Uliana Boichuk on Ukrainian Diaspora Advocacy, Disinformation, and Washington, DC

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2026/01/18

Uliana Boichuk is a Ukrainian journalist and communications specialist based in Washington, DC. She relocated to the United States after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, first living in Philadelphia before moving to DC to build a freelance career. Trained in Ukraine, she holds a master’s degree in journalism and spent five years in Ukrainian television newsrooms. In the United States, she reports on diaspora life, Capitol Hill advocacy, and disinformation, and has published with outlets including Newsweek and UNITED24 Media. She also documents stories of foreign volunteers and bereaved families, focusing on human stories amid crisis.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen speaks with Uliana Boichuk about displacement, identity, and advocacy. Boichuk explains moving from Philadelphia to DC after the February 2022 invasion, drawn by the city’s European feel and echoes of Kyiv. She describes Philadelphia’s Ukrainian community, church life, and holiday traditions that sustain diaspora identity in her daily reporting. The pair discuss messaging challenges on Capitol Hill, countering Russian disinformation, and documenting American volunteers and families touched by the war. Boichuk contrasts Ukrainian and North American media styles, celebrates rigorous sourcing, and ends by urging remembrance of the fallen.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: So, my main question, since we met in DC, is: when did you move to DC?

Uliana Boichuk: It’s been two years. I’m in DC. I love it. It’s my favourite city. And sometimes it reminds me of Kyiv. That was my main reason for moving to DC. Actually, I moved to the US after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, and my first year and a half in the US was in Philadelphia. Then I decided I needed to move on to start my career and do something more, because I was doing journalism in Philadelphia and New York.

But then I decided that DC is the perfect place for my career and freelance journalism. It’s the ideal place to find people, to speak with people, to interview people, to be in the right place at the right time. And I love DC, and as I’ve said, it reminds me of Kyiv a lot.

Even the neighbourhoods are similar. DC has Georgetown, which, for me, is like Podil in Kyiv. And DC has Navy Yard, which for me is like Novopecherski Lypky in Kyiv. So every time I’m walking there, I think, okay, it feels very, very right to be in that place, because it reminds me of home and reminds me of Kyiv. So yes, I love DC.

Jacobsen: When I was going around DC earlier this year, in the fourth quarter, my sense of the older architecture and stonework reminded me of Kharkiv. If you have not been to Eastern Europe at all, when you first go there, you’re immediately struck by the mastery—the stonework, the masonry, the bricklaying, the concrete, the marble. All of that is exceptionally well done. And the buildings were created by people who aren’t even here anymore. So I could definitely see how you could get that sensibility from DC as well.

Boichuk: Also, DC is like a European-style city in the US. And that’s not usual for us. Because of my work, I have been travelling a lot here in the US for the last two years, and I’ve seen different cities. DC feels very European because of its public transportation, the places you can visit, and the fact that Uber is very cheap. So yes, it feels very European. And the architecture—nice, really lovely. I love DC very much.

For me, it’s also calm. When I was considering moving, I was thinking about New York or DC. But New York, for me, feels a bit overwhelming, with the number of people and with everything that has happened there. DC feels very calm, but also very serious. New York is like a rock star, and DC is like a taciturn, adorable guy. You can love both, actually.

Jacobsen: I feel like you’re describing New York as your bad-boy introduction to the United States, and then DC as the stable guy.

Boichuk: But I do love New York, and I have a lot of Ukrainian friends there. My very close friends—my best friends—are in New York. So I travel there a lot to visit my people.

Jacobsen: What were your big cultural lessons from Philadelphia and New York? Before going to DC, what were your experiences in Philadelphia?

Boichuk: In Philadelphia, I really loved that there is a huge Ukrainian community. That was actually very helpful when I first moved to the US, because I met really great people there. They were trying to share Ukrainian culture with people in the US, and that was the first and foremost activity for me there.

When I moved to Philadelphia, the first thing I did—just as my dad always told me when I was a child—was to find my people and to find my church. He always said, “Uliana, when you’re abroad, when you’re away from home, you need to find your people, and you need to find your church.” So the very first thing I did when I moved was to find a Ukrainian church.

I’m Catholic, I’m Greek Catholic, so I found my church and my people there. In Ukrainian churches, there’s a very nice tradition of having coffee after the service. It brings people together. It’s an excellent opportunity to talk to people, communicate, and make friends.

Philadelphia has a strong Ukrainian community. Once a year, on US Independence Day in July, they participate in the parade. They are part of the Independence Day parade in Philadelphia, with their own Ukrainian group. That’s a chance to present Ukrainian culture and the diversity of cultures in the US, especially in Philadelphia, because Philadelphia was the first capital of the United States. That makes it especially meaningful on Independence Day.

The Ukrainian community is part of the parade in Philadelphia, and that became my very first journalism story there, because I was part of the community as well. I met many great Ukrainians who were involved in organizing and participating in the parade, presenting Ukraine at this huge Independence Day event. In the US, you see Chinese, Japanese, and many other communities presenting themselves, and it was essential for me to be part of the Ukrainian community in that context.

That’s the main lesson I took from Philadelphia—the importance of the Ukrainian community and the Ukrainian spirit there. I really love the story I did about the Independence Day parade in Philadelphia, because it was very authentic. It showed Ukrainian culture and Ukrainians in the US. People were wearing Cossack clothing and presenting traditional elements of Ukrainian culture. I’ll send you a video so you can feel the atmosphere.

At that time, Oksana Markarova, the Ukrainian Ambassador to the United States, also attended the Ukrainian gathering for US Independence Day. So that was a critical moment as well.

The main lessons from Philadelphia are the Ukrainian community, the Ukrainian spirit, and the efforts Ukrainians make to present Ukrainian culture in the US. That’s the key point.

Philadelphia is also my US home, as I call it, because I have family there. My sister lives there. That’s why it feels like a part of my Ukrainian home in the US, and it makes me feel very close to Philadelphia because of my family.

They say that home is where your heart is, so home is where your family is. 

Jacobsen: In another interview, someone mentioned that no matter where Ukrainians go, they remain Ukrainian, even if they have grafted themselves into another country. You meet them, and they still have that sensibility, even though they also develop an American characterization. How would you describe the sensibility of American Ukrainians—those who have built lives and even generations of lives in the United States but have Ukrainian backgrounds? What sensibilities have they kept, and how have they adapted within American culture more broadly? Then we can move more into your professional work.

Boichuk: Over my two years in DC and almost four years in the US, I was astonished to meet powerful advocates for Ukraine.

For example, I met a gentleman who is a great advocate for Ukraine. He does a really great job telling Ukraine’s story to people in Congress and to Americans more broadly. I was astonished that he speaks Ukrainian like someone who lives in Ukraine. And I thought, how is it even possible that you were born and raised in the US but still have such perfect Ukrainian?

He told me that his parents moved to the US after World War II. When his family moved to the US, their main goal was to preserve the Ukrainian language, because that was the first and most important thing, and to preserve Ukrainian culture within the family. At that time, it was tough even in Ukraine to be Ukrainian—to speak Ukrainian and to maintain Ukrainian culture—because it was the Soviet Union.

That’s why it was so crucial for his family to keep the traditions of language and culture. That’s actually what makes me feel that even Ukrainians who are very far from home still try to preserve their language and cultural traditions. That helps them stay connected to their identity.

It makes me feel that no matter where Ukrainians are, Ukrainian communities will still sing carols at Christmas and keep Ukrainian culture alive. No matter where they live, they continue these traditions.

Even here in the US, in my sister’s house, we try to keep the traditions alive. For Christmas Eve, for example, we still prepare the traditional twelve dishes for the Holy Supper. We also make kutia. We try to find places where we can buy everything we need to prepare it. In my sister’s house, we really try to keep these traditions alive.

That makes me feel that no matter where Ukrainians are, they will always carry their culture and traditions with them and continue to share them wherever they live.

Jacobsen: Who have been key media partners in advocating for Ukrainian humanitarian efforts and the defensive war effort, especially around messaging? In the United States, some prominent media personalities have unfortunately been drawn into deliberate misinformation campaigns.

Boichuk: Yes, sometimes. Over these two years, while doing communication and journalism, it has been tough, first of all, to explain to people that what is happening in Ukraine is not the same as terrorist attacks like 9/11. People try to find similarities, but it’s not the same. That is the US context, and this is the Ukrainian context. They are two different worlds, but we still need to find ways to communicate across them.

I was part of different advocacy campaigns and advocacy events on Capitol Hill in DC, including Ukraine Week in DC and the American Coalition for Ukraine. When we were working on messaging for US media outlets, one of the main points was that we did not need to find parallels with US events or with tragedies elsewhere in the world. We need to express ourselves from our own perspective.

When we were advocating on Capitol Hill, the main point was to tell our own stories—to share personal experiences. Even for members of Congress and their staffers, when they hear personal stories about being far away from home, trying to build a life, or about people who have been displaced because of the war, that becomes the most important thing.

Another key part of Ukraine’s messaging to the US was to bring Ukrainians still in Ukraine who can speak for themselves. We tried to get people from the Ukrainian Armed Forces because they are the ones who can speak most directly about Ukraine, sacrifice, and the fight itself.

At one of the most recent summits we held this fall, another vital message focused on Americans who were killed while fighting in Ukraine. As reported by The New York Times, dozens of American families have lost loved ones in the war. Those individuals went to Ukraine to fight for freedom and democracy. Members of their families came to the United States Capitol to speak with representatives. That became a compelling part of the advocacy.

I don’t know if “good messaging” is the correct phrase, but it became a meaningful way to communicate the reality of the war. This is not only Ukraine’s war. It’s not only Ukrainians who are fighting or who need to respond. The front line in Ukraine is also about the freedom of the wider world.

Freedom of speech and the freedom to be a free person are on the front lines in Ukraine. That’s the main point we were trying to communicate to US representatives and to people here in the U.S. Sometimes, even ordinary encounters show how necessary that messaging is.

When I’m out in public, I often have a small Ukrainian flag or a blue-and-yellow ribbon on my bag. Sometimes people approach me and say things like, “Ukraine is a very corrupt country.” And I explain that many of the stories they’ve heard are not true. For example, false claims spread online claimed that President Zelenskyy bought an expensive sports car or that his wife bought Cartier jewelry during a visit to the US. Those stories were fake news and propaganda spread by Russian sources.

I remember being stopped by someone on the street who repeated one of these propaganda claims to me. I told him, No, that’s not true. There is no official information confirming that. Statements from the Ukrainian government and reporting from reputable sources showed that those claims were false. That person had clearly been influenced by Russian propaganda.

That’s the main challenge. We need to find the right messages for people who have been misled, and we need to counter Russian propaganda that spreads across the internet. To do that, we need real stories—stories from real people who come to the US to advocate, meet policymakers, and share what it’s like to live through a war and fight for freedom.

That includes voices from the Armed Forces of Ukraine, as well as stories involving Americans connected to the war. One example is my work documenting American volunteers who fought in Ukraine.

Jacobsen: Who was Marine Corps veteran Ethan Hurtwick?

Boichuk: He was the subject of one of my stories. I’ve been documenting stories about Americans killed while fighting in Ukraine. I published three novels in Newsweek about Andrew Weber, Lance Lawrence, and Jericho McGowan.

After those stories were published, Ethan’s mother contacted me on Facebook. She began telling me about her son and shared that the family was planning a celebration of life on August 24, Ukraine’s Independence Day. I decided to travel to Springfield, Missouri, to meet the family and document their story.

It was a significant trip for me—to meet the family, to speak with them, and to record that experience. At that time, Ethan had been killed in action, and his body had remained in occupied territory. When I first met the family, they were still waiting for him to come home.

A few months later, I travelled to Kyiv in February 2025 to visit my father, friends, and family. That visit coincided with the anniversary of the full-scale invasion.

When I was in Kyiv, I went to Maidan Nezalezhnosti and tried to find the area filled with flags. I was specifically looking for US flags and the names of the American volunteers I had written about. And I found Ethan’s flag. I texted his mom and said, “Ethan’s flag is here.” She replied, “We’ll be there in ten minutes.” And I thought, wow.

I met them again in Kyiv because they were there trying to bring Ethan’s body home to California. Ethan was born in California, and the family decided that it was the right place for him to rest in peace. So I met them in Kyiv, and it felt incredible—what a story. I first met Leslie on Facebook, then I travelled to Missouri to record the story, interview the family, and attend Ethan’s Celebration of Life. And then, unexpectedly, I met them again in Kyiv.

It became a whole story. I published it not in Newsweek, but in UNITED24 Media, because I’m trying to spread the word about these men. I work with different media outlets because the more people who know these stories, the better—not only for me, but for Ukraine and for documenting this war. These stories need to be shared.

When I document these stories, I try to be everywhere, because as broad an audience as possible must hear them.

Jacobsen: You mentioned families who have lost loved ones who went to fight for freedom and democracy. Could you see this becoming a two-year project—gathering as many of these stories as possible and producing a book?

Boichuk: Yes, actually, I am thinking about that. And you’re not the only person who has suggested it to me. These stories are my life. It’s not just that I do an interview and move on. I stay in touch with the families. We text regularly. They’ve become my friends.

The moms especially—I really feel their care. They message me asking, “It’s cold in DC, are you wearing a hat?” or “Have you eaten?” because they know I’m busy with my journalism work. I feel their care, and that’s why I try to be supportive as well. We are very close. That’s also why, when I meet new people, I try to tell them about these stories.

Right now, I have six stories documented. I need a few more to turn it into a book and make it a larger project. It’s ambitious, but I’m working on it. Many people have told me I should collect these stories into a book, and I’ve heard that advice so often that it makes me feel I really should. I’ve never done that before, so I need to figure out the process. It will take time. I still think I need more stories, but the idea is there.

Jacobsen: When you tell these stories to American audiences, it hits home because it’s their families and their children. What do Ukrainians feel about individuals from other countries who are inspired by Ukrainians defending themselves, go to fight, and sometimes die—people from cultures they may not know well? How are these stories understood in Ukraine?

Boichuk: When I first started talking to the families, the first thing I learned—for myself as well—was that all of these men went to Ukraine to fight for what they believed was right. Every family member, every mother, every parent I spoke with shared that understanding.

When you hear these stories, they’re never just from one person. It’s the mom, the dad, friends, and brothers-in-arms. It’s a complete story. Every time I speak with people who tell me about these men and explain why they went, the main reason is always the same: they were fighting for what they believed was right.

They went somewhere that was utterly foreign to them. None of the men whose stories I’ve published had any roots in Ukraine. They had no personal connection there, but they still decided to do what they believed was right.

Many of them were Marines or veterans of the US Armed Forces. They had already served, and they understood what duty means. Not desire—duty. The duty to serve freedom, democracy, and justice. That was the first thing.

The second thing I learned from the families is that all these men strongly opposed tyranny and bullying. What they understood from Russia’s full-scale invasion was that it was a classic case of a bully—when a much larger power tries to invade and dominate a smaller country. That understanding mattered deeply to them.

They didn’t have roots in Ukraine, but many of them fell in love with Ukraine—for example, Jericho McGowan, a police officer from California. When I first saw his photo, he looked like a Hollywood actor—very handsome, very charismatic.

When the full-scale invasion began, he was among the first American military volunteers to go to Ukraine. He travelled from California to Ukraine and arrived in early March 2022. He decided he needed to be there.

Jericho was a US Marine Corps veteran, so he had military experience. When he arrived in Ukraine, he went to the Serhii Prytula Charity Foundation and tried to volunteer. At that time, representatives of the foundation told me that they were still trying to figure out what to do with foreign volunteers. In early 2022, there were no clear rules or procedures yet. The International Legion existed, but the system was still in the process of forming.

Now there are established processes, the International Legion, specific units, and official pathways. But back in early March 2022, when Jericho arrived, nobody really knew how to organize or deploy these volunteers.

He stayed. He committed. Eventually, he was assigned to a brigade and continued fighting for Ukraine. His final mission was near Bakhmut, where he was killed by Russian forces in 2023.

Jericho never had the chance to see his newborn child. His baby was born just months before he planned to return to the United States to meet them. He was killed in action before he could come home.

I also question this myself—how someone can leave everything behind, leave their life, and go to fight for people and for a country they had never known before. But for those men, it was more than that. It was about standing against bullying and doing what they believed was right.

One more thing I learned from speaking with the families is that almost all of them said their sons fell in love with Ukraine. They loved the food, they loved the people, and they were genuinely motivated to help. “Excited” might not be the right word, but they were inspired to help Ukrainians during a tough time. They embraced Ukrainian culture and felt deeply connected to it.

Jacobsen: Ukraine has a layered history—imperial rule, the Soviet period, the post-Soviet transition. It’s a complex mix of cultural influences and remnants of older civilizations that were overtaken and suppressed for long periods. There is a lot to be said about Ukraine’s artistic depth and resilience. How do the loved ones left behind in the United States speak about the memory of those who were killed?

Boichuk: You’re asking about the families here in the US—the relatives of those who were killed, and how they speak about them? They are living with a profound absence.

At the Fall Ukraine Action Summit, I was surprised that many of these families chose to continue fighting for Ukraine in the ways available to them. They went to Congress to speak with representatives and to share the stories of their loved ones.

Honestly, I was shocked by this. Before meeting them, I had never lost someone so close to me. From my perspective, I assumed that after such a loss, a person would want to distance themselves from anything that reminded them of that pain. That was my first assumption before meeting these families.

But when I met them, I realized that their primary purpose now is to continue fighting for Ukraine in their own way. They speak publicly, they tell the stories of their sons who were killed, and they try to continue what their sons believed in.

At one of the fall summits, I learned something new. Carla Weber, the mother of Andrew Weber, told me that she went to Capitol Hill to speak with her representative and to ask him to continue supporting Ukraine and to vote in favour of continued aid.

She shared a powerful message. As a mother, she said, her primary responsibility in life was always to take care of her children. And when she understood that her son had been killed—just days after it happened—that sense of responsibility transformed into something else.

During that time, many officials were trying to figure out where Andrew’s body was. Carla told me that this was the most horrible period of her life, because as a mother, she did not know where her child was. She later used that experience to speak about the abduction of Ukrainian children.

She told me that she could not even imagine what Ukrainian mothers feel when their children are abducted—when they do not know where their children are or what Russian forces are doing with them. When I heard that, it was a revelation. I thought, Wow, this is incredibly powerful.

These mothers, despite suffering an enormous personal loss, continue to advocate. They continue to share stories and emotions, connecting their own experiences to the reality in Ukraine. They speak about abducted Ukrainian children and about what they describe as a “human safari” in Ukraine. Hearing that perspective was shocking for me—not in a sensational way, but because it was new.

It showed me how personal stories can be used to advocate for Ukraine here in the US and to explain why support for Ukraine matters. I’m very grateful to Carla for sharing that perspective, because now I can share that message with others. I had never thought about that angle before.

Jacobsen: In your work with families who have lost loved ones in war, have you done any comparative analysis across different contexts—Americans who lost family members fighting in Ukraine, Ukrainians who lost loved ones at home, and even families in Russia who have lost relatives? Or is your focus mainly on the American context?

Boichuk: My focus is mainly on the US context, because I’m here and I understand the responsibility of doing this work in this setting. But when we talk about the Ukrainian side, Ukrainian families have lost their loved ones on a massive scale. I honestly cannot imagine that level of pain—not just for individual families, but for an entire nation.

When I think about the US, where dozens of families have lost loved ones connected to this war, it already feels overwhelming. I can’t even begin to imagine the magnitude of loss in Ukraine, where the numbers are far greater.

I don’t want to focus on Russian soldiers or Russian families. These were invaders. They came to Ukraine and decided to participate in this war.

I can’t find anything humane in that. That’s why I try not to talk about it. Not only do I avoid talking about it—I can’t even think about those families in terms of sacrifice. For me, it feels completely inhumane.

Jacobsen: Where have you found the toughest areas of advocacy in DC?

Boichuk: The most formidable advocacy challenge in DC actually happened this week. Representatives connected to the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia, which is closely aligned with imperial and state structures, came to Capitol Hill. They were not advocating for Ukraine. They were advocating for the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine.

They claimed that Ukraine is persecuting Christians—specifically Orthodox Christians—and they accused President Zelenskyy of criminal behaviour. They focused on Metropolitan Onufriy, who has been associated with the Moscow Patriarchate, and argued that Ukraine’s actions against him were unjust. Some of these clergy continue to pray publicly for Patriarch Kirill, who has openly supported Russia’s war.

These representatives came to Capitol Hill to promote the narrative that Ukraine is persecuting Christianity. I was honestly shocked. I could not imagine something like this happening on the Hill.

That has been one of the hardest things to confront. Ukrainians are on the right side of this. We have extensive evidence of Russian actions—bombing Ukrainian cities, killing civilians, and abducting Ukrainian children. These are documented facts. That gives us a strong basis to counter that kind of advocacy.

We have many examples showing that those advocating for the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine are part of a broader imperial system tied to Russia. They are not neutral actors. They are part of a political and ideological structure.

We went to the office of a member of Congress and spoke in detail about Russian abductions of Ukrainian children, about the killing of civilians, and about how religion is being instrumentalized to justify violence. Using faith to advance those narratives is deeply disturbing.

The hardest part is having to explain—to people in the US and even to members of Congress—that it is not acceptable for representatives aligned with Russian state structures to advocate on Capitol Hill under the guise of religious freedom. This was not the first time something like this had happened in DC, but it was one of the most challenging moments.

Trying to stand against something so clearly wrong—and having to convince others of that fact—has been one of the most complex parts of advocacy work here.

When we are advocating, the situation with representatives of the Russian Orthodox Church trying to promote their narrative about Ukraine is tough emotionally. It’s challenging to stay calm when you hear claims that are clearly disconnected from reality.

What really helps is having a community here. Being able to come together, to work collectively, and to support one another matters a great deal. Having a supportive community means you’re not fighting alone.

There are also people, for example, from the Ukraine Freedom Project, who are working to counter propaganda. They try to expose the factual background of those who advocate on Capitol Hill for Russian Orthodoxy in Ukraine and to confront the false narratives being used to mislead policymakers.

These groups focus on presenting verified facts to counter the propaganda Russians use to influence people on the Hill. That work is essential.

Jacobsen: Did you ever see yourself becoming a journalist when you were growing up in a small Ukrainian village?

Boichuk: Of course. That was never a question for me.

Jacobsen: So this is your dream job?

Boichuk: Yes. When the Orange Revolution happened in Ukraine in 2004, I was about ten years old. Ukrainians went to Maidan Square to protest fraudulent elections. It was a huge moment. That was the first time Viktor Yanukovych ran for president.

It happened ten years before the Revolution of Dignity. Ukrainians were standing up against a rigged election. I remember watching journalists reporting live from Maidan Square, seeing the massive crowds. I looked at them and thought, I want to be that person. That’s when I decided I wanted to become a journalist.

Jacobsen: I spoke with a colleague and asked her about the similarities and differences between North American and Ukrainian media, particularly in journalistic style. One thing she mentioned is that Ukrainian journalism places a strong emphasis on presentation. Everything needs to be dignified, proper, and formal.

In North America, you can see that as well, but there’s also a different media culture—especially in some right-wing corporate media—where presentation is more performative. You’ll often see women styled in a particular way, while men are dressed in standardized suits. That contrast in presentation styles is striking.

Even in comedy news, like The Daily Show, which is generally seen as left-leaning, you still see people in suits. The suits are usually more tailored, the ties are thinner, and the presentation is more stylized. But it’s not taken as pure ambience—it’s part of parody. Fox News, by contrast, often comes across as a character in its own right. It’s very one-directional.

A colleague was discussing the pros and cons of each, depending on the context. There are trade-offs, almost like economics. How would you characterize the similarities and differences in media style?

Boichuk: I studied journalism in Ukraine and earned my master’s degree in journalism. While we were learning, our professors showed us The New York Times, CNN, Fox News, The Economist, and other Western media as examples of how journalism should be done.

They didn’t show us these outlets because of their political orientation—left or right. They showed them as examples of professional journalism. They were presented as models for reporting, investigating, and verifying information.

I genuinely believe that the United States is ahead of much of the world in journalism and culture. That’s influenced by Hollywood, by the Oscars, by Sundance, for example. When we talk about journalism, outlets like The New York Times, The Washington Post, and USA Today feel iconic to me. I studied them at university, and they shaped my understanding of what journalism can be.

For me, journalism in the US represents a standard that Ukraine is still growing toward. I want to be very clear: this isn’t about left-wing or right-wing media. It’s about methodology—how journalism is practiced.

For example, Politico relies heavily on its own sources rather than simply repeating press conference statements. The same is true for The Wall Street Journal. That kind of journalism is very demanding. You have to build relationships, know where to find information, and understand how to verify sources. That’s hard work.

That’s why journalism here feels iconic to me. In Ukraine, especially before and after 2014, journalism struggled under oligarch-owned media. Independence and freedom of speech were much harder to sustain. Now, we have outlets like Suspilne, Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, independent digital media, and YouTube-based journalism. The landscape is changing, but it’s still challenging.

I personally love very classic, rigorous reporting. When I came to the US, I started doing everything myself. I’m the journalist, the camera operator, the editor, the writer—everything. During election season, I even drove myself. I pushed myself to a Trump rally in Pennsylvania to report on it.

When I go to report near the White House, I see large media teams—hosts, lighting technicians, camera operators, producers—building a complete setup. And then there’s me alone, with my tripod, reporting for Ukrainian media.

That’s why I respect journalists here, regardless of political orientation. They’re doing very demanding and often iconic work.

Jacobsen: What do you make of the diversity of presentation and self-expression allowed for journalists in North American media? Often you’ll see men in suits and ties, sometimes without a tie, and women in dresses. But you also see journalists on different beats who dress more casually—in street clothes—depending on the context. How do you interpret that flexibility in style?

Boichuk: It depends on the content. It depends on the TV program, whether it’s a morning show or an evening one. It depends on the purpose and the audience. As I’ve said, I really love classic, formal journalism, and I would love to try that style myself.

When I first came to the US, I thought I needed to find any job in television to see how it works from the inside. I joked with my sister that maybe they were looking for a cleaner or someone to be inside a TV station and feel the atmosphere.

I’m very much a TV person. In Ukraine, I worked in television for five years. I love the vibe of a newsroom—the live stream, the host, everything. That’s why I was curious about how television journalism works here.

One of my close friends used to work as a foreign producer for Fox News. She invited me to see the studio—the big screens, where the team sits, where journalists work, and where Bret Baier does his weekly program. I remember thinking, This is so cool.

It wasn’t about Fox News specifically. It was about the television environment itself.

Jacobsen: Historically, in democratic systems, responses to war often move slowly. Democracies can be slow to align internally, but once they do, they often move with a unified national will. We’re seeing something like that in response to Russian aggression against Ukraine, with what’s usually called “the West”—though that’s a very imprecise, 20th-century term.

At the G7 Foreign Ministers’ Summit, there appeared to be movement toward a more unified sanctions framework against Russia. Canada, for example, has a specific legal framework for expanding sanctions. From your perspective, are you seeing a more unified front outside the US—whether through sanctions, asset freezes, or long-term financial support for Ukraine?

Boichuk: I would love to say that we need to work harder. First, we need to work hard to advocate for Ukraine. We need to work hard to explain to Congress what needs to be done.

Ukrainians have a clear agenda—freezing Russian assets, increasing sanctions, and returning abducted Ukrainian children. There is a list of concrete priorities. But right now, everything requires sustained effort.

Even with the advocacy we discussed earlier involving representatives of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia, we have to work hard to explain to members of Congress why that advocacy is wrong, misleading, and harmful. We need to present facts clearly and consistently.

From my perspective, I can’t judge the US democracy or internal political struggles. I’m not a US citizen. This is not my government. My government is in Ukraine.

As a Ukrainian living abroad, I have a responsibility to advocate for my country here. When I’m in Ukraine, I can ask my own government questions. But here, my role is to represent Ukraine, not to criticize the US system. The United States allowed me to live and work here, and I respect that.

My job is to advocate for Ukraine—to talk about Russian war crimes, about the killing of civilians, about the abduction of Ukrainian children, and about why Ukraine needs continued support. That’s my role.

Jacobsen: Any final thoughts or conclusions you’d like to share?

Boichuk: I want to emphasize the importance of remembering the fallen. Remembering those who fought for freedom matters because they fought not only for Ukraine but also for our shared future.

Jacobsen: Thank you for your time.

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