In response to the incendiary graffiti “Jews to Their Graves”, we planned another demonstration on Sunday, June 4. Despite the rain that was falling that day, ten of us assembled in Trubnaya Square at 4:00 p.m. I came with Guzelle Khait and Galina Kremen, while Natasha Rosenstein and Natasha Khasina came together. We were joined by Natasha Katz with her baby in the stroller, and Lena Chernobylskaya was there, as was Galina Tsirlina. Ida the last to arrive cam exactly on time with her tails in tow, as had the rest of us.

We quickly formed a line and held up signs proclaiming: “Let Us Leave or Lay Us In Our Graves” and “Visas To Israel.” I threw down my jacket to reveal my yellow football jersey on which I had a blue star of David with the words “Visas to Israel” on the front and back. Yellow was chosen to symbolize the yellow Magen Davids which Jews were forced to wear in Nazi Germany. A line of taxis formed opposite us, and the drivers, the gossip grapevine of Russia, stared at us in amazement. An old woman stood and carefully read what was written on the posters. Throughout all this our tails watched us indifferently, while one of them went to a telephone as we made our move. After five minutes, police vehicles drove up and whisked us away. Some of our friends were standing at a bus stop nearby, where a man waited with his son. When we were herded into the police van, the man turned to his son and said, emphatically, “Take a good look. That is our glorious democracy.” My husband and Misha Khait jumped into a nearby taxi, telling the driver, “You see that car ahead? It’s taking our wives away – follow them.” The idea of chasing after the police terrified the driver, but he followed them.

It was strangely quiet at the police station. People awaiting trial looked out at us from the detention cell. One policeman asked me to show him my jersey, which he seemed to like. A small-time hoodlum was brought in, his pockets were turned inside out, and he was treated very roughly. Then they brought in a woman with venereal disease. The thought of being in a cell with her frightened me and I asked a policeman whether we would be held together.

“Don’t worry,” he told me, “we don’t put venereal cases in here, we take them off to special clinics.” He added, proudly, “Here we keep only intelligentsia.” I asked what he meant by intelligentsia. He replied, “Oh, black market speculators, and people like you.” Assured that if I were sentenced to fifteen days, I would be kept in this ‘high-class prison’, I heaved a sigh of relief. Everyone laughed.

Prison was always a possibility. As Ida had had experience with imprisonment, she had told us to bring wool socks and a warm, short scarf to the demonstration (longer ones would be confiscated lest the prisoner attempt suicide). She had also told us of bare metal frames with no mattresses for beds.

I must confess that the prevailing atmosphere that Sunday was not tense in the least, probably due to the absence of KGB supervisors. The police regarded us with a mixture of curiosity and respect. It was obvious that they rarely dealt with such “criminals.” Ida turned to us, saying “Tell them everything, girls! It’s very interesting for them! They know nothing about us.”

Natasha Katz was permitted to feed her baby in another room. Lena knitted. We were allowed to drink water, and we even ate! Galina Kremen had brought sandwiches which all of us gratefully shared. Our husbands were visible from the window, and we smiled to them. No one chased them away. Finally there was some movement, and we were taken to the second floor for questioning. The investigator was quite friendly.

“I don’t know why you’re all so hell bent on leaving the country. My wife is Jewish …”.

When one woman asked, “Then why haven’t you applied to emigrate?” everyone laughed, thereby easing the tension. When we told him that having a Jewish wife was a way to go places, he smiled. (In the USSR only Armenians and Jews had the right to apply for emigration; so others often took Jewish spouses, so that they, too, as part of a Jewish family, could apply. Marriage to a foreigner is another variation on this exit theme.) The investigator continued, though now clearly annoyed:

“I have a lot of friends who have visited the West on business. Of course, they earned a lot of money, but not easily, and they would never agree to stay there forever. Do you know the expression, ‘The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?’. Couldn’t you find something else to do? I was sitting at home, in my warm, cozy apartment, drinking tea, watching television, when suddenly I got the call to come here – out in the pouring rain.”

Finally the investigator called in a policeman and said, “Let these women go.” In answer to a question about the police report, the investigator replied, “No, it is ridiculous. We don’t need that.” This time were released in pairs, separated from the group, and dropped off near our homes.

Such friendliness on the part of the officials could only be explained by the fact that it was a Sunday, and the KGB, who would normally use their full force against us, were resting on that summer day, and were probably too lazy to come.