Only God knows how the staff of my paper and I were able to withstand the onslaught of audits and inspections, attempts to throw me behind bars, to close down our publication, and the entire campaign of falsehoods and slander launched against my paper by the local government.
My mother is not here to talk to you today, so I will speak for her. Every morning she stands before the icon of Our Lady and prays that her daughter be kept safe and sound.
My four-year-old daughter is not here to talk to you today, so I will speak for her. On January 28, 2002, I was walking home when a stranger threw hydrochloric acid in my face. I lost my eyesight, my face was disfigured, and for three long months I could not see my daughter. When I got back home from the Odessa eye clinic I discovered that my little girl had forgotten how to laugh.
It is incredibly difficult to live and work in a country where those in power are above the law. You may wonder where I get the strength to carry on. Very often, when my energy seems to drain from my body, I go to a small church, light a candle and pray for hours in front of Russian Orthodox icons.
I work as a journalist in Ukraine where democracy is 210 years behind the United States. Words are my weapons. Every week the readers of my newspaper wait for my words, but those same words frighten the leaders of the local government. I found true recognition of my work on a different continent, in another country – the United States. My heart belongs to this county, but my soul aches for the destiny of Ukraine.
Thank you.