After the trials of Ida Nudel and Vladimir Slepak I returned home, anxious and disturbed. Late that night my family and I headed for the train station to go to the country for the summer. Even though I was leaving without my passport, I wasn’t worried since I hadn’t broken the law, as the lawmakers had done when they kept it. Thus it was their problem to get my passport back to me. They later tried very hard to do so by chasing my husband down.

Our life in the country introduced us to another side of Russian reality. We saw the true drunken Russia in all her glory. We saw poverty, hunger, and crime. We heard “real Russian talk” that was so filthy and vile we had never before imagined the likes of it. My younger son turned to me and said, “Mama, don’t listen – those are swears!” This was what was left for me as a final memory of my country.

When we returned to Moscow in August I learned that my involvement in the women’s movement had not been in vain: we had received permission to emigrate.

Ida spent four years in Siberian exile. She was forbidden to return to live in Moscow.

Her first question, when she called from Siberia, was, “Who received permission to emigrate?”

“The Nizhnikovs.”

“Who else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“No, not at all.”

Of course, not at all, considering that our goal was to obtain freedom for all to leave.

Each of us felt guilty for leaving the others behind. One by one we broke free, by the whim of the authorities, who granted permission to one and, for no apparent reason, refused an exit visa to another. But those who left continued to fight for the remaining ones.

It has been seventeen years since Ida Nudel’s trial, seventeen years since I was flung out of that world, flung across the ocean. We parted with our friends as if it were forever, as they were burying us alive.

Where are they now, the people so close to my heart? Each one was persecuted in a different way.

Natalya Khasina spent more than ten years as a refusenik under constant surveillance.

Elena Chernobilskaya waited with two small children, fighting against the false charges that were used against her husband, who was finally released after spending three years in prison.

Natasha Rosenstein and her family renounced their Soviet citizenship and were granted citizenship by the government of Israel while they were still in Moscow. Nevertheless, they waited indefinitely for permission to emigrate. Throughout those years of waiting Natasha lived in constant fear for her son, hiding from being drafted into the Soviet army (he was already married and had a child).

All of these families succeeded in emigrating and are now living in Israel – as are Maya Ryabkina, Galina Tsirlina , Masha Slepak, Hanna Aronovna and Rosa Joffe.

Galina Kremen was punished indirectly for the episode that was mentioned earlier. Her participation in the Friday, June 9th demonstration at KGB headquarters was further complicated by her having confided the information in advance to a photographer, Valery, an agent who had been posing as a family friend. This was how the authorities had known our plans. As vengeance for Galina’s warnings to others of his identity, her son, at age 16, was imprisoned. Galina and her family are also living in Israel.

Others who were involved include Natasha Katz, Guzelle Khait, and Olga Serova, who now live in the United States, as I do.

When I came to America, however, I could not rest. I continued my efforts on behalf of those who were left behind, feeling a responsibility to help save their lives.

Speaking engagements and letter writing were the major parts of my life for more than ten years. At a demonstration across the street from the Soviet Embassy in Washington, Action for Soviet Jewry had T-shirts made for us that were a vital symbol of the past. We wore the same bright blue and yellow that I had worn as a protest statement to the KGB in the Soviet Union. Then the T-shirt bore a blue Magen David to infuriate the KGB as a bull infuriated by the toreador’s red cape. Attracting this kind of attention in Moscow was extremely dangerous, but it proved worthwhile in the end. On this day, our goal was to remind embassy personnel that our cause was still on the table.

The following is what Ida Nudel wrote in a letter from prison, published in the Israeli newsletter ‘Committee for the Defense of Ida Nudel’:

“I am fortunate because I add another page to the history of Jewish resistance, because my efforts have helped thousands of Jews to leave this barbarous country, because I have helped prisoners of Zion to keep their spirit and survive in such unimaginable hell.

I know that I must pay for this fortune in full. No matter how I am tormented, how weak I am, how lonely or senseless my present life, I do not regret or renounce any of my actions.

But I believe that our suffering is not for nothing, and this belief saves us from despair. I believe that some day I will walk up the steps of EL AL aircraft, and my suffering and my tears will remain in my memory only, and my heart will be full of triumph. God grant that it will happen soon.”

Finally, in 1987, Ida Nudel’s life was saved. Dr. Armand Hammer picked her up in his private plane and she was able to reach Israel, the land of her dreams.

I absolutely believe the continued efforts by democratic countries gave strength to those who were waiting to be set free and helped them pass through the iron curtain.

Only freedom for all will be enough.