In Kyiv, a city with a centuries-old history, carrying a significant number of cultural layers, it is extremely difficult to be a believing Catholic if you do not seem to be part of the majority. And the majority here, you probably already know, is Orthodox. I am not saying that this is bad. Of course not. Everyone lives their own truth. It just so happens that I have a completely different faith. A faith that did not always find a response and understanding in my country.

When I was little, everyone in my family shared the Catholic teaching. Mom and Dad passed on knowledge to me, put something very personal into every word of prayer. Reading the Holy Scriptures was something mundane but important for us. That's how I spent my childhood.

But as I grew older, I realized: in Ukraine, it requires more effort than you'd like. You grow up, your eyes open to the world, to the attitude towards your religion. In Kiev society, Orthodox traditions seemed as strong as oaks, while Catholicism, alas, was often perceived as something alien, a little exotic, alien to the cultural background of the country.

There are times when it's hard to come to church. Sitting on a chair, rubbing your legs in the hall, you discover that you're becoming an outcast among your people. Just because you go to your Catholic church. Colleagues or acquaintances may somehow unconsciously express bewilderment when you announce that this evening is special for you. When faith is your anchor. Immediately, there begins a fussy silence or an insignificant smile with a hint of unobtrusive "otherness". Perhaps they are trying to console me, to say something like "well, Catholics, they are Christians too".

And then you feel that huge burden that undermines your confidence.

However, there are also good moments. For example, just walking along the streets of Kyiv, every corner of which is shrouded in the stories of past centuries, you understand how closely faith is intertwined with historical reality. And then you understand that it does not matter who thinks what about you, what matters is what you feel inside.

Can I give you an example? When I was invited to a service in the Orthodox Church, I said: "Come on, you go, I will wish you all the best, but my path today will be to myself." And I went to myself - to my God. Those looks and silent doubt did not leave my head.

Sometimes, both believers and non-believers need to allow themselves to admit that our path is unique. We live with it. And it doesn’t matter how difficult it is to admit your “difference” in religion. It’s one thing to go to church, and another to feel your soul in each of its walls. That’s why faith remains dear to me.

I’m just trying to explain to you: every question of faith always has its own subtleties. The Ukrainian mentality, traditions, historical reality — they are alien to me, but it’s hard to stay “within my own framework.” Besides, talking openly about such a religion is like, in a way, presenting a closed philosophical discussion, absolutely in the style of an inseparable kiss and a shadow of fun… A certain discipline and unity of approaches.

But you know what’s important to me?

Lana Banana