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The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

The stories we inherit should never define us. But how we carry them forward, how we let them shape us, becomes the compass of who we are.

For me, this work has never been just a job but always a way of honoring where and who I come from—so I want to share a bit of my story here.

I am a first-generation Polish-Russian-American who spoke English as her second language. Finding my identity took time, but I always dreamed of shaping the world for the better in honor of my roots.

My great-grandfather, Pavel Rybnikov, was an ethnographer who believed recording history and culture was itself a form of resilience. He was exiled from Russia to Poland for revolutionary propaganda and later exchanged letters with Tolstoy on these themes. There, under Russian rule, he became a governor remembered for his kindness toward Polish people, which was rare in that time. His book, which was the first written collection of Bylinas, common-day tales, historical songs and other verses kept in the oral tradition, sits in my office along with his story.

My father, Andrew Azarjew, carried that inheritance across an ocean. He fled when the Red Army was closing in, arriving in the United States in 1951 as a political refugee. At just 18, he stepped off the ship alone, with $20 in his pocket. He rebuilt himself as a journalist and editor-in-chief in Chicago, gathering voices from the arts and academia, convinced—like his grandfather before him—that ideas have the power to outlast regimes.

My grandmother was born in what is Belarus today and grew up in Vilnius. She was meant to start university when WWII began. Instead, she walked 350 kilometers home by foot, guided only by the sun and stars. Along the way she faced soldiers who nearly killed her, but she refused to bend. Years later, she taught me Polish, and you can imagine her pride when I was admitted to the University of Warsaw—an opportunity she herself never had.

Like so many of us, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

I launched Vola Global to carry these stories forward and to help others shape their own.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Not all eras in our life have a definite end, but this one was unmistakable. A decade of purpose, of people, of something much larger than myself, came to a close this spring.

In May, I closed what I know will always be one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life: a decade at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems in Washington, D.C.

Like so many affected by the devastating cuts to U.S. foreign assistance, this moment came sooner than expected. And I’ve spent the past few months not just processing what it means for me, but for the broader democracy and human rights community—and the local partners who’ve been the heart of this work.

I spent years building programs across Europe and Eurasia—supporting electoral integrity, confronting disinformation, amplifying women’s voices in places where the odds were stacked against them. I stood in rooms where history trembled just beneath the surface. Kyiv. Vilnius. Sarajevo. Bucharest. And then back home to Warsaw.

And everywhere, I saw the courage of those who keep showing up for democracy, even when their lives are on the line and their hope is thin. I always returned home inspired.

I watched as 37 women from 17 countries sat in a circle and named, in different languages, the same barriers. I saw that solidarity doesn’t need translation. That resilience can be taught. That convening can be an act of power.

This was never just a job for me. It was something sacred, and deeply personal, tied to my identity and roots.

What comes next is something new. But before I turn the page, I wanted to honor what this chapter gave me.

Am I leaving or arriving at this part of the story?

Thrilled to wear this dreamy dress by the superbly talented Czech designer @iveta.radkova, captured by the one and only @neta_vencour of course.

Perhaps mythology understood women better than modernity often does. The old goddesses were never asked to divide themselves into digestible parts. Athena could be wisdom and war; Persephone could be spring and the underworld. They could be soft and strategic, beautiful and terrifying, nurturing and unknowable. Somewhere along the way, wholeness in women became mistaken for contradiction.

But we are our best, our most beautiful, when we are whole. The world needs us exactly as we are.

Perhaps mythology understood women better than modernity often does. The old goddesses were never asked to divide themselves into digestible parts. Athena could be wisdom and war; Persephone could be spring and the underworld. They could be soft and strategic, beautiful and terrifying, nurturing and unknowable. Somewhere along the way, wholeness in women became mistaken for contradiction.

But we are our best, our most beautiful, when we are whole. The world needs us exactly as we are.

Perhaps mythology understood women better than modernity often does. The old goddesses were never asked to divide themselves into digestible parts. Athena could be wisdom and war; Persephone could be spring and the underworld. They could be soft and strategic, beautiful and terrifying, nurturing and unknowable. Somewhere along the way, wholeness in women became mistaken for contradiction.

But we are our best, our most beautiful, when we are whole. The world needs us exactly as we are.

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

Paris, in details

All captured with magic of the moment by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

We are all a work of art. Complex, layered with stories and contradictions that shape our beauty. To be interpreted a million times but never the same way twice. Not for everyone, but exactly for ourself. To never be replicated.

Sunset magic on my favorite bridge in Paris captured by @zaneta_vencour

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

A few mementos and recs from my trip to Paris last month 🤍

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Dare to dream, and to live, like no one’s watching. At the end of the day we are only accountable to our 8 year old and 80 year old self. So make the most out of this special short little ride.

Captured by the one and only @zaneta_vencour
In a custom dress by amazing @iveta.radkova

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

Details from Paris - March 2026

I think I’m finally paying attention.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE - 007

A few highlights from one of the most memorable birthdays. The party was delayed by a month because of a snowstorm and a few other life events, so naturally here I am posting this in April instead of February.

We asked our friends to come dressed in espionage chic, and they truly did not disappoint.

I could have never imagined having such a beautiful, loving, inspiring (and obviously fun) community of friends here. Blown away with love and gratitude.

Cover photo by @jessicaroark.art who was sorely missed at the party 🖤
And a few iconic snaps by @framesbynour

Thank you for an epic night friends, I love you 🍸 This message will self destruct.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

I wanted to share my article here that got published this week in Journal of Democracy, as it’s something I’ve been working on that reflects a big part of my work and something I am passionate about. To be published in the same publication as some historic figures that I have always greatly admired, like Brzezinski, Havel, and the Dalai Lama, feels surreal. I know the 21 year old International Relations grad student in me would be so proud, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

But I realized that many people in my life only know one or two sides of me. That society likes to put us, especially women, in a box. And when we suddenly don’t neatly fit into one category, because of our complexities, it’s a problem.

Like most of us, I think, I am filled with contradictions. That used to worry me, and I used to feel so misunderstood. I finally realized in my 30s that these dualities are not something to resolve, but they are the fabric of everything that defines me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was neither entirely Polish, Russian, or American. If I wasn’t both immensely sensitive and empathetic but also unyielding and resilient. If I wasn’t both unrealistically romantic and a dreamer, while also being tenacious and hard-working.

The world needs us exactly as we are, in our most authentic, full form. We should never shrink for anyone else. Those who belong in our lives will see us and love us. So I hope all the young girls out there embrace all versions of them. That’s what makes a woman whole; a masterpiece.

The article - https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/online-exclusive/inside-russias-psychological-war-on-european-democracy/

First photo by the loveliest @jessicaroark.art
All the rest by my one and only @zaneta_vencour
I feel very grateful to be surrounded by talented women who see me and truly know how to empower other women.

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥

New wild horse energy unlocked for this year 🐎

I feel like a new person thanks to the very talented and one of a kind @mustafahairdesign 🔥