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«Ти не одна»: Як «Фемінотека» адаптує підтримку до потреб кожної жінки
«Скрізь точаться дискусії про те, чи обов'язковим є секс у шлюбі і що відмовлятися від нього — це ненормально. Тим часом зґвалтування у шлюбі є досить поширеним явищем, а оскільки воно табуйоване, про нього рідше повідомляють. Ми допомагаємо таким жінкам і просимо їх повідомляти про насильство на ранніх стадіях», — Анна Циба з фонду «Фемінотека», що надає різноманітну підтримку жінкам з Польщі, України та інших країн
Анна Циба з Фонду «Фемінотека» (Feminoteka). Фото: пресматеріали
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Єнджей Дудкевич: «Фемінотека» почала надавати підтримку жінкам з України після повномасштабного вторгнення Росії в Україну. Скільком жінкам ви допомагаєте щороку?
Анна Циба: Важко говорити про цифри, адже все залежить від того, чого потребують жінки, які до нас звертаються. У багатьох випадках це просто коротка розмова про конкретну ситуацію, одне питання, разова психологічна підтримка. І тоді жінки, знаючи все, вже не звертаються за більшою підтримкою, тобто за консультаціями до спеціалістів. Випадків, коли це було потрібно, тобто ми також створили картки в системі, щоб відстежувати всю допомогу, яку хтось отримує, у нас було більше сотні у 2024 році.
Розкажи про те, що ви пропонуєте, коли до вас телефонують за номером 888 99 79 88.
Варто підкреслити, що дзвінок на нашу гарячу лінію ні до чого не зобов'язує. Ми ніколи не повідомляємо про випадок у поліцію чи прокуратуру без згоди жінки — це виключно її рішення. Основна пропозиція — розповісти про кризову, насильницьку ситуацію. Можна зателефонувати, розповісти про те, що сталося, і розвіяти будь-які сумніви, які можуть виникнути. Тому що іноді до нас телефонують жінки, які відчувають себе погано через інцидент, але не впевнені, чи це вже насильство, чи, наприклад, сварка у стосунках, яка не обов'язково несе серйозну небезпеку. Наші консультанти, в тому числі і я, допоможемо це оцінити. І тоді більше може нічого не статися, але можна звернутися і за більш тривалою психологічною підтримкою. Тут у нас немає ліміту — якщо жінка перебуває під нашою опікою, вона отримує стільки консультацій і терапевтичних сесій, скільки їй потрібно, за погодженням з психологом. Однак ми можемо допомогти набагато ширше. У нас є юристи, які дбають про те, щоб всілякі справи можна було вирішити. Але це справи в Польщі, тому що в Україні ми не маємо адвоката, тому, якщо щось стосується системи правосуддя там, ми перенаправляємо до відповідної організації. Ми також надаємо підтримку, пов'язану з тим, як функціонують різні справи у нашій країні.
Це може бути отримання номера PESEL, виготовлення карти міста чи навіть шопінг. У нас є асистентки, які також можуть супроводжувати вас, коли вам потрібно піти в офіс, поліцію або кудись ще
Фемінотека також керує першою в Польщі службою допомоги жінкам після зґвалтування Femka, куди ви можете звернутися, якщо ви зазнали сексуального насильства. Ви отримаєте комплексну допомогу, не лише психологічну. У нас також є «Безпечне місце» — притулок для жінок, які потребують житлової підтримки. Крім того, у нашій студії «Одне Добро» (Samo Dobro) проводяться різноманітні заходи, такі як спільні заняття йогою, керамікою чи косметичні майстер-класи. Перш за все, ми запитуємо жінок, чого вони потребують, і намагаємося бути гнучкими в цьому питанні. Наприклад, деякі з них повідомили, що хотіли б вивчати польську та англійську мови, тож ми змогли організувати для них заняття.
Фото: пресматеріали
Деякий час тому з'явилася ще одна можливість отримати підтримку — додаток SafeYou, також доступний українською мовою.
Фемінотека є його частиною, і ми також надаємо там консультації. Однак він має багато функцій. Перш за все, ви можете додати кількох довірених людей (або організацій) до свого контакту і в екстреній ситуації натиснути кнопку SOS, яка одразу почне записувати звук і надішле цим людям повідомлення про те, де ви перебуваєте і що ви не в безпеці. Крім того, є також форум, на якому можна не лише читати інформативні пости від експертів організації, але й ставити їм запитання. Це круто, тому що не всі можуть захотіти телефонувати на гарячу лінію, тому є додаткова можливість дізнатися різні речі. Також є можливість обмінятися досвідом з іншими жінками і побачити, що ти не самотня. Додаток також може бути прихований на екрані телефону, тож про нього знатиме лише користувач.
Іншими словами, підтримка є комплексною та багатовимірною.
І, що дуже важливо, безкоштовною! А також доступна різними мовами, адже це не тільки польська та українська, а й російська або англійська. Важливо те, що все це дуже індивідуалізовано, а також змінюється з часом.
Наприклад, жінка, яка прийде до нас у кризовій ситуації, отримає юридичну та психологічну підтримку, а коли відчує себе більш впевнено, одужає і розслабиться, їй потрібно буде записатися, наприклад, на професійні курси. Ми намагаємося супроводжувати її на цьому шляху, забезпечуючи всім необхідним на кожному етапі
Можеш розповісти кілька історій жінок, які зверталися до вас за підтримкою?
Наприклад, вчора мені зателефонувала жінка, яка запитала про поведінку своєї дитини. Виявилося, що це не входить в сферу нашої підтримки, тому я перенаправила її до іншої організації, пояснивши, чим ми займаємося. Почувши це, вона попросила мене навести приклади психологічного насильства. Я розповіла про різні види маніпуляцій, нехтування, і тоді вона вирішила, що спочатку займеться покращенням ситуації своєї дитини, а потім, можливо, знову зателефонує нам щодо свого випадку. Можливо, вона просто щось відчувала, але не знала, як це назвати. Іншим разом я розмовляла з 20-річною дівчиною з України, яка приїхала до одного з польських міст на заробітки. На жаль, її зґвалтували, і вона не мала нікого, хто міг би її підтримати, тому ми організували її приїзд до Варшави, де нею опікулася психологиня, асистентка, які супроводжували її впродовж усього часу. Навіть коли вона повернулася в Україну, ми підтримували з нею зв'язок і контролювали дії системи правосуддя. У нас також було щонайменше кілька ситуацій, коли жінки з України тікали до Польщі не лише від війни, а й від насильства. Після сигналу від дружніх організацій ми забирали їх з вокзалу і одразу ж привозили до нашого притулку.
Фото: пресматеріали
Одна жінка отримувала від нас підтримку протягом двох років — їй потрібна була допомога з повною адаптацією до нового середовища, від покупок до облаштування дитячої кімнати та пошуку роботи. Зараз вона повністю незалежна, винаймає квартиру і навіть не намагається підтримувати з нами зв'язок.
Чи існують якісь культурні відмінності, коли йдеться про насильство, погляд на нього?
Стереотипи загалом скрізь однакові. Як жінки ми виростаємо у схожій культурі, яка диктує, що ми не говоримо про такі речі, ми зосереджуємося на домашньому житті. Скрізь точаться дискусії про те, чи обов'язковим є секс у шлюбі і що відмовлятися від нього — це ненормально. Тим часом зґвалтування у шлюбі є досить поширеним явищем, а оскільки воно табуйоване, про нього рідше повідомляють. Тому ми намагаємося більше виносити різні теми на суспільну дискусію. Я думаю, що це також допомагає багатьом жінкам, які не впевнені, чи те, що відбувається з ними, що вони переживають, що завдає їм болю і дискомфорту, є чимось, про що вони можуть повідомити як про насильство. Мені також здається, що стигми стає все менше і менше, багато чого змінюється на краще, хоч і повільно. Ми все більше і більше говоримо про різні справи, і саме тому ми часто закінчуємо наші публікації словами «ти не одна». Це не порожній звук — ми можемо надати велику підтримку. Ось чому так важливо, щоб жінки не боялися повідомляти про насильство на ранніх стадіях. Не треба і не варто чекати, поки ситуація набуде загрозливого характеру.
Анна Циба — перекладачка, феміністка та фахівчиня з комунікацій з досвідом роботи у сфері захисту прав жінок, соціальної підтримки та міжкультурної співпраці фонду «Фемінотека».
Журналіст-фрілансер. Співпрацює з порталом NGO.pl, виданнями Wysokie Obcasy, Dziennik, Gazeta Prawna. Його публікації можна прочитати в Znak, Newsweek, Onet, Krytyka Polityczna та Kontakt.
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Nothing survives without words. Together, we carry voices that must be heard.
Olga Pakosh: In light of what is happening today, how can we talk about building bridges?
Krzysztof Czyżewski: We first need to realize how few of them we have actually built.
Why?
We were given time—time we largely failed to use. Today comes the test of what we did with it, and it turns out it could have been much more. Too few bridges were built—between Poles and Ukrainians, but also many others. Because all these bridges are interconnected. Fear of the other very easily turns into scapegoating—of the foreigner, someone of another nationality, culture, or skin color. And this shows that we could have done far more, especially from the bottom up, at the grassroots, organically. We lacked investment in local government, in education—from primary school through every level—in cultural and community-building activities. Had we put more effort into these, we would be in a completely different place today.
That’s why the work of rooting is so important—in a place, in oneself, in our identity. When the full-scale war in Ukraine broke out, refugee children came to Krasnogruda. One of the first projects we did with them was an animated film.
The children called it Pokój (“Room/Peace”), because they discovered that in Polish the word has two meanings: “absence of war” and “my space to live.” It was precisely this space they had lost—their room, their home—and that’s what they longed for. They also understood that the one who starts a war is the one who has no room of their own.
People deprived of rootedness and a sense of community are more easily swayed by ideologies that lead to hatred and violence. That’s why we need time to rebuild this rootedness, which our region still lacks because of its history of wars and regimes. We simply wasted the time we were given.
We invested in roads—because that’s easy, because every politician wants to boast about them. But investments in schools, cultural centers, civic organizations—in people—were never a priority. And yet those are precisely the investments that could give us the strength to stand against hatred and war.
The Comfortable Role of the Victim
What is hatred? No one is born with hatred. It always has a source, usually in the early stages of life. Something must have happened in our environment—in the family, at school, in the community. Something that made us susceptible to this illness called hatred.
To confront it, we must go back to its beginnings. To the moment when a child or young person found themselves in a situation where no one defended them, protected them, or taught them how to cope with harm. It’s the environment that shapes a person, and if it is not built on peace, it creates space for hatred. Hatred often grows out of emptiness, resentment, and a sense of loss. A person who experiences pain at the hands of others, lacking the tools to understand it, builds a defense mechanism: they start believing that hatred will make them stronger.
Imagine a young Czesław Miłosz. He dreams of Western Europe, of Paris—and during a trip with friends, he reaches a bridge on the Swiss–French border. There he sees a sign: “No entry for Slavs, Gypsies, Jews.” Such a blow can trigger two reactions. One is to respond in kind: return home and put up a sign against the French or the Germans. But one can also react differently: do everything not to answer hostility with hostility. Yet to choose this path, one needs support—spiritual, moral, found in an authority or a community.
We encounter such “signs” even today—in a metaphorical sense—living in multicultural societies. We often, and unwittingly, hurt others with words or gestures. These are moments when we can take Miłosz’s path: to dedicate our life and work to opposing the philosophy of exclusion. But choosing this path means loneliness. As in the case of Miłosz, who in interwar Vilnius—governed by nationalists—was told that history did not belong to him.
The “signpost philosophy” always builds a fortress. It assumes one must close off, build walls, and cast outsiders in a bad light. It’s the feeling that strength comes from isolation. I have met people who build such fortresses. Today this is very visible in Ukraine. My Ukrainian friends wrote to me after February 24th: “I hate. That’s my state of mind.” I understand this. In the face of aggression, one builds defensive embankments, protects family and community. Perhaps a soldier needs hatred as a weapon—it gives determination and strength.
But the crucial question is about the boundary. Between the person who can treat hatred like a shield, then set it aside after the fight and return to normal life—and the person who becomes its captive. If you can put it down, hatred remains a temporary weapon. If you cannot, the illness takes control. Then hatred doesn’t end with the war—it begins to destroy life, relationships, one’s entire world.
How can we defend ourselves against hatred in today’s world?
Sometimes a person must build a fortress, but a fortress is not a natural environment for life. When a new generation arrives—our children—they will feel curiosity and the need to go out into the open world. Because a fortress, if accepted as a permanent home, becomes a prison—and everyone wants to escape from prison.
So the question is: if I build a bridge to the other side, risking my own shore and the possibility that an enemy may use it—am I acting against life?
Would it be better to stay on my side and live more safely, more comfortably? This is how supporters of extreme, xenophobic ideologies think: that it’s best to be only among one’s own. Except that in human nature such a scenario never proves life-giving. Sooner or later it leads to illness—xenophobia or hatred.
That’s why courage is always necessary. To resist hatred, we must cultivate inner strength to overcome our emotions. And yet we have a tendency to justify our hostility easily: we pick at resentments, repeat that someone wronged us. It feels comfortable to wear the skin of the victim, because then we are always ostensibly on the “good side.” But staying in the role of the victim also leads nowhere. It breeds weakness and fear—fear of opening up, of encountering the other.
What does this mean in practice? If I, as a Pole, am afraid to admit that in Jedwabne, during the Holocaust, a crime was committed against Jewish neighbors and I prefer to conceal this truth—where is my patriotism then? Where is my courage?
There is no courage in falsifying history. Courage is born when I can look into the eyes of those who were victims, when I do the work on myself. It is difficult, critical work of memory. If we want to build bridges with others, let’s start with ourselves. Let us ask: are there not painful places in our own history that we should work through—acknowledge, beat our breast, return the truth to others, or at least try to listen? Paradoxically, this does not weaken us—it makes us stronger.
On the doorstep of the house where Polish writer and philosopher Stanisław Vincenz once lived — Hutsul region, Ukraine.
Pop Culture Pure
How would you explain the shift from the immense openness toward Ukrainians in February 2022 to the current state, where some say that help was unappreciated or that newcomers “give nothing in return”? Is it fatigue, lack of courage, or something deeper in human nature?
What’s missing is something else. What’s very dangerous is what politicians often try to convince us of: that our attitude toward Ukrainians must be conditioned by interest. In my view, the spontaneous, magnificent reaction of people was simply a human reaction. No one asked then what we would get out of it. It was as Pope Francis said in Lampedusa about the Church: it should be like a field hospital.
It doesn’t matter what your faith, nationality, or skin color is—you simply serve a person in need. This is an absolute human duty. Without asking about interest, advantage, or profit.
If we step down from that level—and today many try to frame help for Ukrainians in terms of budgets, gains, or losses—we reduce the field hospital to a marketplace.
And that’s exactly what we see in the world. It used to be unthinkable that states would give weapons only in exchange for raw materials. Today this approach is part of the political mainstream. It’s a moral collapse.
Of course, rationality, logic, and common sense are needed—especially in politics and strategic decisions.
At the same time, we must act on a human level. Because we are Christians, Poles, Ukrainians, people. There are no narrow categories here. It’s not about nationality or religion, but about a human being in need.
The first wave of refugees from Ukraine made this very clear. I remember Viktoria Amelina [a Ukrainian writer who died in hospital on July 1, 2023, from injuries sustained during a Russian attack on Kramatorsk—ed.] in Krasnogruda telling me that at the border she felt treated better than refugees from other countries. She was privileged simply because she was Ukrainian. That shows the limit of our wonderful Polish–Ukrainian period of solidarity—right next to the Belarusian border, the symbol of non-solidarity.
When such selection creeps into our responses, we see a symptom of illness: our assistance and attitudes are no longer fully true or natural. It’s not about judging people—we’re all in the same boat; we all have oversights and limitations. But it’s also part of a great moral decline, a degradation we’re witnessing worldwide. It shows how much fear, anxiety, and uncertainty we harbor, and how little of the peace that children talk about. And how easily populist politics can lead us astray.
Why does hatred take root in us so easily? Is it politics, ideology, indoctrination (imposing certain ideas and beliefs on a person — Ed.)?
Or perhaps pop culture? And culture? How is it possible that in a democratic society we separated pop culture from culture—that pop culture is meant to reach people who “won’t understand” culture because it’s too difficult, not for them?
If we accept that conversations about values, morality, and understanding the other are intended only for those in that “other” culture and not for everyone, the tragedy begins.
The tragedy is that in a democracy we don’t trust people. We don’t believe they can make difficult decisions themselves, hold values, and take responsibility for them.
We persist in the belief that we must speak to people in a simplified way, otherwise they “won’t understand.” Politicians and the media often take this path. They create a “pop-cultural mush,” and we pay the price. We’ve created pop-cultural politics, pop-cultural politicians, and politics characterized by leveling down. It’s the result of our underestimating culture and failing to understand that conscience—our spiritual culture—is an obligation for everyone, without exception.
Szewczenko or Miłosz are for everyone, and with everyone we can talk about values, demand reflection, action, and responsibility. It’s like the wisdom of the Gospels—they are not reserved for the chosen. We have lost faith that this has anything to do with everyday life. Even people who consider themselves Christians often craft their own “life-gospel,” at odds with the true Gospel, while politicians offer a discourse full of xenophobia and hatred.
Here lies a serious neglect, for which we are now paying the price. A vast arrogance and paternalism that we have allowed to speak. As a result, we’ve lost many citizens—people who felt utterly marginalized not only in terms of material well-being but also in terms of trust and co-responsibility for the world’s affairs. Pushed aside and often stigmatized as xenophobes.
I never use such labels for anyone. Because when you call someone a chauvinist or a xenophobe, you put them against a wall. You strip them of the ability to move—and thus the chance to change. Culture should provide space and time for us to change, learn, and mature. That’s what our culture often lacks: patience for process, the understanding that change takes time.
The history we come from, and the new tragic circumstances, place demands on us that often exceed our strength. Sometimes we are too weak to bear them. But does that mean we are immediately bad—and forever? Perhaps we can still be partners—for conversation, for cooperation, for living together—even if we handle our emotions differently.
We are very good at cornering people. “You are this—period.” Meanwhile, we should learn to understand ourselves and others, to transcend our own limitations, to practice the art of dialogue—because only then is true transformation possible.
You speak of empathy, which was so visible at the beginning. But haven’t you noticed that today the word “neighbors” has practically disappeared from the media when we speak about Ukrainians?
“Neighborhood” is a good word, isn’t it? A neighbor is already part of our life. And if we drive them out, a feeling arises… that there is no threat, and no need for effort or even sacrifice, because a neighbor demands more from me.
A neighbor is someone you can rightly offer hospitality to, someone you can share with, someone you coexist with and share responsibility for something with. Simply by existing, a neighbor touches deeply rooted values in us—and puts them to the test.
If we succumb to confrontational, hateful ideology, we push out words like “neighborhood,” “kinship,” “the common good.”
I won’t even dwell on the fact that politicians try to convince us that it’s in our interest to cut ourselves off from Ukraine—which is absurd, because Ukraine provides us with security. If we were rational and sober about what is truly good for us, we should do everything to make our neighborhood as deep and as close as possible.
Anna Łazar, Yuri Andrukhovych and Krzysztof Czyżewski. Private Archive
Meanwhile, we allow ourselves to be ruled by what is irrational or aimed at short-term effects (which amounts to the same). We let weakness work within us and perceive threats where they do not truly exist.
I would also like to address Ukrainians—to understand that sometimes it’s not worth attaching too much importance to these momentary crises—just as in the life of an individual, so in a collective body we sometimes succumb to weakness, and politicians draw out the worst in us. We should not believe that this is a permanent state, nor should we immediately put Poles against the wall, assuming that “this is how they are now.”
Of course, we should set standards for ourselves—now I’m speaking about Poles in the context of the situation in Ukraine. But at the same time, it is worth giving ourselves a chance to change: to be more understanding, more empathetic, to trust that change is possible. I also don’t attach excessive importance to momentary gusts in social media—those winds change very quickly.
I would rather focus on long-term, grassroots, organic building—creating things that won’t bear fruit today but will do so in a few years. Because trust has extraordinary power. If I, Ms. Olga, believe that even if you (purely hypothetically) feel prejudice, resentment, or hatred toward me, it won’t be forever—and I don’t close myself off to our mutual presence—and if I believe our relationship can change—then you will not remain indifferent to that. You will sense in me not an enemy, but a person open to change. That is precisely what releases positive energy between us.
Sometimes it demands more of us than we could realistically expect—greater generosity than daily life calls for. And that’s what builds a person, gives extraordinary strength. For me, beauty lies in the Ukrainian word peremoha. When I travel the world, I always urge people to learn it not in translation (“victory”) but in its Ukrainian meaning.
Peremohty, mohty—it means the ability to act beyond one’s own capacities. Even if we have limitations, traumas, weaknesses, there is such a thing as peremohty: to be able to do more than we can. And that is true victory.
To achieve this, we must extend ourselves a credit of trust, create good energies that allow us to do more than we believe possible. Two years ago our borders opened, solidarity emerged, and suddenly we were able to show a better face—better than before, in the context of the Belarusian border. Even those who previously stood for radical confrontation and closing the border to refugees could not silence their own consciences in the face of need—children in the Białowieża Forest who needed a simple glass of water. You can’t calm your conscience that way. Ideological arguments aren’t enough.
And suddenly Ukrainians appeared, toward whom we could be entirely different. It was a moment when we became better than ourselves, though such moments never last long. Our wisdom should lie in knowing how to appeal to what is best in us, building on that, and not giving up the work of maturing into those values.
There Are More People of Good Will
After the president vetoed the law on assistance for Ukrainian mothers and as a wave of hatred grew, one of my colleagues asked: what should I do now? Where should I go? I chose to stay in Poland, and I don’t know what I should feel or how to live, if I’m even afraid to speak Ukrainian with my child on the street.
For a moment I thought that it’s increasingly difficult today to advise your colleague where she might go to be better off. There are fewer and fewer such places in the world. Of course, that is no excuse for what’s happening in our country. But it is one of those painful lessons we receive from the modern world. I return to the idea that we are part of communicating vessels. What happens here is interdependent with other places in the world, and we often struggle to cope with that.
Let’s have no illusions: we live in an era of moral decline, a degradation of humanism.
Of course, I would like people like the one you describe to remain in Poland—because we need them. I don’t mean this in terms of budget revenue, though that’s obvious. That’s not the logic I’m using. These people are needed so that we can grow into the maturity demanded of us by the situation in the world—and so that we have a chance to change our own attitudes. Your colleague, experiencing intolerance in Poland yet still engaging in building good neighborliness, has a chance to be part of a process of change—one that won’t happen overnight and will surely bring her suffering, but in the long run it carries hope.
Because in this process there is strength and potential—we change the world where we are, not by endlessly fleeing elsewhere.
My philosophy largely rests on changing the world from within. There is a growing temptation to flee from various environments, institutions, religions, or countries because something seems unbearable or contrary to our beliefs. But that’s escape. Then we become perpetual nomads.
The answer is to stay, to find a room, to take root, and to work—with an understanding of all the conditions that come with it. Such rootedness is not the same as returning to a lost place (though may such returns be possible). It is staying within a new situation and learning it mutually—this gives a chance for growth.
A second reflection is that there are more of us than we think: us, people of good will. We live in a world that often minimizes our presence because it amplifies drama, conflict, pain, and injustice. The voice of harm reaches the media; it is harder to express good and positive emotions. This is also my work: to help people give voice to the good emotions that, I believe, dwell in everyone—even in those who hate deeply. In everyone there is a spark of a need to do something good. The problem is often how to do it, how to give it form.
We lack holidays, language, and culture for this—and politics even more so—because we live in a world where harm, pain, and hatred are easy to express. Sometimes it’s about a wise perspective: perhaps there are more of us than it seems; perhaps the politician who has won and seems monstrous does not, in fact, have all our votes.
Where is that other half of Poland? It exists—and there are ways to reach it. It’s difficult, but it gives hope.
I’ve lived in Poland for 10 years, and I’ve heard from various people that humans are inherently good—which I never heard in Ukraine. Two Poles also told me that even if people do something bad, they later regret it.
What I’m talking about is close to what I earlier called the spark of good in every person—something hard to bring out. I speak of it because it was passed on to me by people who went through real hell. Starting with Miłosz, who survived two world wars; with Holocaust survivors; with Bosnian Muslims whose relatives lie buried in Srebrenica. They could have said that the world is evil, that our actions are meaningless in the face of the destructive forces of dictatorial regimes, that building bridges is weak against military and ideological violence. And yet it was precisely they who taught me not to lose faith in the good—in that small light present in every person, regardless of which “side” they are on.
They taught me that it’s worth working to help others and ourselves—to free the good within us, to find words and time so that our conscience can be spoken, not stifled. And despite the “sober skeptics,” whose voice I respect, and despite having witnessed the core of darkness revealed by wars, I stand with my teachers, who allowed themselves neither nihilism nor agreement that good in this world is doomed to defeat.
Because if they weren’t right, would we be able to have this conversation at all, Ms. Olga?
On August 25, the President of Poland announced a veto of the government bill that was meant to regulate protection and support for families fleeing the war. This decision, and the language that accompanied it – promises to make aid for children conditional on their parent’s employment, prolonging the path to citizenship, reigniting historical disputes – is not a matter of mood, but of cold political calculation.
It strikes at Ukrainian refugee women, at their children, at the elderly and the sick; it also strikes at our schools, doctors, and local governments. Instead of certainty, it brings fear; instead of calm, it threatens family separations, secondary migration, and the erosion of trust in the Polish state.
Imagine that you are the ones at war defending your homeland – and a neighboring country treats your wives, mothers, and daughters as hostages of politics.
After the President’s decision, thousands of homes across Poland were filled with shock, bitterness, and a sense of betrayal. Mothers who fled with children and sick parents from cities and villages turned to rubble now ask themselves: where are we supposed to flee next? Women who chose Poland out of love and trust now feel that this love has not been reciprocated.
A child is not a lifeless entry in a statute, and the aid granted to that child cannot be used as leverage against their mother. Solidarity is not seasonal, it is not a trend. If it is true in March, it must also be true in August. Memory is not a cudgel. A state that, instead of healing the wounds of history, reaches for easy symbols does not build community. A state cannot be a street theater. A serious state chooses responsibility, not political spectacle: procedures, clear communication, protection of the most vulnerable.
We, Polish women – mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, and grandmothers – say it plainly: no one has the right to impose conditions, in our name, on women fleeing war. We will not accept the pain and suffering of people in need of our support being turned into fuel for political disputes. We will not allow the destruction of the trust on which community stands. This is a matter of national interest and of our common conscience. It is bridges – not walls – that turn neighbors into allies, and it is predictable and just law, together with the language of respect, that strengthens Poland’s security more than populist shouting from the podium.
Europe – and therefore we as well – has committed to continuity of protection for civilians fleeing aggression. It is our duty to keep that word. This means one thing: to confirm publicly, clearly, and without ambiguity that the families who trusted Poland will not wake up tomorrow in a legal vacuum; that no child will be punished because their parent does not have employment; that the language of power will not divide people into “ours” and “others.” For a child and their single mother, the law must be a shield, not a tool of coercion into loyalty and obedience. Politics must be service, not spectacle.
We call on you, who make the law and represent the Republic, to restore certainty of protection and to reject words that stigmatize instead of protect. Let the law serve people, not political games. Let Poland remain a home where a mother does not have to ask: “Where to now?” – because the answer will always be: “Stay in a country that keeps its word.”
This is not a dispute over legal technicalities. It is a question of the face of the Republic. Will it be a state of the word that is kept – or a state of words thrown to the wind? Will we stand on the side of mothers and children – or on the side of fear?
Signed: Polish women – mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, grandmothers.
As of today, the letter has been endorsed by over two thousand women from across Poland — among them three former First Ladies of the Republic of Poland, Nobel Prize laureate Olga Tokarczuk, and internationally acclaimed filmmaker Agnieszka Holland. Their voices stand alongside those of hundreds of other women — mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers — who have chosen to sign as a gesture of solidarity and moral responsibility.
The full list of signatories is available at the link below:
<frame>"More knowledge, less fear" is the slogan of our new publication series. Safety is based on facts, verified information, and solid arguments. The more we know, the better we will be prepared for the future. <frame>
Is Poland ready for a crisis? In an era of geopolitical uncertainty, the war in Ukraine, and rising tensions across Europe, education and societal organisation are crucial. By welcoming over a million Ukrainian refugees, Poland has not only gained new residents but also unique knowledge and experience from people who have learned civil protection under the harshest conditions—under bombs and rocket fire. This is capital that must not be wasted.
The new law on civil protection and civil defence, in force since January 1, is a concrete response to real threats. At the same time, it offers an opportunity for deeper integration, allowing Poles and Ukrainians living in Poland to prepare together for crises.
Poland has learned from the tragic events of recent years. The new law emphasises three key areas: modernising and constructing shelters and hiding places, improving alarm and notification systems, and launching widespread civic education to ensure every citizen has basic knowledge of how to act during a crisis. The context of the war in Ukraine makes this even more urgent.
Many Ukrainians living in Poland have priceless experience in civil protection - whether as survivors, organisers, or leaders of evacuation and shelter operations.
This is an opportunity Poland must not miss. When war strikes, no system is ever fully ready. What matters then is how effectively we can use what we already have.
What can serve as a shelter? A practical approach to civil protection begins with this question. Knowledge—that is our first "shelter"!
April 19, 2024 - Children entering a bomb shelter at the Perspectiva Gymnasium in Novovasylivka, Zaporizhzhia region, where classes are held in a hybrid format. Photo: Ukrinform/East News/Dmytro Smolienko
According to the new law, every basement, underground garage, or tunnel can serve as a hiding place. It’s worth taking a moment to look around and ask yourself, "What would I do in case of danger?"
It’s better to know in advance than to scramble during chaos.
Here, the experience of Ukrainians in Poland becomes invaluable. Those who have survived bomb alerts can share practical knowledge with Poles, including how to organise life in shelters, secure water and food supplies, address the psychological aspects of survival, and utilise mobile alert apps that have become critical tools in Ukraine. This is not theory. These are real-life experiences from people who face the consequences of war every single day. Their testimony is more valuable than any textbook could be.
Education in this field is the key to safety. Poland must harness the knowledge of Ukrainians and launch a wide educational campaign as soon as possible. According to the new law, local governments and fire services will play a central role in civil protection. However, in practice, the system will only function effectively if hundreds of thousands of people are involved.
Ukrainians who have faced real threats can become instructors, educators, and leaders of this change. NGOS are already playing a significant role in organising training for both Ukrainians and Poles.
This will benefit everyone. Polish municipalities urgently need practitioners who understand the realities of crises.
Every citizen on the front lines.
The new law places local governments in charge of implementing the civil protection system, meaning the battle for the effectiveness of this law will be fought where Poles and Ukrainians live nearby. It is essential to acknowledge that women played a vital role in Ukraine’s civil protection efforts, from rescue workers and volunteers to leaders of humanitarian organisations. They ensured survival amid chaos.
In Poland, too, women can become the driving force behind such changes, joining local governments, NGOS, and educational teams.
Is Poland ready for a crisis and civil protection?
Poland is better prepared today than it was a few years ago. The new law represents a significant step forward, but infrastructure alone will not be sufficient.
What will truly matter is the genuine engagement of citizens in education and crisis response, the effective application of Ukrainian experience, and practical cooperation among local governments, NGOS, and the central government.
Today, Poland is in a better situation than a few years ago. The new law is an important step, but one infrastructure is not enough. The real involvement of citizens in training and the elimination of the consequences of emergencies, the wise use of Ukrainians' experience and effective cooperation between local governments, organizations and the government will be crucial.
April 1, 2024 – Zaporizhzhia. Two workers in a new modular underground bomb shelter for 100 people, being built in the courtyard of a five-story residential building damaged by a Russian S-300 missile on October 6, 2022, now under repair. Photo: Ukrinform/East News/Dmytro Smolienko
This isn’t a Hollywood disaster movie scenario. It’s reality—a reality we must understand and prepare for. In the 21st century, security isn’t just about armies; it’s about conscious, organised societies. And building them starts with education—education based on facts, not fearmongering.
Security is our shared responsibility.
It’s not just the domain of the state. It’s not something the government can "provide" like a service. It’s something we build and give to each other. Of course, institutions, regulations, alarm systems, and shelters are vital. But what truly determines survival during a crisis is people—their relationships, willingness to help, ability to act under stress, and the awareness that, in challenging moments, we are not alone. Every one of us is part of the security system—from the teacher who teaches first aid, to the neighbour who knows the nearest shelter location, to the volunteer who helps newly arrived refugees adjust to a new reality.
The strength of a nation lies in the strength of its society—and society is strong when its members know they can count on one another.
In the past, those who realised that the best defence wasn’t walls or bunkers, but well-prepared, united people, were the ones who prevailed. In Ukraine, social mobilisation saved thousands of lives. In Poland, we have a chance to learn from this experience before a crisis forces us to.
Three years of war is, without exaggeration, a true struggle for all nations. Some are ready to stand side by side with Ukraine until victory, some have begun to momentarily doubt what to do next, and some have completely lost faith. Yet there are those who never cease to do good for the benefit of Ukraine and the entire free world. Thousands of Ukrainian and Polish women make invaluable contributions to the triumph of democracy every day. Despite the exhaustion of three years of war, they continue their relentless work for the sake of a brighter future. And we, the international magazine Sestry.eu, tell the stories of these incredible women who change the world for the better every day.
In 2024, the editorial team of Sestry.eu established a special award, «Portraits of sisterhood», to honour women who, through their active civic stance and willingness to sacrifice, do everything possible to help those who need it most.
This year, the award ceremony will take place on March 4th 2025 in Warsaw. The Honourable Chapter has selected 12 nominees. From these, the laureates of the «Portraits of sisterhood» award will be chosen - a Ukrainian and a Polish woman as the embodiment of close mutual support and cooperation in Polish-Ukrainian dialogue, as well as an example of true sisterhood.
Honourable committee of the «Portraits of sisterhood» award:
Dominika Kulczyk, entrepreneur, President of the Kulczyk Foundation
Agnieszka Holland, Polish film director
Kateryna Bodnar, wife of the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of Ukraine to the Republic of Poland
Natalka Panchenko, leader of «Euromaidan-Warsaw», chairperson of the Stand with Ukraine Foundation
Adriana Porowska, Minister for Civil Society Affairs
Myroslava Keryk, President of the Board of the «Ukrainian House» Foundation, Warsaw
Myroslava Gongadze, head of broadcasting for Voice of America in Eastern Europe
Bianka Zalewska, Polish journalist
Elwira Niewiera, Polish film director
Kateryna Glazkova, Executive Director of the Union of Ukrainian Entrepreneurs
Joanna Mosiej, Editor in Chief of Sestry.eu
Maria Górska, Editor in Chief of Sława TV
Nominees for the «Portraits of sisterhood» Award, Poland:
Agnieszka Zach, Polish volunteer
Photo: Agnieszka Rodowicz
Before the full-scale war in Ukraine, Agnieszka Zach worked as a guide in Poland’s largest nature reserve - Biebrza National Park. She was raising four children and building a house. On February 24th 2022, her life changed drastically. She decided to dedicate herself to helping Ukrainians. In one of her homes, she sheltered women with children fleeing the war. Later, she began travelling to Ukraine as a volunteer. For nearly three years, Agnieszka has been delivering humanitarian aid to the military on the frontlines. Regardless of the weather conditions, she walks barefoot - earning her the nicknames «Barefoot» or «Witch».
Anna Lazar, curator, art historian, translator
Photo: Private archive
Anna Lazar is a Polish curator, art historian, literary translator, and public figure who has been building cultural bridges between Poland and Ukraine for many years. She is a member of the Women’s Archive of the Institute of Literary Research of the Polish Academy of Sciences and the Polish section of AICA. She graduated in Ukrainian and Polish philology, as well as in art history, from the University of Warsaw. For seven years, she served as Deputy Director of the Polish Institute in Kyiv. In her interdisciplinary projects, Lazar combines contemporary art with historical and social reflection. Her translation portfolio includes both classical and modern works of Ukrainian literature.
Anna is also engaged in voluntary work. Her activities bring together artists, writers, and thinkers from both countries, broadening the context of Ukrainian culture.
Monika Andruszewska, war correspondent and volunteer
Photo: private archive
Polish war correspondent and volunteer Monika Andruszewska has lived in Ukraine since the Revolution of Dignity. In 2014, she joined volunteers travelling to eastern Ukraine. In her reports, she actively covered everything that was happening on the frontline. She witnessed combat operations in the Donetsk airport area. When the full-scale war began, Monika Andruszewska risked her life to evacuate 30 Ukrainians from under shelling in Irpin, near Kyiv.
Monika is now actively involved in voluntary work and, in collaboration with the Lemkin Centre (Warsaw), is collecting evidence of Russian war crimes in Ukraine. For her achievements, she has been awarded Poland’s Gold Cross of Merit, the Stand With Ukraine Awards, and the Polish Journalists Association award for her report «Bierz ciało, póki dają» (from Polish: «Take the body while they are still giving it»), dedicated to Ukrainian mothers searching for their sons who have gone missing in the war.
Anna Dąbrowska, president of the Homo Faber association
Photo: private archive
Anna Dąbrowska is the President of the Lublin-based Homo Faber association and Co-Chair of the Migration Consortium. She works on issues concerning the impact of migration on local communities and develops integration policies at the city level. She is also a co-founder of «Baobab» - a social meeting space for communities in Lublin.
Olga Piasecka-Nieć - psychologist, president of the «Kocham Dębniki» foundation
Photo: private archive
Founder and President of the «Kocham Dębniki» («I Love Dębniki») foundation. Today, the foundation supports over 1300 Ukrainian families. In February 2022, she put her life and career on hold to stand with Ukrainian women and families seeking refuge from the war in Poland.
Olga strives to help Ukrainian women and their children rebuild their shattered lives. She believes that the ability to turn crisis into strength and growth depends on a supportive environment and community: «What I actively aspire to achieve is for this experience to be passed on. And it is happening! Women returning to Ukraine take with them what they have learned here and incorporate it into their lives. They build new communities around them, using the knowledge they have gained here».
Anna Suśka-Jakubowska
Photo: private archive
Since 2013, Anna Jakubowska has worked at the Camillian Mission for Social Assistance, coordinating a project to prepare apartments for the homeless. Following the outbreak of the full-scale invasion, she was responsible for temporary accommodation for refugees at the social boarding house «Saint Lazarus» and helped refugee families settle into rented flats.
Nominees for the «Portraits of sisterhood» Award, Ukraine:
Yuliia «Taira» Paievska - servicewoman, paramedic
Photo: private archive
Yuliia Paievska, known by the callsign «Taira», provided medical aid to participants of the Revolution of Dignity. As the leader of the volunteer paramedic unit «Taira’s Angels», she conducted tactical medical training on the frontline from 2014 to 2018. On March 16th 2022, during the defence of Mariupol, she was captured by Russian forces and was released on June 17th 2022.
In 2023, Yuliia Paievska became a laureate of the International Women of Courage award. The US State Department honoured her with the title of «The World’s Bravest Woman». Additionally, she received an award at the «Invictus Games» in Germany. She has been decorated with the President of Ukraine’s distinction «For Humanitarian Participation in the Anti-Terrorist Operation» and the «People’s Hero of Ukraine» order. Currently, Taira has joined the 13th Brigade of the National Guard of Ukraine, «Khartia».
Olena Apchel - film director, servicewoman
Photo: private archive
Olena Apchel is a theatre scholar, director and volunteer. She actively participated in the Revolution of Dignity - both at the Kyiv and Kharkiv Maidans. From 2021 to 2022, she headed the social programmes department at Warsaw’s «Nowy Teatr». During this time, she became one of the active members of the Ukrainian volunteer community in Poland. In the Autumn of 2022, she moved to Berlin, where she worked as co-director of Theatertreffen, the largest theatre festival in the German-speaking world.
After three years abroad, Olena Apchel returned to Ukraine. In May 2024, she joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine.
Mariana Mamonova - former Kremlin captive, psychotherapist, founder of a charity foundation
Photo: private archive
Mariana Mamonova joined the military in 2018, where she met her future husband, a National Guard service member. In the spring of 2022, the military medic was captured while three months pregnant. She was exchanged just three days before giving birth.
Following her release, Mamonova founded a charity foundation to assist women who have survived Russian captivity. Helping these women has become not just her job but her life's mission: «The goal of our foundation is to support women who have endured captivity. To help them rehabilitate - mentally, physically, and spiritually». The foundation also provides assistance to pregnant wives of service members, pregnant veterans, and pregnant women who have lost their husbands in the war.
Olga Rudnieva - CEO of Superhumans Center
Photo: private archive
Olga Rudnieva is the CEO and co-founder of the Superhumans Center, a clinic providing psychological assistance, prosthetics, reconstructive surgery, and rehabilitation for people affected by war. From the first days of the war, she led the largest logistics hub in Europe - HelpUkraine Center, created in partnership with Nova Poshta, Rozetka, and the TIS terminal.
From 2004 to August 2022, she served as the director of the Olena Pinchuk Foundation and was the coordinator of the sexual education space, Dialog Hub. She is also a co-founder of Veteran Hub, a centre providing comprehensive services for veterans.
Under Olga’s leadership, some of the most extensive media campaigns and charitable concerts have taken place, including performances by Elton John, Queen, and Paul McCartney. Over the past seven years, she has consistently been listed among Ukraine’s most successful women by NV and Ukrainska Pravda. In 2024, Olga was included in the BBC’s Top 100 Women of the Year.
Oleksandra Mezinova - director and founder of the «Sirius» animal shelter
Photo: private archive
Oleksandra Mezinova manages the «Sirius» shelter in Fedorivka, near Kyiv. Before the war, it was home to 3500 animals. Currently, the shelter houses just over 3200 - despite military personnel and volunteers constantly bringing in rescued cats, dogs, and other animals. Each month, the shelter takes in around 50 to 60 animals, many from frontline areas and combat zones. The shelter is involved in rescuing, treating, sterilising, and rehoming animals, as well as conducting educational and awareness-raising work. Additionally, «Sirius» supports low-income pet owners, mini-shelters, and their caretakers, who are often elderly people.
This year, the shelter marks its 25th anniversary. Over this time, more than 13 thousand animals have been rescued, with over 10 thousand finding loving homes. In 2023, «Sirius» received the honorary award «Choice of the Country». In 2022, its founder, Oleksandra Mezinova, was awarded the Order of Princess Olga.
Liudmyla Huseinova - human rights defender, head of the NGO «Numo, Sestry!»
Photo: Sasha Maslov
Since the beginning of the occupation, from 2014 to her arrest in 2019, Liudmyla Huseinova cared for children from a disbanded orphanage in the occupied Novoazovsk district. She brought them clothes, as well as Ukrainian books and postcards from free Ukrainian territory. She also assisted Ukrainian soldiers defending Mariupol at the time. She received a signed Ukrainian flag from them, which she managed to smuggle into the occupied territory and hide. The flag was not discovered during a search and remains hidden to this day.
Following her arrest in 2019, she was taken to «Isolation» and later transferred to the Donetsk detention centre. On October 17th 2022, Huseinova was released as part of a «women’s exchange». She now focuses on defending the rights of those affected by conflict-related sexual violence, former civilian prisoners, and supporting women who are still in captivity or under occupation. On 6 December, she founded and took leadership of the NGO «Numo, Sestry!», which unites women who have survived captivity, conflict-related sexual violence, torture, and other consequences of Russia’s war against Ukraine.
Partners of the «Portraits of sisterhood» award:
Ambasada Ukrainy w Rzeczpospolitej Polskiej
Patronat Honorowy Prezydenta Miasta Sopot
Kulczyk Foundation
Przemysław Krych
Ulatowski Family Foundation
Federacja Przedsiębiorców Polskich
Fundacja PKO BP
Foundation Kredo
Fundacja Edukacja dla Demokracji
Polsko-Amerykańska Fundacja Wolności
Wspieramy Ukrainę
Żabka
YES
Nova Post
TVP Info
Biełsat TV
PAP
Onet
Espreso TV
NV.ua
New Eastern Europe
СУП
We also encourage our readers to take part in the voting and choose the leader who deserves the special «Portraits of sisterhood» Readers' Award. To vote, simply follow this link. Voting will be open until February 22nd 2025.
Croatians have warmly welcomed Ukrainians since the very first days of the full-scale war. According to official data, the country has taken in approximately 30 thousand Ukrainian refugees. Stress, language barriers, and lack of employment are just some of the challenges faced in a new country. In July 2022, several proactive Ukrainian women, who had overcome the tough path of adaptation themselves, decided to unite for a good cause. They established an organisation for their fellow countrymen called «Svoja», which has been actively helping those in need for three years now.
Iryna Pronenko: «I could not comprehend that war could happen twice in my life»
I come from Luhansk. I studied there, graduated from the Faculty of Psychology, and managed to work in my profession before 2014. As soon as the war began, my future husband and I left the city. We never wanted to live under Russian rule. In Luhansk, we left two apartments and all our belongings behind, embarking on a new life in Kharkiv. We invested our earnings in professional development and education because the situation in 2014 demonstrated that those with knowledge and experience had a better chance of finding employment. It took us eight years to build a new life and make something out of ourselves. By the time of the full-scale war, I was a managing partner of an HR consulting agency, and my husband had a psychological counselling practice. However, like in 2014, the war caught up with us again. In mid-March 2022, we decided to leave. Due to my husband’s disability, we both went abroad.
Iryna Pronenko: «The situation in 2014 showed that those with knowledge and experience had a better chance of finding employment». Photo: Private archive
We chose Montenegro, not knowing that fate would decide otherwise. Our route passed through Hungary and Serbia. However, when boarding a bus to Belgrade, the driver refused to let us on with our cat. We started looking for another way to get to Montenegro, and it led us through Zagreb. At that point, we had been on the road for five days.
We arrived in Zagreb on 17 March 2022. Perhaps due to exhaustion and the sense of peace, we decided to stay there.
On Facebook, I found a group helping Ukrainians in Croatia. I wrote that a couple with a cat was looking for accommodation. That same day, we received a reply: «We would be happy to host you»
Within a few days, I saw a social media announcement about free Croatian language courses. Over the next month and a half, I studied. Finding a job in Croatia was not easy, but I continued working remotely in Ukraine. Eventually, I met the head of the «Svoja» organisation, offered my help, and got involved in volunteering.
Iryna Pronenko at Croatian language courses. Photo: Private archive
I still help Ukrainians in Croatia with career counselling, setting up businesses, and job searches - such as writing CVs and preparing for interviews. Before us, no one else was doing this. With my beginner-level Croatian, I accompanied people to interviews. Later, when the association won a grant and began receiving funding, I was employed there as a specialist in employment and career consulting.
When the full-scale invasion began, I could not comprehend that war could happen twice in my life. There was an inner protest when you think, how many times must I start over?
In Croatia, it so happened that we created our own job. Its results are evident. Over two years, we have employed more than 500 people. For now, I do not plan to return to Ukraine - and I have nowhere to return to.
Tetyana Chernyshova: «It is very important to feel that you are not alone»
We are from Kyiv and, like many others, thought that the war would not last long - at most, three days. I remember sitting in the bomb shelter with my children. We have three. At that time, one daughter was eight years old, the other six. Our eldest was no longer living with us.
Tetyana Chernyshova’s daughters in a bomb shelter during the shelling of Kyiv. Photo: Private archive
On the second day of the full-scale war, my husband said: «We are leaving. You have half an hour to pack. Whatever you take is yours. We are heading to Western Ukraine». We had a huge argument because I thought it was inappropriate and unnecessary to leave home. I took documents, money, some belongings, and underwear for three days. For some reason, I was convinced that we would return within a week.
On the way, along the Zhytomyr highway, we saw a lot of military equipment. Missiles were being shot down overhead. The children asked: «Why are there fireworks during the day? You cannot even see them». From Kyiv to Zhytomyr, it took us about seven hours. The next day, we heard horrifying news that cars were burning on the Zhytomyr highway and that there were Russian tanks there. We reached the Slovakian border. We managed to find a place to stay in a student dormitory. A few days later, we decided to go abroad with the children. Friends invited us to Zagreb, Croatia. My husband stayed behind, and I went with the children to the pedestrian border crossing. In a queue over seven kilometres long, we stood for 12 hours.
After crossing the border, I panicked. My mind was in chaos. I called the woman who had invited us to Croatia. She fully coordinated us. The next day, we travelled by train to Budapest and from there to Zagreb. And again, we thought we would stay for a week at most - and then return home. However, on March 8th, our house near Kyiv was destroyed by an enemy projectile. It was a direct hit. All that was left of the house was a pile of rubble. That was the moment I understood the gravity of the situation. At first, I was like an animal trapped in a cage. Only later did I start going outside, exploring where the shops and hospitals were.
The children were very well received at the local school. Simultaneously, they studied online in Ukraine. One daughter immediately integrated into the group, while the other struggled. She cried every day and said: «Mum, I do not want to go to school. I do not understand what they are saying. They hug me, and I do not want to hug them».
Tetyana Chernyshova with her daughters. Photo: Private archive
Croatians are a kind and empathetic nation. They sympathised with us greatly because 30 years ago, they also experienced war and understand what it is like. I worked online as a lecturer in therapeutic physical education at Shevchenko University. However, we were eventually told that it was impossible to conduct lessons from abroad. I had to resign. Until I learned the Croatian language, I worked wherever I could - cleaning floors and toilets, babysitting. In March 2022, I accidentally met a Ukrainian woman named Nataliya, and later, we founded our association «Svoja». We decided to provide informational support to Ukrainians who found themselves displaced by the war.
When you are in a foreign country and do not know your rights, anything can happen. For example, there were cases where people were deceived about their wages at work
Today, I work as a waitress in a café near my home and my children’s school, and I volunteer at «Svoja». From my own experience, I know that people arriving in a new place often do not know where to start or how to proceed. As for my adaptation, I have learned the language and gained some understanding of how to survive here. However, I still feel like a stranger in a foreign country.
Nataliya Hryshchenko, Head of the Ukrainian Association in Croatia: «For us, «Svoja» is one of our own»
We established «Svoja» in July 2022. At that time, it was not easy for anyone who had found temporary refuge in Croatia. We lived without unpacking our suitcases, waiting to return home the next day. Unfortunately, that did not happen. So, we decided to create our own community called «Svoja». To gain people’s trust, it was necessary to officially register the organisation. We were fortunate to meet the «Solidarna» Foundation, which supported us both legally and financially. They provided us with our first grant, registered a fund to support Ukrainians, and acted as our mentors.
Nataliya Hryshchenko: «We managed to create a community of Ukrainians who use our services». Photo: Private archive
Today, our core team consists of four people brought together by chance. Each of us has our own area of focus. We managed to build a community of Ukrainians who use our services, comprising over three and a half thousand people.
It is very important to feel that you are not alone. By helping others, we help ourselves cope with the pain that the war inflicts on all of us
First and foremost, we provide informational support. Our main focus areas are employment and education. We collaborate with the local employment fund. We have a database of people who contact us and respond to their requests quickly. There is no bureaucracy with us. We work with over 70 employers who provide us with job openings. We also cooperate with legal firms that support refugees. Additionally, we assist Ukrainians in validating their diplomas. The number of people seeking our services grows every year. People want to work in their professions and receive fair pay.
During a meeting at «Svoja». Photo: Private archive
We also work in the field of human rights protection. We collaborate with the Ombudsman of the Republic of Croatia and have even had to seek their assistance. For example, 20 kilometres from Zagreb, there is a settlement of Ukrainians where there was no family doctor after the previous one resigned. This is a significant issue for Croatia, which lacks two thousand doctors. We wrote a collective appeal to the Ombudsman, who addressed the issue through the Ministry of Health.
Additionally, we organise language courses. So far, over 200 people have completed our programmes. From January 2025, we plan to introduce a Croatian language course specifically for medical professionals. We have also established an IT community that offers training sessions. Currently, we are running a course on artificial intelligence. Moreover, we provide regular psychological support lectures.
There are requests for psychological, physical, and even material support. Recently, we collected items and food for people who had just arrived from Ukraine. Their numbers continue to grow. Last year, according to official data, there were 22,900 Ukrainians in Croatia; by 2024, this number had risen to over 27 thousand.
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