I am a little girl with pink hair, a dancer, a writer, and now, a soldier. Did I ever want to be her? No way. Did I ever think there would be a war in my country? Of course not. This war feels like a relic of the past, with erased pages of history and streams of blood we splash in, trying to escape.

I joined the ranks of the Territorial Defense on February 25, 2022. It seemed absolutely logical to me: when an enemy comes to your home, you fight back. I was ready for blood, dirt, life in the trenches, death, and loss. What I wasn't ready for was sexism. I faced stupid jokes and comments like, "What, we’re going to fill the army with women now?" "You can’t do that," "Go to the kitchen," "You girls, why do you need a machine gun? You'll shoot yourself in the leg," and "Can’t you go to the headquarters and sort through papers?" All this in the middle of a war.

Did I protect what I wanted? I don’t know. Did I suffer for nothing? Doubtful. Do I want to be a civilian again? No. I used to enjoy warm showers, stretching, and self-care, but that was before. What would I do in civilian clothes now? The war is not over. I cannot let go, give away, or entrust protection to someone else. I can't wait. This is my land, my loved ones, my home. I can't wait until they protect me. I won't.

I am a little girl with pink hair. I haven't had a manicure for a long time because long nails aren't comfortable with a machine gun. I am often underestimated, but only at first glance. I am a defender; I don't need a Y chromosome to be one.

Ria Steel, 25, Lutsk, Ukraine