How the war began for me
Morning. February 24. 6:30 a.m. I wake up because my 13-year-old daughter comes into the room with the phone. The anxious voice of a friend on the phone: “Sasha, get up. They are bombing Kyiv and Odesa.” The war in my country has started. Last night I was in Kyiv for a meeting on barrier-free business, then I met with my team, planned tasks for the morning. And in the morning the war broke out.
I am an ordinary Ukrainian woman, mother and marketer. I have my own settled everyday life. I get sick and recover, take my children to school, go to the office, meet partners and communicate with my friends. I go to elections and pay taxes. My height is 164 cm and my weight is 66 kg (now 66, but seven days ago I weighed 69 kg). I love cheeseburgers from McDonald’s, Remarque, and prosecco.
Last year I visited 5 countries, I can cook and kiss. I’ve spoken Russian since birth, I know Ukrainian perfectly and English quite well. I have never in my life felt condemned for my Russian speech. However, in Turkish hotels I prefer to speak English so that no one would think that I am Russian, because being Russian means being nonfree, not being able to speak out. Being Russian is dragging a drunken husband across the airport because he’s got drunk before the plane takes off. Being Russian means voting for Putin and being silent, silent, silent…
I live in Dnipro, and so far it is peaceful in our city. But let me tell you what peace means.
Peace is not to know if my children and I will be alive in the morning.
Peace is to run to the shelter as sirens sound.
Peace is to collect a bug-out bag and wait when you need to grab it.
Peace is to start every morning with questions to friends and family: “Are you alive?”
Peace is to forward air raid alerts to friends in this or that city of Ukraine every hour.
Peace is to ask colleagues if they have managed to buy bulletproof vests for the army.
Peace is to say to your colleague, who’s gone to the defence, “Lesha, hold on, we are with you!”
Peace is to sleep in clothes.
Peace is to sort things for refugees at a stronghold.
Peace is to let your kids swear because FUCK-OFF is not a swear word anymore.
Peace is to become covered with spots and lose 3 kg of weight in 3 days.
Peace is not to wash your hair, because you don’t want to sit wet in a bomb shelter.
Peace is not to look for panties among things for women who escaped from Kharkiv under shelling.
If you are reading this now, understand and share with everyone: in 2022, in the 21st century, no one, NO ONE is safe from the nuclear psychopath. It is not Ukraine on fire — it is the world on fire. It isn’t us whom Putin attacked — it is democracy, civilization, and the whole world whom he attacked. No one can sleep peacefully anymore.
We are waiting for your support. A flag hung on a house is not enough. A poster with the words “Free Ukraine!” is not enough. Talk about us. Scream about us. Don’t believe a single word of the Russian media. We do not want the Russian world. Never. Never. Because being Russian is a shame. And being a Ukrainian is being a Human.
