When I heard about the killing on a train, a familiar heaviness settled in my chest. It was the same weight I felt on February 24, 2022, when explosions shook Kyiv. That day divided my life and my children’s lives into a before and an after. As a refugee, I believed I had finally found safety in a new country. But violence has a way of erasing even the most fragile sense of security.
The war in Ukraine has triggered the largest refugee crisis of the 21st century. One in four Ukrainians has been forced to flee, most of them women and children. For the five million now living abroad, the murder of Iryna Zarutska has reopened the fear we thought we had left behind.
Like me, Iryna moved to another country seeking peace and a chance to rebuild her life. She escaped one danger only to lose her life to another.
I remember my first train ride after fleeing the Ukraine. Sitting with my children, I exhaled for the first time in months, convinced that public spaces were safe. I imagined their futures unfolding in classrooms, playgrounds, and homes untouched by war. Learning that a young woman from my country was murdered in such an ordinary place has stirred the fear I had buried deep inside me.
Tragedies like this do not stop with the victim or her loved ones. Trauma ripples outward, unsettling entire communities. Even those who never met Iryna feel the aftershocks, the fear on the commute, the grief for a life stolen, and the anger at a world that still feels unsafe.
As a psychologist, I am often asked how to make sense of such violence. My answer is that we must speak openly about what we feel. Naming the grief gives it dignity. It tells Iryna’s family, our communities, and the world that her life mattered. We must allow space for fear and anger but not let them harden into suspicion or hate.
It is natural to feel terrified that public spaces may no longer be safe, or enraged that a young woman’s future was taken. But when fear becomes mistrust of strangers and anger becomes vengeance, pain only multiplies.
We must also act. Mental health systems must be funded so that people in crisis do not fall through the cracks. Public safety must be prioritized so that trains, buses, and shared spaces remain places of connection, not terror. And we must support grieving families, witnesses, and entire neighborhoods who now carry this wound.
Some will say this tragedy is only about mental illness. It is true that the man charged with the killing had a history of schizophrenia. As a psychologist, I believe in compassion and treatment for those living with mental illness. But compassion cannot excuse neglect. When warning signs are ignored and services are underfunded, tragedy becomes inevitable.
Iryna’s death is more than a personal loss. It is a wound felt by every commuter, every immigrant and every parent who wants to believe the world can still be safe for their children.
I ask this of Americans and my fellow Ukrainians: do not let this tragedy fade into another headline. Attend local vigils. Speak about fear and grief instead of burying them. Check on neighbors who may be struggling. When we mourn together and act together, we transform trauma into a force that rebuilds trust and safety.
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Natalia Kholodenko, psychologist, motivational speaker, and former prime-time TV host
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Wikimedia
