Silent acts of resistance and fear

One fifth of Ukrainian territory is now under Russian control, and for Ukrainians living under occupation, it seems a little chance any future transaction to end the war will change this.

Three Ukrainians in different cities, controlled by Russian, we do not use their real names for our own safety and we will call them Mavka, Pavlo and Iryna.

The potential dangers are the same, whether in Maripol or Melitopol seized from Russia in the full -scale invasion of 2022 or in Crimea, which was annexed eight years earlier.

Mavka chose to stay in Melitopol when the Russians invaded her city on February 25, 2022, “because it is unfair that someone can just come to my home and take it out.”

She has lived there since her birth, in the middle between the Crimean Peninsula and the regional capital.

In recent months, it has not only noticed a strict policy of “Russification” in the city, but also of increased militarization of all spheres of life, including in schools.

She shared photos of a billboard promoting a summons for young locals, a school notebook with Putin’s portrait on it, and photos and videos of students wearing Russian military uniforms instead of school outfits – boys and girls – and performing military education.

About 200 km (125 miles) along the coast of Azov and much closer to the Russian border, the city of Maripol feels as if it were “cut” by the outside world, according to Paul.

This key port and center of Ukraine’s steel industry was captured after a devastating siege and bombing that lasted almost three months in 2022.

Russian citizenship is now a must if you want to work or study or have emergency medical attention, says Paul.

“If someone, let’s say, refuses to sing the Russian anthem at school in the morning, FSB (Russian security service) will visit their parents, they will be” pencils “and then everything can happen.”

Paul survived the siege, although he was shot six times, including to his head.

Now that he has recovered, he feels that he cannot leave because of the elderly relatives.

“Most of those who stayed in Maripol or returned did so to help their elderly parents or their sick grandparents or because of their apartment,” he tells me on the phone after midnight, so no one will eavesdrop.

The largest concern in Mariupol is the retention of your home, as the greater part of the property damaged in the Russian bombing has been demolished and the cost of life and unemployment has increased.

“I would say that 95% of all fairy tales in the city are for ownership: how to claim it, how to sell it. You will hear people talk about it while the queue to buy some bread, on your way to a chemist, on the food market, everywhere,” he says.

Crimea was under occupation after Vladimir Putin annexed the peninsula in 2014 when the Russia war in Ukraine began.

Irina decided to stay, also to take care of an adult relative, but also because she did not want to leave her “beautiful home”.

All signs of Ukrainian identity are forbidden publicly and Irina says she can no longer speak Ukrainian in public, “as you never know who can tell the authorities about you.”

Children at the Crimea Children’s School are told to sing the Russian anthem every morning, even the youngest. All teachers are Russian, most of them wives of soldiers who have moved from Russia.

Irina occasionally puts her traditional, embroidered Vyshyvanka Up when she has video calls with friends elsewhere on the peninsula.

“It helps us keep our spirits high, reminding us of our happy life before the occupation.”

But the risks are high, even for wearing vyshyvanka. “They may not shoot you right away, but you can just disappear then, silently,” she says.

She spoke of a Ukrainian friend who was questioned by police, as the Russian neighbors who came to Crimea in 2014 told police that there were illegal weapons. “Of course he didn’t.

Irina complains that she can’t go out alone, even for coffee, “because the spokes can put you a gun and say something forcibly or order you to please them.”

Resistance in the occupied cities of Ukraine is dangerous and often comes in small actions of a challenge aimed at reminding residents that they are not alone.

In Melitopol Mavka says it is part of a secret movement for female resistance called Evil bead (Angry Mavka) “Let’s inform people that Ukrainians disagree with the occupation, we did not call it and we will never tolerate it.”

The network is made up of women and girls in “almost all occupied cities”, according to Irina, although it cannot reveal its size or scale because of the potential dangers for its members.

Mavka describes his role in the performance of accounts on the social media of the network, which document life in occupation and act as the placement of Ukrainian symbols or leaflets in public places, “to remind other Ukrainians that they are not alone” or even more risk practices.

“Sometimes we also put a laxative in alcohol and cookies for Russian soldiers, like” welcome, “she says.

The punishment for this type of act, which the BBC is not able to check, would be difficult.

Russian occupation authorities are referring to Ukrainian or something related to Ukraine as an extremist, says Mavka.

Ukrainians are well aware of what happened to journalist Victoria Roshkina, 27 -year -old who disappeared as he investigated allegations of prisons for torture In Eastern Ukraine in 2023

The Russian authorities told her family that she had died in custody in September 2024. Her body was returned earlier this month, with several organs being eliminated and clear signs of torture.

The quiet disappearance is what Mavka is most afraid: “When suddenly no one can understand where you are or what happened to you.”

Her network has developed a set of tasks to pass new carpenters to avoid infiltration and have so far been able to avoid cyberattacks.

For now, they are waiting and watching, “We can’t take a weapon and fight against the occupier at the moment, but we want to at least show that the pro-Ukrainian population is here and will also be here.”

She and others in Melitopol are closely followed by what is happening in Kiev, “because it is important to know if Kiev is ready to fight for us. Even small steps matter.”

“We have a roller coaster here. Many are worried documents that can be signed, that, God forbid, leave us under Russian occupation even longer. Because we know what Russia will do here.”

The anxiety about the bead and the people close to it is that if Kiev agrees to the cessation of fire, it may mean that Russia is pursuing the same policy as in Crimea, erasing Ukrainian identity and suppressing the population.

“They are already replacing locals with their people. But the people here are still hoping, we will continue our resistance, we will just have to be more creative.”

Unlike Mavka, Paul believes that war must end, even if it means losing its ability to return to Ukraine.

“Human life is of the most benefit … But there are certain conditions for the termination of fire and not everyone can agree with them, since it raises the question, why have all these people died then in the last three years? Will they feel abandoned and betrayed?”

Pavlo is cautious to speak, even through an encrypted line, but he adds: “I don’t envy anyone involved in this decision -making process. It won’t be just, black and white.

Irina is afraid of the next generation of Crimea, who have grown up in an atmosphere of violence and, in her view, copy her fathers who have returned from the war of Russia against Ukraine.

She shows me her bandaged cat and says that a child on her street has fired her with a rubber bullet.

“It was fun for them. These children were not taught to build peace, they were taught to fight. It breaks my heart.”