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At around four o’clock in the morning, the first whistle of a missile echoed over Fedorivka. It flew so low that Oleksandra’s small dacha trembled. The dogs sprang to their feet, and she immediately understood - it had begun.

The first days of the Russian invasion in this small town in the Kyiv region were shrouded in a fog of chaos. The Russians advanced, seizing more and more territory with every passing hour. They moved forward from the Belarusian border, through Chornobyl, directly towards Kyiv. People fled their homes in panic, seeking safety, though no one truly knew where safety could be found. Shops emptied of food and anything that could provide warmth.

But Sasha had only one thought - there were over three thousand dogs in the shelter that needed feeding.

- I quickly ran out of petrol, so I walked through the nearby villages in search of food. I was away for a long time. When I returned, one of the shelter workers told me in horror that the Russians had entered. They were walking between the enclosures with automatic rifles, digging in. They set up a checkpoint on the road. He forbade me from going there. But I knew that our colleague, who had recently suffered a second heart attack, was still inside the shelter. My beloved pets were there. The adrenaline hit me so hard that I simply rushed towards the Russian checkpoint.

Dogs of war

Animals had always surrounded Oleksandra Mezinova. It was her parents who taught her respect and love for «our lesser brethren». Not only local strays but also wild, wounded animals seeking refuge would come to her family home near Kyiv. They treated them and returned them to the forest. They helped all creatures, regardless of condition or origin. They raised puppies and kittens before finding them homes. Oleksandra clearly remembers that receiving a puppy or kitten as a gift from her mother, a respected and beloved teacher at the school, was considered an honour.

When Oleksandra grew up, she realised she wanted to create a place that could provide shelter for a greater number of animals. A systematic solution - a real shelter, one that had not yet existed in Ukraine. At the time, she did not even know what it should be called, as such places had not existed in the Soviet Union.

The long road to its creation was filled with mistakes and successes. But finally, in October 2000, «Sirius» was founded

- I really like this star - it is bright and beautiful. I love astronomy. Along with history, it was my favourite subject in school. And my mother, a history teacher, told me a beautiful legend about Sirius, Orion’s dog. His master was fatally bitten by a scorpion, and he turned into a star along with him. Today, the bright Sirius shines in the sky in the constellation of the Great Dog.

The first to arrive was Nika, a dog with a broken leg. Although everything starts with just one dog, «Sirius» grows very quickly. For the first three years, everything is funded from the family budget, with a young son also in the picture. The beginning was difficult, but Oleksandra’s persistence - inherited from her mother - carried her through. More and more animals arrived at the shelter, more volunteers joined, and the work multiplied. The first sponsors appeared, helping to build her dream - a real shelter.

At the end of 2013, the Revolution of Dignity erupted. Quite unexpectedly, in a single night, Oleksandra’s son decided to switch to the Ukrainian language, and when Maidan began, he travelled to Kyiv with his father to stand on the barricades. Sasha could not leave the shelter but tried to be an active participant by bringing food to the protesters. At that time, Oleksandra did not yet know that the events on Independence Square would have such a profound impact on her shelter for homeless animals.

When the war in Donbas began a few months later, many of Oleksandra’s friends volunteered for the army and went to the ATO zone. They turned out to be highly sensitive to the unfair situation of animals, whose numbers grew daily along the front line. The first person they turned to was Oleksandra. This marked the beginning of a chain of aid created by volunteers working in Donbas, «Sirius» shelter staff and soldiers transporting animals from frontline villages to their new, safe home in Fedorivka.

None of us believed there would be a full-scale war

Oleksandra recalls that by December 2021, there was increasing talk that war was inevitable. A real, full-scale war. But no one believed that in the 21st century, in Europe, a neighbour could be attacked with such force. On December 5th, on the occasion of International Volunteer Day, President Zelensky presented awards. Although Oleksandra received the «Order of Princess Olga», what stood out most from that evening was his tense and stressed expression.

- He said that if it happened, we would all stand together, side by side. I remember it felt dissonant. Although I did not want to believe it, it worried me, and I could not stop thinking about it. I even considered stockpiling food just in case... But people reassured me, saying that nothing would happen. And when I heard the first whistle of missiles overhead, I realised I had made a terrible mistake in trusting them and not taking precautions.

First, she heard the war. At dawn, there was the whistle of missiles flying towards Kyiv. It woke her and her ten animals - dogs and cats. Everything around them trembled, the windowpanes vibrated, and her small dacha shook. Frightened dogs huddled together, and Oleksandra had only one thought: the war had begun. Thousands of thoughts swarmed in her mind, merging with images from the Second World War. She thought of bomb shelters, of the panic that was about to begin, of missiles soon to fall on Fedorivka, of chaos, of fleeing crowds, of kilometre-long traffic jams on the roads.

- I sat on the sofa, the dogs trembled, and I thought about how to evacuate 3500 animals. And suddenly, I told myself: «Sasha, stop. Wrap up. Start making a plan immediately. Point one: food»

Early in the morning, she set out in her car to visit the nearest villages. She entered shops, asked neighbours, and loaded her car with anything the dogs could eat. But after a day and a half, powerful explosions echoed - the bridges were blown up, the Russians surrounded the village, making escape impossible for those who remained. Complete isolation began. The explosions grew louder and louder, and Oleksandra began to pray that the missiles would not strike the village or the shelter. She knew that nineteen people had remained - staff members and volunteers who had come from distant regions and had nowhere to flee. She also did not know how much time they had left or how the Russians would approach them. People said the Russians would enter the village and shoot them all on sight. She found out only hours later when a shelter worker pulled her out of her panicked thoughts - the soldiers had just entered the shelter's territory.

- All I heard was that under no circumstances should I go there, that I had to hide. Military equipment had arrived, they were digging in, and there were many of them. They were running around the shelter with automatic rifles, while people had been herded into a tiny room guarded by a soldier with a gun. I immediately said that there was no other way, that I was running to the shelter - what about the people, what about my dogs? I heard that the Russians were aggressive and would kill me.

Sasha, together with the daughter of the manager who had recently suffered a second heart attack, set off running through the village. Adrenaline pounded in Sasha’s temples. From afar, it was already clear that the soldiers had quickly built trenches, and a camouflaged tank stood inside a dugout. There was also a checkpoint, flanked by soldiers with rifles, their barrels aimed directly at them. They slowed their pace and started walking towards them. When, twenty metres from the checkpoint, a soldier reloaded his weapon, they stopped and took their hands out of their pockets to show they were unarmed.

- I started shouting that my name was Oleksandra, that I was the director of the shelter located just beyond them, and that I needed to get there. They replied that no one was going anywhere and that we had to go home. I shouted that my people and my animals were there, but they only shook their heads in refusal. I demanded to be taken to their commander.

Something akin to madness took over her mind - she no longer cared whether or not they would start shooting. She saw her goal before her, oblivious to any obstacles. The Russians must have noticed it - her eyes burned with determination, she was furious, she was not backing down. With a nod of a gun barrel, they signalled her to follow them.

The commander was aggressive, but Sasha ignored it. She started talking about the shelter, about the people, about the shortage of food. She stated outright that she intended to drive through their checkpoint several times a day as she searched the surrounding areas for food for the animals.

- At the end of my speech, he burst into laughter. He asked if I really thought I had come here to set conditions. Had I really come to an armed position, stood before him, counted on my fingers what I needed, and expected him to give it to me? He had never seen anything like it before. And perhaps, that is exactly what worked.

He agreed but noted that any vehicle passing through would be inspected each time and that he would personally visit the shelter to check whether she was telling the truth. As we left him and walked towards the shelter, I felt a tingling sensation in my spine - I was almost certain that I would be shot in the back.

When they reached the shelter, they saw terrified staff. The Russians had lined them up and ordered them to surrender their phones so that no one could contact the outside world or relay any information to the Ukrainian army. Not everyone obeyed. When they found a hidden phone, they threw the previously confiscated ones onto the ground and demonstratively shot at them, nearly hitting the workers’ feet.

The vanishing voices

When someone enters the shelter and walks along the rows of enclosures, whether they come to adopt a pet or bring food, the residents erupt in noise. Dogs bark, howl and exchange signals. One can only imagine the racket caused by more than three thousand dogs all at once. Oleksandra always warns visitors not to run between the rows, as it only agitates them further, and the canine uproar carries for kilometres.

- The Russian soldiers entered the shelter armed, aggressive, ready to kill. They ran between the rows and among the dogs... and the dogs fell silent. They simply froze and stared at them. To this day, I do not understand what happened, not even cynologists can explain this phenomenon. When I left the shelter and walked through the village, someone asked me: so, Sasha, did they shoot all your dogs?

At that moment, a deathly silence, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, settled into her consciousness. It was only after liberation that it became clear this reaction had saved the dogs’ lives. After de-occupation, dog owners who had lost their pets - once adopted from «Sirius» - came to the shelter searching for them. There were cases where Russian soldiers, upon hearing a dog bark, would throw a grenade over the fence. They might not have even seen the dog, but they fired blindly to silence it. Many animals were killed this way near Kyiv. But inside the shelter, the silence lasted until the occupation ended.

Sometimes, the dogs howled when they heard a missile or an aircraft flying overhead, but then they would hide in their kennels, curling up - hungry and frightened

- I had a habit with the dogs where I would extend my hand through the fence, and they would push their nose or paw through, and that is how we greeted each other. During the occupation, I also had to walk around the shelter often, checking if everything was all right. I did not want to do it - I could not bear to look at the dogs. Then I learned not to look them in the eyes because, a few times, I extended my hand as always, but they did not understand. They were so hungry, and I was offering them an empty hand... I saw the question in their eyes: where is the food? Why are you treating us like this? The pain tore my heart apart. Today, I think that was the most terrifying and difficult task for me. Even speaking with the Russians was not such a nightmare.

But encounters with Russian army soldiers were far from pleasant. What did it matter that, thanks to the commander, they were allowed to cross the checkpoints daily if the soldiers emerged with raised guns and fury in their eyes? The moment the car window rolled down was a daily test of psychological endurance. One never knew what might set them off that day. Over time, the Russians became increasingly bitter, as their «three-day special military operation» was not going as planned. The soldiers started drinking, taking drugs, and often tormenting people without reason-causing both moral and physical harm.

A particularly difficult moment came when He stood at the checkpoint. Always masked, mysterious, and often reeking of alcohol. Someone in the village had told him that Oleksandra sang beautifully, and since then, he would not leave her alone. He liked her as a woman, making checkpoint crossings a psychological nightmare for her.

- He started calling me Prima Donna. Today, I laugh about it, but it was horrifying. Whenever he saw me in the car, he would bow deeply and say: «Prima Donna, please, please, you are most welcome». Then he decided they would organise a concert where I would sing.

Sasha was to sing for the Russian soldiers. A concert for them in the occupied territory. She immediately understood that ultimately, she could not refuse him because if she did, it might be the last decision she ever made. Though she had struggled with sleep since the invasion began, by then, she was no longer sleeping at all. She constantly had headaches, a racing heartbeat, and dark spots before her eyes. She started thinking about escaping through the forest, knowing that the «boys from the ATO» were there. But if she ran, she would never return here, the animals would starve to death, and everything she had done so far would be lost and wasted. And in that moment, too, she heard growling. Her voice became low, her throat tightened so much that she could barely speak.

She was like a sleepwalker in a nightmare that refused to end. Sasha tried to explain to the masked soldier that her voice was hoarse, that the stress had robbed her of it entirely, and that she could not sing

- One day, I told him: you are not a fool. I am Ukrainian - how can I possibly give you a concert? And in response, he once again invited me for champagne. He insisted that I was so understanding and that he could talk to me about interesting things. That champagne of theirs had likely been stolen from some shop. They were drinking expensive French champagne while occupying my city. I was afraid that one day, this could end very badly for me - when he got drunk, and I refused him again. I started avoiding confrontation in the evenings, hiding in the darkness in the back seat of the car.

In isolation

Information from the outside world rarely reached Fedorivka. Sometimes, text messages came through - even strangers would ask Oleksandra if she was still alive. The local residents knew little about what was happening in the country, about what was happening on the frontline. To contact relatives meant taking a deadly risk. There were only a few places in the village where a radio signal could be found. Sometimes, just sending a simple «I am alive» message was enough, but occasionally, it was even possible to make a brief phone call. The Russians must have received information from someone in the village because they quickly found these locations and began setting up ambushes. They would arrive in civilian cars when no one expected them, jumping out with weapons. One time, even Sasha was caught.

- I was standing with a friend, and there was another woman talking to her son on the phone. When I saw them approaching, I hid mine in my shoe. But one of them noticed. He knew who I was, of course. I was incredibly lucky because he pretended not to see anything. The woman, on the other hand, had her phone confiscated, and she fell into hysterics. She began shouting that it was her only way to contact her son, who... was serving in our army.

One of the soldiers immediately reloaded his weapon, convinced that she was passing on secret information to the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The woman's hysteria irritated them even more. Oleksandra sensed that a tragedy was about to unfold. She decided to approach them and, in a calm voice, said: «Look at her. She is just a simple village woman. What could she possibly know? She is only talking to her child. Does a mother not worry about you?» Then, by some miracle, her life was spared, but Oleksandra never saw her again.

Nor did she ever see the soldier who had lied, pretending he had not seen her hide the phone in her shoe. One morning, at dawn, she drove up to the checkpoint and saw the Russians hurriedly loading all their belongings into vehicles. They were clearly racing against time.

- I stopped, rolled down the window, and asked: «Where are you going, boys? Finally heading home?» I said it mockingly, as I always liked to provoke them a little. But they replied that they were going to Donbas. They were furious.

When the Russians fled and the occupation ended, volunteers from all over the world, including Poland, arrived in Fedorivka and the surrounding villages. Although Oleksandra welcomed them, gave interviews, and showed many people the shelter, something strange was happening in her mind. She understood that the occupation was over, but her body, her thoughts, her behaviour were still trapped there. Sasha even stopped at the checkpoints that no longer existed. She lived in this tension for another three months while the world's attention was still focused on this region - after all, Bucha and Irpin, less than fifty kilometres away, were making headlines in newspapers around the world. Volunteers and journalists were already on-site, and local residents were returning.

One morning, Oleksandra woke up and realised that today she had nowhere to go. No interviews, no need to run for food for the animals. And suddenly - all the commotion disappeared. In one second, she realised that she was finally free. Only one thing did not return to its place. Oleksandra cleared her throat loudly.

- I do not know, maybe one day my voice will come back to me. Maybe one day I will sing again, because I love singing. Maybe that will happen when the occupation ends - but across my entire country.

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.

<span class="teaser"><img src="https://cdn.prod.website-files.com/64ae8bc0e4312cd55033950d/65cc6e8f39be6e9d65fcf154_Sestry.eu_Portretysiostrzenstwa250mini.avif">«We are all not competing but cooperating». Sestry.eu has announced the winners of the «Portraits of sisterhood» award</span>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!»

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.

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, Editor-in-Chief

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, journalist

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.