By Anietie anii-bassey
Anastasia Kucherova, a Russian-born architect who has made her home in Milan for more than a decade, chose one of the world’s most visible stages to express her opposition to Moscow’s war against Ukraine — not with a speech or a banner of her own, but by carrying the placard for the Ukrainian team during the opening ceremony of the 2026 Winter Olympics.
Wrapped in a long, hooded silver puffer coat and wearing dark glasses like the other volunteers assigned to lead delegations, Kucherova was indistinguishable from the dozens of placard bearers guiding athletes from 92 nations into Milan’s San Siro stadium.
Her identity and nationality were not announced as she stepped onto the field ahead of five Ukrainian athletes, holding high the illuminated sign bearing their country’s name.
To the crowd, she was simply another figure in a carefully choreographed spectacle. For Kucherova, however, the moment carried deep personal meaning.
Initially, organizers had planned to assign volunteers to countries at random. But when the choreographer later asked whether anyone had a preference, Kucherova volunteered to lead Ukraine’s delegation. It was a deliberate decision.
Kucherova, who has lived in Italy for 14 years and built her career as an architect there, later disclosed her role to her followers on Instagram and spoke publicly about it in an interview. She described the act as small but intentional — a gesture meant to signal solidarity with a nation under siege and to remind Ukrainians that not all Russians support the war.
“When you walk by the side of these people you realize they have every human right to feel hatred towards any Russian,” she said. “Still, I think it’s important to do even a small action to show them that maybe not all the people are thinking the same way.”
Her decision to speak about the experience came on the second anniversary of the poisoning death of Russian dissident Alexei Navalny, a date that for many critics of the Kremlin symbolizes the dangers faced by those who oppose President Vladimir Putin’s government. For Kucherova, it was also a reminder that even as the world gathers for sport and celebration, the war in Ukraine grinds on.
“Ukrainians don’t have any possibility to avoid these thoughts or to ignore the existence of war,” she said. “It is their reality. They keep loving each other, getting married or doing sports, coming to the Olympics. But all of this is happening against a devastating background.”
The Ukrainian delegation entering the stadium was led by short track speedskater Yelyzaveta Sydorko, with figure skater Kyrylo Marsak among the athletes walking behind her. Both competitors have fathers fighting on the front lines in a conflict approaching its fourth year.
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Kucherova recalled that without being told she was Russian, the athletes quickly recognized her accent and addressed her in Russian. To her, that spontaneous exchange underscored what she described as a deep cultural and human connection between Russians and Ukrainians — one she believes could endure if not for the war.
“There is literally no word you can say that can undo the harm that these people have already suffered,” she said. “And there is no word that can come close to forgiveness.”
Moments before they stepped into the stadium, she turned to the Ukrainian athletes, uncertain what to say. “I just told them that the entire stadium is going to give them a standing ovation,” she said, recalling that they seemed doubtful.
When the cheers erupted as they entered, Kucherova said the applause felt like something larger than routine Olympic enthusiasm. To her, it was an affirmation of Ukraine’s sovereignty and resilience.
“It felt like the entire stadium was recognizing their independence, recognizing their will for freedom, their courage in making it all the way to the Olympics,” she said.
Behind her dark glasses, she cried silently.
Kucherova has not returned to Russia since 2018 and acknowledges that publicly opposing the war carries risks. She worries about potential consequences not only for herself but for people she knows.
“I have to be worried about this, and I’m supposed to be scared about this,” she said. “And I cannot guarantee that me speaking out will not harm any people I know. But what I think is that if I, living in a democratic country and enjoying all the freedoms, if I am scared, this means that the regime has won.”
In a twist she described as coincidental but symbolic, Kucherova also carried the placard for Denmark during the ceremony. The Danish team received a warm ovation amid international attention over tensions involving Greenland, a self-governing Danish territory. Kucherova said the parallel — leading two delegations connected in different ways to geopolitical disputes — gave her pause.
“Yes, this is a coincidence, but I pondered over it,” she said.
For Kucherova, the opening ceremony was more than pageantry. It was an opportunity, however brief and anonymous, to align herself publicly with values she believes transcend national identity — and to demonstrate that even in times of war, gestures of solidarity can find a place on the Olympic stage.
Original article
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