In 2023, a Belarusian court sentenced Tatyana Kurilina to four and a half years in a penal colony. The 49-year-old activist and administrator of the «97%» protest chat was charged under nine different articles, including calling for actions against national security, inciting hatred, illegal collection of personal data, and insulting Lukashenko.
In December 2025, Tatyana and a group of fellow political prisoners were moved out of Belarus, first into Ukraine and later to Poland. She is 54 now. She is living in Warsaw and trying to rebuild her health, learning the language, and truly wants to start her life over.
Five months have passed since her release. Tatyana jokes that she is getting to know herself all over again.
– During this time, I’ve managed to get «acquainted» with my new aches and pains, clear my head a bit, and I even got around to riding a bike. For me, this is an average result: not fast, but at least things are moving forward.
Back in the colony, I imagined «after» differently. It felt as if after my release, life would instantly restart—vibrant and fast-paced.
«Back then, we thought: once we’re free, things will just skyrocket! We’ll make up for everything we were deprived of all those years. But instead of a «skyrocket,» it’s more like «slowly but surely.» The moment you try to rush things, your body goes on strike right away.»
Dealing with the aftermath of what I’ve been through is especially tough.
– It’s like a carousel with a twist. Just as you adapt to living with one problem and think to yourself, «Wow, look at me, I handled it,» something else breaks down right away.
Tatyana admits that sometimes she just wants to throw a fit out of a sense of injustice.
– You think to yourself, «That wasn’t the deal.» But who can you even complain to? I guess religious people have it easier in that sense. As for me, all I have left is philosophy.
Only a few years ago, talks about being «40+» seemed inspiring to Tatyana.
– My friends and I used to talk about how life only begins after forty. The foundation has already been built, the kids are grown, the main things are done. You can finally focus on yourself, try new things, and make your dreams come true.
But life had other plans. Before her arrest, Tatyana had a stable job as a chief accountant, a paid-off mortgage, and the financial freedom to drop some of her side gigs.
– I had a great official job on a four-day workweek and the prospect of a quiet retirement income. I had just paid off the mortgage and, for the first time, could finally breathe a sigh of relief. And then—bam!
But now, our protagonist has to start all over again.
«Right now, I don’t have permanent housing, and there are no clear prospects for a job or a pension. And that is very hard to accept.»
Tatyana says that advice along the lines of «it could be worse» doesn’t help her at all.
– No, I mean, that kind of self-talk just doesn’t work. But there’s one big plus: the society here is welcoming, and the people are empathetic. I have a feeling that everything will work out. I just need to find the strength to take action. And that exact «just» is exactly what I’m hitting a wall with right now.
For over twenty years, Tatyana worked as a chief accountant.
– It’s a complex, high-stress job. My colleagues and I used to joke that an accountant is a «buffer» between the business owner and the state. You can get hit from either side at any moment.
«After my release, I didn’t want to go back to my profession. I thought: here it is, the chance to change everything and do something completely different.»
However, over time, emotions gave way to pragmatism.
– A sober assessment of my capabilities won out. Now I’m looking toward accounting again. But for now, there’s a different problem to solve. I’m working on my languages. Without Polish, it’s impossible to integrate; you can’t even get into training courses. And ideally, I’d like to brush up on my English too. Today, it’s a mandatory requirement for any serious company.
Tatyana dreams of finding a remote or hybrid job in an international company.
– I don’t think these expectations are too high. We’ll see.
When asked what she would like to do if it weren’t for accounting, Tatyana answers very openly and directly.
– Actually, I could do many things. But there’s a mental block inside. I don’t want to take risks until I have at least some basic stability.
After several years of imprisonment, the need for safety becomes especially acute.
«First, I need to cover my basic needs: housing, food, a sense of stability. And only after that can I think about dreams. Honestly, what I want is a predictable, quiet, and even boring life.»
Tatyana smiles. She has a very beautiful smile, and her eyes just light up. She often speaks about her experience as a political prisoner with dark humor.
– But then again, if an interesting project comes along with like-minded people, it’s not a given that I won’t get dragged into some kind of «adventure.» I’m totally capable of it, as my recent prison experience shows!
After her release, Tatyana began to speak often about the need to learn how to live for herself.
«For me, living for myself literally means remembering—what is it that I actually like?»
For many years, her life was dictated by responsibilities; she raised two sons. And Tatyana had been working since she was 19 years old.
– Kids, studies, after-school activities, sports school, the apartment, renovations, work, side gigs. It was always «must, must, must.» I have never really known how to balance taking care of my family with my own needs. So that’s why I’m learning how to do it all over again now. And you know, as it turns out, it’s not that easy to remember what it is you actually like!
Tatyana feels the consequences of her imprisonment every single day.
«They say if a person has five health problems at the same time, it’s time to see a psychiatrist. I «only» have four, so I can’t even blame it all on my mental state.»
You see, there isn’t a single ailment that you can just cut out, stitch up, or cure in one go. Instead, there’s a bunch of small, unpleasant things, and together they create one big, draining health issue.
When Tatyana talks about her health, you can hear anxiety, self-irony, and her desire to hide her pain behind humor in the way she lists her problems.
– Overall, it’s just like that letter from Prostokvashino: «one day my paws ache, the next my tail falls off.» My hormones have gone haywire. My joints and spine are completely worn out. My immune system and metabolism have also decided to take a break, while my muscles, on the contrary, have forgotten how to relax and keep me entertained with sudden spasms.
Tatyana lists her diagnoses:
Chronic autoimmune thyroiditis (Hashimoto’s disease) — a thyroid disorder.
Polyarthrosis — I don’t know the exact stage yet, as I haven’t been able to see an orthopedist or get an X-ray of my joints (I only have an ultrasound of my knees), but it’s somewhere in the middle, stage 2 or 3 with start-up pain. You’ve probably noticed that I struggle to stand up after sitting in a chair for a while and have to walk it off because everything hurts; well, that’s exactly what it is.
Chronic headaches caused by chronic tension in the neck and shoulder area. Right now, I’m taking a course of muscle relaxants because just doing exercises didn’t help to loosen it up. Ideally, I need rehabilitation: physical therapy, massages, and manual therapy, but the neurologist told me that our program doesn’t cover that.
Chronic idiopathic urticaria — these are spontaneous skin rashes, spots that constantly appear and disappear within 24 hours in different places all over my body. They itch, and I’ve been on antihistamines for three months now.
– You know, I used to handle things pretty strictly back then. If I put on weight, I’d just go on a two-week water fast and drop it all. If I got out of shape, I’d hit the gym, the pool, the elliptical, and the weights, also a steam room, a sauna, and ice baths. One or two months of high intensity, and I’d be fine! Now, though, any kind of activity triggers a setback that lasts for days.
«Right after my release, it was incredibly hard: I’d walk actively for one day, and then I’d be bedridden for three days, unable to get up. Chills, aches, blood pressure issues, and total exhaustion.»
Recently, I gave up my public transport pass and decided to mostly get around the city on foot or by bike. Yesterday, my bike broke down, so I had to ride a different one. A slightly different riding position, a bit more strain on my legs—and I was literally dead. I got home, couldn’t eat or drink anything, just collapsed at 7 p.m., and only came to today after nine in the morning. And to think, I’m barely even working right now!
I haven’t even made it to the gym, the pool, or the sauna yet—I just don’t have the energy. In general, this lack of strength is my main state of being right now. In my mind, I could do so much, but physically I just can’t keep up.
Tatyana says that for two years now, she hasn’t known a single day without pain.
– My body panics and whispers, «This is it, old age. It’s going to be like this forever now.» And I have to very gently convince it that it’s not true, that there is life after 50, and that many people actually feel pretty good—some even better than they did in their youth…
«But, sure, you can’t just take things by storm anymore and quickly get yourself back in shape. Especially with limited resources. I have to pull myself out of this slowly and methodically.»
The colony changed Tatyana much more than she had expected.
– The biggest revelation was that everything doesn’t depend on me. And the world doesn’t fall apart if something happens to me.
For someone who was used to carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, this turned out to be an important lesson.
– I’ve learned to accept help. I’ve learned to talk about my struggles. I’ve found out that I can survive under a strict, harsh regime.
«And I also realized one simple thing: a person actually needs very little. Everything you need to live can easily fit into a single box.»
Honestly, the idea of a strict routine itself had always terrified me. In life, I’ve always been very spontaneous and not exactly organized.
«My ultimate nightmare looked something like this: «May you spend your whole life waking up for work at 6 a.m. and working on an assembly line.» Well, that’s exactly what I ended up with. And I survived it!»
I remember how the constant strain of working at the sewing machine triggered muscle spasms and numbness in my hands. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of a fire, feeling like my arm was completely on fire.
I’ve always absolutely hated non-stretchy clothes. Knitwear is everything; anything is better than those horrific, diarrhea-colored cotton uniforms, which you’re also strictly required to wear over a hideous blouse with a bizarre «fits absolutely no one» cut. This whole contraption only comes in two versions: it either hangs on you like a sack or it chokes you. When I first put it on in the colony, I was itching from head to toe out of sheer discomfort. I’m a kinesthetic person, and I’m highly sensitive to touch. But eventually, I adapted. You know, when colony clothes hang on you like a sack, they actually stop bothering or pinching you so much. And over time, the fabric wears down, gets softer, and becomes somehow more human.
When asked what she has managed to treat herself to since her release, Tatyana is unable to answer for a long time.
«I think right now I’m only just taking the first steps toward learning how to feel joy again.»
I remember when I was transferred from the pretrial detention center to the colony, it was summer. Flowers were blooming around the quarantine building. There was so much sun, greenery, and fresh air that my head was literally spinning with happiness! In spite of everything.
«Today, I have freedom, endless possibilities, and beauty all around me, but something inside is still missing to truly experience that joy.»
But life is coming back. Tatyana speaks with deep warmth about the compassionate people and volunteers who support former political prisoners. A meetup for perfume enthusiasts stands out in her memory especially.
– They brought us so many perfumes and told us all about the different fragrances. We were all sniffing, trying them on, and listening to stories about scents. And at the end of the meetup, each of us received a perfume as a gift! I absolutely love scents. Spices, essential oils, perfume compositions. And there was also beautiful jazz playing on a saxophone.
Floral design turned out to be an unexpected discovery for Tatyana.
«I was absolutely convinced that flower arranging wasn’t my thing at all. But then it turned out that it’s practically impossible to ruin a bouquet! No matter what you do, it still comes out beautiful. I guess it’s just some special quality that flowers have.»
I have one big dream. I really need to go to Portugal, but I’m missing two of my favorite girls by my side right now. They are still in the colony. We became very close during our time inside. You see, one of us has been to Portugal; she absolutely adores the country, and we trust her taste. The idea was that whoever was the first to get out of prison had to lay the groundwork for the others, so that making the trip would be possible. I was the first to get out. That’s why our journey is meant for the three of us. And we are definitely going to go!
*In Belarusian penal colonies and pretrial detention centers, friendships between prisoners—and especially between political prisoners—are strictly forbidden. The administration labels friendships and good relationships as “undesirable ties.” Sharing food, clothes, or hygiene products is prohibited. For sharing a treat, attempting to help, or even talking, a woman can be punished with placement in a disciplinary isolation cell (SHIZO) with horrific conditions, the deprivation of parcels or phone calls with relatives, or a transfer to a different unit. The conditions of detention can also be severely worsened: being designated as a “persistent violator” in a colony limits local commissary shop purchases to just 45 rubles per month (equivalent to €13.78).
«Instead of an inner child who needs to be hugged and protected, there is an inner exhausted woman inside me right now—someone who is just trying to remember what it feels like to experience joy, to feel wonder, and to enjoy life.»
Sometimes, the emotion I need—that feeling of joy and happiness—is right there, within reach. From time to time, I even manage to catch it. But keeping a hold of it is something I haven’t mastered just yet.
The future is scary. But Tatyana views her fear with calm acceptance.
– At one of the psychological workshops for former political prisoners, they told us that fear has a positive side, too. It forces you to keep paddling and stay afloat.
«I don’t fully understand how to move forward with my life. But I keep moving anyway. And I truly hope that, in the end, everything will work out for me.»
You can donate to former political prisoner Tatyana Kurilina right now – right here. Your support will help her cover additional expenses for medical treatment and rehabilitation, feel more secure, and take care of her health. Tatyana still has to figure out her career path, learn the language, and find a job in a country where she ended up through no choice of her own. This is just one piece of the puzzle of unique stories of Belarusian women and men.
We introduce you to former political prisoners—ordinary people who simply dared to be themselves during a challenging time in history. The era of political prisoners.
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We permit full or partial republication of our texts and the use of our visuals. An active, direct hyperlink to the original page is mandatory and must be placed at the beginning of the republished text or social media post. Proper credit to the authors of all photo and video materials is strictly required.
