By Ulyana Kulikova (Marketing Specialist, Community Leader, and Advocate for Ukrainian Initiatives)
From: New Voice of Ukraine 🇺🇦 I grew up in Rubizhne, a small town in Luhansk Oblast. Technically, it’s still on the map, but it has been under occupation almost since the start of the war. Now, the town is a vast ruin. What used to be a community with cozy streets, bustling courtyards, and vibrant neighborhoods has been obliterated — wiped out by Russia.
How do I feel about this as someone who grew up there? Someone who graduated from school there, spent weekends at the lake or the family dacha, visited my mother’s friends and my own, attended classes, and earned my first degree there? How do I feel, knowing I buried both of my parents there?
Honestly — nothing. Except for this deep, lingering sense of loss over everything we’ve endured since the full-scale invasion.
I never held a wake for my town. In fact, I’m still embarrassed to even say its name. When I left for my first stint abroad as a young student, it felt like I renounced the place. I moved on, let go, and never returned. Sure, there are happy memories from childhood, but they’re tied to people — family, friends, those I still keep in touch with. They’re not tied to the town, or to the region. Anyone who lived in Donbas in the ’90s will understand: poverty, lawlessness, corruption, and relentless Russian cultural expansion, all steeped in a lingering Soviet aftertaste.
Voice of Ukraine 