In the global pursuit to document human resilience and cultural continuity under systems of oppression, few narratives are as rich, honest, and emotionally charged as that of Lesya Krypiakevych-Tsehelska — a visual artist, cultural worker, and lifelong chronicler of two historic Ukrainian families: the Tsehelskys and Krypiakevyches. Her recently published interview, “God, Did You Hear Me?”, is not just a personal memoir. It is a generational testimony of Ukraine’s soul — one that has withstood exile, repression, underground worship, forced silence, and the deliberate erasure of memory.
Born during wartime, deported as a child with her siblings and grandmother to Siberia, raised by faith and art in exile, and later involved in the dissident movement, ecclesial restoration, and cultural diplomacy, Pani Lesya’s life offers a powerful lens into Ukraine’s 20th-century struggles — and its modern nationhood.
Here are ten selected quotes from the interview that English-speaking readers, scholars, and allies of Ukraine must hear. These words speak volumes — not only about her own path, but also about Ukraine’s long-standing struggle for dignity, identity, and truth.
🔹 10 Essential Quotes from Lesya Krypiakevych-Tsehelska
- “My father served the Liturgy on a tree stump in the forest. The men in the labor brigade told him: ‘Father, you do nothing. You just pray — we’ll fulfill your work quota.’” A reminder that faith, community, and moral leadership often thrived quietly, even under systems designed to destroy them.
- “People are like nails in my memory. The small kindnesses of strangers helped us survive exile.” The humanity of exile is preserved in the ordinary gestures that resisted dehumanization.
- “We were deported with a bucket of milk for the children. The soldier kicked it over on purpose. That’s when you learn what cruelty looks like.” Her childhood memories of the Soviet deportations are visceral, traumatic, and unforgettable — part of the broader crime against families of the Greek-Catholic clergy.
- “My grandfather served in the underground Church and worked as a janitor and night guard at the museum — just to receive a pension.” Many former clergy and intellectuals were forced into menial jobs after repressions, but never ceased their calling.
- “You give a child a good Ukrainian school, you give them ‘Plast’ — you give them a spine and muscles. That’s the family’s duty.” A profound reflection on the foundational role of education, identity, and community in child development.
- “My tapestries (hobeleny) carried ‘protest bombs’ inside them. One featured the Mazepa coat of arms. No one in Moscow knew what it was.” Art as subtle rebellion — embedding symbols of Ukrainian history and identity under the radar of Soviet censorship.
- “We still had to whisper. When they searched our home, they were looking for books, samizdat, history.” The control of knowledge was a central battleground in Soviet Ukraine. The home was often the last refuge for cultural memory.
- “When my husband’s father — the historian Ivan Krypiakevych — died, the house fell silent. Even the family clock stopped. He had wound it every morning for decades.” This poetic detail reflects the intergenerational weight of legacy, grief, and the intimate symbolism of family artifacts.
- “I prayed: ‘God, don’t let me become proud telling these stories. I am only a witness, not the author.’” Humility in memory work — Lesya sees herself not as the hero, but as the keeper of truths that must not be forgotten.
- “When I saw my husband and his brother lost, helpless, as their mother died in my arms, I knew God had placed me in this family for a reason.”
A deeply personal moment, revealing how love, responsibility, and fate shaped her journey across three distinct “lives” — childhood in exile, artistry in resistance, and legacy-building in independence.
🕯 Why This Story Matters — For Scholars, Educators, and Allies of Ukraine
Lesya Krypiakevych-Tsehelska’s testimony adds a deeply personal voice to our understanding of Ukraine’s complex 20th-century history: the erasure of the Greek-Catholic Church, the trauma of Siberian exile, the quiet resistance of underground intellectuals, the cultural sabotage of Soviet artistic institutions, and the rebirth of a free nation through grassroots civic action.
Her life embodies the in-between: the visible and invisible, the said and the unsaid, the sacred and the everyday. For scholars of history, memory studies, diaspora, gender, post-colonial resistance, and Eastern European art — this is a vital archive in one woman’s voice.
It is also a call to action: to listen to our elders, to document our histories, to preserve what regimes tried to destroy.
📚 Read the full story (Ukrainian):
“Боже, Ти мене почув?” — Як Олександра Крип’якевич-Цегельська стала хранителькою пам’яті та історії двох великих родів
[Use browser translate to read in English.] https://theukrainians.org/krypiakevych/
🧵 Share this. Teach this. Honour this.
With deep admiration,
Sasha
Lesya’s God Son.
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