Mandile Mpofu
Life in Massachusetts has been turbulent for Karen Unanian and his family. Earlier this year, as the green hues of the leaves began to morph into warm-toned fall shades, Unanian and his wife, Viktoriia Susidenko, were hopeful about their new life in the United States after fleeing Ukraine with their three children.
They had found temporary housing in Belmont, and their kids were enrolled in the schools and had started to make friends.
The couple talked about making a new home in Belmont by going on walks in their neighborhood, finding community in a Ukrainian church, and cooking their favorite Ukrainian dishes. Their faces brightened as they shared the ingredients of vareniki, a potato-stuffed dumpling, and talked about the iconic Ukrainian dish, borscht — a bright-red vegetable soup.
But things have changed.
Susidenko said after they lost their housing in Belmont and moved to Cambridge, she felt abandoned, “like a mouse that was dropped in a cage,” being watched as part of an experiment with no one to help. She expected support she said the family has not received.
Leaving home
The dates are wedged firmly in Karen Unanian’s mind — Feb. 24, 2022: the day Russia invaded Ukraine. March 8, 2022: the day he and his family fled. Aug. 25, 2022: the day they landed in Los Angeles to live with family. Aug. 17, 2023: the day they arrived in Massachusetts for a second chance at a fresh start.
Globally, there are more than 6.2 million Ukrainian refugees following Russia’s invasion, according to the United Nations Refugee Agency, and more than 270,000 have entered the U.S. While Unanian and his family do not have refugee status — they came as humanitarian parolees under President Joe Biden’s Uniting for Ukraine program — they left their home country to “save their lives.”
Now, just as approximately 2,000 other Ukrainians have done, they have chosen Massachusetts as their new home.
People fleeing war-torn countries experience all the challenges associated with leaving behind a familiar life, but the transition has been a whirlwind for Unanian and his family who have found themselves jostled back and forth by unfamiliar housing and education systems.
In Kyiv, Unanian, 43, and Susidenko, 38, say they had an “amazing life” with their three kids — Mariia, 10, Daniel, 8, and Luka, 4 — and their Pomeranian Spitz, Zhorzh. Unanian ran a business as a menswear tailor and Susidenko worked at the Ministry of Defense. It was a life filled with friends and weekend outings, Susidenko recalled on a crisp fall afternoon on the grounds of Belmont Town Hall, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
In a photo taken on Sept. 1, 2021, the kids’ last first day of school in Ukraine, Susidenko is dressed in a stylish white dress and sunglasses with her arm around Mariia, smiling in her school uniform. The two boys, Daniel and Luka, are matching in jeans and blue cardigans, with their small hands barely grasping the stems of tall, vibrant bouquets of flowers. Susidenko said they lived a life where they had all the essentials.
But two weeks after Russia invaded, after the family had spent nights crammed in the basement of their home to shelter from the bombing, Unanian and Susidenko made a difficult decision.
“We didn’t want to go anywhere. We didn’t want to,” Unanian said.
Burly and dressed in an orange Nike Air Jordan hoodie, Unanian slipped his hands in and out of the pockets, turning to his phone or his children when he needed help translating.
“When the Russians started bombing with rockets, I understood that this was a very, very big problem,” he said.
Unanian and Susidenko could no longer guarantee the safety of their family, so they packed up part of their life, taking only the essentials and whatever they could fit into the trunk of their SUV. They stuffed four large bags with clothes, books, documents, medicine, games and more, and with the three children in the backseat and Susidenko holding Zhorzh in the passenger seat, they fled.
Finding shelter
The family made a grueling five-day road trip to Austria where they stayed for three months before heading to Los Angeles to live with family. While on the West Coast, Susidenko posted on the social media platform Nextdoor seeking a host in Massachusetts, where one of Unanian’s clients lived. “We have the motivation and incentive to achieve the goal for the sake of our children and their future,” part of the message read.
The family could have ended up anywhere in the state, but when a woman responded to Susidenko’s post offering up her basement, they found themselves in Belmont.
After settling into life in the town, Susidenko added checking Zillow and other rental marketplaces to her daily routine. She browsed the site in between school drop-offs and pick-ups, household chores, and administrative errands such as meeting with lawyers and applying for insurance, but the few available housing options were out of the family’s financial reach.
Unanian and Susidenko said the housing search was especially difficult without proof of income. In some cases, they were required to show an annual income of $150,000, on top of the upfront costs.
“Some [realtors] want first-month [rent], last-month [rent], deposit and broker’s fee,” Susidenko said. “Oh my goodness! $12,000.”
Susidenko said the rules should not be the same for immigrants as they are for Americans.
“We have children and we’re trying our best,” she said. “But it’s really hard to get on the same level of income as people who have lived here for a long time.”
Before they left Europe, Unanian and Susidenko sold their car to buy one-way airline tickets to the United States. Unanian said they had $3,000 when they arrived in California. While there, they did whatever they could to get by and had the safety net of living with family. In Massachusetts, finding shelter was taxing.
A statewide crisis
Rachel Heller, chair of the Belmont Housing Trust and CEO of CHAPA, a statewide organization working to expand affordable housing, said Massachusetts lacks the number of units necessary to ensure shelter for all who need it.
In October, Gov. Maura Healey announced the state could no longer guarantee housing for homeless and migrant families — its shelters had reached capacity due to an influx of immigrants. She also proposed a $4.1 billion plan to invest in affordable housing, with a focus on constructing new homes and renovating public housing units.
“We need 200,000 new homes in this decade just to stabilize home prices and rents. That means essentially doubling the amount of housing production that we do each year, and stabilizing home prices and rents that are too high for people means that we really need to concentrate and be intentional about including affordability,” Heller said.
Massachusetts has rental assistance programs, but Heller said there are long waitlists for housing vouchers. In the meantime, she said those looking for lower-cost housing options should visit Housing Navigator Massachusetts, which lists affordable rental units; My Mass Home, which does the same for those looking to buy; and Metro Housing Boston, an agency helping people find homes and apply for housing programs.
“Often people see housing and they think about the costs, and it’s time that we actually look at the benefits,” Heller said. “There’s really a lot of good that comes from making sure that everybody has a safe, healthy place to call home.”
Fighting to stay
In October, amidst a frantic search for permanent housing, Unanian and his family lost their temporary accommodation in Belmont for which they paid $1,500 per month. With nowhere else to go, they rented an apartment in Cambridge for $3,200 per month. The price was out of their budget, but with the parents’ newly secured jobs — Unanian as a construction worker and Susidenko as an assistant teacher at a preschool — they had enough money to cover it. They signed the lease Oct. 25 and moved in two days later.
The move also meant the children would have to leave W. L. Chenery Upper Elementary School and Burbank Elementary School in Belmont.
“Of course, they are happy that we have a new house,” Susidenko said, but the children are gutted about leaving their new friends.
The following days were an avalanche of mobilizing to prevent uprooting the children from their classrooms. Teachers and classmates wrote letters attesting to Mariia and Daniel’s good nature. Unanian, Susidenko and their friends wrote letters to the School Committee and school Superintendent Dr. Jill Geiser. Attorney William Lenahan stepped in to help the family pro bono.
“I think that an educational system has a recognized obligation to take stress out of the lives of its students,” Lenahan said, following a request to the Belmont School Committee to let Mariia and Daniel at least finish up the school year. “This is a moral question. This has nothing to do with the school policy. This has everything to do with aiding these children.”
During a meeting on Nov. 14, the School Committee said the decision was up to Geiser. On Nov. 17, Susidenko and Lenahan met with Geiser to see if there was any way the children could remain in school. Three days later, on Nov. 20, Susidenko received an email from Geiser saying the kids could not stay in Belmont schools.
“I understand your situation and the challenges associated with having to move from Belmont to Cambridge,” she wrote. “Due to the fact that you have a lease that runs until July 2024 in the City of Cambridge, it appears that your family’s residence is now in Cambridge, therefore, I cannot offer enrollment in Belmont Public Schools.”
In a follow up call Friday, Geiser declined further comment.
Looking forward
There are more challenges ahead. The family’s status as humanitarian parolees expires in August 2024, which has Unanian and Susidenko scrambling to figure out what comes next.
“I’m very tired. I’m very tired,” Susidenko said.
After Thanksgiving, Mariia and Daniel enrolled in an elementary school in Cambridge, but they miss their friends. And the family is struggling with childcare, since the after-school programs in Cambridge are full. Susidenko said the experience has been traumatic for Mariia who has attended five different schools in the last two years.
Susidenko said she hopes, somehow, her children will be able to return to their former schools in Belmont.
“When God closes one door,” she said, “maybe he opens another door.”
