“We hope they will give us heat”: Bitter winter cold bites for Kyiv’s residents as Russia steps up attacks

Winter in Kyiv has never been kind, but this season carries a sharper edge. As icy winds sweep through the streets and snow settles on damaged rooftops, the cold is no longer just a feature of the weather—it is a constant reminder of a war that shows no sign of easing. With Russia stepping up attacks on critical infrastructure, Kyiv’s residents are enduring long power outages, unreliable heating, and an exhausting routine of adaptation and survival.

In apartment blocks across the capital, radiators sit cold for hours, sometimes days. Families wrap themselves in layers of sweaters and blankets, huddling in kitchens where gas stoves provide the only reliable warmth. “We hope they will give us heat,” says one resident, echoing a phrase heard again and again in stairwells and courtyards. It is a simple hope, but in a city under attack, even basic necessities feel uncertain.

A winter weaponized

Russia’s renewed focus on energy infrastructure has transformed winter into a strategic weapon. Missiles and drones target power stations, substations, and heating networks, aiming to disrupt daily life far from the front lines. Each successful strike ripples outward, plunging neighborhoods into darkness and cold. Elevators stop working, water pressure drops, and mobile phone batteries become precious commodities.

For many Kyivans, the rhythm of life is now dictated by electricity schedules. When power returns, people rush to charge phones, boil water, and cook meals. When it disappears again, candles and flashlights come out, and conversations continue in near darkness. Children do homework by torchlight; adults check news updates whenever the signal allows, bracing themselves for the next alert.

The human cost of the cold

The cold bites hardest at night. As temperatures fall below freezing, poorly insulated buildings lose heat quickly. Elderly residents and families with young children are particularly vulnerable. Community volunteers and local authorities have responded by opening “warming centers” across the city—public spaces equipped with generators, heaters, hot drinks, and internet access. These centers have become lifelines, offering not just physical warmth but a sense of solidarity.

Still, not everyone can easily reach them. Icy roads, air raid sirens, and the sheer fatigue of daily disruptions keep many people at home, making do with what they have. Improvised solutions abound: plastic sheets over windows, towels stuffed into door cracks, and hot water bottles passed from hand to hand. Kyiv’s residents have become experts in resilience, but the toll is undeniable.

Living with constant alerts

The cold is compounded by fear. Air raid sirens cut through the silence of winter nights, forcing people to choose between warmth and safety. Shelters are often colder than apartments, yet the risk of staying home can be far worse. Parents carry half-asleep children down dark stairwells, wrapped in blankets and coats, while snow crunches underfoot outside.

This constant state of readiness wears on the mind as much as the body. Sleep is fragmented, anxiety persistent. Yet, amid the strain, there is also defiance. Cafés reopen when they can, running on generators. Street musicians play when conditions allow. Life continues, not because it is easy, but because stopping would feel like surrender.

Community and quiet resistance

What stands out most in Kyiv this winter is the strength of community. Neighbors check on one another, sharing candles, batteries, and hot soup. Social media groups coordinate aid, spreading information about heating schedules and safe places to gather. Volunteers distribute firewood and warm clothing to those in need, often risking their own safety to do so.

This quiet resistance—keeping families warm, children educated, and communities connected—is a powerful counterpoint to the destruction. Each repaired power line, each reopened school, is a small victory. The city’s infrastructure teams work around the clock, repairing damage sometimes within hours of an attack. Their work is dangerous and exhausting, but essential.

Hope amid hardship

Despite the bitterness of the cold and the uncertainty ahead, hope persists. It lives in the expectation that the lights will flicker back on, that radiators will warm, that spring will eventually come. It lives in the determination of a city that refuses to be frozen into submission.

Kyiv’s winter is no longer just a season; it is a test of endurance. As Russia steps up attacks, civilians bear the brunt, navigating daily life in conditions that would break many. Yet, in kitchens lit by candles and shelters filled with shared warmth, a simple, stubborn hope endures: that heat will return, that peace will follow, and that this winter, too, will be survived.