Nino Antadzeplease see the FAQ I was a PhD student at the University of Waterloo when Russia invaded my homeland — the small country of Georgia, which straddles southwestern Asia and Europe — in August 2008. Within days, Russian troops were less than 80 kilometres away from the capital Tbilisi, where my family lived. I called my parents and brother to persuade them to leave, but they refused. Thousands of kilometres away, I felt utterly powerless and desperate, unable to do anything amid the oncoming catastrophe. By this time, I had been in Canada for about a year. I was enjoying the intellectual excitement of graduate studies and the sunlit streets of Waterloo, Ont., thanks to a generous scholarship. Yet, the quiet, predictable surroundings of the university campus were in sharp contrast with the internal turmoil I was experiencing. Russia eventually retreated without taking over Tbilisi, but some areas remain occupied to this day. Last year, Russia's influence strengthened, and Georgia now has an administration increasingly aligned with Moscow following a disputed national election in October. The shadow of Russia's imperialism is long and dark, stretching across centuries and countries. For me, it is quite personal — three of my family members were victims of Stalin's Great Terror of 1937 to 1938, when more than one million citizens were arrested and convicted mostly for anti-Soviet activity. Two of my family members were executed and one disappeared in a labour camp somewhere in Siberia. When I was born, the Soviet Union was entering the last decade of its existence. Its last years in Georgia were marked by the night of April 9, 1989 when the Soviet army violently attacked a group of peaceful anti-Soviet protesters in front of the Parliament building in Tbilisi, leaving 20 people dead. Although I was a kid, I remember that day very well. There was mourning but also hope for an emerging independent country. The Soviet Union collapsed a few years later, in 1991, yet the road to freedom after 200 years of Russian and Soviet imperial rule would be long and painful. The anxiety that comes with the constant threat to your country has always been something I associated with that part of my life and that part of the world. Only after resettling in Canada did I appreciate what it meant to live in a country where you could plan your life without worrying about political and economic instability or an armed conflict. That's why reliving the familiar anxiety here in Canada was unexpected. Since Trump began referring to Canada as "the 51st state" and our prime minister as "a governor," I have had a terrible, nauseating feeling of déjà vu. Canadians who are unfamiliar with Eastern European politics may not see the similarities between Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin. But my experience shows me that their playbooks are very similar. The start of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine is marked on February 24, 2022 — the day Russian troops crossed the Ukrainian border. But the day I remember is two days earlier when Putin delivered a two-hour televised address in which he once again claimed that Ukraine was not really a country — that it was created by Russia and has never had a statehood of its own. What I heard was Putin voicing a pretext to justify military action just like he did before the annexation of Georgian territories, and I came to the chilling conclusion that the war in Ukraine was now inevitable. Every time Trump repeats his claims that the Canada-U.S. border is an "artificial line" or when Elon Musk tweeted that "Canada is not a real country" (a tweet he has since deleted), I can't help but recall Putin's terrifying speech. I see other narratives used by Putin to justify his war on Ukraine in Trump's rhetoric, too. Putin has claimed that those living on the territories targeted for takeover actually want to be part of a stronger, bigger country. In Canada's case, Trump has claimed that Canadians want to become a U.S. state. I also remember Russia imposing trade bans on Georgia's most lucrative exports — wine and mineral water — as tensions between the two countries escalated before the 2008 war. My family thankfully wasn't directly impacted, but for some of our acquaintances, this meant losing their jobs when finding a well-paid job was already a challenge. I recognize a similar pattern in President Trump's tactic with Canada — punish us with tariffs on one hand and promise things like lower taxes if Canada becomes a U.S. state. For me, these parallels are too obvious to ignore. It feels like I am being followed by the shadow of Putin's Russia here in Canada, where I thought it could never reach me. When I took the oath of Canadian citizenship about a decade ago, I never imagined that the country I now call home would be threatened by a United States headed by a president who seems to have an affinity for a Russian dictator. But that's exactly the position I find myself in today. My life experience has taught me to never take my freedoms for granted. I grew up in a country accustomed to defending its sovereignty from a mighty and powerful neighbour, and now it's my responsibility as a Canadian citizen to stand up for Canada's sovereignty, too. Are you an Islander with a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here's more info on how to pitch to CBC P.E.I.