Dear reader,  

In between moving apartments no fewer than nine times (with a cat) between March 2022 and July 2023 and going through at least as many existential crises, I have helped the English edition of The Moscow Times find its footing again after we were forced to leave Russia two years ago.  

When people learn that I lived in four different countries in the span of two years, most respond with raised eyebrows and snide comments about how glamorous my life must be, likely picturing the travel bloggers or “digital nomad” types from their Instagram feeds.  

Believe me, it’s not. It has in fact taken a great deal of sacrifice. I’ve lost touch with friends and missed weddings, holiday celebrations and birthdays. I’ve lived in some really questionable apartments. I’ve constantly questioned whether I am doing enough to help Ukraine and give a voice to Russians who had no say in whether their country went to war.  

And as grateful as I am to The Netherlands for giving us a home and a safe place to do our jobs, I am acutely aware of the privilege that I now enjoy.

It feels very strange to be in a place of such tolerance, acceptance and freedom when mentally, I am still in Russia — where there is no real freedom and people aren’t protected against floods or concert hall massacres.  

In March, as I watched a performance by one of my favorite drag artists, I thought about how everyone in the building would be at risk of arrest if the same event took place in Russia.  

I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with this feeling.  

It’s also increasingly evident that there is no place that’s truly safe for Russian dissidents and independent journalists.  

Last month, Leonid Volkov, a close aide of Alexei Navalny, was attacked outside his home in Vilnius, Lithuania. And last year, at least three independent journalists and activists fell ill with suspected poisonings in Europe and Georgia.

I’ve had knowledgeable figures tell me that it would be crazy for me to visit Russia now given The Moscow Times’ “foreign agent” label and my being a U.S. citizen, as the Russian government appears particularly interested in arresting Americans to use as bargaining chips.  

It’s certainly a scary time.  

But perhaps the biggest professional struggle for us exiled journalists is that of credibility. How can one be a credible source of information about a country they left over two years ago? How can one uncover stories if shoe-leather reporting is no longer possible?

It’s a difficult question, but I’m grateful that I don’t have to answer it alone.

A surprising number of independent Russian media outlets are still going strong in exile, refusing to bow to the Kremlin’s pressure. We know that Russia’s people are ready to tell us their stories, no matter the risks it brings them.

Yet we are all feeling the world’s attention shift from Russia and the war in Ukraine to other stories.  

So what gives me the strength and motivation to carry on despite these challenges?  

The camaraderie among my colleagues has helped. Every day I am inspired and humbled by them.  

But mainly, I refuse to give up because that’s exactly what the Kremlin wants.  

I refuse to give up because the world needs to hear the stories of women like Alexandra Skochilenko, Antonina Favorskaya, Lilia Chanysheva, Seda Suleimanova, Viktoria Petrova, Zarema Musaeva.  

I refuse to give up because my fellow journalists and U.S. citizens Evan Gershkovich and Alsu Kurmasheva are in Russian jail for doing their jobs.  

Refusing to give up is the least I can do.  

Thank you for believing in The Moscow Times and our work. By supporting us, especially by making a monthly donation, you will help us continue our 30-year mission of truth and integrity for many more years to come.