Written by Matt Wickham
Female Russian propagandists serve a unique role in the Kremlin’s arsenal, specifically designed for emotional manipulation. They provide a softer contrast to the aggression and anger typically displayed by their male counterparts. These propagandists engage audiences with theatrical and intimate narratives centered around personal struggles, alleged injustices, and the power of a “woman’s scorn.”
However, this emotional facade is merely a calculated strategy. Female propagandists often promote sinister narratives that gain acceptance simply because they come from a smiling, seemingly gentle figure.
On-screen, these women project a form of “female power,” attempting to demonstrate that they can be as influential and respected as their male colleagues in Russia. Yet, they typically operate within a strict, traditional hierarchy, often interrupted, dismissed, or sidelined—unless they hold the status of figures like Maria Zakharova or Margarita Simonyan, fixtures of the Kremlin’s propaganda machine.
Who is Yulia Vityazeva?
One notable female propagandist is Yulia Vityazeva. If her name doesn’t ring a bell, her high-pitched, squeaky voice surely will.
Born in Odesa, Vityazeva fled to Russia in 2015 and quickly transformed from an obscure figure into a prominent one. She gained traction writing for pro-Kremlin blogs in 2016, later joining RT.y 2021, she was hosting her own show on Vladimir Solovyov Live, just in time for Russia’s full-scale invasion—a significant career boost.
Much like Diana Panchenko, who fled Ukraine due to her ties to the Kremlin’s imperial ambitions, Vityazeva exploits her identity as an Odesa native to position herself as a genuine voice for Ukraine. She claims to understand the “real” desires of Ukrainians, especially those in Odesa. At the same time she promotes the narrative that Odesa, currently under supposed Ukrainian “occupation,” rightfully belongs to Russia.
Odesa: The “Great Russian City
Vityazeva frames her attachment to Odesa through references to Russian literature and monuments honoring literary figures from Russia’s oppressive past. She expresses her “pain” over the “defacement” of Russian authors, lamenting the sight of Pushkin with a bag over his head and the removal of Lenin monuments, suggesting that Odesa is no longer the “City of Heroes.” She stated, “I don’t know whether the people of Odesa are upset that soon the city will demolish monuments to those who we should and must be proud of […] I have the same feelings now as I did 35 years ago [meaning with the USSR coming to an end], when I stood crying as a little girl, intuitively feeling that something very important in my life had been taken away from me.”
This narrative conveniently aligns with the Kremlin’s objectives, paving the way for calls to reclaim Odesa and creating an emotional justification for Russian actions. Vityazeva reinforces the idea that Ukrainians have tarnished the city, stripping it of its historical significance—a manipulation that exploits the memory of Russian ancestors who fought in previous wars, fostering a sense of community and shared objectives among Russians.
A Sick-Twisted Individual
Interestingly, while she portrays the removal of Russian insignia in Odesa as a catastrophic, soul-disturbing event—claiming she no longer has the strength to comment—ongoing missile strikes hitting civilians in the city seem to elicit no concern from her, only excitement.
For the first two years of the full-scale invasion, each time a large-scale missile attack on Ukrainian civilians was announced, Vityazeva would rush to Telegram to share a picture of borscht, stating, “I am receiving reports that there is borscht in Chernihiv, a double portion.”
The use of “borscht” seemingly symbolizes the grim aftermath of a missile attack. Thus far, Vityazeva has avoided clarifying what she means by “borscht” in specific contexts. Known for its bright red color, chunks of potatoes and meat, and strands of boiled vegetables, one can infer that she employs this reference to create a grotesque image of the consequences of missile strikes on civilians, evoking notions of bloodshed and dismembered bodies, which her and the Russians must rejoice over.
In other words, she is a sick-twisted individual perfectly suited for a role as a state host in Russia.
A Woman Sidelined in a Man’s World
A rapid rise under the protective “roof” of Vladimir Soloviev—essentially a branch of the Kremlin’s security services—can be as fleeting as it is swift.
For Vityazeva, her dismissal from the program Soloviev Live, reported on November 1, 2024, followed an uproar among Russian military bloggers regarding her comments on Kursk Oblast and Putin’s so-called “cunning plan” that Zelensky supposedly fell for.
In her post, Vityazeva implied that Ukraine’s incursion into Kursk was not only anticipated but also sanctioned by the Russian leader. She called on Z-bloggers—those who consistently criticize her and the government—to acknowledge that Kursk has been a success.
“I wonder if any of those endlessly criticizing the Ministry of Defense, the General Staff, and Putin himself for ‘fighting the wrong way’ will muster the strength and courage to admit that the plan, which gave Zelensky the unique chance not just to get bogged down but to drown in the Kursk venture, was not only clever but, more importantly, effective and justified. Or am I just inserting uncomfortable truths into awkward phrases for those who always see everything as wrong?”
These comments led to multiple accusations from Z-bloggers against Vityazeva for “creating more sabotage than the Ukrainian SBU themselves,” aimed at fracturing Russian society, reducing support for the military, and discrediting the objectives of the Special Military Operation (SMO) led by Putin. While it is not unusual for Russian war correspondents to express dissatisfaction with the Kremlin or its propaganda outlets like Soloviev Live, referring to the channel as a “coo-coo house” or “nuthouse,” Vityazeva’s remark was one step too far.
Given that Vityazeva is a relatively new addition to the Soloviev team and a woman, one might wonder if a man in her position would have faced the same fate. Her rapid dismissal raises questions about how female propagandists—especially those of Ukrainian origin—are used as tools of the state and easily replaced when they create the slightest inconvenience.