'I couldn't give my son a stigma.' Women talk why they left prison for front

We meet with the former prisoners in frontline Dnipropetrovsk Oblast. The village is quiet, but the anti-drone nets stretched across all the streets serve as a reminder that the war is nearby. We drive through an opening in an anti-drone tunnel into a courtyard that has become the permanent base for the women of the 59th Brigade's Shkval battalion. All of them were serving sentences for various crimes until last year.

What motivated the former convicts to go to war? Was it difficult to get into service? Are they using early conditional release to then go absent without leave? We talked about this with the servicewomen.

"I asked my mom if she gave birth to me in body armor"

The servicewoman Pink, predictably, has pink hair, a manicure, and patches on her bag. Yet her call sign did not come from a love of the color pink. Fellow soldiers in the unit decided she resembled the American singer Pink. Even though the Ukrainian does not listen to her music.

Pink is from the town of Slavuta in Khmelnytskyi Oblast. She was serving her sentence in the Zbarazh Penal Colony under Article 307 of the Criminal Code — drug trafficking. She says she tried to join the military starting in October 2024.

"We called many different brigades. My mom called, and relatives called. It would somehow turn out that the brigades would say they would come, but they did not come," she recalls.

The procedure for convicts is as follows: representatives of a brigade must come to the colony to conduct an interview. If it is successful, the brigade sends a request for service. After that, volunteers must submit an application to the colony’s administration, which then arranges for them to undergo a military medical examination.

The military medical commission, Pink says, was conducted inside the colony. All the necessary doctors came. After that, the colony leadership filed a petition with the court for early conditional release. The servicewoman received it in August 2025.

Pink is a single mother with an almost 12-year-old son. His grandmother takes care of his upbringing. It was precisely for her son that Pink joined the military.

When she was imprisoned, her relatives told the boy that mom was working in Poland. Later he himself told her on the phone: "Mom, I knew everything." He probably heard it from other children whose parents had told them.

Pink adds: her crime was not connected to the search for money. She simply fell in with the wrong crowd.

"We had enough money. I had a husband who was a serviceman. He was killed. Last year in December, we buried him. He had been missing for a long time — one year and ten months. Then he was found. That was also one of the main reasons why I went to serve," she says.

She had served 4 years and 9 months of a 6-year-and-3-month sentence in the colony. Now Pink works in a logistics support group. She delivers provisions to positions — both by drone and on foot.

"This is mine. I see myself here. I already asked my mom if she gave birth to me in body armor. I come back from a mission, two days pass, and that is it, I cannot sit still. It is the adrenaline. You cannot put it into words."

Before her imprisonment, Pink worked as a tattoo artist. She only got one tattoo on her arm for herself — her son's name, "Amin." After the war, she wants to continue serving in the military. She says she has forgotten the period in the colony, as if it were a bad dream.

"It is like family here. You worry about every single person. You give yourself to the work, and you worry about everyone. The guys see us and say that girls should not be here, but they admire us," the servicewoman shares.

Pink and Mamba are "from the same disco." That is how they joke about being together in the pre-trial detention center and then in the Zbarazh colony. Now they carry out combat missions. And Bella is from the "Kharkiv disco."

The cats running around the house were picked up by their trio from their positions. Now Mamba takes care of 15 cats. Once they rescued a hedgehog that had gotten tangled in anti-drone nets: "Bella cut the nets, Mamba removed him, and I provided cover."

"They see us as labor"

In April, hromadske visited the Zbarazh Correctional Colony, where imprisoned women said they want to join the military, but their applications supposedly do not leave the colony administration.

According to them, a recruiter from the 59th Brigade had come to the facility and explained that the unit was ready to take women up to age 35, but not those imprisoned for drug-related crimes.

The 59th Brigade told hromadske that the need for reinforcements arose due to an increase in the front-line sector. But those convicted under drug-related articles were still rejected because the unit had had negative experiences with such people.

Pink disagrees with the brigade's position: "Many were convicted under Article 307, for drugs, but they did not even try them and did not use them. Circumstances just turned out that way. What happened there and then — it all gets forgotten and passes. It does not matter what article you had."

The women claim that the colony administration discouraged them from military service. Some were offered to stay and receive parole in the near future.

"They insist that this is war, that you can be killed here. They say: 'Think about it, you have children there. What are you doing? You have just a little time left — and the first parole will be yours,'" servicewoman Lystysia said.

Mamba adds, "They see us as labor. They do not want to let strong ones go. In August 2025, 19 women who worked and did not sit around in the dormitories left for service. It certainly hit them in the wallet."

And other women who wanted to join the military were allegedly threatened with a report.

"A report is a minus to your behavior and a minus to your parole. Encouragement is a plus. But, as they say, no one is irreplaceable. They found a replacement for us," explains the servicewoman with the call sign Lysytsia.

Tetiana, also known as Lysytsia, has been serving in Shkval since October 2025. She also delivers provisions by drone to infantry positions. Lysytsia was serving her sentence in the Zbarazh colony for grievous bodily injury that caused death. She had four years left until the end of her term, and one year until parole. Nevertheless, Tetiana still wanted to join the army:

"They said to stay in the colony: 'Do you need this? You have already come such a long way. You do not know what will happen to you.' For about a year, I still hesitated. But the push came from my relatives to change my social status. I do not regret it, even though it was hard; there were tears."

Tetiana's son is 9 years old. After the start of the full-scale war, he left with his grandmother for Germany. The boy did not know that his mom was in prison. The story was the same as with the others: Mom is working abroad.

"He is growing up, and he starts having a lot of questions — already such adult questions: where are you, what are you doing, what kind of work is it, how much do they pay you. And now he knows that I am serving. We talk every day by video call," Tetiana says.

When the court grants convicts parole, it also establishes one year of administrative supervision. During this time, they do not have the right to vacation. At the same time, service members on parole can be let go for several days for family reasons.

Before her imprisonment, Tetiana worked as a cook. But she does not like cooking. In the fall, she plans to enroll in a university and obtain a higher humanities education.

"I hope this stain will fade — and I will continue to serve"

Another Tetiana, with the call sign Sova, is 32 years old. She has been serving in Shkval since September 2025. She was serving her sentence in the Kharkiv Correctional Colony for illegal drug trafficking. But she does not admit her guilt:

"My common-law husband set me up. He asked me to pick up a package, and the police were already waiting at the post office. That is how I ended up there — sentenced to five years. Four years were still left," recalls Sova, who pilots drones.

She has her nails done and lash extensions. She says that if she presents herself well, the command allows her to go to the beauty salon in the city after returning from the front. We asked if she ever feels like running away. Tetiana says she doesn’t, though there have been cases among ex-convict soldiers:

“Some just decided to get out [of prison] and seize the moment—they left right away. Others stayed a little while, then left. Unfortunately, it happens. There are even repeat AWOLs. One woman was found and brought back; she stayed for a bit, then went to the hospital again and never came back. I’m not planning anything like that. I hope this stain on my record will fade—and I’ll keep serving.”