Silent resistance and fear actions

The fifth of the Ukrainian territory is now under Russian control, and for Ukrainians who live under the occupation, it seems that there is little chance that any future deal will end the war.

Three Ukrainians in different Russian cities reported the BBC about the pressure they face, to accept the Russian passport to the risks of the resistance. We do not use our true names for our own safety, and we will call them Mavka, Pavlo and Iryna.

Potential dangers are the same, whether it will be in Mariipulia or Melitopol, confiscated by Russia in a complete large -scale invasion of 2022, or in Crimea, which was annexed eight years before.

Maveli decided to stay in Melitopol when the Russians invaded their city on February 25, 2022, “because it is unfair that someone could just come to my house and bring it.”

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

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

She shared the photos of the billboard, which promoted the call for young residents, a school notebook with a portrait of Putin, as well as photos and videos of students who wear Russian military forms instead of school meetings – boys and girls – and perform military education tasks.

According to Paul, 200 km (125 miles) along the Azov coast, and much closer to the Russian border, Mariupol feels like it was “cut off” from the outside world.

This key port and the center of the capital’s industry was captured after a devastating siege and bombing, which lasted almost three months in 2022.

Russian citizenship is now mandatory if you want to work or study or have urgent medical care, Paul says.

“If someone, say, refuses to sing the Russian anthem at school in the morning, the FSB (Russian Security Service) will visit their parents, they will” closed “and then everything can happen.”

Paul survived the siege, despite the fact that he was shot six times, including in the head.

Now that it is restored, he feels that he cannot leave the elderly relatives.

“Most of those who stayed in Mariolia either returned to help her older parents or sick grandparents or because of their apartment,” he tells me on the phone after the north, so no one will eavesdrop.

Mariupol’s biggest concern is holding on to your home, as most of the property damaged in the Russian bombing was demolished and the cost of life and unemployment has grown.

“I would say that 95% of all conversations in the city are property: how to demand it, how to sell it. You will hear how people talk about it when he bought bread, on his way to a chemist, on the food market, everywhere,” he says.

Crimea has been in the occupation since Vladimir Putin annexed the peninsula in 2014, when Russia’s war in Ukraine began.

Irina decided to stay, as well as to take care of an elderly relative, but also because she did not want to leave her beautiful home.

All signs of Ukrainian identity were banned in public, and Irina says that she can no longer talk in Ukraine in public, “as you never know who can say about you.”

Children at a children’s school in Crimea are said to sing the Russian anthem every morning, even the youngest. All teachers are Russian, most of them are soldiers who moved from Russia.

Irina occasionally puts on her traditional, embroidered Vyshyvanka Above if she has a video call with friends elsewhere on the peninsula.

“It helps us to maintain the mood high, reminding us of our happy life before class.”

But the risks are high, even when wearing a cherry. “They may not shoot at you right away, but you can just disappear after that, silently,” she states.

She talks about a Ukrainian friend who is interrogated by police because Russian neighbors who came to Crimea in 2014 said he had illegal weapons. “Of course, he didn’t. Fortunately, they released him in the end, but it’s so scary.”

Irina complains that she can’t go out on her own even for coffee, “because sellers can put a gun on you and say something offensive or ordering you to please them.”

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

In Melitopol Mava tells about being part of the secret movement for the resistance resistance called Zla Mavka .

According to Irina, the network consists of women and girls in “almost all occupied cities”, although it cannot reveal its size or scale from the potential dangers for its members.

MAVKA describes its role in managing accounting on social media networks that document life under occupation and act as the placement of Ukrainian symbols or letters in public “to remind other Ukrainians that they are not alone” or even more risky practices.

“Sometimes we also put laxatives in alcohol and bakery for Russian soldiers as a” welcome package, “she says.

The punishment for such an act that BBC could not check would be serious.

Maveli believes that the Russian authorities are considering Ukrainian or what is associated with Ukraine as an extremist one.

Ukrainians are well aware of what happened to the journalist Victoria Rashchyna, 27 years old disappeared during the investigation of charges of torture In eastern Ukraine in 2023.

The Russian authorities told their family that they died in September 2024. Her body was returned earlier this month, with several organs removed and clear signs of torture.

The silent disappearance is what the silk is most afraid: “If suddenly no one can find out where you are and what happened to you.”

Her network has developed a set of tasks to make the new jorars pass to avoid penetration, and so far they have been able to avoid cyberattacks.

As they expect and look: “We cannot take weapons and fight against the occupier now, but we want to at least show that the pro -Russian population is here, and it will also be here.”

She and others in the melitopol closely monitor what is happening in Kiev, “because it is important for us to know if Kiev is ready to fight for us. Even small steps are important.”

“We have bitter mood here. Many are concerned about the documents that can sign up that, God forbid, leave us under Russian occupation for even longer. Because we know what Russia will do here.”

The concern of the male and close to it is that if Kiev agrees with the ceasefire, it may mean that Russia pursues the same policy as in Crimea, erasing Ukrainian identity and repression.

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

Unlike Mauska, Paul believes that the war should end, even if it means a loss of its ability to return to Ukraine.

“A person’s life is of the greatest importance … But there are certain conditions to cease fire, and not everyone can agree with them, because it causes the question why all these people have died in the last three years? Will they feel abandoned and betrayed?”

Paul is wary of talking, even through an encrypted line, but adds: “I do not envy anyone involved in the decision-making process. It will not be easy, black and white.

Irina is afraid for the next generation of Crimea, which grew up in an atmosphere of violence, and, according to her, copy her parents who returned from the Russian war against Ukraine.

She shows me her tied cat and says the baby on the street shot with a rubber bullet.

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