I am the author of the Goodacity blog, a journalist, and a translator. For 16 years, I have worked in professional journalism, contributing to regional and national publications, both in print and online media. I have written reports, conducted interviews, reviews, articles on cultural, social, and charitable topics, as well as materials in the style of "solution journalism" and communication materials.
My focus is on creating interesting and exclusive content. Journalism, to me, is primarily about human stories, to which I always find the key, empathize with the people I write about, and love all my heroes. Journalism, to me, means telling people about what truly matters to them, informing and inspiring them. It is not just a job, but a way of life, just like for all those who dream, create, and are inspired by it.
So, if you are looking for stories that inspire and motivate, that instill faith and help find meaning while believing in goodness, read my stories on the Goodacity website.
I am a manager of cultural affairs and a project manager with over 14 years of experience at United Thinkers. I have participated in the organization of numerous successful social and charitable projects and have implemented informational campaigns and communication cases.
As a marketing manager, I have been involved in organizing marketing and sociological research, working with media and partners, developing advertising and marketing strategies, as well as planning and implementing advertising campaigns.
I believe in the power of goodness and I am happy that as part of the Goodacity project, I can contribute to its expansion. I believe in the power of words and in the fact that communication can help make the world a better place. I know how, where and when to speak in order to be heard. And when you are heard, you can change the world!
The Confession of a Woman Who Escaped an Occupied City
This is the confession-story of a woman, along with her children, who left the territory occupied by the Russians and moved to a safe place, but… “You can’t escape the war,” says Mrs. Tetyana (name changed for security reasons). Her elderly parents remained in the temporarily occupied territory of Berdyansk, Ukraine, who flatly refused to leave.
“I wait every day for a call from my family, even just a short message from them, just two words: alive and well,” the woman shares her pain. “I smile at friends while chatting in messengers. I’m an optimist for them. It’s good that no one knows what’s inside me… You know, I’ll be honest – I thought long and hard, hesitated, whether to share my story at all.
I decided – it’s necessary! It’s necessary for people to know about the horror that’s happening in the territories captured by the enemy. So that they don’t forget about the people there. Because from my own experience, I know how terrible life in occupation is. It’s like being in captivity. Worse and more frightening than in prison…”.
"Life in occupation is terrifying. If I hadn't left the city – I don't know what would have become of me…"
Mrs. Tetyana escaped life under occupation and is now in Poland with her children. There, she actively volunteers, sending shipments of trench candles, medicines, and treats to our defenders in Ukraine.
“When I first arrived here, I initially didn’t want to talk to anyone or do anything… But now I’ve found such a fighting spirit – I’m ready to move mountains just to help our guys!” she says with a smile. “I understand that the more I donate, the more I help, the closer our victory will be, and the sooner I can return home… And oh, how I want to go home!
I was also the ‘life of the party’ back home, very active – I was everywhere! Yes, volunteering required rallying people, ‘waking’ them up, but I managed it, and I was very happy! Together, we implemented many interesting and useful projects for the community, and there were even more plans, but they were all cut short on February 24th…
Our city fell under occupation on February 27th – the third day of the full-scale invasion. And the occupiers immediately started hunting for patriots. In Berdyansk, there were rallies – the townspeople met the occupiers with protests, came out with Ukrainian symbols, flags, posters, doing everything to let the Russians know they were not welcome. We didn’t know then that each of us was under surveillance. People were taken to basements, where they were humiliated and tortured, blackmailed into cooperation. Many people disappeared, the organizer of the rallies was killed… It was a nightmare, just a nightmare… There were ‘waiters,’ those for whom “Russia is forever,” many townsfolk openly collaborated with the occupiers. Among my acquaintances, there were those who started “welcoming” the occupiers, some from the first days went to collaborate, later even climbing up their ‘power ladder’. It terrified me to realize who I had been living among. It was horrifying and disgusting. Every time I remember it, I cry…
Life in occupation is a constant, sticky horror. It wasn’t even frightening anymore, just disgustingly nauseating. We tried not to go outside unnecessarily, my mom would always tell me before I left the house – wear something old, ‘shapeless’, wrap yourself up like a cabbage, and for God’s sake, don’t wear makeup, lest someone from the ‘orcs’ lays their eyes on you, because that happened too, and don’t speak Ukrainian by any chance…
I couldn’t imagine living and reconciling with all this. Especially since I’m such a fighter – I can’t stand injustice, I can’t keep silent when I see something inhumane… When I saw how the occupiers ‘frisked’ people in the bus, rummaging through their belongings, humiliatingly stripping and searching men and women in public, looking for patriotic tattoos, I couldn’t help but make a public remark: “What are you checking for, what are you looking for, how dare you, we are all free people here!”. In response, I received a threatening: “Shut up, or your children will go on without you…”. That was the most terrifying – to witness all this and remain silent. There were threats – passed on by “good people”: saying, if you incite people, we’ll come to your house…
And so it happened – the occupiers came to my house for a search, planning, as I understand, to take me. I was lucky that by that time I had miraculously managed to escape – I had left the city… If I hadn’t left the city – I don’t know what would have happened to me…
I knew I had to leave – primarily for the safety of my children, but I was only able to leave on the fourth attempt. And my parents stayed – they cried, said, where would we go, who needs us, the old, somewhere else, and no matter how much I begged, they stayed there. For me, this is the most painful – because my relatives are essentially hostages to the occupiers, and I’m very afraid for them…
On the way, we passed through 17 or 18 Russian checkpoints – the Russians searched all belongings, checked documents – there were instances where they took away people’s tech or just something they fancied – “taken for inspection,” but in reality, just stealing things.
I’m not very tech-savvy, I couldn’t delete my social media profile from my phone – and there were many of my posts about volunteering, my pro-Ukrainian stance… And then, at one of the checkpoints, an occupier comes in and checks phones, anyone found with Ukrainian symbols – they were taken out of the bus and somewhere else. I thought – God, if they take me, what will happen to the kids, I was freezing with terror at the thought. I sat there, praying – and the Russian soldier was already reaching for my phone… Then suddenly he was called away because another bus had arrived. I will never forget how God saved me literally at the last second…”
"Believe we'll definitely return. I'll come home and breathe our air"
“The journey from Berdyansk to Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine, usually takes 3 hours. We traveled for 15. The longest and most terrifying 15 hours of my life, which saved me and my children from life under occupation…
And when we arrived at the first Ukrainian checkpoint, our soldiers came onto the bus and started handing out cookies to us, saying: ‘Take some, enjoy, you’ve been traveling for so long, we know you’re hungry’. How we cried then – out of joy, moved, recalling all the horror we’d lived through and only then allowing ourselves some emotions, because all this time we had been in a state of shock…
We traveled to Zaporizhzhia, hiding from shelling – there were battles on the main roads, we took detours through fields, secondary routes… We drove, and along the road, the ‘tails’ of mines protruded from the asphalt, the shoulders were lined with burnt-out cars, scorched houses. A terrible road, a road of pain… We drove – and everyone cried when they saw the burnt-out villages outside the window.
From Zaporizhzhia – by evacuation train to Lviv, Ukraine, and from there to Poland. And now I’ve been in a welcoming Polish town for a year and a half. To say that it was hard at first is an understatement. But I understood that I had to keep it together – because if I fell apart, it would affect my children. I tried to stay strong: by day – a ‘warrior of light’, and every evening into my pillow I would cry…
All my life stayed there, at home, it’s like part of you was cut off… However, I pulled myself together and did what I could and what I had to. Practically from the first day in Poland, I started working. Yes, with my higher education in economics, I didn’t disdain working in households, cleaning houses.
I understood that I needed to live and donate. I tell everyone – I’m not a superwoman, I’m just a Ukrainian woman – and that’s the same thing…
I want to thank Poland and all the Poles I’ve encountered on my way – for how incredibly everyone helped and supported, for their sensitivity and open hearts! Moreover, when I started volunteering and decided with an acquaintance to make trench candles for our military, the Poles were the first to respond to my request for help: they purchased the first batch of metal cans, paraffin… They help, saying – do it, you’re doing a good deed: and it took off, we’ve already sent several shipments of trench candles and all the necessities for our Defenders and Defenderesses back home. I met a Ukrainian woman who knits socks for the military, we agreed that we would gather together – to knit, to talk… It’s so nice to see people coming together to help bring victory closer. While your home is occupied – it’s not the time to sit idle. So together with a handful of caring girls, we help with all we can – every time we send a package, I think, maybe these items will be useful to those who will liberate my hometown…
I believe in the Ukrainian army, I believe that we will win because this is Our Land, our country!!! I wait every day, every hour, and every second for the Ukrainian army to liberate our home. I believe we’ll definitely return there. I’ll come home and breathe our air – I simply dream of this. And then – there’ll be a lot of work and a lot of love…”.
