In Chernihiv, Ukraine, a compelling transformation is unfolding within the walls of the Chernihiv Regional Youth Theater. A 43-year-old Ukrainian actor, donning a black leather jacket and a painted-on moustache, provides a vivid picture of the times. Amidst the ongoing conflict with Russia, the theater has had no choice but to reevaluate its casting, allowing women to step into roles traditionally held by men. The theater’s director, Roman Pokrovskyi, remarked on this transition, stating, “While rehearsing Shakespeare’s ‘King Lear,’ an abrupt call to the front line left our male actors absent. With only female members remaining, we opted to embrace the reversal of roles—after all, in Shakespearean era, men often played female parts.”
This adjustment is reflective of a wider trend in Ukraine. As men have joined the armed forces to defend against Russia’s invasion, women have filled the void in numerous industries, preserving not only the workforce but the resilience of the nation. The cultural shift has permeated the theater community, where four male actors and five stagehands are now enlisted in the army, with only two male actors presently performing on stage. The theater has ingeniously adapted by assigning women to portray key roles and converting their setting into both an artistic venue and a hub for war-time support.
One significant production, featuring an entirely female cast, focuses on “Hetman,” a play about Ivan Mazepa, a 17th-century Cossack leader noted for allying with European forces against Russia. This narrative holds powerful contemporary relevance in Ukraine, echoing independence sentiments from over three centuries ago. Actress Ruslana Ostapko, moved to tears when discussing colleagues at the front, encapsulated the collective national emotion: “This is pain, the pain of our nation.”
The theater community, encompassing roles from actors to cafeteria staff, actively participates in war support, weaving camouflage nets and raising funds for the military. Despite these efforts, not all their colleagues will return. Kostiantyn Slobodeniuk and Dmytro Pohuliaylo, devoted members of the theater, remain unaccounted for, with claims of missing in action. A poignant testimony to the costs of conflict, sound engineer Vyacheslav Shevtsov lost his life in a counteroffensive last August near Kursk.
In close proximity to Russian borders, Chernihiv has suffered from relentless bombings and besiegement, enduring the loss of power and water while under persistent Russian aggression. The cultural sector has seen severe destruction, with many artistic institutions in dire need of restoration or rebuilding, as noted by Oksana Tunik-Fryz, head of the Arts and Culture Council. “Killing a Ukrainian is one tragedy, but erasing our culture threatens our future,” she remarked.
Each performance in the Chernihiv theater is prefaced with a grave announcement, cautioning patrons that the show may be interrupted by an air raid alert. Such announcements, like the one recorded by Kostiantyn Slobodeniuk, underscore the reality of the troubled environment. With frequent interruptions, attendees are often led to air raid shelters but find solace in community solidarity during these tumultuous events.
Despite an impending sense of uncertainty, the determination of the theater troupe remains unyielding. Their commitment to both their craft and volunteer work in wartime conditions speaks to a resilient spirit. Actor Oleksii Bysh reflects this fortitude by echoing Soviet-era Ukrainian filmmaker, Oleksandr Dovzhenko, “We may be a small theater, but, just as Dovzhenko said, from afar you are small, up close, you are grand.”
