💌 Letter to the Politicians of the World
Hello! My name is Ukraine. When I was 3 years old, men in expensive suits came to me. They put me on their laps, patted my head and said: “Don’t cry, little one, we’ll take care of everything for you.” Then they turned my pockets inside out, took every last penny, forcibly took the entire inheritance my parents had built. They took all our money, destroyed all my property, took every weapon my dad had hidden under the bed “for a rainy day,”
and hung a sign on the door: “We will protect you. Signed: USA, Great Britain, Russia.”
I believed them. I was little.
Now I am 34. I am naked, soaked with rain and blood, standing among ruins. My neighbour, the same man who patted my head 30 years ago, burst into my home with a knife, an assault rifle and a maniacal smile. He tore my clothes off me, trying to rape me while shouting: “You’re mine, historically!”
I called those men in expensive suits who had guaranteed my protection, I called the police. I screamed into the phone: “Help! You promised!”
They didn’t help…
I screamed to the neighbours, begged for help, at least with weapons. Some neighbours (Germany, France) brought me a toy pistol and said: “Here, hold on, but don’t shoot too much, it’s expensive.” Some neighbours (Hungary, Slovakia) brought beer to my rapist and shouted to him: “Go on, take her, she’s asking for it!”
And the whole of Europe continues to supply the attacker with food and clothing so that he doesn’t accidentally go hungry or catch a cold while trying to kill me. They even pay his utilities for him, because he’s busy and can’t pay himself, and if they cut off his electricity, water or gas, that would be a catastrophe, inhumane. It’s not good for him to stop trying to kill me, after all, he’s a busy man, let him keep trying. It’s not scary if he keeps trying. What’s scary is if he loses to me. That’s why he must not be allowed to lose. That’s exactly what they said, word for word, those same men in expensive suits said.
The attacker is also helped by other neighbours (North Korea). No one helps me. I am alone against many.
But I did not surrender, I fought. This did not please neighbours like Hungary. They declared that my noise was preventing them from sleeping and called on all neighbours not to help me, because the sooner the attacker kills me, the sooner everything will end, and it is in Hungary’s interest that I stop resisting and die as quickly as possible.
Those same men who took everything from me in childhood came to me again. Now they shout at me: “Stop resisting! Lie down and spread your legs! Otherwise we’ll turn off your lights, cut off your gas and help him finish you off even faster!”
They have already drawn up a paper, 28 points:
It says: give him Crimea (that’s my bedroom), give him Donbas (that’s my kitchen), give him all your property and let him fuck you whenever he wants. And don’t you dare join any organisations or clubs. You will no longer be able to live freely, walk freely or dress as you wish. And from now on you will cook for yourself and for the attacker at your own expense (Zaporizhzhia NPP).
And sign that you wanted it yourself.
In return they promise… nothing. The same guarantees as before, only even weaker.
For this they have issued an invoice: “for mediation, 61 billion dollars + interest.”
And they are asking for the Nobel Peace Prize and other medals for my “rescue” or conflict settlement.
Right now one of them, one of these men in expensive suits, has come to me. He is holding a rope in his hand and demanding that I let him tie me up. If I refuse, they threaten to block any help to me and help kill me, they promise to prevent me from having any possibility to defend myself.
And here I stand, naked, in the blue-and-yellow scraps of what was once a gorgeous dress, now destroyed by these men in expensive suits. Not only by the attacker, of course, all of them are accomplices. I fight and I cannot surrender. Surrender is the same death, only in shame.
They don’t understand this. They don’t know what honour or morality is. For them it doesn’t exist, for them it’s just an illusion, words for manipulation and nothing more. For them only money exists and nothing beyond the material. Even old age has not brought them wisdom. They do not realise that they will take nothing with them after death. They do not understand that they will go down in history on the pages of shame, if they go down at all. That is why they will never understand how one unarmed girl can resist armed grown men. They won’t understand where I get the strength, why I don’t give up, because it is beyond their comprehension, they simply cannot step outside their templates and therefore belittle and simplify everything to fit their patterns.
How are you better than the Nazis or the communists? How are people in the 21st century better than savages? Not at all! They are just as indifferent to other people’s deaths…
But you know what? I still won’t surrender! Even without a home, even in darkness, cold, without clothes and weapons I will continue to fight. I will continue to fight even if these expensive men tie me up and receive the Nobel Peace Prize or other medals for it. Even if I die, I will die standing, not on my knees like they are used to living. And my honour is real, unlike their self-proclaimed titles and fake awards. They have money, I don’t. But I have something that cannot be bought, something they will never have.
With these words I end my letter to the politicians of this sick world.
With love and hatred,
Ukraine.
34 years old.
Still alive.
@WhiteHouse @POTUS @VP @SecRubio @generalkellogg @kajakallas @ZelenskyyUa @EmmanuelMacron @bundeskanzler @donaldtusk @sikorskiradek
Hello! My name is Ukraine. When I was 3 years old, men in expensive suits came to me. They put me on their laps, patted my head and said: “Don’t cry, little one, we’ll take care of everything for you.” Then they turned my pockets inside out, took every last penny, forcibly took the entire inheritance my parents had built. They took all our money, destroyed all my property, took every weapon my dad had hidden under the bed “for a rainy day,”
and hung a sign on the door: “We will protect you. Signed: USA, Great Britain, Russia.”
I believed them. I was little.
Now I am 34. I am naked, soaked with rain and blood, standing among ruins. My neighbour, the same man who patted my head 30 years ago, burst into my home with a knife, an assault rifle and a maniacal smile. He tore my clothes off me, trying to rape me while shouting: “You’re mine, historically!”
I called those men in expensive suits who had guaranteed my protection, I called the police. I screamed into the phone: “Help! You promised!”
They didn’t help…
I screamed to the neighbours, begged for help, at least with weapons. Some neighbours (Germany, France) brought me a toy pistol and said: “Here, hold on, but don’t shoot too much, it’s expensive.” Some neighbours (Hungary, Slovakia) brought beer to my rapist and shouted to him: “Go on, take her, she’s asking for it!”
And the whole of Europe continues to supply the attacker with food and clothing so that he doesn’t accidentally go hungry or catch a cold while trying to kill me. They even pay his utilities for him, because he’s busy and can’t pay himself, and if they cut off his electricity, water or gas, that would be a catastrophe, inhumane. It’s not good for him to stop trying to kill me, after all, he’s a busy man, let him keep trying. It’s not scary if he keeps trying. What’s scary is if he loses to me. That’s why he must not be allowed to lose. That’s exactly what they said, word for word, those same men in expensive suits said.
The attacker is also helped by other neighbours (North Korea). No one helps me. I am alone against many.
But I did not surrender, I fought. This did not please neighbours like Hungary. They declared that my noise was preventing them from sleeping and called on all neighbours not to help me, because the sooner the attacker kills me, the sooner everything will end, and it is in Hungary’s interest that I stop resisting and die as quickly as possible.
Those same men who took everything from me in childhood came to me again. Now they shout at me: “Stop resisting! Lie down and spread your legs! Otherwise we’ll turn off your lights, cut off your gas and help him finish you off even faster!”
They have already drawn up a paper, 28 points:
It says: give him Crimea (that’s my bedroom), give him Donbas (that’s my kitchen), give him all your property and let him fuck you whenever he wants. And don’t you dare join any organisations or clubs. You will no longer be able to live freely, walk freely or dress as you wish. And from now on you will cook for yourself and for the attacker at your own expense (Zaporizhzhia NPP).
And sign that you wanted it yourself.
In return they promise… nothing. The same guarantees as before, only even weaker.
For this they have issued an invoice: “for mediation, 61 billion dollars + interest.”
And they are asking for the Nobel Peace Prize and other medals for my “rescue” or conflict settlement.
Right now one of them, one of these men in expensive suits, has come to me. He is holding a rope in his hand and demanding that I let him tie me up. If I refuse, they threaten to block any help to me and help kill me, they promise to prevent me from having any possibility to defend myself.
And here I stand, naked, in the blue-and-yellow scraps of what was once a gorgeous dress, now destroyed by these men in expensive suits. Not only by the attacker, of course, all of them are accomplices. I fight and I cannot surrender. Surrender is the same death, only in shame.
They don’t understand this. They don’t know what honour or morality is. For them it doesn’t exist, for them it’s just an illusion, words for manipulation and nothing more. For them only money exists and nothing beyond the material. Even old age has not brought them wisdom. They do not realise that they will take nothing with them after death. They do not understand that they will go down in history on the pages of shame, if they go down at all. That is why they will never understand how one unarmed girl can resist armed grown men. They won’t understand where I get the strength, why I don’t give up, because it is beyond their comprehension, they simply cannot step outside their templates and therefore belittle and simplify everything to fit their patterns.
How are you better than the Nazis or the communists? How are people in the 21st century better than savages? Not at all! They are just as indifferent to other people’s deaths…
But you know what? I still won’t surrender! Even without a home, even in darkness, cold, without clothes and weapons I will continue to fight. I will continue to fight even if these expensive men tie me up and receive the Nobel Peace Prize or other medals for it. Even if I die, I will die standing, not on my knees like they are used to living. And my honour is real, unlike their self-proclaimed titles and fake awards. They have money, I don’t. But I have something that cannot be bought, something they will never have.
With these words I end my letter to the politicians of this sick world.
With love and hatred,
Ukraine.
34 years old.
Still alive.
@WhiteHouse @POTUS @VP @SecRubio @generalkellogg @kajakallas @ZelenskyyUa @EmmanuelMacron @bundeskanzler @donaldtusk @sikorskiradek
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