Amidst the hum of sewing machines and the softened light filtering through thick curtains, the invisible hands of Ukrainian women work with quiet determination.
They are not soldiers, but their hands are shaping the battlefield.
Inside three converted classrooms in a school near Kyiv, they sew camouflage nets, ghillie suits, anti-drone mesh, hats, scarves, and even fabric cats meant to lift the spirits of frontline fighters.
This is Ukraine’s invisible army — the women who fight without weapons, driven by loss, memory, and defiance.
A Classroom Becomes a Barracks
The sewing room is dimly lit, the atmosphere focused. Machines buzz steadily as fabric squares — cut to resemble forest foliage — are stitched into long strands.
These are then taken to the “net room,” where large wooden frames stretch across the walls, holding up military-grade netting secured by nails.
Here, the women weave their materials into camouflage shields for Ukrainian troops.
This room, flooded with sunlight from a wall of tall windows, feels different — lighter, louder, full of laughter and community. It’s where they break bread together, share stories, and lean on one another when the grief threatens to resurface.
“They don’t have a day off at the front. So I don’t take one here.”
Iryna, volunteer, 64
The Women Who Refuse to Break
Iryna is 64, a refugee from Luhansk and a volunteer since the war began.
Her son and daughter-in-law serve in the Donetsk region. Her story — like that of so many — is heavy with trauma: She recalls being forced to walk over the Ukrainian flag each day under Russian occupation.
“That pain doesn’t leave you,” she says, her voice low, her eyes fixed somewhere past the window.
Iryna, volunteer, 64
And yet, she comes to the centre every day.
“It’s holy to me,” she explains. “I like sewing. But more than that, I have to help our soldiers. My son doesn’t have a day off. Why should I?”
Leadership in the Shadows
Nadiya, 70, is the centre’s leader. She began this work on February 27, 2022 — the third day of the full-scale invasion.
Her husband and sons are veterans. One son still serves.
“For me, it’s responsibility,” she says. “We have soldiers out there in trenches. We’re here to show them they’re not alone.”
Nadiya coordinates the logistics and teaches new volunteers how to stitch, cut, and weave. “If we fail, they fall,” she says. “If they fall, Ukraine falls.”
Cultural Survival, Not Just Military
The school where the centre operates is more than just a base — it’s a living museum of Ukrainian identity.
On one wall hangs a textile map of Ukraine adorned with handmade dolls in traditional dress, each representing a different region — including Crimea and occupied Donbas. None of the women here will acknowledge Russian claims to these lands.
This symbolism is not abstract.
In schools seized by Russian forces, Ukrainian language, literature, and history are stripped away. Replaced with flags, rewritten textbooks, and military indoctrination.
Here, every stitch in a ghillie suit is a thread of resistance.
The Scale of Civilian Support
Ukraine’s war effort doesn’t just run on tanks and drones — it runs on people.
According to the Razumkov Centre, more than 70% of Ukrainians reported volunteering or donating to the war effort in 2023.
Across the country, tens of thousands of informal volunteer centres source, fund, or manufacture military gear.
Some volunteers travel abroad to buy cars. Others make night-vision gear or smuggle in medical supplies. Many, like these women, work quietly, invisibly.
“They don’t see what we do. But without us, they’d see what happens if we stop.”
— Nadiya, 70, volunteer centre leader
The work never ends.
Fabric frays. Nets burn. Supplies run out. But they show up — every day.
Hope, Grief, and the Unbreakable Thread
Above their heads, children attend school in the basement — a bomb shelter now converted into a rotating classroom schedule due to overcrowding.
One floor up, the women sew through air raid sirens and memory.
“We’re tired,” Iryna says. “But we smile. We must.”
She pauses, eyes fixed on a half-woven net.
“We have no choice. If Russia wins, they erase everything. Our language, our families, our faces.”
This is not melodrama. It is an observed fact.
Conclusion
The global audience sees the missiles. The maps. The tanks.
But the heart of Ukraine’s resistance lives in places like this — quiet, sunlit rooms filled with fabric and fire.
These women are not named in headlines.
They are not heroes in documentaries.
But without them, the front would collapse. Their work is invisible by design — and essential by truth.
To defend Ukraine is not just to send weapons.
It is to honour — and support — the women whose hands hold the frontline together.
Call to Action
To support volunteer efforts like this one, consider donating to verified Ukrainian civil defence initiatives:
Every contribution helps keep Ukraine alive — on the battlefield, in the classroom, and in the soul of its people.
