KOBLENZ, Germany — Sasha Skochilenko and Sofya Subbotina are planning to get married. That wasn’t an option in their native Russia, but it’s possible now that they live in Germany, which recognizes same-sex weddings.
“We don’t know how or in which city we will do it, but that’s the plan,” Skochilenko, 33, told The Associated Press, looking lovingly at Subbotina, who radiated happiness.
They reunited earlier this month in Germany, shortly after Skochilenko and other Russian prisoners were exchanged in a historic East-West swap - a happy if unlikely ending to an over two-year ordeal.
Skochilenko, an artist and musician, was jailed for speaking out against Russia’s war in Ukraine. Subbotina campaigned for her partner’s release while also trying to make her life behind bars as tolerable as possible.
They talked about marriage in Russia, too, but same-sex weddings have been effectively banned there. Laws restricting LGBTQ+ rights have been on the books for over a decade and intensified since the war began as part of the Kremlin’s campaign for “traditional values,” fueled by its anti-Western views and close ties to the Russian Orthodox Church.
Now, “I feel that I’m in a really free country,” Subbotina said, as they make plans for a life together in the quiet city of Koblenz in western Germany.
Skochilenko was arrested in her native St. Petersburg in 2022, just weeks after the invasion of Ukraine, for replacing price tags in a supermarket with anti-war messages like saying that Russia bombed civilian targets. She was charged with making false statements about the military, part of the massive crackdown on all dissent over the invasion.
She struggled in pre-trial detention, suffering from chronic illness, including celiac disease, requiring gluten-free meals. Subbotina commuted to Skochilenko’s jail at least twice a week, bringing food, medicine and other necessities. She and their friends made sure the case, which drew public outrage, stayed in the headlines.
Last year, Subbotina was diagnosed with cancer. “I just felt like I was giving up, and honestly, I was just ready to die,” she said.
The couple didn’t see each other for a year. Since they weren’t married, investigators made Subbotina a witness in the case and refused to allow her visits or to receive phone calls from Skochilenko.
“It is not a small thing, when a person you love can’t visit you,” Skochilenko said.
Subbotina added it was “very painful,” noting that she knows many women who married imprisoned men - often with the wedding held in pre-trial detention facilities or in penal colonies.
“It gives them the right for long visits, it gives them the right to get phone calls, short visits, because they have a certain status in the eyes of the authorities,” she said. “We’ve never had this opportunity.”
Subbotina says she eventually was allowed short visits.
They were always very open about their relationship, despite laws against any public endorsement of LGBTQ+ activities, driven by President Vladimir Putin’s close ties with the Russian Orthodox Church.
Skochilenko said it was clear in the early 2010s the Kremlin was headed in a “homophobic direction,” and some of the laws the authorities were adopting drove her to protest back then. In recent years, she said her openness was a form of activism.
People “often have distorted opinions about the LGBTQ+ community because they don’t know anyone” who loves someone of the same sex, and their views often change once they do, she said.
In November 2023, Skochilenko was convicted and sentenced to seven years in prison - an unusually harsh verdict.
This summer, while awaiting an appeal hearing at a detention center in St. Petersburg, she said there was a point when she reached a particular point of desperation about her long sentence. She said she was traumatized by the lack of freedom and privacy, the constant body searches, and the persisting hunger from being unable to eat prison food.
Subbotina visited her in July, and Skochilenko recalls bursting into tears for the first time in months.
“I told her, ‘Sonya, I’m tired of wanting to go home. Please tell me that I won’t have to serve the entire sentence, that some miracle will happen.’ And she said, ‘Yes, why don’t you hope for a miracle?’” Skochilenko said.
That same day, a prison official told Skochilenko to “urgently” apply for a presidential pardon, she said. The artist did not want to admit guilt, but the official said she could simply explain her health problems. She wrote the request and forgot about it, thinking that it would take a long time to even process.
Several days later, she was transferred to Moscow without explanation. In the same van was Andrei Pivovarov, an imprisoned opposition politician that she knew from years earlier. There was hardly any reason for them both to be transferred at the same time, so it suggested that perhaps something good was happening.
Skochilenko spent several long days in Moscow’s notorious Lefortovo Prison, where she was cold and hungry, unable to eat much of the food she was given.
Subbotina learned of the transfer and rushed to Moscow with a care package, visiting every detention center she could think of, without success.
The rest became what many Russians critical of the Kremlin describe as the first good news since the start of the war. On Aug. 1, Skochilenko and 15 others were put on a bus, driven to an airport and flown to Ankara, Turkey, where they were exchanged for eight Russians imprisoned in the West.
From Ankara, the former prisoners were flown to Germany, where Chancellor Olaf Scholz greeted them on the tarmac. The next day, Skochilenko was finally able to embrace Subbotina, who flew to Germany when she heard the news.
The days since then have been “euphoric,” Skochilenko said, filled with small pleasures like walking and buying the food she wants - but also spending time with the woman she loves.
Subbotina particularly enjoys being able to hold Skochilenko’s hand and kiss her in public without worry. In Germany, she says, it is something that is “just in the nature of things.”
They’ve settled for now in Koblenz but want to visit other cities in Germany before they decide where to live permanently. They’re eager to learn German and begin their new lives.
Skochilenko plans to return to making art, displaying sketches she drew about the prisoner swap -– a moment in history in which she became an unlikely participant. She also said she intends to seek treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder from her time in prison.
Subbotina, a nurse and a pharmacist whose cancer treatment was successful in Russia, hopes to work in the human rights field and help the hundreds of political prisoners in her former country.
Both admit that they never expected to leave Russia in the way they did.
“I don’t feel stressed about moving, because I’m very happy. I’m very happy that Sasha is with me,” Subbotina said with a smile.
Added Skochilenko: “My relationship with Russia is over. I need to accept that. I’m glad there’s a new life.”
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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
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