“The main thing is that Olya is free”
How one transgender woman in Moscow pulled another out of the hands of a military enlistment office with a can of pepper spray — and what it cost her. A story about why transgender women in Russia have been left defenceless against conscription.
On the night of 11 December 2024, 19-year-old Olya was walking home across an empty, snow-covered Moscow when a police Lada pulled over by a bus stop. Two men in uniform offered to drive her to the metro. Olya is a transgender woman, more than a year into her transition and on hormone therapy; her silhouette read as female, but, according to those close to her, her face and voice could “give her away.” She got into the car — and ended up not at the metro but at a police station, from where she was taken the next morning to an enlistment office and declared fit for service.
Nine hours later, outside the assembly point, 22-year-old Sonya — also a transgender woman — would spray pepper gas into the faces of two police officers, grab Olya by the hand and run. Before that they had met only once, at someone's birthday party. The story was told by Novaya Vkladka journalist Yulia Lisenko; here is a retelling, with context.
Why conscription is a trap for a transgender womanAlmost any transgender woman in Russia could find herself in Olya's place. Conscription applies to everyone the state regards as a man, under the age of 30. A legal way out once existed: go through a change of gender marker — at the time one of the simplest such procedures in the world — and deregister from military service on the new passport. In July 2023, Vladimir Putin signed a law banning “sex change”: doctors were barred from carrying out transition-related procedures, and state bodies from issuing transgender people new documents. It is part of the “traditional values” policy; lawmakers justified the ban partly by claiming that Russians were changing their marker to dodge service.
Amid losses at the front, the authorities stepped up sweeps: people of conscription age were seized near metro stations and in shops and delivered to assembly points within hours, and conscription often became the first step toward a contract with the Defence Ministry. Complaints about health and the fact of a gender transition were ignored. In the army, transgender women face harassment, and hormone therapy is unavailable — a forced interruption means the transition rolls back, with irreversible masculinization. An initiative group that helps transgender people told Novaya Vkladka it receives 10–20 appeals a month connected to enlistment offices; some transgender women prefer not to register at all, just to avoid contact with the system.
At the station, Olya was accused of draft evasion: shortly before, she had lost her student deferment after dropping out of university because of depression. No summons had reached her, she says — yet at the enlistment office two were written out retroactively, with an address where she had never lived.
“If I don't do it, no one will”Olya's message about her detention was seen in a group chat by Sonya, an analyst at a major bank who was herself transitioning. For her, Olya's conscription amounted to a mortal threat: harassment, violence, loss of access to hormones. They barely knew each other, but the chat of transgender people in Moscow — a city where no public queer spaces remained — had become Sonya's “island of safety” and her community. She took time off work, grabbed the bag in which she always carried a knife and a pepper spray, and set off — first to the Moscow enlistment point, then to the assembly point where Olya was to be held before being sent to a unit.
Sonya spent about eight hours in the cold; she had managed to contact the police and the authorities, but no help came. When Olya was brought to the assembly point, she was in a severe state and tried to harm herself. At a certain moment Sonya decided there would be no other chance — and sprayed the can into the faces of the police officers escorting Olya. The two women ran and hid in an industrial zone, but were soon found by National Guard troops. Both were detained. When Olya pleaded not to be taken into the army, one of the officers, Sonya says, replied: “Then it serves you right.”
A criminal case and two emigrationsThe women were released under a travel ban. Sonya was charged with using violence against a representative of the authorities — an article that in Russia carries up to five years, and that in recent practice has been used to jail people even for a plastic cup thrown in the direction of officers. During the investigation Sonya underwent psychiatric examinations, some of which, she says, turned into humiliation and threats of hospitalization. In late April the trial was quick: Sonya pleaded guilty and avoided a prison term — a fine of 40,000 rubles and 100,000 in compensation to the injured policewoman.
After the trial Sonya moved to Kazakhstan, but in late 2025 the country passed an analogue of Russia's “LGBT propaganda” ban; having overstayed while looking for work, she was expelled and moved on to Serbia. She had quit her old job and struggled to find a new one — turned down over her criminal record and over being transgender. Olya remained in Russia: she was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and declared unfit for service.
Sonya does not regret what she did. “I'm not sure I made the right or rational decisions. But the main thing is that Olya is free,” she says, and adds: “If life in Russia counts as freedom.”
Source: an investigation by Yulia Lisenko, Novaya Vkladka, 2 July 2026. Some names in the original have been changed.
This article touches on themes of violence and suicidal experiences. If you are struggling or need support, it is important not to be alone with it — reach out to people you trust or to a professional. Free psychological and legal help for LGBTQ+ people is available through specialized organizations, including Sfera and Coming Out.
On the night of 11 December 2024, 19-year-old Olya was walking home across an empty, snow-covered Moscow when a police Lada pulled over by a bus stop. Two men in uniform offered to drive her to the metro. Olya is a transgender woman, more than a year into her transition and on hormone therapy; her silhouette read as female, but, according to those close to her, her face and voice could “give her away.” She got into the car — and ended up not at the metro but at a police station, from where she was taken the next morning to an enlistment office and declared fit for service.
Nine hours later, outside the assembly point, 22-year-old Sonya — also a transgender woman — would spray pepper gas into the faces of two police officers, grab Olya by the hand and run. Before that they had met only once, at someone's birthday party. The story was told by Novaya Vkladka journalist Yulia Lisenko; here is a retelling, with context.
Why conscription is a trap for a transgender womanAlmost any transgender woman in Russia could find herself in Olya's place. Conscription applies to everyone the state regards as a man, under the age of 30. A legal way out once existed: go through a change of gender marker — at the time one of the simplest such procedures in the world — and deregister from military service on the new passport. In July 2023, Vladimir Putin signed a law banning “sex change”: doctors were barred from carrying out transition-related procedures, and state bodies from issuing transgender people new documents. It is part of the “traditional values” policy; lawmakers justified the ban partly by claiming that Russians were changing their marker to dodge service.
Amid losses at the front, the authorities stepped up sweeps: people of conscription age were seized near metro stations and in shops and delivered to assembly points within hours, and conscription often became the first step toward a contract with the Defence Ministry. Complaints about health and the fact of a gender transition were ignored. In the army, transgender women face harassment, and hormone therapy is unavailable — a forced interruption means the transition rolls back, with irreversible masculinization. An initiative group that helps transgender people told Novaya Vkladka it receives 10–20 appeals a month connected to enlistment offices; some transgender women prefer not to register at all, just to avoid contact with the system.
At the station, Olya was accused of draft evasion: shortly before, she had lost her student deferment after dropping out of university because of depression. No summons had reached her, she says — yet at the enlistment office two were written out retroactively, with an address where she had never lived.
“If I don't do it, no one will”Olya's message about her detention was seen in a group chat by Sonya, an analyst at a major bank who was herself transitioning. For her, Olya's conscription amounted to a mortal threat: harassment, violence, loss of access to hormones. They barely knew each other, but the chat of transgender people in Moscow — a city where no public queer spaces remained — had become Sonya's “island of safety” and her community. She took time off work, grabbed the bag in which she always carried a knife and a pepper spray, and set off — first to the Moscow enlistment point, then to the assembly point where Olya was to be held before being sent to a unit.
Sonya spent about eight hours in the cold; she had managed to contact the police and the authorities, but no help came. When Olya was brought to the assembly point, she was in a severe state and tried to harm herself. At a certain moment Sonya decided there would be no other chance — and sprayed the can into the faces of the police officers escorting Olya. The two women ran and hid in an industrial zone, but were soon found by National Guard troops. Both were detained. When Olya pleaded not to be taken into the army, one of the officers, Sonya says, replied: “Then it serves you right.”
A criminal case and two emigrationsThe women were released under a travel ban. Sonya was charged with using violence against a representative of the authorities — an article that in Russia carries up to five years, and that in recent practice has been used to jail people even for a plastic cup thrown in the direction of officers. During the investigation Sonya underwent psychiatric examinations, some of which, she says, turned into humiliation and threats of hospitalization. In late April the trial was quick: Sonya pleaded guilty and avoided a prison term — a fine of 40,000 rubles and 100,000 in compensation to the injured policewoman.
After the trial Sonya moved to Kazakhstan, but in late 2025 the country passed an analogue of Russia's “LGBT propaganda” ban; having overstayed while looking for work, she was expelled and moved on to Serbia. She had quit her old job and struggled to find a new one — turned down over her criminal record and over being transgender. Olya remained in Russia: she was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and declared unfit for service.
Sonya does not regret what she did. “I'm not sure I made the right or rational decisions. But the main thing is that Olya is free,” she says, and adds: “If life in Russia counts as freedom.”
Source: an investigation by Yulia Lisenko, Novaya Vkladka, 2 July 2026. Some names in the original have been changed.
This article touches on themes of violence and suicidal experiences. If you are struggling or need support, it is important not to be alone with it — reach out to people you trust or to a professional. Free psychological and legal help for LGBTQ+ people is available through specialized organizations, including Sfera and Coming Out.