Mariya’s Story:

When I was ten, my father returned from his first trip to the U.S. and surprised me with a gift — a faux-leather brown journal with an image of ink and quill embossed in gold on the cover. I still remember fanning the journal’s snowy white, lined pages and taking in the smell of vanilla-scented crisp paper. From then on, I began to chronicle my simple day-to-day life in Kyiv, Ukraine: growing up with two parents who hustled to provide for us in the early days of post-Soviet, independent Ukraine, converting to the Mormon Church (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), and my first visit to the U.S. at 11 years old. 

After moving to the U.S. to start college, I turned to journal writing again—this time to describe, delight, and agonize over fitting in among exuberant, carefree Americans and navigating every aspect of my life in a new language. It’s through writing that I made sense of these new experiences; it’s how stories and anecdotes gained meaning and took shape in my memory. Perhaps in a natural progression, this preoccupation with chronicling my personal life began to turn outward.

Now, much of my work as a journalist happens through observation, listening, and making sense of the events around us. But what I love most is focusing on the people at the center of these events and experiences, and helping them make sense of their unique stories of change. Since the beginning of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I wrote about my family’s story of escape from Kyiv.

Being an empathetic listener and a thoughtful intermediary between the storyteller and their audience is what I aspire to most. I believe that getting to hear another person’s story—one that doesn't shy away from truth and complexity—is a gift. I'm thrilled and honored that at Kleio, I get to do the work of helping families and individuals share the gift of their story and preserve it for the generations to come.