My commitment to those who remained in Ukraine
One year ago, the conflict in Ukraine began. And so did the toughest decision of my life.
On one side of this equation were my elderly parents in Germany. They desperately begged me to leave, that they were growing sick with grief. On the other side was my husband, who I did not want to leave, and our young children, whose safety was paramount.
Anchoring us was our special enclave in the city of Dnipro — a vibrant and embracing Jewish community that, like me, came of age after the fall of communism and blossomed in the post-Soviet years. Like thousands of others who discovered a Jewish identity previously suppressed by the Soviets, I enthusiastically embraced old traditions and timeless values focused on caring for the neediest and prioritizing the saving of a single life above all concerns.
So when the violence became too much to bear, I made the heartbreaking choice to join the more than 8 million people who fled Ukraine. Millions more stayed, having sought refuge in other parts of the country or remained at home.
In many cases, this choice was a concern about leaving behind a loved one — a husband, brother, or homebound parent. For others, it was poverty, age, or fears about starting over in a new place, in a new language, with no safety net to rely on.
The people who’ve stayed — especially those who were needy before the crisis — are facing increasing challenges. Inflation is driving up the prices of basic goods, when you can get them, and the loss of heat and power are making an already harsh winter even more difficult. The humanitarian plight has never been greater than it is today.
It’s because of those needs — the needs of my neighbors and my community — that I returned to Ukraine months after I led an evacuation convoy for the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, the global Jewish humanitarian organization I have worked for since 1999. Across Ukraine over the last three decades, we built social service and Jewish community infrastructure that has now become the backbone for our historic response effort.
Since the start of the conflict, my colleagues and I have been a lifeline to more than 46,000 people, distributing 800 tons of humanitarian supplies. In the last few months, we’ve provided winter survival assistance — lifesaving subzero sleeping bags, warm clothing and boots, coal and wood, utility bills subsidies, and generators and canned foods — to 22,000 people, vastly expanding an effort that in 2021 reached just 9,000 people.
We’ve also repurposed a pre-conflict program teaching elderly how to use technology for emergency services, online community and cultural programming, and remote access to emotional and psychological support. And we’re supporting thousands of new poor, those plunged into poverty as the conflict ravaged the economy, and housing and humanitarian aid for internally displaced persons.
Behind each of these examples are individual people bravely facing an uncertain future and relying on us — my professional colleagues, our local volunteer corps, and institutions we built for moments just like this — to support them in their hour of need.
Among them is a family who escaped southeastern Ukraine in the first weeks of the conflict. Two parents and their teenage daughter squeezed into their small car, taking with them the children of neighbors. Every time there was an explosion on the road, the daughter covered the eyes of the younger children. She tried her best to shield them from the devastation outside.
When they finally made it to Dnipro, they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and what they fit into their car. And that’s where we stepped in. We’re ensuring that they have their basic needs met, are able to pay their rent, and can access much needed trauma support.
After the journey, their teenage daughter temporarily stopped communicating and refused to leave home. After she and her parents began receiving mental health services, the daughter started attending our Jewish community programs and participating in our teen club, an oasis of warm welcome and normalcy in a reality of chaos.
In many ways, their story has just begun. I know that I, and the community here in Dnipro, will be with there for them for as long as we are needed. We have found strength in each other and in acts of kindness that will be passed on for generations.
At this moment, when headlines are focused on geopolitical concerns, we cannot let the world forget those people who face this crisis in vulnerability and despair. Their stories, their needs, and our ability to heal and care for them is as important as peace. May it only come soon.