Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 and Kyiv announced a general mobilization, thousands of Ukrainians have been called up to defend their homeland.
In Ukraine, conscription is mandatory only for men.
Despite that, more than 45,000 women have voluntarily joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine and are currently serving alongside men.
Many others are enrolling in training programs to learn the basics of military service before mobilizing or to be prepared in case the situation worsens and they need to take up arms.
Among the organizations providing such training is one offering courses exclusively for women, the Ukrainian Valkyriya (Valkyrie) NGO, which has trained more than 1,500 women since the start of the full-scale invasion.
Photojournalist Oksana Parafeniuk went to several all-female training courses to observe the participants' experiences and learn about their motivation.
Anna Syvohip, 24, who works in IT business development, joined the training primarily to learn about self-defense and how to use weapons. “The war has been with us for a long time, and we never know when it might return to Kyiv, so it would be good not to freeze up like on Feb. 24, 2022,” Syvohip says. "I'd like to be able to take up arms and go (to war).”
She also says she is considering the possibility of being mobilized in the future.
"The war has been with us for a long time and we never know when it might return to Kyiv, so it would be good not to freeze up like on Feb. 24, 2022."
Viktoriia Holovko, 22, a clothing stylist from Poltava Oblast, lived and studied in Kharkiv. She had to flee the city on Feb. 26, 2022, just days after the full-scale invasion began. Holovko says she became interested in military life after her two cousins joined the military – one is currently serving on the front lines, and the other was killed in Bakhmut at the height of the battle for the city in February last year. His death motivated Holovko to volunteer with a charity foundation called “Your Faith, Our Strength,” which was founded by her friend. The organization supports civilians and military personnel in front-line areas, and recently began evacuating animals.
Holovko says they often travel to Donbas and Kherson, where she received her first military training from soldiers as a thank-you for the foundation’s help. “I want to have more skills,” Viktoria says. “This is my second session with the Valkiriya. I also did the medical training. Sometimes I think about joining the military, especially after visiting hot spots. We went to Bakhmut, and recently we went to Kupiansk and Avdiivka.”
Viktoria says she often feels depressed in Kyiv, wondering what good she is doing in the capital. For her, the most challenging aspect is balancing her two different lives – her job life and her volunteering life.
"Sometimes I go to work, and it’s hard to be around people. I put on a smile, even though I’m thinking about the need for donations, about the killed and injured soldiers, and about what supplies are needed. However, I stand there smiling, picking out clothes for people, and I see some people are just indifferent to it all. I understand that not everyone can feel what I do.”
"Sometimes I go to work, and it's hard to be around people. I put on a smile, even though I'm thinking about the need for donations, about the killed and injured soldiers, and about what supplies are needed."
Valentyna Yarysh, 49, a math teacher from the Kyiv suburb of Borodianka and mother of three, lived through the Russian occupation of her town with her younger son. Her older son is currently fighting on the front line, and her daughter managed to escape the occupation at the last minute with her three-month-old son, just a day before a car at a checkpoint was shot at by Russian forces.
Looking back at the occupation, Yarysh reflects, “It was very unexpected for us. We were completely defenseless, and at any moment, fully armed people could have burst into the house and pointed weapons at us. We felt helpless.”
Yarysh said it took her a year to recover from the experience of occupation. She went to Poland to help her daughter care for her son for a few months before returning to Ukraine.
As for her motivation to undergo training, she says, “I work as a math teacher at school. I was convinced that I was needed here, and for a whole year, I tried to work and feel useful, weaving (camouflage) nets. At some point, when the attack on Kharkiv began, and there was information that there were no fortifications in Sumy, Chernihiv, or Chornobyl – (the places) from where the Russian army entered Borodianka in 2022 – it became scary. I can’t imagine how I would survive a second occupation. That’s why I decided that I should probably prepare myself, so that in case of emergency, I could either defend myself or join partisans or the territorial defense. That’s my motivation.”
“I can't imagine how I would survive a second occupation. That's why I decided that I should probably prepare myself, so that in case of emergency, I could either defend myself or join partisans or the territorial defense. This is my motivation.”
Anna Malishevska, 23, a translator, decided to take part in training to be prepared in case she needs to serve or, at the very least, to be ready to protect her home. Her arm sports a Ukrainian embroidery tattoo that she got a year ago.
“It reminds me of my roots, where I come from, and who I am,” Malishevska explains. “It’s always with me. I don’t need to wear a ‘vyshyvanka’ (a traditional Ukrainian embroidered shirt) to remember my identity and heritage.”
"It (vyshyvanka tattoo) reminds me of my roots, from where I am, who I am and it's always with me. I don't need to put on "vyshyvanka" to remember who I am and from where"
Two friends, Olha Mehem, 40, a sales manager in the medical field, and Maryna Holovanova, 35, shared their motivation for attending the training: “I came to learn some basics of military training so that in case of an attack or other danger, I could defend myself or at least be able to use a weapon,” Mehem says.
Holovanova adds, “I came to understand how our guys (soldiers) feel, how hard it is for them, and to learn how to defend our country. We started training in January, and during a heavy snowfall, we got very cold. I told Olha, ‘We’re training until the end. Our soldiers are also cold, but they’re not putting down their weapons.’”
"I told Olha, ‘We’re training until the end. Our soldiers are also cold, but they’re not putting down their weapons soldiers are also cold, but they do not give up their weapons."
Liudmyla Shundyk, 30, from Vyshneve, Kyiv Oblast, a financial manager, sees the training as a fresh start in her life: “One day, I woke up and realized that what I was doing was meaningless. I felt like I needed to join the army and was ready to give up everything,” Shundyk says. “A friend advised me to start with training with the Ukrainian Valkyriya, to see what the weapons are like, understand where I could be useful, try it out, and then make a decision.” Shundyk has been training with the group since March and has completed around a dozen training sessions.
During training, she realized she wasn’t healthy enough to be fully involved in active combat, so she decided to stay in her job. “But I must know how to use weapons, grenades, and other items, and how to dress properly, so if there’s a situation similar to the 2022 occupation of the Kyiv region, I’ll know what to do. I’ll know where to get weapons and how to strip them down, clean them, and use them safely. At least in this regard, I can be useful. I don’t have children, so I always say I have nothing to lose.”
“The only thing you can lose is your life. But I don’t want to live under Russian occupation, and I don’t see myself living abroad either. We were born here, and we need to be here, in our place.”
"One day, I woke up and realized that what I was doing was meaningless. I felt like I needed to join the army and was ready to give up everything."