There are women whose strength does not require loud words. It can be felt in their eyes, in the silence between phrases, in the ability to endure when life is divided into “before” and “after.” This is exactly who Maryna Mykhalchuk is — known to many by her creative name, Mari J Linn.
Once, her life revolved around children, psychology, personal growth, and supporting people. Today, her voice is heard at international forums and conferences, where she speaks about what the world is often afraid to face — Russian captivity, torture, the endless waiting of families, and the struggle for Ukrainian prisoners of war.
In an exclusive interview for Business Woman magazine, Maryna Mykhalchuk shared her story of inner resilience, pain transformed into purpose, and the strength to keep speaking even when the world grows tired of listening.
— Maryna, who were you before the war changed everything?
— I was a woman with an ordinary happy life. I worked as an elementary school teacher, a practical psychologist, and I had my own business. My life was about children, development, and supporting people.
I truly loved my work. I loved seeing a child begin to believe in themselves, seeing a person regain the strength to live after a difficult period. I had plans, dreams, an ordinary peaceful life. And then came the morning of February 24. It feels like after that day, none of us remained the same.
— Do you remember that day?
— Down to the smallest detail. Days like that are remembered not only by the mind, but by the body itself.
I remember the first news reports, the phone calls, the tears, and that terrifying feeling of unreality. As if the world had suddenly cracked in half. But at some point, a clear realization comes: either you break down, or you begin to act. And I chose to act.
— Was that when your humanitarian work began?
— Yes. Together with our Norwegian friends, from the very first days we started organizing aid for Ukraine. We collected medicine, humanitarian supplies, clothes, food, and vehicles.
At that time, everyone was living on adrenaline and pain. We barely slept, but no one complained. Because when your country is screaming in pain, you simply cannot stand aside.
— You worked extensively with Ukrainian refugees in Norway. What stayed with you the most?
— People’s eyes. I remember women arriving with nothing — just their children and one suitcase holding their entire lives. I remember children who stopped speaking after everything they had gone through. I remember a man crying because he was unable to say goodbye to his mother before evacuation.
War does not only take away homes. It takes away the feeling of safety and the future itself.
I worked as an interpreter, helped people adapt, and provided psychological support. Sometimes a person simply needs to be hugged and told, “You are not alone.” But the hardest part was living through my own pain at the same time.
— Because the war became personal for you…
— Yes. And that is the moment after which you never return to your old version of yourself.
My brother and his brothers-in-arms are being held in Russian captivity. And when this happens to your own family, war stops being news. It settles inside you.
You begin living in constant ожидание of a phone call, any news, any confirmation that the person is alive. It is a terrifying state when your heart is constantly trapped between hope and fear.
— Was that when the fight for prisoners of war became your main mission?
— Yes. Today, this is no longer just public activism — it is the work of my life.
I fight for Ukrainian prisoners of war, especially the Azov fighters who are still being held in Russian torture chambers. And the most frightening thing is that the world is gradually getting used to the war. People scroll past the news, while for thousands of families the war never stops, not even for a moment.
That is why I cannot remain silent.
— You often speak at international forums. Do you feel that the world hears Ukraine?
— When I speak about prisoners of war, the rooms become very quiet. Because it is difficult to hear.
People are afraid to realize that in the 21st century torture, starvation, and inhumane treatment can still exist. But I speak about it because someone must. Silence only protects those who commit evil.
— You seem like a very strong woman. Do you allow yourself to be vulnerable?
— In reality, strength is not about never crying. Strength is when you cry and still continue forward.
There are nights when it becomes unbearably hard. There are moments of complete emotional exhaustion. But then I think about our boys in captivity, and I realize that I do not have the right to stop.
— What gives you hope today?
— People. Ukrainians are incredible.
Even after everything we have endured, we continue to love, help, fight, laugh, and believe. And truth gives me hope as well. Because truth is always stronger than fear.
— Who is Maryna Mykhalchuk today?
— A woman who has learned to live with pain and did not allow pain to break her.
I am no longer the person I was before the war. But perhaps only now have I truly become myself.
Today, Maryna Mykhalchuk continues to speak on behalf of those whose voices are being silenced behind the walls of Russian prisons. Her story is not only about war. It is about female strength born where the heart could have surrendered.
About love that is stronger than fear.
And about a woman who chooses to keep fighting every single day — even when the world grows tired of listening.
Photo: from the archive of Maryna Mykhalchuk