Andrii Kolesnyk and Kseniia Drahanyuk both beam with excitement as they bend over a box.
They are about to unpack Ukraine’s first military uniform for pregnant women, which they recently ordered after being contacted by a pregnant sniper.
The young couple, both TV journalists before the start of the war, are now fully committed to their independent NGO, ‘Zemlyachki’ or ‘Compatriots’, which supplies vital items for women in the armed forces.
The initiative began when Andrii’s sister was sent to the front on February 24, the day Russia invaded Ukraine.
“She got men’s uniform, men’s underwear,” he says. “Everything that [was] designed for men.”
It soon became clear that military women needed much more than uniforms. Everything from smaller boots to lighter body armor plates to hygiene products are in demand.
So the couple turned to private company donations, philanthropic funds and crowdfunding to buy goods independent of the military. Some custom gear, such as women’s cups, is produced under its own brand from a factory in Kharkiv in the east of the country – including new maternity wear.
Other items, such as body armor plates, helmets and boots, come from companies as far away as Sweden, Macedonia and Turkey. But Kolesnyk and Drahanyuk say they are struggling with sourcing winter items like sleeping bags and thermal clothing that will be important for comfort as winter sets in.
Kolesnyk says they’ve distributed $1 million worth of equipment so far and helped at least 3,000 women. If they are on the front lines of missile fire, they might as well do so “with minimal comfort,” he tells CNN.
There are currently about 38,000 women in the armed forces, according to the country’s defense ministry.
“We’re doing this to help our government,” says Kolesnyk, not to compete with it. Their center overflows with cardboard boxes full of kits, all paid for by crowdfunding and grants.
A physical disability prevents Kolesnyk from joining his sister, father and brother-in-law on the front lines, which saddens him.
“For a man, it’s hard to understand that you can’t go there, and your sister is there. So, I’m trying to do my best here to help not only my family, but the entire army,” he says.
Twenty-one-year-old Roksolana, who gave only her first name for security reasons, goes in to pick up a uniform and other equipment before going on her next mission. An art school graduate, he enlisted in the army in March and now belongs to an intelligence unit.
“It’s so valuable to have these people who understand that we’re tired of wearing clothes that are three sizes too big,” she says. “We didn’t have helmets, we had old jackets, we wore tracksuits and trainers. Now we feel like we’re human.”
She smiles as she laces up her new boots with perfectly long nails. Before they hug goodbye, Drahanyuk gives Roksolana a copy of “The Choice,” the best-selling memoir by Holocaust survivor and psychologist Edith Eger. The goal is that this can be a tool to help process trauma. Zemlyachki has also established partnerships with military psychologists, to whom women in combat can turn.
Other women, like 25-year-old Alina Panina, receive psychological support through the Ukrainian military. A border guard with a dog unit, Panina spent five months held captive in the notorious Olenivka prison in the Russian-controlled region of Donetsk after escaping from the besieged Azovstal steel plant in Mariupol.
He was finally released on October 17 in a prisoner exchange with Russia and entered mandatory rehabilitation at a military hospital, under whose care he remains.
Ukraine recently asked the International Committee of the Red Cross to send a delegation to the Russian prisoner of war camp.
“I wasn’t prepared [for captivity]and we discussed it a lot with other female prisoners that life has not prepared us for this [an] ordeal,” says Panina at a veteran-run pizza bar in central Kyiv.
She says the guards “were unpredictable people” who sometimes verbally abused the inmates, but that she was spared any physical harm.
Now her partner’s fate is up in the air. He is also a border guard who is still in captivity. “I know he’s alive, but I don’t know which prison he’s in,” Panina says sadly as she scrolls through his photos.
When asked what gives her hope, she says simply, “our men, our people.”
