Exiled but Unbroken: Inspiring Belarusian Youth through Bright Belarus
I come from Zaslavl, a north-western suburb of Minsk and one of the oldest towns in Belarus dating back to 985. Today, Zaslavl has 3 schools, 1 hospital and 1 railway station, which is called "Belarus". This title commemorates the historical purpose of the railway station - it marked the border between Poland and the USSR after the 1921 Riga Peace Agreement. Until World War II, Belarus station in Zaslavl was the first stop for trains traveling from Europe to the Soviet Union.
My childhood in Zaslavl was very happy. I loved my tiny room with its bed and a table stacked with books. To me, it represented a vast world that I explored through encyclopaedias I’d received as gifts on my birthdays. I loved my school, which - despite limited resources - fostered curiosity. I particularly enjoyed our local stadium where I used to play soccer with other kids for hours, often feeling like nothing else in the world mattered.
Yet, every now and then, I felt as though something was amiss. I found myself developing strong academic interests but with no orientation or resources at my disposal. At the same time, I was captivated by western movies featuring academia. Grand libraries, well-equipped classrooms, student societies, and vibrant discussions—it all seemed magical. But I couldn’t fathom how someone without financial means to pay for overseas education or a family background in higher education, would ever be able to study at a university abroad. At high school, I began to explore websites of universities outside Belarus. However, my understanding of what was possible remained limited until I learned English properly and started university in Minsk. There, I met a former graduate from my university, who shared stories about scholarships for emerging leaders in their countries. That encounter was a turning point. The same day, I started researching scholarships and stumbled upon terms I had never across in my academic environment in Belarus – motivation letters, reference letters, academic essays, personal statements and statements of purpose. I had no idea how to write any of these documents.
The Belarusian academia, shaped by Soviet educational traditions, focused on facts, memorisation, and conformity. There was no room for self-expression or reflecting on one’s motivations. We were also not used to recognising or promoting our achievements, especially women – our educational system simply didn’t encourage it. Excelling in studies, participating in subject-related Olympiads and publishing papers were seen as norms, not milestones or successes to highlight and be proud of. In hindsight, I recognise that this cultural mindset explains why many Belarusians find it challenging to write successful admissions documents for overseas universities—or even to recognise their own accomplishments.
I struggled with this myself when applying to Oxford. Writing about my opinions and achievements didn’t come naturally. Even though I had impactful stories to share, my initial documents were disastrous, failing to reflect who I truly was or what I had achieved. Unsurprisingly, Oxford did not admit me that year.
But I was not prepared to give up. I was certain I had the qualities and credentials needed to study at Oxford; I just needed to approach my application differently. I sought guidance from someone who had studied abroad, and they helped me realise I had left out many important achievements and even aspects of my personality in my application. I hadn’t mentioned being in the top 5% of my class, receiving the highest recognition diploma for my thesis from the Ministry of Education, or training young lawyers for international competitions. The next time I applied, Oxford gave me a spot.
That was in 2018. Since then, I’ve worked in Geneva, Washington D.C. and London, and I also returned to Minsk for three years to support pro-democracy initiatives in Belarus. During the 2020 Presidential Elections, I led a protest of over 300 people when the electoral committee in my hometown refused to allow independent observers. But my activism came at a cost. In July 2023, KGB offices threatened me with arrest and I had to flee Belarus overnight.
Leaving my country - my home - remains the most traumatic experience of my life. Many people assume that those who study abroad, especially at prestigious universities, have no intention of returning to their home countries. But for me, coming back to Belarus after Oxford was an intentional decision – it was where I felt I had the potential to make the most meaningful impact. My work in Belarus felt deeply fulfilling because my skills were needed there, and I was of use. Everything changed, however, when I was forced into exile, unable to stay close to my family, friends and community.
Yet, I refused to give up. I refused to let my trauma consume me. After fleeing Belarus, I asked myself how I could continue helping other Belarusians while living in exile. Reflecting on my journey, I realised I was good at helping others highlighting their strengths in their applications to study abroad. I had also developed a large network across the Belarusian diaspora, many of whom shared my desire to support students back home. This is how the idea for the Bright Belarus Mentorship Programme was born.
Bright Belarus connects Belarusian diaspora members with hardworking and talented students in the country who aspire to study at top universities worldwide. For the 2024-2025 intake, we received over 130 applications and matched more than 60 young mentees with mentors who supported them through the application process. Together, we have built a community that has facilitated over 3,500 connections among bright Belarusians. Our Instagram account has over 2,200 followers, and our website attracts more than 1,000 new visitors each month.
This programme doesn’t just help students; it also gives Belarusians in exile a way to stay connected to their homeland and to contribute meaningfully. As the initiative has grown, we’ve set our sights higher. We’re in the process of registering Bright Belarus as a charity in the United Kingdom, which will enable us to expand opportunities for Belarusian youth and strengthen our global community.
Trauma has a way of changing us, but it doesn’t and mustn’t define us. Since being in exile, I’ve learned that beauty can emerge even from the most painful circumstances. Bright Belarus started as a way for me to help others, but in doing so, it has also helped me rebuild my purpose, reconnect with my community, and rediscover hope. Though I still carry the weight of loss, I now also carry the joy of watching new opportunities bloom for young Belarusians, for young “Lizas”, and for everyone else in the country. For me, that is true beauty - turning my exile into something that not only heals me but may also inspire others.