33-year-old Galina Vorobyova knows firsthand what is going on behind the high walls of women’s colonies in Russia. The mother of three children has two terms in the Leningrad and Mozhaisk colonies. Thieves, the struggle for survival, lesbian love and separation from children are just a small part of what she saw behind bars. And although prisoners are reluctant to talk about their time in prison, Vorobyova agreed to talk with Lenta.ru and talk in detail about life in a women’s colony.
Galya was born in Rybinsk, in the Yaroslavl region. Her parents divorced when she was very young; the girl stayed with her mother. Then her mother died, and ten-year-old Galya ended up in an orphanage. By that time my father had another family. At the age of 16, Galya Vorobyova graduated from an orphanage with a specialty as a tailor and cutter, and began to live independently: parties, soft drugs, friends - and no control. Then heroin and amphetamine appeared.
"I was closed"
There are periods of enlightenment in the life of every drug addict. I got married, gave birth to a daughter and a son. But then a breakdown pulls you back, you want some movement. She left the family - parties, get-togethers - and then returned. Two or three weeks of absence were normal for me. In 2007, the guardianship authorities deprived me of parental rights. My father took custody of my children, despite the fact that we had no contact. Apparently, he had a feeling of guilt for having distanced himself from my upbringing at one time. My husband and I had already divorced by that time.
"Elder"
Once in the zone, the convict must first of all communicate with the “elder”. We are talking about the main prisoner in a cell or detachment. She is also responsible for internal order.
A lot depends on the “elders” in women’s prisons. For example, they can report to the prison administration about conflicting or unreliable individuals. Also, the “elder” can restore order in the cell on her own. Moreover, such prisoners often commit outright arbitrariness, to which representatives of the administration turn a blind eye. The reason is simple - it is the “elders” who help keep prisoners under control.
“Women prisoners are an alarming contingent”
In 2012, I received three years and was sent to a women’s colony in the Leningrad region - it’s called Ulyanovka. Women in general are complex creatures, and female prisoners are an alarming contingent, everyone’s psyche is disturbed. In the zone, the authority of the “short” ones is those who have been repeatedly convicted.
The key to success in the zone is to “sit well.” What does it mean? So that the administration does not come in, so that there is smooth relations with prisoners. You must be able to stand up for yourself. I am confident in myself, there was little physical pressure on me, mostly moral pressure. There is tension every day, because every day you have to defend your rights: to a place in the catering room, in the storeroom, to an outlet, in the smoking room, and so on for little things. But if you don’t open your mouth, if you can’t defend your opinion and resolve the situation, then you’ll be bullied. They do all sorts of dirty tricks: the boycott is flourishing, they tell you everything they think about you, they can put a ban on you - perfume, colored things. In freedom these are minor things, but there it is a punishment, and if you get it, you can no longer get out on parole. And everyone is trying to get out. But if you are a schmuck, then the prisoners themselves will put spokes in your wheels.
Correctional colony No. 2 in the village of Ulyanovka (Leningrad region)
Photo: FSIN
I came out of quarantine, they gave me a size 52 uniform, and I wear size 44. This is a jacket-skirt, jacket-pants. One lady offered to sew up my uniform for a carton of cigarettes and a 100-gram can of coffee. I gave her the form, and she kept me busy: I couldn’t find it for two weeks, then I finally caught it in the smoking room and politely asked: “What’s going on?” She had been sitting for a long time and, apparently, decided to work on the new one. She answered me: “Who are you? Go away". Years of dealing with criminals and drug addicts took their toll on me, and I kicked her. A couple of hours later the lady brought me a stitched uniform and returned the cigarettes. This is how I received my first penalty.
I was very lucky: our foreman Yana, who served 16 years in prison, turned out to be my fellow countrywoman. There is an unspoken rule: fellow countrymen help each other. She managed competently, could come to an agreement with the administration, everyone came to her for help, even though she was strict.
I was still in quarantine, they sent me a package: boots, colored sweaters, thermal and shapewear. Even though you’re in a prison camp, you still want minimal comfort and beauty, but in a colony they only wear a uniform—a headscarf, a coat, and shoes. But those who have been in prison for a long time and are in good standing with the administration have a relaxation: they can wear clothes and shoes of an unspecified type. I turned to Yana for help, and after a while I, a newbie, was allowed to wear my boots and a sequined turtleneck. Yana also helped me with my work. At first I was assigned to sewing production, but they paid me pennies - 300-400 rubles a month. And then Yana got me a job in free labor, which was on the territory of our colony. Plastic products were produced there. The salary is already 2,000 rubles a month, plus bonuses for overtime - cigarettes and coffee, and this is a valuable commodity in the colony, which can be used to pay for everything.
"Old lady" or "parasha"
In neither men's nor women's prisons the latrine is called a "toilet." The tradition of replacing this term appeared in pre-revolutionary Russia. In those days, a tub intended for collecting sewage was called nothing more than an “old woman” or a “bowl”. Moreover, these terms were used not only by ordinary prisoners, but also by political prisoners, highly educated ladies, who were often heirs of aristocratic families.
These jargons have survived unchanged to this day. Today they are used in both women's and men's prisons.
“I forgot and it turned out to be a robbery”
I left Ulyanovka in January 2015 with the mindset that I didn’t want to sit in prison anymore. She returned to Rybinsk and got a job as a waitress. The director of the cafe was loyal to my criminal record. All was good. I met a young man. She became pregnant, then it turned out that he was a drug addict. He didn’t manage to tie the knot, and we broke up. Once I went to visit with a friend, again drinking. Apparently, the prison foundations have made themselves felt.
I forgot and it turned out to be a robbery. Also in 2015, I was given 2.5 years. My boss and my neighbors asked for me, so I got the minimum. The prosecutor asked for five years. I arrived at the Mozhaisk colony with a huge belly: 36 weeks. I dragged two heavy suitcases myself, none of the employees helped. There were two more mothers with us with babies: one was three months old, the other was nine. The employees silently took the children from them, they asked where? They answered them in a boorish manner. I immediately realized that everything would be very tough here.
Photo: “Lend Your Hand” Foundation
After giving birth, I began working as a nanny in the orphanage at the colony. Maternity leave 71 days. I had 15 newborns, I literally crawled out of work. The kids constantly cry because they are hungry, it’s very difficult mentally. I didn't even have the opportunity to see my child. I saw my son for the first time four months later.
In Mozhaika, since 2010, inmates lived with their children, but then, due to some kind of infection, the children began to die, and the co-housing building was closed. It was opened in 2012, but mothers still did not live with their children. And so we—ten mothers—began going to the administration and asking for cohabitation. We wrote complaints to the President, the Commissioner for Human Rights and Children's Rights. I had a friend Yulia, she was legally savvy - a lawyer, she helped us.
Most of our complaints did not leave the colony, the administration kept coming up with various excuses - they just didn’t want to take responsibility: these are constant checks, excessive attention to the colony. We were hidden from the inspectors when representatives of the Public Monitoring Commission (POC) came, so that we would not complain to them. We, in turn, resorted to blackmail that we would tell everything about the local order if we were not allowed to live with the children. As a result, when my Matvey was eight months old, we began to live together.
My son has never seen anything sweeter than a carrot. I was constantly looking for treats for him, vitamins. Sweets, cookies, fruits - everything is prohibited. You can only eat what’s on the official menu, and there’s only a green apple. When I gave him a banana for the first time—Matvey was one and a half years old—he didn’t know what to do with it. Once every six months, a friend sent a package, and there was a shortage: wet wipes, diapers, toys.
When you look at your child and realize that you cannot give him anything, it kills. The fact that I gave birth to him in a colony influenced me greatly; I rethought my whole life then. I would like to compensate him for everything so that Matvey does not remember where he was born.
Photo: Vladimir Velengurin / TASS
Then I again went to the offices and demanded that the treatment methods be changed. The medical care there is terrible, children are stabbed with antibiotics. When one gets sick, he is not isolated from the group, and he infects the others. They immediately start injecting everyone with serious drugs, even newborns. My son is now like a drug addict; he is not taking any gentle medications, because in Mozhaika they were put on Ceftriaxone, a broad-spectrum antibiotic.
In my arms, an eight-month-old girl began to scream when the nurse came with injections. She recognized her and understood that it would hurt now, and grabbed me with her hands. Never forget this!
There is nothing you can do with this system. The employees say to you: what were you thinking when a pregnant woman committed crimes? And you can't tell them anything because it's true. You start to explain that these are children, but they tell you: these are the children of prisoners. The attitude towards us, the special contingent, is the same towards our children. Knowing that you are powerless is very depressing.
"I'm not into the lesbian thing"
Passions were running high in Ulyanovka. But Mozhaiskaya is a colony of morals. Lesbianism, let's call a spade a spade, was severely punished, and there was very little of it there. It was present, but hidden, veiled, nothing was on display. If women lived in some kind of relationship, then a very narrow circle knew about it. And in the St. Petersburg colony all this flourished. All three years there I was in shock. Signs of attention - notes, gifts - everything is like in a relationship between a man and a woman, they begin to court you, but somehow more complicated and scary.
As soon as I got to the colony, I noticed that one lady in the dining room began to stare at me at dinners. I constantly felt her gaze. One morning on my nightstand I found hot coffee, a chocolate bar and a note. It said: let's talk. I asked the girls who brought it. And they said this woman. I met her in the smoking room and explained that she shouldn’t pay attention to me - I’m not into the lesbian topic. But for another six months she persisted, giving gifts: a postcard, shower gel, some kind of colored T-shirt in gift wrapping, even perfume, which is prohibited in the colony.
Photo: Dmitry Lebedev / Kommersant
Everything was cooked in this porridge, regardless of the length of time, nature simply took its toll, but for me this is unacceptable. I was raised to only have relationships with men. If you like it, do it, but without me. They secluded themselves in different ways: they screened the shkonar (they covered the first floor of a bunk bed with sheets), in secret places at the factory... Everyone understood, tolerated, and did not pay attention. When I saw it, I didn’t remain silent, I spat.
In the St. Petersburg colony, of course, they punished for lesbianism, and harshly: they put them in a punishment cell and imposed penalties. But still there was some kind of human attitude towards the prisoners. I realized this when I got to the Mozhaisk colony. Fierce women work there. In Ulyanovka, we had friendly relations with the head of the detachment; she lived the life of her charges. She has 130 people, and she is aware of the life situation of each of them. We called her mom. There, the administration encouraged people to apply for parole: if you give 100 percent at work, take part in amateur activities, and don’t violate the rules, then you receive incentives, thanks, and are released on parole. That's why there are few informers there - there is no need for them.
In Mozhaika everything is different. There the convict “secures” the convict. What does it mean? Snitching. The inner mood is very angry. The prisoners work, dance, cross-stitch, but don’t give thanks to anyone. They don't get parole there at all.
"Rubles"
In the women's zone, there is a category of prisoners who fell into sexual slavery to “godfathers” - guards and other representatives of the camp administration. Such prisoners are called “ruble prisoners.” Moreover, this concept appeared during the Stalinist Gulag.
By providing clients with certain sexual services, such women received privileges. They were as follows:
- exemption from public works;
- additional food, etc.
At the same time, not all “ruble” ones were the same. There was also an internal hierarchy here. For example, in the 20-50s of the last century, the following types of privileged prisoners were distinguished on Solovki:
- “half-ruble”;
- “five-altyn” or “15-kopeck”;
- "rubles".
Naturally, the latter had the highest status. And depending on her rank, the woman received certain bonuses and benefits. If a prisoner refused sexual contact with her “godfathers,” she was severely oppressed and created difficult living conditions. Therefore, the concept of slavery is most suitable to describe the situation of such prisoners.
“I have no right to go down”
On November 13, 2021, Matvey and I were released; he was two years and one month old. Before my imprisonment, I had two rooms in a four-room communal apartment. My neighbor's grandmother died while I was sitting there, and her daughter sold her share. The new owners dumped all the construction debris, all the rubbish into my rooms, the ceiling collapsed in them, the windows were broken, and now they are uninhabitable. I need funds for repairs, I don’t have them. For the first months, my son and I lived in a crisis center, where I went through a rehabilitation program to get rid of prison habits.
Galina Vorobyova with Matvey
Photo courtesy of the hero of the material
Now a friend has given us shelter. I have a lot of plans, I want to live normally, like an ordinary person, take my child to kindergarten, work. I want to restore ties with relatives, with older children, and restore parental rights. I have to give Matvey everything so that he grows normally. I am a rare piece of trash, I had to serve two terms to understand and appreciate what was given to me. Now I have no right to go down. Of course, I deserved all this, but there is a category of people who will not judge, who will lift me up from the ground. Strangers showed us care, attention and sympathy. I am very grateful to them.
"Mothers"
This term in women's prisons is used to name the following categories of prisoners:
- women who were imprisoned while pregnant;
- prisoners who conceived while in custody.
While in prison, women often became pregnant for profit. Thus, prisoners with “belly” were provided with easier conditions of detention in comparison with other prisoners.
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