Crimea of Emine Ziyatdin

View of the Churuk-Su Valley in Crimea, where the city of Bakhchysarai is located on December 7, 2016. Bakhchysarai served as the capital of the Crimean Khanate from 1532 to 1783. The valley is home to the Hansaray, the palace of the Crimean Khans, a key site reflecting the administrative and cultural history of the Crimean Tatar state.

This photograph is showing Russian soldiers near a military base in Bakhchisarai with local thugs calling themselves “self-defense” forces. Taken before the pseudo-referendum on March 16, it was clear to us, Ukrainians, that these were Russian troops, not local forces. They openly admitted Russian origin, even showing rations labeled “Russian Federation.” At that time, international media referred to them as “unmarked military personnel,” avoiding the term “Russian soldiers.” This photograph symbolizes the distortion of international geopolitics and journalism. In March 2014, the start of the occupation and invasion was evident, yet global leaders and media hesitated to label it as such, influenced by political decisions.

A new monument to Catherine II has been erected in central Simferopol, exemplifying symbolic replacement, where meanings and identities in a space are altered. Several other monuments have been unveiled, including one for the Yalta Conference (featuring Stalin), Russian poets, and victims of terrorism in Crimea, despite no actual terrorist attacks at the time. This is part of a broader wave of Russian propaganda and historical narratives manifesting in urban spaces. Catherine II is particularly controversial for Crimean Tatars, as she first annexed Crimea, ending their state’s independence. The Yalta Conference monument, though seen positively, is problematic due to Stalin’s inclusion, given his role in the deportation and death of 30-40% of the Crimean Tatar population. The 2014 events mark a new era of symbolic occupation in Crimea, using highly controversial monuments.

This photograph of Nariman Dzhelyal, a member of the “Crimean Solidarity” movement, is deeply symbolic. It represents those who have significantly contributed to Crimean Tatar culture, language, and identity, both before and after the annexation, and who have faced repression as a result. Dzhelyal was imprisoned in Russia, Lilia Budzhurova endured multiple searches, and the ATR building, where the photo was taken, was also raided. ATR, a Ukrainian state-run Crimean Tatar TV channel, was blocked by Russian authorities after the annexation, ceasing its broadcast in Crimea on March 31, 2015, and later relocating to mainland Ukraine. Despite these challenges, activists continue their work to preserve Crimean Tatar culture and support those who remain in Crimea. This is a photograph of Nariman Dzhelyal with his parents. Unfortunately, his father passed away while he was imprisoned, and Nariman was unable to attend the funeral.

Probably one of the photos about the occupation of Crimea for me is a photo of a flag with Putin’s face on the anniversary of the occupation of Crimea. It was a celebration in Lenin Square in Simferopol. For me this is Putin’s distorted face, which for me in a way metaphorically conveys, first of all, how much people want to be deceived and remain deceived, and they keep this image, which brings no good to anyone. And the annexation of Crimea itself was quite different from the occupation of other parts of Ukraine with the support of a fairly local population, which looked like mass hysteria.

This photo was taken on March 18, 2015, during a march in Sevastopol near the Eternal Flame. It was part of the celebrations for the first anniversary of Crimea’s annexation, a symbolic moment marked by parades and military displays. The image captures young cadets participating in the event, looking almost like lifeless dolls or mannequins. When I took this photo, I was struck by how these young people, who should have their own dreams and aspirations, were instead being molded into instruments of a larger agenda. This scene felt almost like a staged set, but what troubled me more was the realization that these young people, by losing their individuality, could be transformed into agents of harm.

This photograph captures a poignant moment of a child asleep on a couch—she is the daughter of Arsen Jeparov, who was arrested on April 18, 2016, in the village of Krasnokamenka. He was falsely accused of being a member of the Hizb ut-Tahrir organization, which the Russian Federation classifies as a terrorist group. Despite the charges, Jeparov was not involved with the organization. His family led a liberal lifestyle; his wife did not wear a veil, countering any stereotypical assumptions. The real reason behind his prosecution lies in his refusal to spy on his fellow villagers, as demanded by the authorities. His case, like many others, is widely seen as an act of political persecution.

This photograph was taken during the energy blockade of Crimea in 2016, when an electricity pole was blown up, symbolizing the cessation of electricity supply to the peninsula from mainland Ukraine. The blockade was organized by activists, including Lenur Islyamov, a former owner of the Crimean Tatar TV channel ATR. He was forced to leave Crimea after Russian authorities seized his business and labeled him a terrorist. During this blockade, the North Crimean Canal, which supplied water to the peninsula, was also blocked, significantly complicating life for the residents of Crimea. In response, Russia laid an energy cable across the Kerch Strait to supply Crimea with electricity from the Russian side. These events became a crucial part of the confrontation between Ukraine and Russia following the annexation of Crimea in 2014.

This photograph, depicting a table during iftar (traditional evening meal of Muslims in Ramadan) in the yard of my parents’ house in our village in Crimea, evokes mixed feelings. The image not only illustrates the Crimean Tatar culture and community, which endured deportation and years of life in Uzbekistan, but also emphasizes the importance of family and kinship ties that help overcome hardships and challenges. Since the 2014 occupation, when control and surveillance have greatly intensified, it has become clear that even during such family gatherings, where only relatives and fellow villagers are present, people no longer speak openly about their thoughts and views. Everyone must carefully choose their words out of fear of being overheard by outsiders. Gatherings, even religious ones, now require registration, and invited imams or mullahs must comply with new regulations.

This is a photograph from my village, depicting a Crimean Tatar woman preparing to attend a funeral. The village is called Kuman, which translates to “Kuvshin” (Jug), a name that’s quite common in Crimean Tatar culture. The scene captures a moment of daily life. The woman in the photo is a doctor, a pediatrician.