Shedding silence on the streets of Ukraine

In Kyiv, the sky is still grey when Kelsie Kimberlin steps into the street. It’s early—quiet, before the day gathers its usual noise and tension. She’s alone, carrying a stuffed toy and wearing the kind of expression you get when you’ve decided you’re done being quiet.

That image—filmed during the shoot for a new movie about Ukrainian resistance—says more than any headline. Kelsie didn’t just happen to be in Ukraine. She went there to stand inside a story that’s still unfolding. One about fighting for autonomy, shaking off control, and not waiting for permission to move forward.

That tension between survival and release runs through everything she does. Her latest project, “Walking Away,” might look like another pop song at a glance, but it isn’t designed for radio. It’s a message dressed as melody—a way of reaching people who, like her, have been through the kind of relationships that drain you without leaving a mark. “Too many people feel stuck forever,” she says. “I wanted to give them a voice.”

What makes Kelsie stand out isn't just that she speaks up, but that she does it in places most people avoid—geographically and emotionally. She’s drawn to discomfort, to the raw edge where personal pain meets political trauma. That’s why Ukraine matters here. It’s not just a location. It’s a reflection: a country trying to break free from a long, toxic hold.

Her work doesn’t try to hide its vulnerability. It leans into it. Each track, each visual, each spoken word is part of a slow unravelling—of silence, of fear, of the idea that strength means keeping it all together. Kelsie’s kind of strength looks different. It walks through foreign cities in the dark, shedding what no longer serves, saying just enough to let others know they’re not the only ones.

This year, she’ll bring that energy to a full-length film and soundtrack, carrying the conversation across borders. Not to sell records—but to start something.

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