The scars of war are everywhere in Kharkiv but residents remain undeterred.
“Everything changed in Kharkiv after President Biden allowed Ukraine to use US weapons to hit Russia,” Meriam Yol said. “We moved from shelters back to our apartments.”
Reversing U.S. policy, President Joe Biden in November 2024 allowed Kyiv to strike Russia with U.S.-provided missiles after Moscow had pummeled Kharkiv with glide bombs and ballistic missiles for months. After Ukraine’s second-largest city showed no sign of caving and civilian casualties mounted, the White House relented after insisting that allowing U.S. weapons to strike Russia would cross a “red line” and trigger Russian escalation.
Instead, the Russians backed off and life has returned to Kharkiv. Families have begun to return and signs of life are everywhere.
In February 2025, I raced through the city in an unarmed car, surveying the city with Meriam Yol, the chief operating officer of the nongovernmental organization Volonterska (Volunteers), trying to understand the special nature of Kharkiv. My employer Razom for Ukraine, an aid and advocacy organization focused on Ukraine that has deployed more than $200 million since 2022, gives to Volonterska.
A Russian-speaking city close to the Russian border, Moscow calculated that the city would fall easily at the beginning of the war. (Kharkiv’s brave resistance merits a book alone. A great place to start is Serhiy Zhadan’s Sky Above Kharkiv.) Instead, Kharkiv has become a national center of resistance and many residents have switched to the Ukrainian language.
Yol, a native of Kharkiv, said the best words to describe Kharkiv are “culture, army and home.”
Serhiy Zhadan, Ukraine’s poet laureate and the lead singer of Zhadan and the Dogs, calls Kharkiv home, as do hundreds of other artists, poets, and singers. Kharkiv is also home to countless universities.
Three years after Russia invaded Ukraine, Kharkiv’s Lit Museum has opened a first-rate exhibit—In the Name of the City—calling attention to the interconnectedness of the city.
Across town, Aza Nizi Maza, an underground art studio, provides space for mentally handicapped children to paint. Inspired by the style of the Dutch painter Hieronymus Bosch, the ceiling-length paintings and pastiches are eye-popping. Founded in 2012 by Mykola and Maria Kolomyets, the studio has remained open during the war.
The Kharkiv metro, which housed thousands during Russia’s heavy bombing of the city in 2022, has been returned to its original purpose. The city’s metro is open and free to all residents. One station has been decorated with colorful drawings and paintings from the Aza Nizi Maza art studio that buoy spirits.
The scars of war are everywhere in Kharkiv but residents remain undeterred. The lots of car dealerships are empty. Cars are status items in Ukraine, and since roads are often dotted with enormous potholes and apartments are often passed on from family to family, Ukrainians tend to sink significant resources into a solid car. Suzuki, Lexus, Renault, Land Rover, Nissan, Toyota, and Volvo in Kharkiv have bare lots.
Since the full-scale war began in February 2022, Kharkiv schools have moved to online delivery, although the city has built two underground schools that provide in-person instruction. Holding lessons in person is tricky in Kharkiv since students and teachers have approximately thirty to forty-five seconds’ notice to seek shelter once Russia launches a ballistic missile.
The city has been a regular target of Russian artillery but some districts have been hit much harder than others. The working-class neighborhood of Saltivka, 30 kilometers from the Russian border, has been bombed relentlessly.
At 6:30 pm on a Sunday night, approximately 30 percent of the apartments in Saltivka are lit up. Some of the unhabitable apartment buildings have been redone and rebuilt. We spy one dog owner walking around a fountain complex in the dusk.
As we drove through large apartment complexes, Yol pointed out her childhood apartment in Saltivka. The façade was covered in black soot and the building frame was heavily burnt. Another Russian hit.
In downtown Kharkiv, we decamp for dinner at Tripichchya (Трипіччя) for a traditional Ukrainian meal. The restaurant’s specialty is smoked borsch and it does not disappoint. After the meal, I meet friends of friends from Lviv enjoying a cigarette on the stoop. As Ukrainian speakers, they were shocked when they first moved to Kharkiv in 2022 and found that everyone spoke Ukrainian, not Russian.
Then I check into Wine and Roses, an underground hotel in Kharkiv, where I finally sleep soundly in Ukraine, under the now secure sky.
About the author: Melinda Haring
Melinda Haring is a senior advisor at Razom for Ukraine and a non-resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council.
Image: Drop of Light / Shutterstock.com