All four heroines are played by puppets on stage. As in Zhenya’s other plays, the scene employs rich symbolism to depict their inner worlds without exposing the identities of the original storytellers. A fifth character will represent the Qu’ran, though what exact form it will take on stage has not yet been determined. The Qu’ran will be the focus of a dialogue highlighting the contradictions in modern interpretations of the sacred text, and those at the heart of Chechnya’s LGBT purge.

“I don’t just want to bring these four women onto the stage,” explained Zhenya. “I want to show the horror that these women experienced through the collective imagery. A puppet as a narrator can say even more than live actors. They can depict violent scenes without shocking the audience, but also without losing a deep emotional impact.”

Casting puppets not only enriches the power of metaphor on stage, but also exempts the director from the need to hire professional live actors. When it came to such sensitive subject matter as this, that was a definite advantage. Zhenya, an experienced director and playwright, knew that Russia’s theatrical community had a tendency towards self-censorship over controversial topics. All of the theatre professionals Zhenya invited to work on her play abstained on various pretexts, likely out of concern for their careers.

There’s no discernible trace of complaint or resentment in her voice. Zhenya completely understands their refusals: her own work also places her career at great risk.



“I mainly do puppet theatre,” explained Zhenya. “Unfortunately, in Russia, puppet theatre is mostly for children. So if I decide to apply to work in a school, and they see some publication about me and my play, they probably won’t hire me. I can’t say that I’m not afraid, both personally and professionally. But I won’t hide. It’s important that I do something. And I see this as my opportunity to do something [which matters].”



But Zhenya can’t do everything alone. She still needs somebody to give voice to her puppets. The current cast mostly consists of amateur actors from feminist and LGBT activist circles. One of them turned out to be my host in St Petersburg: all this time I had been much closer to the story than I thought. Ekaterina Petrova, a feminist and LGBT activist, was also born and brought up in the North Caucasus, and strongly identifies with the character she plays.

“I find a lot of similarities with this woman’s character,” reflected Ekaterina. “She identified as a lesbian from her early years, and tried her very best to resist the pressure she faced from her family and society, whether it meant dictating her clothing or limiting her life choices.”



Ekaterina has also witnessed the region’s strictly patriarchal social norms first hand as an activist and human rights defender. While there may be more information about the persecution of gay men in Chechnya, Ekaterina is also convinced that women remain the most vulnerable group in the region. She says that she has seen women physically barred from leaving homes without permission, their documents held by parents or male relatives. She also knows of many cases of so-called honour killings, mostly committed by families who have been scandalised in the public eye.

Even after dozens of rehearsals, Ekaterina is still strongly emotionally engaged with Voices. Ekaterina says that the most challenging part is when her character describes the enduring love she has for her mother, despite the pain she caused and intolerance she shows towards her daughter.

“My character says at some point that her mother still loves her. And perhaps that partly echoes with my story,” Ekaterina told me. “My family doesn’t have [ethnic] North Caucasus roots, but I certainly don’t have very supportive parents. These days we simply do not discuss my personal relationships, even though it has already been at least seven years since I came out to my family.”

“There is a proverb in Chechnya,” added Ekaterina. “‘If a son embarrasses himself, he puts shame on himself. If a daughter embarrasses herself, she puts shame on her whole family.’ And in the current situation, it seems that the shame brought by a single woman spreads to the entire republic, and by extension the entire Chechen nation.”

My search came to an end. I will probably never meet these women. Neither the four heroines of Voices, nor the twelve Chechen women who bravely picked up a telephone, perhaps in the dead of night, and phoned that office in St Petersburg. Wherever they may be now, their voices live on.

I only hope that somebody will be brave enough to listen.

Unit is a network of journalists (run by n-ost) who want to improve the quality of reporting on LGBTQ and other marginalised groups in post-Soviet states. We are working with a core team of journalists from all post-Soviet countries to publish articles in regional and western outlets, as well as connecting journalists with human rights defenders and strengthening their journalistic skills. Support them here.