The Summer I Allowed Myself to Be Seen

My summer began in heels outside the Washington State Capitol.

On June 3, I went to Olympia for the Pride flag-raising ceremony. My friends were standing a little way off when a woman I had never met invited me to join the ceremony and took my picture. Later, to my surprise, I saw myself in a post by the Washington State Attorney General.

I stood outside the Capitol—openly, visibly, dressed in an image I had chosen for myself—and thought about how differently the same scene might have unfolded in Russia. Here, I did not have to justify my existence or try to make myself smaller. Instead, I was invited to step forward.

That, perhaps, is how my whole summer unfolded: little by little, I became less afraid of being seen.

Then came many Pride celebrations. In this story, I focus on Vancouver, Seattle, Tacoma, and Portland. At Vancouver Pride, I wore a white outfit, heels, an enormous rainbow headpiece, blue makeup, and a fan—and won first place in the beauty contest. The heat was brutal, but it was worth it.

Seattle Pride, Tacoma Pride, and the especially vivid Portland Pride became more than celebrations. They became part of my new life: a life in which I can express myself more freely, try on new identities, and stop hiding the side of myself I once had to control so carefully.

I still want to tell the story of each Pride separately, with photographs, details, and moments that cannot fit into a single summer reflection. Those stories are already in the works.

After Portland’s noise came cliffs, rivers, and waterfalls—a different kind of freedom, but no less beautiful.

Summer was generous with beauty. There was a nighttime trip to Mount Rainier to watch the meteor shower, the Milky Way above the trees, and dozens of attempts to catch the sky in a photograph. There were Seward Park and Lake Crescent: cold, astonishingly clear water, swimming, and my first time on a paddleboard. It was only near the end of summer that I finally managed to swim a little.

These were simple, happy days with friends, when I could briefly stop building, planning, and fixing things—and simply look around.

This bright summer also had a quiet shadow. My Alenka died—the dog who joined our family as a puppy in Yakutsk in 2011 and later went through a move and a new life in St. Petersburg with us. I last saw her in 2022, before leaving Russia. After that, an ocean and eleven time zones separated us, but I always loved her.

Her loss reminded me how fragile life is, and how important it is to value the people we love and the present moment.

At the same time, this summer became a season of intense work and many new beginnings.

DukeDocument—my main business, focused primarily on document translation—grew and changed significantly. I am rethinking its structure, services, website, and the way the work itself is organized. The transformation is still underway: much has already been done, and just as much remains ahead.

By the beginning of summer, another direction had entered my life: officiating wedding ceremonies. Being beside people at the moment they choose one another and begin a new family story has proved to be an especially warm and meaningful experience. I want to continue developing this part of my work as well.

I returned to To USA. It began mainly as a place to tell stories about my immigration and my life in America. Now I want to turn it into a genuine author-led media project—with personal stories, reporting, social issues, practical guides, and conversations about contemporary life in the United States.

This summer, another project also took shape. For now, I will reveal only its name: “Kevin. On Being Human.”

It will be a space for conversations about meaning, freedom, dignity, and human life. I will share much more very soon. Stay tuned—the wait will not be long.

There is one more idea I have hardly discussed in public before.

I have begun planning a major series—a global, complex, long-term project whose characters, costumes, personalities, and entire world are already beginning to emerge. It is still at an early stage: the concept is taking shape, and a team is gradually coming together. The premiere is a long way off, but the first doors into this world have already opened.

There are now so many ideas that I sometimes wonder how they all fit inside one mind. At times, it is exhausting. But something else is becoming increasingly clear: these are not random, incompatible interests.

DukeDocument gives me a professional foundation. To USA lets me tell stories and explore America. “Kevin. On Being Human” creates space for a serious conversation. The series turns my strangest and boldest ideas into a universe of their own. Even officiating weddings comes from the same central interest: people, their choices, their freedom, and their right to build a life of their own.

They are different sides of the same person. My task now is not to make them compete, but to bring all these directions together harmoniously within my life.

Follow my Facebook page and Telegram channel. There will be many more updates, stories, and first announcements there from now on.

This summer, I allowed myself to be seen. I stopped waiting for some perfect moment. I became braver about my own ideas—including the most unusual ones. And I think I finally began to understand what I truly want to do next.

I am saying goodbye to this summer with gratitude—for freedom, roads, friends, water, mountains, vivid looks, new ideas, and the reminder that time is not endless.

I have been inventing new projects all my life. Some become real, some change beyond recognition, and some remain sketches forever. What changed was not the number of ideas, but my relationship with them.

Now I feel I have the strength not only to imagine, but to carry ideas through—to build systems, find people, connect different directions, and turn them into one new life.

And I have one very clear feeling: the most interesting part is only beginning.