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My story began back in college. At that time, we were literally forced to believe in Lukashenko. Before the 2020 elections, we were openly told: if you vote for him, you’ll be treated more leniently during exams. Teachers demanded photos of our ballots to check that we had “done the right thing.” I felt deeply hurt and pained: why can’t I choose who I want? Where is the freedom?

Then I went out to peaceful protests in support of Tikhanovskaya. But everything quickly turned into horror: rubber bullets, screams, beaten people. I saw with my own eyes how they grabbed an elderly man and smashed his head against the asphalt. He hadn’t done anything. I managed to escape that time.

But then it became even more frightening. Vans drove through the streets, grabbing guys for no reason—just for looking like a potential threat. Friends told me how their husbands and sons were taken and then beaten nearly to death, treated like garbage.

A couple of years later, a new wave of persecution began. The authorities started looking for everyone who had been at those protests. And they found me. Summonses started arriving. In fear for my life, I was forced to leave my country.

And also—the war in Ukraine. I do not support it and never will. These are our neighbors, many of us have family there. Innocent people are dying there now, and Belarus is being dragged into this catastrophe. For me, this is profoundly wrong. And terrifying.