Mother and daughter, against the traditional family model and the conventions of Putin's Russia

MoscowVladimir Putin wants to turn large families into the traditional Russian family. But while only 5% of households are made up of a father, a mother, and three or more children, almost 40% of families are single-parent and, in the vast majority of cases, matriarchal. Katia and Anya – fictitious names to preserve their anonymity –, a mother and daughter aged 45 and 11 respectively, are an example of this archetypal model in a society historically marked by high male mortality, the central role of women in care, and, after the fall of the USSR, by high divorce rates.

When Katia separated from Anya's father, the family didn't understand. "What do you think? That you'll find someone better?", she remembers her mother's first words. According to her, this attitude stems from the Soviet era, when it was believed that divorce had to be avoided at all costs because it was understood as "a catastrophe" and implied "admitting a mistake", especially for women. 

Although it is now a widespread phenomenon, the Russian language maintains a sexist prejudice when describing these situations. When a man divorces, in Russian, he is a “free” man (svobodni), but a separated woman is pejoratively called “abandoned” (broixenka). Katia even explains that in dating apps there is the category “RSP”, razvedionka s pritsépom, which translates as “divorced with a trailer”.

Ània's father now lives in a Central Asian country. He left to avoid being drafted when Putin decreed partial mobilization in the autumn of 2022. “I was in favor of him leaving so as not to run any risk because we had neither economic nor social resources to protect ourselves from mobilization,” explains Kàtia, aware that this would mean taking care of the girl alone. “I prefer Ània to have a father far away, but alive,” she adds.

Now they live with her grandmother and a dog in Moscow. “All women, it’s like a devichnik –a female bachelorette party–,” Ània jokes. The mother and grandmother often clash over political issues. One is against the invasion of Ukraine; the other supports it. “When you reproach her for being in favor of the war, she tells you no, that she is on her country’s side – Kàtia comments – it’s an idea that comes from the Soviet era.” She, on the other hand, is very critical of Russia’s direction. “You can’t close your eyes to someone who is ill and pretend nothing is happening, the illness must be recognized. I can’t say nothing is happening. Something is happening: my country is ill,” she assures.

Resisting indoctrination

One of her main concerns is patriotic and military indoctrination at Ània's school. Katia doesn't want her to get involved in war-related activities, but she can't always avoid it. The girl recounts how one day, during an extracurricular activity, the teacher didn't show up and they were taken with the older children to knit nets for the military. "We did it automatically, without thinking, they didn't explain to us why we were doing it," she explains. On another occasion, they were asked to write letters to soldiers at the front. She addressed hers to the uncle of her best friend from class, who is fighting in Ukraine.

Katia complains that teachers take advantage of children because they don't know how to assert their opinion. “You can't force them, it makes me indignant,” she laments. One time she did prevent Anya from collaborating in a humanitarian collection for the front line. “We had to send food to the front, but my mother forbade me,” she says. Staying on the sidelines of the rest of the students is possible, but not easy. “You end up alone, set apart, as if you were boycotting – Katia admits – you can say no, it's not a catastrophe, but people usually conform, they don't protest, they are indifferent.”

Katia talks openly about these issues with Anya at home, but she knows it would be very dangerous if she mentioned it at school. “I always ask her, above all, not to say anything because it could have consequences for us.” She recalls that the girl started crying when she learned the story of a father who was sentenced to two years in prison for his daughter's pacifist drawing. Because of all this, Katia confesses that she increasingly thinks about the possibility of homeschooling Anya, a system that is possible in Russia.

See the world

When the dissident Aleksei Navalny died in prison in February 2024, Katia asked her daughter if she would like to accompany her to lay flowers at the monument to political prisoners. "I didn't insist on it because she's just a child, all I want is to educate her in human values," she comments. Nevertheless, Ània agreed, and her mother took her, aware of the risk she was taking. "I prepared everything in case I ended up arrested with a minor just for going to leave some flowers, it's totally absurd," she points out.

Katia would like Ània to be able to spend a day outside of Russia. "I would like my daughter to see that the world doesn't end here, that it's much more than this," she states. However, it's not easy for a single mother, without support and in the current context. "The worst thing since the war is that I can't make plans, I have no future prospects," she laments. Ània enjoys sitting year after year with her mother to watch the Eurovision festival, evoking other times. "I would like Russia to participate again – she explains – I love bright and colorful shows." She also says she would like to dance and learn to play the piano, although when asked what profession she would prefer to have when she grows up, she replies that she would like to be an actress or a lawyer, while her mother looks at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.