Why my liberal friends disowned me

Why my liberal friends disowned me

Sometime in 2016, I opened the door of my Brooklyn apartment to a woman dropping off her toddler to play with my toddler. “Aren’t you so ashamed to be Russian today?” the woman asked me, by way of a greeting. I’m not Russian, but at the time, I’d lived there on and off since the Nineties and I was married to a Russian — not an émigré kid, but a Russian-Russian as we sometimes say. I don’t recall which development in the Trump-Russiagate story ha…