I never thought about what it means to be Russian before. Now it’s all I think about

Like others ashamed by the invasion of Ukraine, I have left Russia, my home. We feel like leaves, scattered by a hurricane, writes Ivan Philippov 

The day of the invasion – 24 February – is a day that will be forever seared into my memory. Kyiv's 'Friendship of Peoples' monument being demolished in April after the Ukrainian capital's Mayor, Vitali Klitschko, announced that the eight-metre high statue of men holding a star-shaped emblem that says "Friendship of Peoples" and "USSR" would be removed from the city, and the metal arch overhead would be renamed. Photo: Alexey Furman/Getty Images

“Ukrainians don’t have to pay!” I am trying to buy three shawarmas in a market in Tbilisi, Georgia, but the street vendor emphatically refuses to take my money. I try to explain, even though I was warned not to say this: “I am sorry, I am not Ukrainian, I am Russian.” The vendor looks at the Ukrainian flag pin on my lapel; he doesn’t believe me.

Before 24 February, I never thought about what it means to be Russian. Now it’s all I think about.