"January 23, 2024
Only Ukrainian Crimea
I have been abroad for several months now because living among orcs and occupiers has become impossible.
I spent my entire life in Crimea, and now I feel a deep shame that in 2014, I didn't go to Kyiv, although I had such intentions. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I clearly marked my position. I always had a pin with the Ukrainian flag on my clothes, a sticker on the car, a ringtone on my phone with a Ukrainian song. Yes, these are small things, but it was important for me to show the hooray-patriots who I am and that I am not one of them. I don't know by what miracle I didn't end up in prison for this because there you have to pay a fine and apologize on camera for everything: for combining yellow and blue colors in clothes, for playing Verka Serduchka's songs at the corporate party, and so on.
The longer I am abroad, the scarier it is for me even to think about returning to Crimea. I can only return to the Ukrainian Crimea, the one where I was born and raised. People there have lost their minds. They hate all dissenters, and even aggression radiates from children.
And I hate all the 'newcomers-visitors.' I can't stand their Russian accent, can't bear to see Saint George ribbons. It hurts so much for my Crimea. And for all of my beloved Ukraine, it hurts. I have always been a peaceful person, helping the elderly, sick children, animals. I tried never to wish harm to anyone. But now I curse every occupier and everyone who supports them. I am scared of myself."
Only Ukrainian Crimea
I have been abroad for several months now because living among orcs and occupiers has become impossible.
I spent my entire life in Crimea, and now I feel a deep shame that in 2014, I didn't go to Kyiv, although I had such intentions. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I clearly marked my position. I always had a pin with the Ukrainian flag on my clothes, a sticker on the car, a ringtone on my phone with a Ukrainian song. Yes, these are small things, but it was important for me to show the hooray-patriots who I am and that I am not one of them. I don't know by what miracle I didn't end up in prison for this because there you have to pay a fine and apologize on camera for everything: for combining yellow and blue colors in clothes, for playing Verka Serduchka's songs at the corporate party, and so on.
The longer I am abroad, the scarier it is for me even to think about returning to Crimea. I can only return to the Ukrainian Crimea, the one where I was born and raised. People there have lost their minds. They hate all dissenters, and even aggression radiates from children.
And I hate all the 'newcomers-visitors.' I can't stand their Russian accent, can't bear to see Saint George ribbons. It hurts so much for my Crimea. And for all of my beloved Ukraine, it hurts. I have always been a peaceful person, helping the elderly, sick children, animals. I tried never to wish harm to anyone. But now I curse every occupier and everyone who supports them. I am scared of myself."
"November 21, 2023
Yalta, Crimea
Yesterday, one of the Mavkas wrote about a project whose task is to make the voices of Ukrainians from the occupied territories heard. This task aligns with my creative work of the past year, so I immediately agreed.
Participants are asked to keep journals that will be published, making the characters unrecognizable. This is important—back in March 2022, I made the decision to go to prison only for my professional activities. I am not ready because a like on social media, careless comments, or interviews. In any case, fortunately, I`m unknown, and the FSB (Federal Security Service) is not interested in art.
I have long thought about keeping a journal because I feel how my thinking is changing, and I try to document these changes. I see how the views of my friends and loved ones are changing, but it's not so obvious with myself. A journal would help with capturing this momentary reality.
We agreed to call the project curator at 8 in the morning, and only when we both called did we realize that in Crimea, it is Moscow time, and 8 in the morning for us is different. Daily life is made up of such mundane details, and, of course, over 10 years of occupation, everyday life has changed significantly.
In Yalta, it is less noticeable, as if there is no war in Yalta. Only military ships on the horizon and a couple of faded examples of monumental propaganda: advertisements for military service under contract and Putin's face with a motivational slogan. Both are so faded that, despite their gigantic size, the eye simply doesn't notice them. Perhaps, it's a defense mechanism of consciousness: I don't notice such advertisements, and I haven't paid attention to the Zs for a very long time unless intentionally focused on them.
It was completely different at first. The first year of the war, 2014, each of those posters pierced the heart and caused pain."
Yalta, Crimea
Yesterday, one of the Mavkas wrote about a project whose task is to make the voices of Ukrainians from the occupied territories heard. This task aligns with my creative work of the past year, so I immediately agreed.
Participants are asked to keep journals that will be published, making the characters unrecognizable. This is important—back in March 2022, I made the decision to go to prison only for my professional activities. I am not ready because a like on social media, careless comments, or interviews. In any case, fortunately, I`m unknown, and the FSB (Federal Security Service) is not interested in art.
I have long thought about keeping a journal because I feel how my thinking is changing, and I try to document these changes. I see how the views of my friends and loved ones are changing, but it's not so obvious with myself. A journal would help with capturing this momentary reality.
We agreed to call the project curator at 8 in the morning, and only when we both called did we realize that in Crimea, it is Moscow time, and 8 in the morning for us is different. Daily life is made up of such mundane details, and, of course, over 10 years of occupation, everyday life has changed significantly.
In Yalta, it is less noticeable, as if there is no war in Yalta. Only military ships on the horizon and a couple of faded examples of monumental propaganda: advertisements for military service under contract and Putin's face with a motivational slogan. Both are so faded that, despite their gigantic size, the eye simply doesn't notice them. Perhaps, it's a defense mechanism of consciousness: I don't notice such advertisements, and I haven't paid attention to the Zs for a very long time unless intentionally focused on them.
It was completely different at first. The first year of the war, 2014, each of those posters pierced the heart and caused pain."
"November 23, 2023
Yalta, Crimea
In Yalta, it's not common to openly demonstrate one's views and attitudes towards the war. I cannot confidently say what views all my acquaintances hold.
Recently, a pleasant guy, a new acquaintance, invited me for coffee. I was unsure whether to go or not – I needed to somehow find out what kind of person he was. There are already enough pro-Russian sympathizers (vata supporters) in my life, so I came up with the question: "What news do you read?"
A seemingly innocent question, but in principle, enough to understand a lot about a person.
By the way, we didn't go for coffee."
Yalta, Crimea
In Yalta, it's not common to openly demonstrate one's views and attitudes towards the war. I cannot confidently say what views all my acquaintances hold.
Recently, a pleasant guy, a new acquaintance, invited me for coffee. I was unsure whether to go or not – I needed to somehow find out what kind of person he was. There are already enough pro-Russian sympathizers (vata supporters) in my life, so I came up with the question: "What news do you read?"
A seemingly innocent question, but in principle, enough to understand a lot about a person.
By the way, we didn't go for coffee."
"December 5, 2023
Simferopol
I'm not sure if it's worth writing about this, but I have to. Today, I walked around, hung up posters, and managed to discreetly reach new interesting places... Although I found many, almost everywhere there were people who just didn't want to leave. And how do you know what kind of people they are?
Sometimes paranoia kicks in, and I just want to run away, escape from here, but the inner voice says, "You are needed here." So I sit and wait. I wait for unnecessary witnesses to leave so I can put up the poster. I wait for the latest news about successful affairs on the front and in the rear.
Once again, I think about the next arrests of our people. They are treated terribly. If we talk about my personal situation, the main downside and threat are the cameras, but the upside is that few, if anyone at all, sees the girl as a partisan, almost by default. It's convenient to be Mavka!
But it's very sad because of the pro-Russian surroundings. Clearly, openly expressing support for Ukraine is dangerous, but sometimes I miss having someone with whom I could safely talk about things that matter..."
Simferopol
I'm not sure if it's worth writing about this, but I have to. Today, I walked around, hung up posters, and managed to discreetly reach new interesting places... Although I found many, almost everywhere there were people who just didn't want to leave. And how do you know what kind of people they are?
Sometimes paranoia kicks in, and I just want to run away, escape from here, but the inner voice says, "You are needed here." So I sit and wait. I wait for unnecessary witnesses to leave so I can put up the poster. I wait for the latest news about successful affairs on the front and in the rear.
Once again, I think about the next arrests of our people. They are treated terribly. If we talk about my personal situation, the main downside and threat are the cameras, but the upside is that few, if anyone at all, sees the girl as a partisan, almost by default. It's convenient to be Mavka!
But it's very sad because of the pro-Russian surroundings. Clearly, openly expressing support for Ukraine is dangerous, but sometimes I miss having someone with whom I could safely talk about things that matter..."
"December 7, 2023
Simferopol
Today, there was another episode of paranoia; I won't go into details, but those I told say the threat is real, so it's better to keep silent. And there's also rain... So I didn't even go to hang up anything.
In the city center, there's an installation for "November 4" – the day of "national unity." But at least no one was dragging there to take pictures. Unfortunately, many around have different views than I do.
As always, a lot of machinery is moving and flying around, another wave of activity right now. But not always does it reach its destination. Even though you may sometimes jump from the explosions, it immediately becomes so pleasant that they hit another, clearly unnecessary for Ukrainian Crimea, thing."
Simferopol
Today, there was another episode of paranoia; I won't go into details, but those I told say the threat is real, so it's better to keep silent. And there's also rain... So I didn't even go to hang up anything.
In the city center, there's an installation for "November 4" – the day of "national unity." But at least no one was dragging there to take pictures. Unfortunately, many around have different views than I do.
As always, a lot of machinery is moving and flying around, another wave of activity right now. But not always does it reach its destination. Even though you may sometimes jump from the explosions, it immediately becomes so pleasant that they hit another, clearly unnecessary for Ukrainian Crimea, thing."
"December 19, 2023
Yalta, Crimea
Sergey, the housing manager in my residential complex, walks around in a T-shirt adorned with the letter "Z" without taking it off, even though it's already December. I find it interesting to imagine how such purchases are made. You enter a store, among kittens, tigers, "Armani," "KиШ" "Tsoi is alive" you find it, try it on, and choose it - the letter "Z."I avoid Sergey precisely because of his taste in clothing.
Sergey's T-shirt is falling apart, the letter fades and crumbles, stickers on neighbors' cars peel off and fade. But in the early days of the war, when this garbage had just spread through the streets, an interesting episode happened. Around the February gloom, rain, and depression. I parked near the confectionery, dragging a box with a prohibited calorie food, quickly, so as not to get wet. And some guy without an umbrella in the rain is peeling something off the rear window. I looked closer, there was a "Z" sticker. I asked, "Need help?" "No, I got it," he said. "How did it happen?" "Well, I'm driving and thinking, what is this bothering from behind?" I go out, and someone probably pasted this junk at night.I stuffed a pastry into my mouth right there in the parking lot.
There is discord between different Z; there are simple white ones on a black background; they appeared overnight on all public transport, on ambulances, police cars, and government officials' vehicles. These are involuntary Z, without soul and joy. And there are elegant Z, with St. George ribbons, flowers, Soviet stars, tanks, flags of the USSR and Russia, and a double-headed eagle. These Z were chosen by their owner, bought, and carefully applied.
They reflect the views and beliefs of the owners. But the scariest ones are the Z made of duct tape, on the rear window or hood. Such a Z can be on military vehicles, trophy ones; killers ride in them and carry the killed. I avoid them."
Yalta, Crimea
Sergey, the housing manager in my residential complex, walks around in a T-shirt adorned with the letter "Z" without taking it off, even though it's already December. I find it interesting to imagine how such purchases are made. You enter a store, among kittens, tigers, "Armani," "KиШ" "Tsoi is alive" you find it, try it on, and choose it - the letter "Z."I avoid Sergey precisely because of his taste in clothing.
Sergey's T-shirt is falling apart, the letter fades and crumbles, stickers on neighbors' cars peel off and fade. But in the early days of the war, when this garbage had just spread through the streets, an interesting episode happened. Around the February gloom, rain, and depression. I parked near the confectionery, dragging a box with a prohibited calorie food, quickly, so as not to get wet. And some guy without an umbrella in the rain is peeling something off the rear window. I looked closer, there was a "Z" sticker. I asked, "Need help?" "No, I got it," he said. "How did it happen?" "Well, I'm driving and thinking, what is this bothering from behind?" I go out, and someone probably pasted this junk at night.I stuffed a pastry into my mouth right there in the parking lot.
There is discord between different Z; there are simple white ones on a black background; they appeared overnight on all public transport, on ambulances, police cars, and government officials' vehicles. These are involuntary Z, without soul and joy. And there are elegant Z, with St. George ribbons, flowers, Soviet stars, tanks, flags of the USSR and Russia, and a double-headed eagle. These Z were chosen by their owner, bought, and carefully applied.
They reflect the views and beliefs of the owners. But the scariest ones are the Z made of duct tape, on the rear window or hood. Such a Z can be on military vehicles, trophy ones; killers ride in them and carry the killed. I avoid them."
"December 21, 2023
Yalta, Crimea
After a vacation trip, I decided to share with my boyfriend the story of a new acquaintance.
We met at the airport and discovered that we both were from Crimea, flying to the same city. We decided to have a beer and chat.
He shared his emigration story. He used to own a hotel in Crimea, often working at the concierge himself. Russian tourists had a favorite question: "How has life been for you after 2014?" The question is understandable, and their curiosity is clear, but answering it honestly with our views is just not possible. I always respond, "It varies for everyone." However, my new acquaintance once lost his temper and answered honestly and in detail. As it turned out, he chose the wrong guest to be open with, and a report was immediately filed against him.
Luckily for him, a friend from the authorities had warned in advance that a case was being prepared, and he learned about the interrogation on the Belarusian border. He sold the hotel, house, and cars through his mother's power of attorney, quickly and at a low price, and now both of them are in emigration.
There are many such stories, and this one actually has a happy end. What struck me more was my boyfriend's reaction. He conducted a real interrogation with questions like, "Did you tell him where you're from?", "Does he know your last name?", "Did you talk about your views?", "Did he want you to introduce him to Crimeans in emigration?" And he concluded: "He's an FSB informant, he'll betray all of you, and your families, and all of you will be arrested.
"It was shocking; I felt a breath of resurrected Stalin. And the scariest part was that for a few seconds, I entertained the possibility that it might be true.
Despite the fact that such thoughts can cross one's mind."
Yalta, Crimea
After a vacation trip, I decided to share with my boyfriend the story of a new acquaintance.
We met at the airport and discovered that we both were from Crimea, flying to the same city. We decided to have a beer and chat.
He shared his emigration story. He used to own a hotel in Crimea, often working at the concierge himself. Russian tourists had a favorite question: "How has life been for you after 2014?" The question is understandable, and their curiosity is clear, but answering it honestly with our views is just not possible. I always respond, "It varies for everyone." However, my new acquaintance once lost his temper and answered honestly and in detail. As it turned out, he chose the wrong guest to be open with, and a report was immediately filed against him.
Luckily for him, a friend from the authorities had warned in advance that a case was being prepared, and he learned about the interrogation on the Belarusian border. He sold the hotel, house, and cars through his mother's power of attorney, quickly and at a low price, and now both of them are in emigration.
There are many such stories, and this one actually has a happy end. What struck me more was my boyfriend's reaction. He conducted a real interrogation with questions like, "Did you tell him where you're from?", "Does he know your last name?", "Did you talk about your views?", "Did he want you to introduce him to Crimeans in emigration?" And he concluded: "He's an FSB informant, he'll betray all of you, and your families, and all of you will be arrested.
"It was shocking; I felt a breath of resurrected Stalin. And the scariest part was that for a few seconds, I entertained the possibility that it might be true.
Despite the fact that such thoughts can cross one's mind."
"January 2, 2024
Yalta, Crimea
We survived the New Year holidays. We had planned to celebrate at Dima's tea house, but since he's hiding from the police, they could show up there at any moment. So, we celebrated with my boyfriend's family and parents. Previously, when we celebrated New Year with them, we would first welcome it according to Kyiv time and then according to Moscow time. Now, after February 24, only Moscow time. And we had to listen to Putin's speech. Last year, I went out when he spoke and came back only at the stroke of midnight. This time... They are good people, and we get along well. They pretended not to notice when I left.
But with my grandmother it's very difficult. I couldn't grasp for a long time that a person close to me justifies the war. My grandmother was born in the late 1930s, in the midst of Stalin's repressions. During World War II, she was still a child and worked at some factory in the rear, developing sciatica at the age of 7. Grandmother always insisted, 'anything but war,' whatever it takes, but war is not an option. And now, if an important man on television explains it very clearly and in detail, it turns out this war is even justified.
Hatred towards war was my grandmother's fundamental belief, but she dismissed it so easily that I couldn't believe it for a long time, and still can't. I got very angry when we tried to discuss this topic. It's not right. Grandma is 87 years old. She cannot be changed, and she doesn't have much time left on this earth; we need to cherish this time together. But I'm boiling. Probably because it's a close person with whom I would like to share values and beliefs. But it doesn't work out.
And another strange observation. Under the influence of the television, my grandmother seems to sprout some long-dormant seeds of Stalinism from her childhood. She justifies report, persecuting dissenters, and, in general, closing society. Previously, she used to think much more freely. Now, she believes it's right that I might face imprisonment for my words and views. She believes that if I disagree with something, I should leave.
It's offensive. And unfair. Why should I leave my home? Let those who insulted others go, and take their Russian guards with them; it seems more honest to me. I want Ukraine in Crimea this New Year."
Yalta, Crimea
We survived the New Year holidays. We had planned to celebrate at Dima's tea house, but since he's hiding from the police, they could show up there at any moment. So, we celebrated with my boyfriend's family and parents. Previously, when we celebrated New Year with them, we would first welcome it according to Kyiv time and then according to Moscow time. Now, after February 24, only Moscow time. And we had to listen to Putin's speech. Last year, I went out when he spoke and came back only at the stroke of midnight. This time... They are good people, and we get along well. They pretended not to notice when I left.
But with my grandmother it's very difficult. I couldn't grasp for a long time that a person close to me justifies the war. My grandmother was born in the late 1930s, in the midst of Stalin's repressions. During World War II, she was still a child and worked at some factory in the rear, developing sciatica at the age of 7. Grandmother always insisted, 'anything but war,' whatever it takes, but war is not an option. And now, if an important man on television explains it very clearly and in detail, it turns out this war is even justified.
Hatred towards war was my grandmother's fundamental belief, but she dismissed it so easily that I couldn't believe it for a long time, and still can't. I got very angry when we tried to discuss this topic. It's not right. Grandma is 87 years old. She cannot be changed, and she doesn't have much time left on this earth; we need to cherish this time together. But I'm boiling. Probably because it's a close person with whom I would like to share values and beliefs. But it doesn't work out.
And another strange observation. Under the influence of the television, my grandmother seems to sprout some long-dormant seeds of Stalinism from her childhood. She justifies report, persecuting dissenters, and, in general, closing society. Previously, she used to think much more freely. Now, she believes it's right that I might face imprisonment for my words and views. She believes that if I disagree with something, I should leave.
It's offensive. And unfair. Why should I leave my home? Let those who insulted others go, and take their Russian guards with them; it seems more honest to me. I want Ukraine in Crimea this New Year."
"January 4, 2024
Yalta, Crimea
When you live in stress for a long time, you learn to cope with it. Routine, fresh air, sports – all of these help. And then some small thing happens, and the entire emotional balance is thrown off.
The neighbors are having renovations, and, of course, the workers are listening to music. Suddenly, I hear the song "Chervona Kalyna" performed by Boombox. And my first thought is, 'Wow, they're brave.' And twice, on repeat. It's not a coincidence; it's deliberate. I haven't listened to that song since my vacation. They have been trying to recognize the song as extremist for a while now, and several people have been fined and forced to apologize for listening to it. The fine and court are not a problem per se, but it's scary to fall into their hands. That's why even when alone at home, knowing that the neighboring apartments are empty, I don't dare to play it. That's why I was so surprised by the audacity of the builders. Such moments help gauge the level of personal freedom.
Imagine being afraid to play a song because someone might report you, and it could ruin your life.
It's +7°C outside, but it feels like political repression."
Yalta, Crimea
When you live in stress for a long time, you learn to cope with it. Routine, fresh air, sports – all of these help. And then some small thing happens, and the entire emotional balance is thrown off.
The neighbors are having renovations, and, of course, the workers are listening to music. Suddenly, I hear the song "Chervona Kalyna" performed by Boombox. And my first thought is, 'Wow, they're brave.' And twice, on repeat. It's not a coincidence; it's deliberate. I haven't listened to that song since my vacation. They have been trying to recognize the song as extremist for a while now, and several people have been fined and forced to apologize for listening to it. The fine and court are not a problem per se, but it's scary to fall into their hands. That's why even when alone at home, knowing that the neighboring apartments are empty, I don't dare to play it. That's why I was so surprised by the audacity of the builders. Such moments help gauge the level of personal freedom.
Imagine being afraid to play a song because someone might report you, and it could ruin your life.
It's +7°C outside, but it feels like political repression."
"January 9
Yevpatoria, Ukraine
Yesterday, we arrived with our child at my husband's parents' place. I lay down to rest after the journey and fell asleep.
I woke up at 5 PM to an explosion. It was the first time I heard it with my own ears. In Simferopol, where I live, I never heard anything like this. I felt no fear or panic. Despite the explosion happening nearby, I didn't read about it somewhere; I heard it myself. I felt calm inside, and even joyful when I read that it seemed to hit the right target.
Maybe it's abnormal not to fear shelling; I no longer understand. I fear more when the Russian air defense system operates. I know that when the Russians retreat, they will shoot at our homes, and they won't care who is inside. It's their beastly essence. And that's what I fear more than anything.
My parents-in-law are living as if nothing is happening. I don't fully understand their position on the war. We haven't had a conversation on this topic. It was scary for both us and them to openly discuss anything, even with each other. They don't watch television. My mother-in-law thinks it saves them from propaganda, but she only gets news and information from Russian Telegram channels. She is eagerly waiting for the war to end and for everything to return to how it was.
I feel like the war is something distant for her, something that doesn't concern her. Yes, at the beginning of the full-scale invasion, like everyone else, they stocked up on groceries and prepared emergency bags. We did too. Back then, our views seemed closer to each other. But now everything has changed. They want to live peacefully, and they don't care about whom flag is hanging outside. But we do care! No Russian or anyone who supports them should remain in Crimea.
Only our Armed Forces can drive out this plague! The war will come to Crimea; it has to happen so that we can live in peace and safety afterward.
We should fear not our own, but we should fear remaining under occupation, in captivity. That's the scariest!"
Yevpatoria, Ukraine
Yesterday, we arrived with our child at my husband's parents' place. I lay down to rest after the journey and fell asleep.
I woke up at 5 PM to an explosion. It was the first time I heard it with my own ears. In Simferopol, where I live, I never heard anything like this. I felt no fear or panic. Despite the explosion happening nearby, I didn't read about it somewhere; I heard it myself. I felt calm inside, and even joyful when I read that it seemed to hit the right target.
Maybe it's abnormal not to fear shelling; I no longer understand. I fear more when the Russian air defense system operates. I know that when the Russians retreat, they will shoot at our homes, and they won't care who is inside. It's their beastly essence. And that's what I fear more than anything.
My parents-in-law are living as if nothing is happening. I don't fully understand their position on the war. We haven't had a conversation on this topic. It was scary for both us and them to openly discuss anything, even with each other. They don't watch television. My mother-in-law thinks it saves them from propaganda, but she only gets news and information from Russian Telegram channels. She is eagerly waiting for the war to end and for everything to return to how it was.
I feel like the war is something distant for her, something that doesn't concern her. Yes, at the beginning of the full-scale invasion, like everyone else, they stocked up on groceries and prepared emergency bags. We did too. Back then, our views seemed closer to each other. But now everything has changed. They want to live peacefully, and they don't care about whom flag is hanging outside. But we do care! No Russian or anyone who supports them should remain in Crimea.
Only our Armed Forces can drive out this plague! The war will come to Crimea; it has to happen so that we can live in peace and safety afterward.
We should fear not our own, but we should fear remaining under occupation, in captivity. That's the scariest!"
"January 18, 2024
Crimea, Ukraine
When things get tough, Stefan Zweig's story helps. In 1943, he and his wife took their own lives. They became disillusioned, believing that Nazi Germany would prevail. They decided to leave this world they didn't want to live in.
As it turned out, they only needed to wait another six months. In half a year, Germany would start retreating on all fronts. They couldn't wait for those six months. Despair, thoughts that 'this' is now forever – the worst enemy.
Everything eventually comes to an end; no dictatorship lasts forever, and every war ends in peace. We just need to live through it, preserve inner freedom, and maintain faith in humanity."
Crimea, Ukraine
When things get tough, Stefan Zweig's story helps. In 1943, he and his wife took their own lives. They became disillusioned, believing that Nazi Germany would prevail. They decided to leave this world they didn't want to live in.
As it turned out, they only needed to wait another six months. In half a year, Germany would start retreating on all fronts. They couldn't wait for those six months. Despair, thoughts that 'this' is now forever – the worst enemy.
Everything eventually comes to an end; no dictatorship lasts forever, and every war ends in peace. We just need to live through it, preserve inner freedom, and maintain faith in humanity."
"January 23, 2024
Only Ukrainian Crimea
I have been abroad for several months now because living among orcs and occupiers has become impossible.
I spent my entire life in Crimea, and now I feel a deep shame that in 2014, I didn't go to Kyiv, although I had such intentions. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I clearly marked my position. I always had a pin with the Ukrainian flag on my clothes, a sticker on the car, a ringtone on my phone with a Ukrainian song. Yes, these are small things, but it was important for me to show the hooray-patriots who I am and that I am not one of them. I don't know by what miracle I didn't end up in prison for this because there you have to pay a fine and apologize on camera for everything: for combining yellow and blue colors in clothes, for playing Verka Serduchka's songs at the corporate party, and so on.
The longer I am abroad, the scarier it is for me even to think about returning to Crimea. I can only return to the Ukrainian Crimea, the one where I was born and raised. People there have lost their minds. They hate all dissenters, and even aggression radiates from children.
And I hate all the 'newcomers-visitors.' I can't stand their Russian accent, can't bear to see Saint George ribbons. It hurts so much for my Crimea. And for all of my beloved Ukraine, it hurts. I have always been a peaceful person, helping the elderly, sick children, animals. I tried never to wish harm to anyone. But now I curse every occupier and everyone who supports them. I am scared of myself."
Only Ukrainian Crimea
I have been abroad for several months now because living among orcs and occupiers has become impossible.
I spent my entire life in Crimea, and now I feel a deep shame that in 2014, I didn't go to Kyiv, although I had such intentions. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I clearly marked my position. I always had a pin with the Ukrainian flag on my clothes, a sticker on the car, a ringtone on my phone with a Ukrainian song. Yes, these are small things, but it was important for me to show the hooray-patriots who I am and that I am not one of them. I don't know by what miracle I didn't end up in prison for this because there you have to pay a fine and apologize on camera for everything: for combining yellow and blue colors in clothes, for playing Verka Serduchka's songs at the corporate party, and so on.
The longer I am abroad, the scarier it is for me even to think about returning to Crimea. I can only return to the Ukrainian Crimea, the one where I was born and raised. People there have lost their minds. They hate all dissenters, and even aggression radiates from children.
And I hate all the 'newcomers-visitors.' I can't stand their Russian accent, can't bear to see Saint George ribbons. It hurts so much for my Crimea. And for all of my beloved Ukraine, it hurts. I have always been a peaceful person, helping the elderly, sick children, animals. I tried never to wish harm to anyone. But now I curse every occupier and everyone who supports them. I am scared of myself."
"January 30, 2024
Yalta, Ukraine
I needed a break.
When you live in a certain, even uncomfortable situation, you stop noticing many things. What you're used to doesn't catch your eye. But this diary will be read by people from the outside for whom my situation is unique. And for them, I draw attention again to the traces of occupation and war around, which have become commonplace. It's an unpleasant process. Like peeling off a scab from a knee that hasn't healed. Painful, unpleasant, brings strange satisfaction. But peeling off the scab every day... brrr.
I needed a break.
Today, the manager of the residential complex handed me a questionnaire. He says it needs to be filled out. And there, the first question: "What has improved in Crimea since 2014?""I don't want to fill this out, and I shouldn't, so I won't," I say."But it's not for us, it's for..." - the manager raises a finger upward."I understand perfectly well who it's for, and I'm not going to make their lives easier.""But didn't they build the Crimean Bridge for you? And Tavrida?""I won't fill it out, and I definitely won't leave my personal phone!" - I indicate the box where you need to enter the phone number, address, email.
The expression on the manager's face is priceless. Even small acts of defiance against authority cause these people indignation and surprise."
Yalta, Ukraine
I needed a break.
When you live in a certain, even uncomfortable situation, you stop noticing many things. What you're used to doesn't catch your eye. But this diary will be read by people from the outside for whom my situation is unique. And for them, I draw attention again to the traces of occupation and war around, which have become commonplace. It's an unpleasant process. Like peeling off a scab from a knee that hasn't healed. Painful, unpleasant, brings strange satisfaction. But peeling off the scab every day... brrr.
I needed a break.
Today, the manager of the residential complex handed me a questionnaire. He says it needs to be filled out. And there, the first question: "What has improved in Crimea since 2014?""I don't want to fill this out, and I shouldn't, so I won't," I say."But it's not for us, it's for..." - the manager raises a finger upward."I understand perfectly well who it's for, and I'm not going to make their lives easier.""But didn't they build the Crimean Bridge for you? And Tavrida?""I won't fill it out, and I definitely won't leave my personal phone!" - I indicate the box where you need to enter the phone number, address, email.
The expression on the manager's face is priceless. Even small acts of defiance against authority cause these people indignation and surprise."
"February 1, 2024
Yalta, Ukraine
Something happened at the New Year's party that I would like to reflect on. The shelling of Ukrainian cities continues every day, an endless nightmare, but with a precise date of onset. Meanwhile, a quiet and imperceptible horror is unfolding before my eyes. There are changes happening in people's minds. It's hard for me to say when and how it started. But in various situations, different people told me unthinkable, recently absolutely indecent, things and believed they were right.
Recently, I learned that my great-grandparents were shot during the Stalinist repressions. We found out this information through the "Memorial" organization, which helps to return the names of the repressed (the organization was liquidated in Russia).And now, imagine the situation: you share such sharp, freshly obtained information with friends and relatives. Exclamations, leading questions - the expected reaction. It was quite unexpected to hear an unequivocal statement in response: 'So there was a reason.
'And here, I began to ask probing questions. It turns out that in some government sources, rehabilitation of Stalinism has been actively and for a long time in progress. And although this is not the official policy of the party, people sensitive to mood readings, subconsciously processed by propaganda, have drawn conclusions. Stalinism is important, correct, necessary.
And by the time I noticed it, it had already happened. Stalinism has slipped into our present."
Yalta, Ukraine
Something happened at the New Year's party that I would like to reflect on. The shelling of Ukrainian cities continues every day, an endless nightmare, but with a precise date of onset. Meanwhile, a quiet and imperceptible horror is unfolding before my eyes. There are changes happening in people's minds. It's hard for me to say when and how it started. But in various situations, different people told me unthinkable, recently absolutely indecent, things and believed they were right.
Recently, I learned that my great-grandparents were shot during the Stalinist repressions. We found out this information through the "Memorial" organization, which helps to return the names of the repressed (the organization was liquidated in Russia).And now, imagine the situation: you share such sharp, freshly obtained information with friends and relatives. Exclamations, leading questions - the expected reaction. It was quite unexpected to hear an unequivocal statement in response: 'So there was a reason.
'And here, I began to ask probing questions. It turns out that in some government sources, rehabilitation of Stalinism has been actively and for a long time in progress. And although this is not the official policy of the party, people sensitive to mood readings, subconsciously processed by propaganda, have drawn conclusions. Stalinism is important, correct, necessary.
And by the time I noticed it, it had already happened. Stalinism has slipped into our present."
"February 6, 2024
Yalta, Ukraine
How Roma found out about 'Crimean Smersh.' I didn't want to talk about his safety earlier, but it seems like nothing will change for us. If you're interested, I'll keep you updated.
It happened at the end of November. At 12:00 AM, my friend Roma called. He started receiving threatening and bullying messages. Through all channels, from personal SMS to their tea space page. He couldn't understand what was going on. My first thought: 'Crimean Smersh, 100%,' I go to their Telegram channel. Bingo. The mockery began, now the main thing is to slip away from the pack of 100 thousand people. The issue was an old post on the Instagram page of a music project Roma was a part of. Another member managed the Instagram, boldly posting a sincere and honest anti-war text on behalf of the collective, punishable by 5 to 7 years in prison, and later he emigrated to Georgia. But Roma stayed. He opened a tea shop, and almost two years later, harassment started because of that forgotten post. They found the tea shop's account, address, phone number, home address, all messengers, all social networks; all that was left was to wait for the visit of the thugs.
By 3:00, we removed the sign and house number from the tea shop, closed or renamed all pages, canceled all upcoming events, all while continuing to monitor the flow of threats and insults to understand what else needed to be done. We developed a 'damage control' plan that includes blatant lies and public humiliation. But the main thing is not to let Roma get arrested.
In the comments of 'Crimean Smersh,' you can easily lose faith in humanity. I won't retell it; it's enough that I spent the night and the whole morning tracking possible threat sources. And I also met there, among the 'Smersh' commentators, familiar names, people whom I once considered friends. Now they are among those who write denunciations and initiate harassment. I remember them: creative, intelligent, cheerful people. Dancing to Strikalo's songs on 'The Neighboring World.'"
Yalta, Ukraine
How Roma found out about 'Crimean Smersh.' I didn't want to talk about his safety earlier, but it seems like nothing will change for us. If you're interested, I'll keep you updated.
It happened at the end of November. At 12:00 AM, my friend Roma called. He started receiving threatening and bullying messages. Through all channels, from personal SMS to their tea space page. He couldn't understand what was going on. My first thought: 'Crimean Smersh, 100%,' I go to their Telegram channel. Bingo. The mockery began, now the main thing is to slip away from the pack of 100 thousand people. The issue was an old post on the Instagram page of a music project Roma was a part of. Another member managed the Instagram, boldly posting a sincere and honest anti-war text on behalf of the collective, punishable by 5 to 7 years in prison, and later he emigrated to Georgia. But Roma stayed. He opened a tea shop, and almost two years later, harassment started because of that forgotten post. They found the tea shop's account, address, phone number, home address, all messengers, all social networks; all that was left was to wait for the visit of the thugs.
By 3:00, we removed the sign and house number from the tea shop, closed or renamed all pages, canceled all upcoming events, all while continuing to monitor the flow of threats and insults to understand what else needed to be done. We developed a 'damage control' plan that includes blatant lies and public humiliation. But the main thing is not to let Roma get arrested.
In the comments of 'Crimean Smersh,' you can easily lose faith in humanity. I won't retell it; it's enough that I spent the night and the whole morning tracking possible threat sources. And I also met there, among the 'Smersh' commentators, familiar names, people whom I once considered friends. Now they are among those who write denunciations and initiate harassment. I remember them: creative, intelligent, cheerful people. Dancing to Strikalo's songs on 'The Neighboring World.'"
"February 8, 2024
Yalta, Ukraine
The whole situation with harassment, threats, and the overnight closure of a business that so many people worked on for so long made me reflect again. A measured daily life allows creating an illusion of control and enduring prolonged stress without consequences for the mind. But the side effect is living in the realm of imaginary safety.
This time the threat came very close to me. It takes nothing to come into the sight of the pack. It's enough for people I considered friends to desire for me what they consider justice. I won't last ten minutes of attention from an FSB agent with internet access. Information enough for 5-7 years in prison can be found about me without much effort. One search, and 5-7 years turn into 20. How much time I have left until it's my turn is a matter of luck.
What and how much I'm willing to risk for the right to live in my home, in my homeland. And then spin the globe and hope that they won't close the border sooner.
PS: After googling myself, I found a fragment of a strange interview from 2017 that I don't remember giving to a journalist from the Russian service of the BBC. The journalist writes that, after opposing the annexation of Crimea in 2014, I changed my mind by the time of the interview and supported the Russian government. It's very interesting how he came to such conclusions; I definitely never said anything like that. The question of the competence of the Russian BBC service remains open. Not too long ago, I would have been terribly upset. However, today it became clear – maybe there will come a day when his incompetence and this interview may come to my rescue. Madness."
Yalta, Ukraine
The whole situation with harassment, threats, and the overnight closure of a business that so many people worked on for so long made me reflect again. A measured daily life allows creating an illusion of control and enduring prolonged stress without consequences for the mind. But the side effect is living in the realm of imaginary safety.
This time the threat came very close to me. It takes nothing to come into the sight of the pack. It's enough for people I considered friends to desire for me what they consider justice. I won't last ten minutes of attention from an FSB agent with internet access. Information enough for 5-7 years in prison can be found about me without much effort. One search, and 5-7 years turn into 20. How much time I have left until it's my turn is a matter of luck.
What and how much I'm willing to risk for the right to live in my home, in my homeland. And then spin the globe and hope that they won't close the border sooner.
PS: After googling myself, I found a fragment of a strange interview from 2017 that I don't remember giving to a journalist from the Russian service of the BBC. The journalist writes that, after opposing the annexation of Crimea in 2014, I changed my mind by the time of the interview and supported the Russian government. It's very interesting how he came to such conclusions; I definitely never said anything like that. The question of the competence of the Russian BBC service remains open. Not too long ago, I would have been terribly upset. However, today it became clear – maybe there will come a day when his incompetence and this interview may come to my rescue. Madness."
"January 16, 2024
Crimea
I've been going to Dasha for a manicure for over a year. She's a perfect master, punctual, neat, and fast. Dasha moved to our area several years ago from some provincial Russian town. Before moving, she knew nothing about the annexation of Crimea and the war in Donbas. Dasha is 10 years younger than me, from the generation that grew up under Putin. We don't discuss politics, but I've answered many of her questions and taught her to say 'palianytsia.
'My colleague Nastya moved with her family about 5 years ago; she is now 19 years old. She studies at the local college and works for me during holidays. Nastya is very interested in politics, listens to banned music, and her classmates teach her Ukrainian. Nastya's favorite word is 'shkarpetky' (ukr. socks).
My client and friend Alina believes that the Kazan Cathedral was built by aliens but doesn't trust a single word of Russian propaganda. On the other hand, one very knowledgeable, creative, and meticulous friend is a staunch supporter (vatnik) from socks to the core.
I don't know why and on whom propaganda has an influence and on whom it doesn't. It doesn't depend on education, age, intelligence, place of birth, and even critical thinking. And if you think, 'Well, definitely not me, I wouldn't fall for it,' there's only one way to check. Experience it. I survived it. How about you?"
Crimea
I've been going to Dasha for a manicure for over a year. She's a perfect master, punctual, neat, and fast. Dasha moved to our area several years ago from some provincial Russian town. Before moving, she knew nothing about the annexation of Crimea and the war in Donbas. Dasha is 10 years younger than me, from the generation that grew up under Putin. We don't discuss politics, but I've answered many of her questions and taught her to say 'palianytsia.
'My colleague Nastya moved with her family about 5 years ago; she is now 19 years old. She studies at the local college and works for me during holidays. Nastya is very interested in politics, listens to banned music, and her classmates teach her Ukrainian. Nastya's favorite word is 'shkarpetky' (ukr. socks).
My client and friend Alina believes that the Kazan Cathedral was built by aliens but doesn't trust a single word of Russian propaganda. On the other hand, one very knowledgeable, creative, and meticulous friend is a staunch supporter (vatnik) from socks to the core.
I don't know why and on whom propaganda has an influence and on whom it doesn't. It doesn't depend on education, age, intelligence, place of birth, and even critical thinking. And if you think, 'Well, definitely not me, I wouldn't fall for it,' there's only one way to check. Experience it. I survived it. How about you?"