Ірина Данилевська: «Протези на подіумі — не модний тренд, а наша нова реальність. І ми готові так жити»

On this special day, our editors and authors wrote a couple of words about their work at Sestry, about their heroes, their emotions - about everything that became so important during this year of working in the media.

Joanna Mosiej-Sitek, CEO of Sestry

Our year on the frontline in the fight for truth. We are a community of women. Women journalists. Women editors. Our strength is our voice. We stand for shared European values, democracy and peace. We are the voice of all those who, like us, believe that the future lies in dialogue, tolerance and respect for human rights. These people believe in a world where we can forgive past grievances and focus our energy on building a better future. They are not divided by the words of politicians. Every day, we do everything possible to listen to and understand one another, knowing that this is the only way to fight disinformation and fake news. Our voice, our struggle, is just as vital to our security as new tanks and drones. Over the past year, we have given a platform to thousands of stories in our effort to build a better world. We understand that building a strong, multi-ethnic, and united community is a long journey, and we are only at the beginning.

Maria Gorska, Chief Editor of Sestry

When my colleagues at Gazeta Wyborcza and I decided to create Sestry.eu, it was the second winter of the war. My newborn daughter lay in her stroller, wearing a red onesie covered in gingerbread men, and all she knew was how to smile and reach out to her mother. Today, my little Amelia is a strong toddler, running around the park near our home in Warsaw, shouting, «Mom, catch the ball!» and laughing when I lift her into my arms. She comforts her doll when it cries.

She still does not know what Ukraine is. And that is why I am doing this media project. Not to one day tell my child about her homeland, but to ensure that she grows up in an independent, safe, and prosperous Ukraine - as a free citizen of Europe.

Tetiana Bakotska, journalist

The stories we publish in Sestry make an impact - motivating readers to take action. After my article about a refugee shelter in Olsztyn that had been closed, leaving some Ukrainian families in dire straits, five Ukrainian families reached out to say they had received help. Single mothers raising young children were given food, clothing and fully stocked backpacks for school.

Thanks to the article «Sails Save Lives» and the efforts of Piotr Paliński, hundreds of meters of sails were collected in Poland to be sewn into stretchers for wounded soldiers. On August 24th 2024, Olsztyn scout Dorota Limontas delivered the sails to Kyiv as part of a humanitarian convoy, along with medical equipment for several Kyiv hospitals, donated by the Voivodeship Adult and Children’s Hospitals in Olsztyn.

After the publication about the humble mechanic, Mr. Piotr, who in 2022 donated over 500 bicycles to Ukrainian children, the initiative gained new momentum. Once again, hundreds of children - not only in Olsztyn but in other regions of Poland as well - received bicycles as gifts. Bicycles were also sent to Ukraine for orphaned children cared for by the family of Tetiana Paliychuk, whose story we also shared.

Nataliya Zhukovska, journalist

For me, Sestry became a lifeline that supported me during a challenging moment. The full-scale war, moving to another country, adapting to a new life - this is what millions of Ukrainian women faced as they fled from the war, leaving their homes behind. I was fortunate to continue doing what I love in Poland - journalism. Even more so, I was fortunate to engage with people who, through their actions, are writing the modern history of Ukraine - volunteers, soldiers, combat medics and civil activists.

I remember each of the heroes from my stories. I could endlessly recount their lives. One might think that a journalist, after recording an interview and publishing an article, could simply move on. That is how it was for over 20 years of my work in television. The subjects of news stories were quickly forgotten. But this time, it is different. Even after my conversations with these heroes, I keep following their lives through social media. Though we have only met online, many of them have become my friends. Reflecting on the past year, I can only thank fate for the opportunity to share the stories of these incredible, strong-spirited Ukrainians with the world.

Aleksandra Klich, editor

When we began forming the Sestry editorial team a year ago, I felt that it was a special moment. Media like this are truly needed. In a world ravaged by war, overwhelmed by new technologies and crises, where information, images, and emotions bombard us from all sides, we seek order and meaning. We search for a niche that offers a sense of safety, space for deep reflection, and a place where one can simply cry. That is what Sestry is - a new kind of media, a bridge from Ukraine to the European Union.

Working with my Ukrainian colleagues has restored my faith in journalism. It has rekindled in me the belief that media should not just be click factories or arenas of conflict, but a source of knowledge, truth - however painful - and genuine emotions, which we can allow ourselves to experience in the hardest moments. Thanks to my work with Sestry and the daily focus on Ukraine, the most important questions have come alive within me: «What does patriotism mean today? What does it mean to be a European citizen? What does responsibility mean? What can I do - every day, constantly - to help save the world? And finally: Where am I from? For what purpose? Where am I headed?» These questions do not leave a person at peace when they stand on the edge. We create media in a world that is on the edge. The women of Ukraine, their experiences and struggles, remind me of this every day.

Mariya Syrchyna, editor

Over our first year, our readership has grown steadily - numbers show that our audience has increased 8-10 times compared to last year. This growth is because Sestry is no ordinary publication. Most of us journalists live in other countries due to the war, but from each of these countries, we write about what pains us the most. About Ukraine and its resilient people. About what hinders our victory over the enemy - hoping to reach those with the power to help. About the challenges we face in our new homes and how we overcome them. About our children.

We strive to talk to people who inspire and bring light in these dark times - volunteers, artists, doctors, athletes, psychologists, activists, teachers, journalists. But most importantly, we tell the stories of our warriors. I once dreamed that Ukraine’s elite would change and that the country’s fate would be shaped by worthy people. That wish has come true - though in a cruel way. The new heroes of our time are the soldiers who nobly bear the weight of the fight against both the enemy and the world’s indifference. Here, at Sestry, we tell their stories again and again to everyone who has access to the internet and a heart. In three languages. We hope that these stories will ensure their names are not forgotten and their deeds are not distorted.

A sister is someone who can be anywhere in the world but still feels close. She may annoy you, but if someone offends her, you are the first to defend her and offer a hand. That is exactly the kind of publication Sestry aspires to be - reliable and close. All the way to victory, and beyond.

Maryna Stepanenko, journalist

I have been with Sestry for nine months. In that time, I have conducted 22 powerful interviews with people I once only dreamed of speaking to in person. Politicians, generals, commanders and even the deadliest U.S. Air Force pilot. Getting in touch with him was a challenge - no online contacts, except for his publisher. There was also a fan page for Dan Hampton on Facebook. As it turns out, he manages that page himself and is quite responsive to messages.

It took me two months of persistent outreach to secure an interview with Kurt Volker, but I eventually succeeded. And my pride - Ben Hodges, whose contacts were once obtained under strict confidentiality.

In these nine months, I have learned a few key lessons: do not be afraid to ask for an interview with someone you admire, and when choosing between talking to a Ukrainian celebrity or a foreign general, always opt for the general. I am grateful to be the bridge between their expert opinions and our readers.

Kateryna Tryfonenko, journalist

«Why did you ask me that?». This is one of those funny memorable occurrences. I was working on an article about military recruitment, with part of the piece focused on international experience. One of the experts I spoke with was an American specialist from a military recruitment center. I made sure to tell him upfront that the questions would be very basic, as our readers are not familiar with the intricacies of the United States military system. He had no objections. We recorded the interview, and a few days later, I received a message from him that began, «I am still very puzzled by our conversation. I keep thinking about the questions you asked me. Why did you ask me that?». The message was long, and between the lines, it almost read «Are you a spy?». This was a first for me. To avoid causing him further distress, I offered to remove his comments from the article if our conversation had unsettled him that much. However, he did not object to the publication in the end. Although I wonder if, to this day, he still thinks it was not all just a coincidence.

Nataliya Ryaba, editor

I am free. These three words perfectly describe my work at Sestry. I am free to do what I love and what I do best. Free from restrictions: our editorial team is a collective of like-minded individuals where everyone trusts each other, and no one forbids experimenting, trying new things, learning, and bringing those ideas to life. I am free from stereotypes. Our multinational team has shown that nationality and historical disputes between our peoples do not matter - we are united, working toward the common goal of Ukraine’s victory and the victory of the democratic world. I am free to be who I want to be in our newsroom. Yes, I work as an editor, but I can grab my camera and run as a reporter to protests or polling stations - wherever I want to go. No one forbids me from creating what I want, and I am grateful for this freedom. It gives me wings.

Anastasiya Kanarska

Like many women, I always thought I wanted to have a son. Well, maybe two kids, but one of them had to be a boy. But as my understanding of myself and the world grew, and the likelihood of not having children at all increased, the idea of being a good mother to a happy, self-sufficient daughter became an exciting challenge. Learning from each other, respecting personal boundaries, and caring for one another - that is what makes working in a women’s circle so empowering. For me, starting work with Sestry coincided with a deeper exploration of my female lineage - strong women like my colleagues, who at times embody Demeter, Persephone, Hera, Aphrodite, Artemis, or Hestia. The themes of my articles, whether written, edited, or translated by me, often mirror my own life events or thoughts. Maybe that is the magic of the sisterhood circle.

Olena Klepa, SMM specialist

«I feel needed here». I went to my first interview with Sestry three months before the official launch of the project: in old DIY shorts, a T-shirt from a humanitarian aid center, with a «dandelion» hairstyle and seven years of TV experience. I was not looking for a job. I was content working as a security guard at a construction site, always learning, taking free online training. But for some reason, all my supervisors kept asking: «Have you found something for yourself yet? Any interesting opportunities?» They would tell me I did not belong there and was meant for something greater.

Sestry found me. So, when I first went to the meeting, I decided, «All or nothing». It was not a typical interview. It was a meeting of people with similar values and a shared goal. We spoke different languages but understood each other instantly. The plans were ambitious and, at first glance, unrealistic. They needed a social media manager. The responsibility scared me, but I never say «I can't» until I try. Experience has shown that you can learn anything. At Sestry, I feel needed. I feel like I have room to grow. I love that I can combine all my accumulated experience here, that I can experiment. But most importantly, I no longer feel guilty. My country is at war. The enemy is not only on the frontlines. Russian propaganda has extended its tentacles far beyond its borders. By creating social media content, telling stories about Ukrainians on the frontlines to people in Poland, and showing Ukrainians that Poles «have not grown tired of the war», I am helping Ukraine hold its ground in the information space.

Beata Łyżwa-Sokół, photo editor

Many years ago, a photo editor colleague considered changing jobs and trying her luck abroad. However, one editor strongly advised her against it: «You will never be as recognised in a newsroom in New York or London as you are at home. You will never reach the same level of language proficiency as your native-speaking colleagues. At best, you will be an assistant to the head photo editor. In a foreign newsroom, you will always be a foreigner». She listened and stayed in the country, despite having studied English at university and being fluent enough that language would not have been a barrier. A few years later, she left the profession altogether, deciding that journalism no longer had a place for her - that it simply did not exist anymore.

Since then, the media landscape has changed drastically. Many believe that in the age of social media, journalism is no longer necessary. The world is evolving, and so are the media. However, I never stopped believing in its importance. I did not run away from journalism; instead, I sought a new place for myself. That is how I found Sestry, where I met editors and journalists who had come to Poland from war-torn Ukraine. After a year of working together, I know that we are very similar in many ways, but also differ in others. We listen to each other, argue, go to exhibitions together, and share a bottle of wine from time to time.

When I started working at Sestry, and we were discussing what kind of photographs should illustrate the site with our editor-in-chief, Mariya Gorska, I heard her say, «This is your garden». It was one of many fantastic phrases I heard during the months of working together - words that shaped our professional and personal relationships. In an era of fake news, bots and media crises, it was particularly important to me, as the photo editor of Sestry, to consider how we tell the story of what is happening in Ukraine through photography. I observe the media around the world, and thanks to the editors on our site, I notice that these images are often superficial, not based on direct testimony or experience, and rely on stereotypes.

For me, direct contact with Ukrainian journalists and editors is invaluable in my daily work. I am convinced that journalism projects based on such collaboration represent an opportunity for the media of the future. They are a guarantee of reliability and effectiveness in places where people’s lives are at stake, even in the most remote corners of the world.

In Kathryn Bigelow’s film «Zero Dark Thirty», there is a scene where the protagonist, a CIA agent responsible for capturing Osama bin Laden, faces a group of Navy SEALs participating in the operation. One of them, sceptical about the success of the mission (particularly because it is being led by a woman), asks his colleagues: «Why do you trust her? Why should I trust her?». Another replies: «Because she knows what she is doing». That is exactly how I feel working at Sestry. I work with editors and journalists from Ukraine who know what they are doing and why - and I feel incredibly comfortable because of that.

I had been waiting for weeks to speak with «Vpered’s» chief editor, Svitlana Ovcharenko. Finally, late on a Saturday evening, she called me while I was walking along the waterfront of a small Polish town. My thoughts were in the destroyed Bakhmut, among the dispersed community of Bakhmutians scattered by the war.

Eighty-four-year-old Vasyl from Bakhmut now lives in a retirement home in the Czech Republic. In the newspaper «Vpered», he shared, «They gave me a new mattress! I did not want to lie on the old one, and now I do not want to get up from the new one - it is so comfortable». Comfortable furniture, like everything else of value to the people of Bakhmut, has disappeared in the city's ruins. All that remains are the people, the keys to their destroyed homes, and... the city’s print newspaper.

Readers in the underground

Before the war, the editorial office of the Bakhmut newspaper «Vpered» was located on Peace Street. Chestnut trees grew in the yard, blossoming with soft pink flowers in the spring and dropping shiny brown nuts generously in the fall. Once, they even cracked the windshield of the editorial car.

The eight windows of the office witnessed life: late-night newspaper layouts, meetings with readers, emotions, and debates. Now, only charred trunks and ashes remain. «Those windows are gone, and there is no life behind them. Where there once was a porch where we loved to drink coffee, now there is a black void», says Svitlana Ovcharenko.

The newspaper’s release was only suspended twice: in 1941 when Nazi Germany attacked and on February 24th 2022 - because of the Russian invasion

«Bakhmut was bombed on the first day of the invasion», - Svitlana recalls. - «We had prepared the newspaper on February 23rd, but on the 24th, we could not retrieve it from the printing house in Kramatorsk because the road was under constant fire».

Pro-Russian militants had attempted to seize Bakhmut back in April 2014, but on July 6th of that year, the city returned to Ukrainian control. The war raged 30 kilometres away for eight years, but no one imagined it would reach the city itself.

They would build promenades, lay tiled pavements, develop parks - instead of building defence fortifications

In March, the editor of «Vpered», Svitlana Ovcharenko, left for Odesa with her mother, hoping to wait out the «escalation». She dressed in a tracksuit, packed essential items in a backpack, and slipped two sets of keys - one to the newspaper office and one to her apartment - into her pocket.

The first issue of the newspaper was printed in the Autumn of 2022, in the midst of the war.

During the first months of the war, Svitlana lived glued to the news, keeping track of what was happening across the country. Bakhmut had become one of the most dangerous places on Earth, yet people stayed.

The Russians cut off electricity, gas, and mobile connections, while their propagandists misled the population via radio signals, claiming that everyone had abandoned them, and even local authorities had fled.

«Kyiv has fallen», - blared from the radios

In the first months of the full-scale war, nearly 50 thousand people left the city of 73 thousand. Yet some returned, saying, «There is no one waiting for us there, so there is no point in leaving».

The Russians launched an active offensive in August, and fierce fighting broke out among the city's buildings, the most intense battles since World War II.

Efforts to persuade the remaining residents to leave were unsuccessful. By October, local authorities started bringing in basic heating stoves, firewood, and coal. Every trip outside the basements could be a resident’s last, but nearly 20 thousand people remained in the city.

This jolted Svitlana Ovcharenko out of her stupor. She decided to revive the newspaper to provide accurate information to those who were afraid to leave. There were countless challenges: accounting records, passwords, and access codes had been left behind in Bakhmut. However, thanks to the efforts of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine and a Japanese foundation, the first issue was printed on November 4th 2022, right in the midst of the war.

The first printed edition was brought to Bakhmut by Italian journalists.

The residents took the paper with surprise and joy, believing it was a sign that the end of the war was near. «It was a ray of hope in our hell», they later wrote on social media.

«Vpered» published an interview with the mayor, Oleksiy Reva, who urged civilians to evacuate immediately. «Kyiv has not fallen, and Bakhmut residents will be welcomed in any Ukrainian city», the newspaper wrote. And people began to leave...

Before the war, much had been said about the death of print newspapers in Ukraine. But it turned out that the local newspaper, which people had trusted for years, held great influence. It was no coincidence that Russian occupiers repeatedly forged «Vpered» to spread their propaganda among the locals.

In February 2023, Deputy Prime Minister Iryna Vereshchuk reported that fewer than four thousand residents remained in Bakhmut.

One of the last issues of the newspaper was brought to Bakhmut by volunteer Mykhailo Puryshev’s team in May 2023.

In a room lined with sandbags, stacks of newspapers lay in the middle. People with weary faces gathered around, reading with hope, longing to hear they could stay in their homes. But no - the newspaper reported that the city was close to falling under Russian control. On May 20th 2023, Russia declared the complete capture of Bakhmut.

«Should we keep publishing a newspaper for a city that no longer exists?»

In response, Ukrainian soldiers released drone footage showing collapsed roofs, destroyed apartment blocks, burned-out vehicles… a dead, deserted city. Russian forces had taken control of Bakhmut's territory, but the city itself was entirely destroyed. Experts estimate it will take at least ten years to clear the landmines, and another decade to remove the rubble.

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Svitlana Ovcharenko received a call from Serhiy Tomilenko, the head of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine (NUJU). He asked whether it made sense to continue publishing the city’s newspaper, given that Bakhmut no longer existed. Ovcharenko responded: «Bakhmut lives in each of us. As long as we breathe, the city remains alive. Because Bakhmut is more than just bricks and concrete. It is us - the people».

The NUJU involved Ovcharenko in the IRMI (International Institute of Regional Press and Information) project, which was implemented in partnership with Fondation Hirondelle and financially supported by Swiss Solidarity.

The newspaper started being delivered across Ukraine to refugee centres where most Bakhmutians now live. There are already 12 such centres. Some former residents of Bakhmut even pay to have the newspaper delivered via Nova Poshta, spending 55 hryvnias (about 5 zlotys) to receive each issue. «Even the smell of the printing ink on Vpered reminds me of home», admits 62-year-old Nadia, who now lives in Poltava and goes to the post office every two weeks to collect the newspaper.

«I can not part with the keys to my bombed-out apartment»

Svitlana Ovcharenko continues to live in Odesa with her elderly mother in a rented apartment. «Where my apartment in Bakhmut once stood, there is now a massive black hole. My mother's home is nothing but ruins. I was asked to donate my keys to the «Time Capsule» installation about Bakhmut, but I can not bring myself to part with them. As long as I have them, there is still hope that one day I will unlock the door to my home».

In one of the newspaper's photo illustrations, keys of various sizes and shapes are laid out on an old fabric. These fragile symbols of lost homes each carry the pain and memories of lives destroyed.

In a newspaper story, 71-year-old Lyudmyla shares her experience: «My husband and I settled on the left bank of the Dnipro. The room is small and without repairs - old wallpaper and outdated plumbing. The windows do not work, and the ventilation is poor. It is painful to compare it to our previous home. So much time has passed, yet we are still adjusting to new streets and these everyday inconveniences».

The topic of lost homes resonates deeply with Svitlana Ovcharenko. I had seen her photos and heard her voice - she struck me as a much younger woman. As if reading my thoughts, Svitlana clarified, «I am already retired. I understand my readers. Like them, I still can not sleep soundly in an unfamiliar bed».

Despite her personal struggles, she continues to publish the newspaper. For a long time, she prepared each issue alone. A colleague, who had found refuge in Sumy Oblast, helped format the text for the eight-page paper.

Sometimes, they would start work at 2 AM and continue until morning—this was the only time they both had access to electricity due to the destruction of the energy system. «I set my alarm for 2 AM, wake up, go to the kitchen, brew coffee, and turn on my laptop. I am in Odesa, my colleague is in Sumy».

Now, four people work with Svitlana on the newspaper. They also manage the website, fill social media with updates and shoot videos.

«Do not repeat Bakhmut’s mistakes»

One of the latest issues of the newspaper features a profile of soldier Volodymyr Andriutsa, call sign «Talent». He was born and lived his entire life in Donetsk Oblast. He died defending Bakhmut. His father, Mykola Andriutsa, recalls with sorrow how long it took his son to accept that Russia had become the enemy.

- There was even a time after 2014 when Volodymyr travelled to Crimea and then to Russia, - recalls Mykola. - Even on a day-to-day level, he saw how much they hated us, Ukrainians. The full-scale war turned him into a true patriot and defender.

Recently, the newspaper editor received a message from an acquaintance asking to anonymously share her husband’s story. He had gone through so much trauma that his life had become a nightmare - he wandered around a foreign city, collecting trash and food scraps, and bringing them back to their rented apartment. His actions seemed senseless, but perhaps he was seeking some personal meaning and stability in the chaos of war.

The people of Bakhmut are now scattered across the world. They are learning to live again, but they still remember their city and dream of returning. «Bakhmut lives as long as we remember it», says Svitlana. And as long as the «Vpered» newspaper keeps them connected, that memory remains alive.

Next to me, a peaceful Polish town drifts off to sleep. In the quiet evening, I ask the editor of the Bakhmut newspaper what she would say to Polish and Ukrainian readers.

- Do not repeat Bakhmut’s mistakes. Do not forget about the war. Protect your lives. Otherwise, nothing will be left but ruins and memories…

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Photos from the «Vpered» newspaper’s archives