IT WAS EARLY MORNING IN UKRAINE WHEN I saw you. Just minutes before the sun rose again on this side of the world.

The Hands Off protests. And I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen.

One by one, the images came in. Boston. Seattle. Los Angeles. New York City. Houston. Atlanta. The big cities we hear about all the time, and the small towns I’d never even known existed.

Every single state. Every one of the 50.

And in all of them, Ukrainian flags waving in the air.

I just sat there, watching. I couldn’t look away. I was completely still. Completely speechless after seeing so many flags everywhere.

I sent a quick message here, a few clumsy words, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. It stayed with me.

But now, I’ve found some words I really wanted to say.

The thing is that I’ve never felt so represented in my entire life.

I watched the videos. The reports. The photos. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel invisible.

Have you ever felt invisible? Like your pain didn’t matter? Imagine what it feels like when people across an ocean suddenly show you that you do.

It didn’t feel like distance anymore.

It felt like your hands reaching for ours, not to let go, but to hold tight. In protest, in dignity, in love.

This wasn’t just “Hands Off.” It was “hands held together,” across an ocean, refusing to break.

It felt like every sacrifice we’ve made here in Ukraine was finally being heard. The cold nights. The funerals. The quiet mornings when grief walks with us like a shadow.

It was like you heard it all. Not with your ears, but with your hearts.

And you answered.

Just a couple of days ago, I was sharing a poll, one of those cold, sterile ones, saying Americans were starting to grow tired of Ukraine. That more and more people were starting to consider that Russia is not really the enemy.

And it hurt. It really did.

Some friends told me not to take The Economist too seriously. And they were right. They didn’t even need to say anything, honestly.

Because yesterday, you answered louder than any poll ever could.

You didn’t use numbers. You used your bodies. Your voices. Your hands. Your flags. And flags can lie, sure. But not when they’re held the way you held them. Never.

Not when I saw our blue and yellow waving in your streets like it belonged there.

Your streets were overflowing. And they weren’t overflowing with politics or slogans. They were overflowing with courage.

You filled your cities. Your parks. Thousands and thousands of people.

And that flag. My flag. Was everywhere. And if no one ever said that, I declare openly and proudly: it doesn’t just stand for Ukraine anymore.

It stands for peace.
It stands for dignity.
It stands for every human force that refuses to bow to cruelty.

It stands against Trump. Against Putin. Against greed.

Against the giant machines, political, corporate, digital, that try to crush us all under their weight.

Against everyone whose hands need to be off from what brings humanity to our lives. But our hands, the hands of the people, the hands of justice, are definitely held together.

I felt it deep in my heart. We’re fighting the same fight.

And I felt something else too: that America is still with us.

The people of the United States of America, no matter who their leadership is, will always be with us.

Not their politicians. The people. And that’s what matters most.

Because now I know, more than ever, that we are going to win.

Not just Ukraine. Not just democracy. But humanity.

Trump, Putin, Musk, I see them now for what they are. They are not the future. Not even the present.

They’re a deviation of history.

A misstep. A flicker of regression.

They’re the statistical noise in the middle of something bigger and brighter.

They only win if we stay quiet. If we forget what’s at stake. If we look away from each other and let the noise convince us we’re alone.

And they won’t last. Because we are anything except quiet.

In your streets. In our battlefields. In this keyboard typing these words.

We will win because we will be the loudest we can.

These too many words have the intention to say that when I saw your signs, your chants, your flags, my friends, I knew we’d stand even longer.

You’re not just with us.
You’re one of us.

Nobody said this fight would be easy. And it hasn’t been. It won’t be.

But we’re ready.

We’re exhausted, yes. But we’re not broken.

And you, my friends in America, you are in good company here in Ukraine.

You showed us that we’re not fighting alone. And I hope you know now: you’re not alone either.

We felt the grip of your hands. It remains steady, warm, unshakable. Holding tight through the noise and the fear, through politics and power games.

This isn’t only about our land anymore. It’s not only about tanks and borders and headlines.

It’s about what kind of world we want to wake up in tomorrow.

And what kind of people we still dare to be.

🇺🇦