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LOST LOVE AND NEW LIFE IN BRIGHTON BEACH
Text and Photograph by Melissa Saks


Brighton Beach’s Roman Bachurin, 36, says he won’t return to his native Russia and is in the States for good.


Amid outdoor caviar stands and Russian-Jewish cafes, the lives of thousands of Russian immigrants intersect in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. Seldom a word of English is spoken in this “Little Russia” because, according to locals, it is just not necessary.

“For what?” Roman Bachurin asked. “You can live in Russian building, with a Russian super, with Russian owner. You can work in Russian business with Russian owner.”

Bachurin, 36, is himself a Russian immigrant who does speak English.

I’m kind of ambitious,” he said, “I wanted that before I came to America.”

Bachurin came to America on a tourist visa almost eight years ago. Once in the United States, he applied for political asylum because, as a Baptist, he faced persecution at the hands of the Russian Orthodox Church, he said.

Although he no longer faces religious discrimination, life in the United States has not been easy for Bachurin.

“I made a family here, but it’s already gone,” he said. “My son was born here because I came here with my wife. After 10 years of marriage, she left me for a rich guy. She took my son, she took everything and she left.”

The immigrant experience contributed to the demise of his marriage, Bachurin said.

“She’s Russian,” he said of his estranged wife. “I mean, not every Russian girl is like this but they come to America looking for some kind of American Dream, you know? They want it all now. Yesterday, in Russia, they got nothing. Absolutely nothing. They were nothing. And then they came to a rich country; there are a lot of rich guys over here. They are looking for what they can get.”

Since he arrived in the United States, Bachurin, who was a traveling emergency physician in Moscow, has been trying to pursue a career in medicine.

“I passed all three exams required to enter the American medical residency,” he said.  “But unfortunately, I can’t find a residency position. I already applied twice.”

Because becoming a doctor in the United States has proven to be more difficult than Bachurin expected, he has had to look elsewhere to make a living, he said. He is currently a waiter at a traditional Russian restaurant called Home Made Cooking on Brighton Beach Avenue.

His combined grief stemming from his separation from his 6-year-old son, Martin, the end of his marriage and his career frustrations has led Bachurin to think about leaving, he said. He went so far as to buy a $900 plane ticket to Russia and travel all the way out to John F. Kennedy Airport before he reconsidered.

“I was already at the check-in,” he said. “And I was thinking, ‘Oh my God. What am I doing? My son is here.’”

In that moment, Bachurin said he also started to think about what he had accomplished in the United States.

 “The other part of my brain thinks, ‘What are you doing? Russia after eight years in New York? After passing all these exams? After getting the green card without any chance, without having any real possibility, you got the green card,’” he said. “‘What the hell? What are you doing?’ And then I tear up the ticket and toss it into the garbage and came back to Brighton Beach.”

Of course, Bachurin’s story is one of many. In 2000, the U.S. Census Bureau found that 9,266 Russians were living in the Sheepshead Bay-Brighton Beach area. That same year, Russia was still among the top 10 source countries for New York City’s foreign-born population and over 900,000 immigrants lived in Brooklyn, according to the New York Department of City Planning. Brighton Beach is bounded by Ocean Parkway to the west, Neptune Avenue to the north, Corbin Place to the east and the Atlantic Ocean to the south.

Bachurin said he will never live in Russia again. His sights are now set upon becoming a Registered Nurse and possibly moving to Florida for the warm climate, he said.


“Despite every bad thing that happened to me,” he said, “I still love it here.”