Since the Ukraine war, pregnant Russians have been flocking to the South American country where obtaining citizenship is relatively easy — if your child is born there. Despite Argentina’s 100% Inflation, the country is providing an unlikely haven for middle-class Russians who have given up on their homeland. Remote work, warm climate and a friendly population seem to provide an easy start. Some give birth and return after a few weeks. But for the ones who stay, often out of political reasons and fear of the war, building a life on the other side of the world is not easy. Some went on holidays and never returned to their country after the war broke out, bringing only a suitcase with them. Others had to move their whole family. And others had to leave elderly family members, work, life and a home behind. A different language, the longing, everything known far away and managing a whole new life, and in the meanwhile, giving birth, one of the most vulnerable moments in a mother’s life. The ripple effects of war spread far.
The Russian-Orthodox Church in early morning light in the San Telmo neighborhood, Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Tuesday, March 28, 2023. Photographer: Sarah Pabst/NRC
Irina Bugaeva nurses her 4months old son Duolan while her daughter Leia plays on the sofa in their apartment in the city of Buenos Aires, on Saturday, February 25, 2023. Irina Bugaeva and her husband Aisen Sergeev are Yakutia, Indigenous people, who left the country out of fear that Aisen could be enlisted in the army. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
Russians demonstrate against the war in front of the Russian embassy in Buenos Aires, Argentina on the first anniversary of the war against Ukraine.
Dr Karina Fraga takes the blood pressure of Ekaterina Bibisheva, Russian sexologist and influencer, in the city of Buenos Aires, on Thursday, February 23, 2023. The blogger had arrived a few days earlier in the country, to have her baby delivered in Argentina. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
The Argentine passport of daughter Mia Turenko together with baby toys in their apartment in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Tuesday, March 28, 2023. Photographer: Sarah Pabst/NRC
28-weeks pregnant Maria Konovalova arrives at Ezeiza
airport exactly 14 days after she had been detained there to pick up her husband, in Ezeiza, province of Buenos Aires, on Friday, February 24, 2023. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
Pavel Kostomarov and his wife Maria Rashka celebrate their wedding with friends during a picnic in the city of Buenos Aires, on Monday, February 27, 2023. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
People enter and leave public hospital Juan Fernandez in the city of Buenos Aires, on Monday, February 27, 2023. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
Ekaterina Gordienko and Maxim Levoshin hold their one-month-old son Leo in the botanical garden in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Tuesday, March 28, 2023. They were on holiday when the war started and never went back to Russia. They moved to Argentina where Leo was born. Photographer: Sarah Pabst/NRC
Aisen Sergeev plays with his 4months old son Duolan, who was born in Buenos Aires, in their apartment in the city of Buenos Aires, on Saturday, February 25, 2023. Irina Bugaeva and her husband Aisen Sergeev are Yakutia, Indigenous people, who left the country out of fear that Aisen could be enlisted in the army. Photographer: Sarah Pabst for The New York Times
Ethnic, racial and gender discrimination is ingrained in Brazilian society, and health services participate in these violent practices. For many women who choose to give birth, this can be one of the most intimate and vulnerable moments of their lives, as the company and environment during childbirth often drastically determine the outcome. One in four women in Brazil suffers obstetric violence in childbirth and according to the Painel de Monitoramento de Mortalidade Materna do Brasil 61.3% of these women are black pregnant women. Statistics also show that black women are twice as likely to die from causes related to pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum as white women, and more likely to suffer obstetric violence such as lack of information and privacy; inappropriate comments; excessive touching; horizontal delivery; absence of a birth attendant; absence of midwives; high rate of cesarean sections; abusive use of oxytocin and episiotomy; and disregard for ethnic and racial differences. The women photographed in this project were survivors or unwitting witnesses to these violences. They chose to become companions, doulas, midwives, obstetric nurses, and activists to provide another possible path for black mothers, so that they and their babies can also live a birth accompanied, without fear, empowered, surrounded by love and the ancestral knowledge that our bodies have of giving birth.
A bird flies over the city of Rio de Janeiro, on June 21.2022. The “cidade maravilhosa” is a city of contrasts: on the one hand, nature of stunning beauty; on the other, a harsh daily life for many of its inhabitants. Ethnic, racial and gender discrimination is ingrained in Brazilian society, and health services participate in these violent practices. Obstetric violence is widespread in the country and for black pregnant women, this problem is aggravated by institutional racism: they are twice as likely to suffer violence during pregnancy and childbirth. In the last two years, the maternal mortality rate has doubled. But there is hope: nurse-midwifery and midwifery organizations, doula programs and activists are fighting for safe and empowered childbirth.
Makeup artist Fernanda Leal breastfeeds her son Jonás at her home in the Alto da Boa Vista neighborhood, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, on June 23, 2022. She suffered from obstetric violence in both of her births, including that they missed a dangerous condition during her pregnancy: She had vasa previa – both she and her son could have died during pregnancy and birth. Due to institutional racism, a black women has double the risk to die in childbirth than a white woman.
After several hours of labor, Thayline Santos is prepared for a C-section at the Maria Amélia Buarque de Hollanda public hospital in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on June 22. 2022. Although the WHO adverts against the risks for baby and mother of unnecessary c-sections, with 55,5% of all deliveries, Brazil has one of the highest rates in the world. Following a more humanized approach of cesareans, Thayline was able to hold her daughter still on the operation table and breastfeed her for the first time in the so-called golden hour after birth.
The placenta rests in a container after a cesarean section at the Maria Amelia Public Maternity Hospital in Rio de Janeiro, on June 22, 2022. The mother received a color print of her placenta after the operation, as a memento of the organ that nourished and provided oxygen to her baby during the months of gestation.
Louise Monier, doula, poses for a portrait at the Doula Association of Rio de Janeiro, in Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, on June 20, 2022. Louise had her first child at the age of 18, a boy with special needs who died at the age of seven. During his birth, she suffered all forms of obstetric violence: verbal, physical and psychological. Many years later, she had another child and this time, she was informed about institutional racism and was accompanied by a doula. Inspired, she became a doula herself, to help other women during childbirth.
In the shower, doula Keylla Moreira holds Maria Cibele Ramos during her last minutes of labor at the Maria Amelia Public Maternity Hospital. At the end of her strength, Maria cries out and Keylla holds her, in a scene full of support and tenderness. Those seconds before the birth of a baby are often called “fugue”. It is also the instant when the mother doesn’t want to endure any more pain. Experienced midwives and doulas – like Keylla Moreira – know how to guide women through this stage.
Little Isaac greets the world with a loud cry during his birth at Maria Amélia Hospital in Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, on June 22, 2022. His mother, Maria Cibele Ramos, was accompanied during the delivery by her husband and doula Keylla Moreira, who is part of the hospital’s doula program.
Gabriella Fernanda de Oliveira, a doula, sits on her bed with her second daughter, who suffers from a genetic disease, in Rio de Janeiro, on June 24, 2022. Her four children, the last twins, were all born by cesarean section. The first was planned and she didn’t know she had a choice, the postoperative period was overshadowed by pain and the struggle with breastfeeding. After getting as much information as possible, she decided to be accompanied by a doula for her second birth at the Maria Amelia Maternity Hospital. But due to prolonged labor, she gave up hope and agreed to another cesarean section. With her twins, she was determined to give natural birth, but the doctor wouldn’t allow her and she was forced to have another c-section. After a few days, she noticed the enormous cut they had left her – like a cross.
Thayline Santos breastfeeds her newborn daughter for the first time after a cesarean section at Maria Amélia Hospital in Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, on June 22, 2022. It is said that the first hour after birth is crucial for the bond between mother and baby, and the first milk, called colostrum, is full of essential nutrients and natural vaccines for the newborn.
Midwife and nurse midwife Ariana Santos sits for a portrait at Sankofa’s downtown office, in Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, on June 21, 2022. Ariana is part of a team of nurse midwives and obstetricians who especially care for pregnant black women, often from the suburbs, during pre-partum, labor and postpartum, offering a different possible path and a self-determined birth filled with joy and companionship.
Ariana became a midwife by accident and was on the verge of ending her career after witnessing constant obstetric violence, sometimes well-intentioned, but other times filled with hate and intentional pain, that she could no longer endure. But one day a friend asked her to accompany her in a home birth and that changed Ariana completely. Years later she learned that her grandmother was a midwife. The profession was in her blood. That is why she calls herself a nurse midwife, because it is the university degree and represents scientific knowledge, but also a midwife, because it represents ancestral knowledge and traditions passed down through the generations. Sankofa means to look back and take the good from the past.
Ursula Bahillo could still be alive. She had filed several charges against her ex-boyfriend, a police officer. But no protective measures were taken. He stabbed her to death on February 8, 2021. After Ursula’s murder, protesters took to the streets throughout Argentina to denounce the heinous crime and the fatal failure of the authorities. Ursula’s murder is no exception. Since 2015 women in Argentina have been shouting “Ni una menos” (“not one more”), spurring a movement throughout Latin America and beyond. But, the number of femicides is not decreasing: In 2020, a woman was killed every 29 hours in Argentina, with 212 children losing their mothers. “It is indeed another pandemic to attack,” states Florencia Raes in a 2020 United Nations report. A quarter of the murdered women had previously filed charges against their killers. 12% of the murderers were members of the security forces, according to the Observatorio MuMaLa. Another NGO even assumes in 1 out of 5 cases that the murderer belonged to the security forces. Si no vuelvo, rompan todo! – If I don’t come back, destroy everything, was, what Ursula wrote on twitter, a few days before her violent death. But according to her mother, Patricia, she didn’t mean smashed windows or burning cars – she was talking about the structures, about a justice system that doesn’t act quickly enough to save the lives of women, about police officers who protect and cover each other and about machismo, that is killing women worldwide.
Sun sets on the road to Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 19, 2021, where 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed brutally to death by her ex- boyfriend, 25 year old police officer Matías Martinez. Although she had filed several charges against him, no protective measurements were taken.
Patricia Nasutti, Ursula’s mother, sits for a portrait wearing a T-Shirt with her daughter’s counterfeit in her living room in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 9, 2021. On the wall are huge signs she takes to manifestations. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez. She had been their only child.
Oscar Zabala closes his eyes after lighting a candle on a small altar in memory of his daughter Barbara in the sleeping room of his mother’s house in 9. de Julio, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina on April 20, 2021. Barbara Zabala was stabbed to death in Pehuajó by Brian David Dirassar, her ex-boyfriend, on the 6th of December 2019, the day of her 20th birthday, while she was walking down a street with two friends. Dirassar was also a member of the bonaerense, the police force of the Province of Buenos Aires, which at the same time is the biggest police force of Argentina. Zabala, a member of the police force himself being a specialist in disarming explosives, doesn’t want to live anymore in his house in Pehuajó, it holds too many memories for him.
Female activists of the Ni Una Menos movement take the streets in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Feburary 17, 2021, shortly after Ursula Bahillo was murdered, demanding justice and changes in the institutional systems.
One of the two cemeteries in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 10, 2021. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25 year old police officer Matias Martinez.
Employees go through case files on gender violence at the prosecutors office in Morón, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 23, 2021. The justice system is very slow as it lacks men power.
Patricia Nasutti, Ursula’s mother, set up a memorial altar for her daughter, containing jewelry, photos and accessories of her favorite soccer club, River Juniors, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 9, 2021. A sign says: don’t touch. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez. Photographer: Sarah Pabst/Pulitzer Center for Crisis Reporting
A mud road close to the place next to a river in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, where police officer Martinez murdered his ex- girlfriend Ursula Bahillo, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 10, 2021.18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25 year old police officer Matias Martinez.
New director of the Police Office for Women in Rojas, Silvina Troncoso, stands in her office, on April 8, 2021, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina. After Ursula‘s death, the office was heavily critiqued for not having helped her. Part of the staff was replaced and Troncoso became the new chief officer as a specialist for gender issues.
Ursula’s motorbike stands unused and covered with a blanket in the entrance of the home of the Bahillo family in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 9, 2021. Her dog has been waiting for her return ever since. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez.
Thousands of case files on gender violence pile up at the prosecutors office in Morón, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 23, 2021. The justice system is extremely slow as it lacks employees and technology.
Patricia Nasutti, mother of Ursula Bahillo, smokes a cigarette in the backyard of her house, wearing all her daughter’s jewelry, in the city of Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 30, 2021.18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez. Her parents are fighting for justice.
A monument in Rojas is covered in leaflets with Ursula’s counterfeit, asking for justice, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 10, 2021. A month later, the city‘s governor had the monument cleaned and set up surveillance. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25 year old police officer Matias Martinez.
Oscar Zabala holds his daughters blood stained shirt that she wore on the day of her death, in his sleeping room of his mother’s house in 9. de Julio, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 20, 2021. Since she is gone, he helps other women that experience gender violence and tries to prevent further deaths, because he says, that‘s what she would have wanted him to do. Barbara Zabala was stabbed to death in Pehuajó by Brian David Dirassar, her ex-boyfriend, on the 6th of December 2019, the day of her 20th birthday, while she was walking down a street with two friends. Dirassar was also a member of the bonaerense, the police force of the Province of Buenos Aires, which at the same time is the biggest police force of Argentina. Zabala, a member of the police force himself being a specialist in disarming explosives, doesn’t want to live anymore in his house in Pehuajó, it holds too many memories for him.
Patricia Nasutti, Ursula’s mother, shows a tattoo on her arm with her daughter’s name, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 9, 2021. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez.
The wall of the municipality is covered in graffitis saying „you chose the police“ and „mafiosos“ as well as leaflets demanding justice and accusing Martinez as assassin, in Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 10, 2021. A month later, the city‘s governor had the monument cleaned and set up surveillance.18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25 year old police officer Matias Martinez.
Police officers of the Bonaerense Police force, the biggest of Argentina with around 90000 officers, undergoes a gender training in Navarro, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 19, 2021.
Adriana Rodriguez and her half-sister Sofia Ibarra, 9 months pregnant, stand for a portrait in the garden of Adriana‘s house on April 9, in Marcos Paz, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina. They are awaiting the trial of Hugo Ibarra, father of Sofia, who shot their mother Beba to death in front of a saloon where they were holding a party for the 15th birthday of Adriana‘s daughter.
Patricia Nasutti and her husband Adolfo Bahillo sit in their kitchen drinking mate in their home in the city of Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 30, 2021. Ursula had been their only child, that arrived after 10years of treatments and longing. 18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez.
Signs asks for Justice for Ursula next to an image and shrine of the Deceased Correa, a legendary figure in folk-religion at the entrance of the city of Rojas, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 29, 2021.18 year old Ursula Bahillo was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend, 25year old police officer Matias Martinez.
6 years ago, I lost my brother to sudden cardiac death. My world collapsed and changed within a second. From that day on, grief has accompanied me. But when my brother left, he gave me the gift of perceiving life differently. He has taught me to be fearless, and to embrace what is to come. At his funeral, a small robin flew around us. Since then, birds remind me of him. A month after his death I found out I was pregnant. My daughter was born with her hair forming a small universe on her forehead. As part of a fragile ecosystem, nature becomes the connection. After three early pregnancy losses, the pregnancy of my second child was accompanied by doubt and fear, but I learned to listen to my body and trust that everything was going to be alright. My son was born during a full moon and a thunderstorm, followed by a major flood. Puerperium comes with immense joy, but also isolation and sadness, feelings that interchange at high-speed. One tries to find a new place in the world, searching to be reborn as well. These images are my journey, while I find step by step back to a new me. I watch my children growing up, in a world of changing climate, and constant destruction of our planet. They have awakened the most primitive instincts in me -unconditional love, aggression, fear of death. Photography is my tool to remember, a sometimes desperate grasp of a fleeting moment. Through my images, I look for the magic in the ordinary, what it means to live, to lose, and most of all, to love.
Flowers in a vase in the city of Buenos Aires, on March 14, 2022. Pink flowers symbolize a mother’s love and at the same time, their transience reminds me of how fleeting time can be.
Self-portrait to say goodbye to the belly at 40 weeks pregnant on July 8, 2022, near Cologne, Germany. The next morning my water broke – my son was getting ready to leave my body.
I hold my son on November 7, 2021, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Some say that puerperium ends after 40 days, but in fact, it feels much longer.
Two white herons encounter in the air next to a tree standing on an artificial lake in the city of Buenos Aires, on March 25, 2022. Chased for their plumage, white herons were on the brink of extinction. As an archaic symbol, birds stand for immortality, departed souls, fertility and strength.
Self-portrait searching for the sun on April 9, 2022, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Time has become extremely valuable with two children, small moments of me, just me, somewhere.
I nurse my son Lucio on March 6, 2022, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Nursing amazes me, the capacity of my body to produce exactly what he needs. We try to separate ourselves from animals, but having a baby brings me right back to the most basic of our existence as mammals.
Smoke rises behind a fir-tree on January 9, 2022 near Cologne, Germany. On our travels to my native country, I look for the reconnection with nature in old legends and myths, something lost and wanting to be found again.
My husband Blas brushes our daughter Elena’s hair after a bath on April 7, 2022, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Through the camera, I observe their connection and hold on to the ordinary.
Fallen palm leaves light up in the late afternoon light on March 4, 2022, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Although their circle on the tree has ended, a new one is about to start. Everything has its place in nature.
A self-portrait a week after giving birth to my son, on July 18, 2021, near Cologne, Germany. Together with the abrupt hormone change, the empty belly causes all kinds of emotions. It feels as if the body is suddenly out of balance, the belly a big balloon without a function. One tries to find a new place in the world, searching to be reborn as well. Immense joy, sadness, fear, excitement—all those feelings interchange at high speed. And then, slowly, while the body recovers and settles, so does the mind. Step by step back to a new me.
