I am Viktoriia*, I am 24 years old, I am from Ukraine. Until February 24 2022, I lived with my parents in our apartment in Kherson region. Since the 3rd grade, I dreamed of becoming a judge, so I worked hard toward my goal and was in my 4th year of bachelor’s studies in Law. I had big plans for the future and high ambitions as 21-year-old girl. 

But everything changed on February 24 2022. 

It was supposed to be my day off, and I was really looking forward to going to the shopping mall and watching a movie. 

But that morning, my mother’s screams woke me up — “Get up, it’s war.” I jumped up and saw huge explosions in the sky. The Russians began a full-scale invasion and shelled the military base near our town. My father told us that we had only 30 minutes to pack. In 30 minutes, I had to fit my entire life into a few suitcases.  

That choice.. whether to take your favourite dress or a photo album with your childhood photos. But the first thing I packed was my embroidered shirt. It is always with me, like a piece of home and a piece of Ukraine. 

My parents and I got into the car, and I started reading the new. Through tears, I stared greedily out the car window, trying to memorise every tree, field, and bush. I know I will return home, but I will never be the same as I was before February 24, and neither will the landscapes. 

In Kherson, we picked up my little nephew. The adults were running around, packing, panicking, crying, but he quietly sat and ate a chocolate bar while watching his favourite cartoon. He watched many cartoons that day. 

Then, before our eyes, the Kherson airport was bombed. Thick black smoke rose into the sky. 

Our home-region was occupied during the first days of Russian full-scale invasion. We couldn’t stop anywhere to eat or rest; we were just fleeing the explosions, and it seemed like the Russians were everywhere. 

It was a feeling of fear, hatred, and despair, and complete uncertainty about what would happen next. We were driving into the unknown. 

My nephew cried the entire trip because he was hungry and kept asking for macaronchiki (pasta in Ukrainian). He fell asleep. I remembered I had grabbed a pastry into my bag. The moment I took it out, the little one opened his eyes and reached for it. 

My father stayed in Ukraine, and we headed to the border. We waited in car line at the Polish border for five days, without food, water, or rest. It was one endless day for us. We were so exhausted. Only near the border volunteers began to give us sandwiches and hot tea. That tea and bread tasted like hope—it showed us we were not alone, that even in the darkest moments, human solidarity can keep us going. 

When we crossed the border, we asked the volunteers to take us somewhere we could eat and just sleep. 

They took us to the Cultural Center in Przemyśl, Polish city near the border with Ukraine. There was everything, like in a store—hot borscht, chocolate. We probably slept for three days there. I will be grateful to those people for their care and kindness for the rest of my life. Hope for me lives in those small acts of kindness, when strangers become family. 

Then, we stayed with friends of our family in Poland for a few weeks, but when we realised the war wouldn’t last just two or three weeks, we had to find other sustainable solutions. 

We decided to move to Lithuania. I am incredibly grateful for the shelter and the opportunity to continue my studies here. I remember when we arrived, everything seemed so gray, the weather was gloomy and cold. But I also remember the kindness of people and the many Ukrainian flags everywhere. Almost every car had a Lithuanian and Ukrainian flag. Buses had signs saying, “Vilnius loves Ukraine.” That support touched my heart. Hope was in those flags and signs, reminding me that Ukraine is not forgotten, that people stand with us. 

I had thoughts of quitting everything and going to work, but my mother told me every day, “No, you must keep studying, we will survive everything, we will endure everything. Your education is our priority.” 

I continued my studies and stopped feeling like a refugee here. I was a student. And studying really healed me. I became deeply interested in international humanitarian law, refugee law, and human rights protection. At that moment, an inner transformation took place, and I realised that I wanted to help forcibly displaced people worldwide. Because I know what it’s like to be in a foreign country without knowledge of the laws, regulations and your rights, without money, and without knowing the local language, sometimes even without documents. This feeling left a lasting mark on me, and that’s why I now advocate for refugees’ rights. Hope for me is also the power to turn my pain into purpose, and my fear into service for others. 

I worked at the Bulgarian NGO, where we provided free legal aid to refugees from Ukraine, Syria, and Afghanistan. Later, I lived in Italy and did my internship at the global advocacy unit with refugees. 

In EU, I saw the problem of the rise of far-right populist parties and hostile narratives seeking to shape migration narratives— “Us vs. Them,” “Refugees will come and take your jobs, and because of them, rent rates are high.” Recently, the adoption of the EU Pact on Migration and Asylum was criticised by civil society organisations in many countries. 

Meanwhile, people are dying in the Mediterranean, searching for a better life, and human rights defenders are persecuted for accompanying refugees across the globe. 

I want to stress that refugees don’t only bring their belongings and wait for social benefits from the state. In most cases, they are highly educated people who want to work, pay taxes, and contribute to the economy of hosting countries. Einstein was also a refugee. So, we must fight together against stereotypes, stigma and growing xenophobia regarding refugees and migrants in the EU. I believe hope today means building bridges instead of fences, choosing solidarity over fear, and seeing each other’s humanity before anything else. 

*Viiktoria collaborated with the Advocacy team of JRS International, and this testimony was given during the event “Migrants & Refugees in Our Common Home.”