparents, where he has resided for three years, remaining connected to the place and heritage that are central to his identity. Preserving that culture takes effort, she said. When Markian was still in the U.S., Snovida would only speak Ukrainian to him. They’d wake up early on weekends to take the train into the city for classes at the School of Ukrainian Studies downtown.

Markian living in Ukraine is a way for Snovida to broaden his opportunities — “educationally, culturally, emotionally, professionally,” she said. But personally, seeing parts of her country become a war zone is something she can’t face.

“It’s home before the war,” Snovida said. “Women like me already lost their sons, their fathers, their brothers, their cousins. Some of them received them in black bags, some of them haven’t … I cannot deal with the reality, the aftereffects of the war.”

Snovida said she finds pieces of her faraway home in Riverdale — birds chirping, greenery, the residential style of buildings. She feels her connection strengthened through volunteer work in the U.S., and added that she is in the process of restoring her great grandparents’ house in Ternipol, with the hope of turning it into a museum.