From Republic, Aug. 28, 2026, https://republicmag.io/posts/118014. Complete text:
Editors’ Note. – Children’s rights commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova, who is one of the top five candidates on United Russia’s federal list for the upcoming State Duma elections, gave a scripted interview to Vedomosti. In it, she discussed, among other things, issues of gender equality and declared her alignment with “Russian feminism.” In this article, gender researcher Daniil Zhaivoronok explains what “Russian feminism” is and whether such a thing actually exists (spoiler: it’s not that clear-cut).
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Maria Lvova-Belova is one of the new faces of contemporary Russia. The mother of 10 children and the founder of a foundation to assist orphans in Penza that is named in honor of the African-American jazz musician Louis Armstrong, she gained international notoriety thanks to a warrant for her arrest issued by the International Criminal Court together with an arrest warrant for [Russian President] Vladimir Putin [see Vol. 75, No. 12, pp. 11-13]. At the local level, she cemented her notoriety with her marriage to Konstantin Malofeyev, the eccentric Orthodox oligarch and founder of the Tsargrad media outlet.
In her interview with Vedomosti, which carried the apt headline of “I’m a Simple Russian Woman” (a clear reference to Vera Maretskaya’s monologue in the film “Member of the Government” [Chlen pravitelstva]),1 she spoke in detail about the ICC arrest warrant, her work with children in the occupied territories of Ukraine, orphanages and the problems of domestic violence and school bullying. In the same interview, she also offered a fairly interesting metaphor for the state, comparing it to a marketplace that offers its citizens services and support: “My colleagues say that state support measures should basically operate as a delivery service, as a marketplace. You mark the kind of assistance you require, and then the process gets rolling.”
In this text, contemporary Russia is presented as a kind of utopia of technocratic concern for the population. Here, various groups – from orphans to persons with disabilities – are surrounded by numerous agencies and agents of assistance. Single parents receive support from free nannies. The police respond to reports of domestic violence with sensitivity. Representatives of a friendly nongovernmental organization help a needy family repair a pipe. The picture of this paternalistic paradise described by Lvova-Belova naturally does not include war or repressions. Here the state is not a predatory and soulless apparatus of coercion, but the highest instance of merciful care and love radiating its bountiful resources onto its citizens.
Russia is a sensitive leviathan making wishes come true; a panopticon watching not to punish, but to help and support.
The reasons why such a conversation would appear on the pages of a censored business publication are clear: Male and especially female readers of Vedomosti obviously find this image of their warring country more agreeable than words about nuclear ash and the language of a war that is just about to reach Kiev. After all, other people on United Russia’s federal list are responsible for those things.
But the real revelation in the ombudswoman’s interview was her statement that she considers herself a “Russian feminist.” And, naturally, she sets “Russian” feminism against its “Western” counterpart: “Russian feminism is about the kind of equality where a woman says that she can be with a man. And Western feminism is where a woman says she doesn’t need a man at all.”
In other words, Western feminism is the feminism of alienation and antagonism, indifference and antipathy. And Russian feminism, it must be assumed, is sovereign feminism about cooperation, partnership and communalism.
In order to understand why the appearance in public space of the word “feminism” from the mouth of one of the female leaders of United Russia’s party list is unprecedented, we must recall the draft law designating feminism as an extremist ideology, which was developed in 2023 by Lvova-Belova’s colleague, State Duma Deputy Oleg Matveychuk. According to the logic of Matveychuk and, most likely, the siloviki [security and law-enforcement officials] behind him, feminism is a hostile import; a corrupting influence of the West that undermines the foundations of Russian society. It’s like it was with jazz in Soviet times2 – today you’re reading Beauvoir, tomorrow you’re committing treason.
But from Lvova-Belova’s perspective, it turns out that Matveychuk and Co. are simply incapable of distinguishing bad Western feminism from the good Russian variety.
And these varieties must be distinguished, because “Russian feminism” does not undermine traditional values, it strengthens them. According to Lvova-Belova, Russian feminists defend the right of women to have many children and to stand “behind men”: “When I am at work, when I am rescuing, protecting and solving problems, I am a Russian feminist. But as a woman, I have always been behind a man, and I value that greatly. I grew up in a patriarchal family, where for me my dad was the main man in my life. And I always say – and men love me for this – that men are better in everything. We are for men. Who are our best hoteliers, chefs, officials, builders? Men. But they can’t do anything without us women. Without us, they become callous, hard. Their hearts shrink to impossibly tiny sizes. But everything is completely different with us. We show love, kindness, bear children, cook borscht, quarrel, do everything.”
Naturally, Lvova-Belova’s “Russian feminism” is fairly unique, since it is combined with conservative values, patriarchy and nationalism. It is not at all that version of feminism – intersectional, body positive, inclusive and queer – that the general public associates with Wonderzine or the Nike ads where a young woman in a hijab is riding a skateboard. But it is clear that the people who produced the interview with Lvova-Belova are better versed in feminism than the journalists at, say, Meduza, who, commenting on the news, wrote: “For example, a page about feminism on the UN Web site says that, in simple terms, feminism is the belief that everyone, regardless of gender, should have equal rights and opportunities.”
With such a definition, neither Russian feminism nor any other national feminism could exist. The problem is that “in simple terms,” there is no such thing as feminism at all. Lvova-Belova is essentially insisting in her interview that feminism is diverse – and, oddly enough, she is right about this.
Yes, feminism is truly diverse.
For example, Islamic feminism is quite different from Western liberal feminism. In certain national contexts, the understanding of feminism passes through the prism of the local language, culture, history and institutions. Let’s take a very simple example familiar to every Internet user today: While the topic of feminitives is central to Russian-language feminism and battles have been raging on social media for years about whether a feminitive should be used when, say, a director is female, the problem of linguistic representation for different identities looks completely different in languages like Finnish or Georgian that do not have grammatical gender. In Sweden, most feminists support legislative restrictions on the sex market for a number of reasons, but in New Zealand, sex work has been decriminalized. So feminism has not only historical waves but also national and even religious contexts.
Moreover, the “Russian feminism” invented by Lvova-Belova contains nothing new by global standards. She is far from the first to come up with the idea that the women’s agenda can be successfully combined with conservative values and far-right rhetoric.
Back in 2017, Sara Farris published “In the Name of Women’s Rights: The Rise of Femonationalism,” which has since become required reading in feminist theory courses. In this work, Farris shows how right-wing, antimigrant movements instrumentalize and incorporate feminism to expand their social base by combining aggression against minorities with words of concern for women in their rhetoric. “Femonationalism” is also being written about in other contexts – for example, in the context of Israel, where far-right parties have also long taken advantage of the feminist agenda.
In other words, “Russian feminism” is a newborn hybrid of traditionalism and women’s rights that is not at all unique from an international perspective. And it fits in perfectly with the global trend – such mutations will become increasingly common with the growing popularity of right-wing movements and authoritarian leaders.
But it is worth noting that Lvova-Belova’s statement is unique in the Russian context. Before this, not one female politician of such stature and scale has publicly announced that she is a feminist. We could, of course, recall Ksenia Sobchak’s 2018 presidential campaign [see Vol. 69, No. 42, pp. 7-11], but she was not an active politician at the time and had never held public office. But [Federation Council chair] Valentina Matviyenko, who is officially third in the order of succession in Russia and has supported a law on domestic violence, among other things, has always distanced herself from the feminist agenda on principle. And what can you say if even opposition politicians like Yulia Galyamina use this word with caution, apparently afraid of scaring off some of the more conservative voters.
This is why the statement made by Maria Lvova-Belova – an official representative of the president and a member of the ruling party’s campaign list – about being a “Russian feminist” removes the taboo from the F-word. The F-word is no longer a curse word, but describes a woman who identifies as a feminist and who no longer needs to be suspected of belonging to an imaginary “extremist community.” She could be a “simple Russian woman” like Lvova-Belova, with a demanding job, a family and connections, at that.
However, it is difficult to say whether the birth of “Russian feminism” on the pages of Vedomosti will lead to anything.
We may not hear a word about it again until the next State Duma elections. But it cannot be ruled out that the authorities are testing the waters for seizing the agenda, and, after some time, camouflage nets will be woven and humanitarian aid will be collected for the front under the slogan of “Russian feminism.”
We cannot help but note the following discursive turn: In 2022, feminism was one of the faces of antiwar protest, in many ways thanks for the visibility of the Feminist Antiwar Resistance. At the same time, there were relatively few female supporters of the war. But over these years, the authorities have learned how to make war glamorous and fashionable, while the series “Lilies of the Valley” [Landyshi] and the female blogger Maria Chadina, who has nearly 400,000 subscribers, emerged. And now we are witnessing an attempt to invent “Russian feminism.” This speaks to both the regime’s capacity to transform itself and to the feminist project’s remarkable openness to completely different interpretations and assemblages.
1[In this film, Maretskaya’s character overcomes domestic violence and other adversities to be elected to the Supreme Soviet; her famous monologue reads: “Here I stand before you, a simple Russian woman, beaten by her husband, frightened by priests, shot by enemies – and yet still alive! I stand and think – why am I here?” – Trans.]
2[From the Soviet saying, “today he’s playing jazz, and tomorrow he’ll betray the Motherland.” – Trans.]