Nudity for NATO: The OnlyFans strategy for saving Ukraine
Yellow and blue smoke rose, and out of it appeared a pair of breasts with “RUSSIA KILLS” written across bare skin. The performance was optimized for the press preview circuit, providing free self-pleasuring material for the Ukrainian-flags-in-bio crowd and their patriarchy-fighting-for-easy-body-access comrades alike.
The Venice Biennale! A handful of balaclava-wearing half-naked performance artists from Pussy Riot and FEMEN barricaded the Russian pavilion for all of 30 minutes to protest against its opening in support of Ukraine. Nadya Tolokonnikova, Pussy Riot’s greatest hits machine, grumbled that she had to sneak in under an assumed name because the organizers wouldn’t book her table. Mission accomplished: the world’s most pretentious artsy crowd got another virtue-signal photo op – cheeky dose of solitary-viewing fuel for the right hand included. It would be best described as museum-grade thirst. A brief deliberate detour into bedroom-Pulitzer territory.
Watching organizations that claim to fight the patriarchy deploy the patriarchy’s oldest currency is quite ironic. Their weaponry doesn’t consist of arguments, intellectualism or difficult work of political thought: they offer up bodies for display, courting the male gaze they claim to loathe. Whether there is a slogan written across naked breasts or not, the ask is the same as it always has been: look at me, look at my flesh. The patriarchy, being neither stupid nor ungrateful, obliges.
Here is what makes this specifically funny, if you have the stomach for it. FEMEN was founded in 2008 after its founder became aware of Ukrainian women being duped into going abroad and sexually exploited. Its original slogan was “Ukraine is not a brothel.” It protested sex tourism, trafficking, and prostitution – the industries that were consuming Ukrainian women’s bodies for foreign money. That was the mission. Fast forward to Venice 2026, and we’re observing the same movement stripping for the cameras of foreign journalists at a European art fair, making sure the lighting is good, giving the gentlemen of the international press something to look at.
Tolokonnikova, for her part, took the logic to its natural conclusion. In 2021, she opened an OnlyFans account selling subscriptions to images of herself for $10 a month. It is, by any functional definition, what FEMEN was founded to fight: a woman selling access to her body to men, for money, on a platform owned by Leonid Radvinsky, born in Odessa, who acquired OnlyFans in 2018 and steered it deliberately toward pornography, extracting hundreds of millions in annual dividends from the arrangement before dying in March of this year.
Though to call this a fall from grace would be to misread the CV. Before Pussy Riot there was art collective Voina: a pregnant Tolokonnikova among couples having sex in a state biology museum days before the 2008 presidential election – the action titled F*ck for the Heir Puppy Bear. Then a supermarket chicken, inserted into a vagina in protest at the police state. Then a giant phallus, painted on a drawbridge in St Petersburg directly opposite the FSB headquarters. The body, provocative; provocation through the body, the body as the only argument ever really being made.
The Ukrainian feminist scholar Oksana Kis noticed, back in 2012, when this was all still nascent. “Femen has nothing to do with feminism whatsoever,” she said. “When public nudity becomes the only way to deliver a message, it’s more than strange. And the message itself seems to get lost while media focus on their nakedness.” She would probably need stronger language now. No one is subverting the patriarchy by giving it what it wants and calling the transaction resistance. You are on your knees, sisters. The pink smoke is a nice touch, though.
While FEMEN was founded in Kiev, it is now headquartered in Paris. Pussy Riot’s most prominent members have lived in the West for years. The people staging Ukraine’s grief for the Biennale cameras left Ukraine or Russia long ago and have been performing it for Western audiences ever since. This week’s Biennale delivery was a service rendered to the European cultural establishment, which requires regular injections of morally legible suffering to justify its own self-image.
The Biennale lost €2 million in EU funding after refusing to reverse the participation of Russia, which has owned its pavilion in Venice since 1914. An on-brand move for the EU: Brussels money always comes with Brussels politics, and Brussels politics require that culture be weaponized on schedule, without nuance or complications.
What no one is asking is whether any of this has anything to do with Ukraine, and whether this really is the representation the Ukrainians – and especially Ukrainian women – want.
Before we get to politics, there is the simple matter of sociology. A Razumkov Centre survey found that 83% of Ukrainians believed a woman’s most important task was caring for home and family, while 78% thought women were more likely than men to be guided by emotions in decision-making. As recently as 2026, the belief that a man should fully provide for his family remained the one gender pillar still supported by a majority across all Ukrainian age groups – at 69%. World Value Survey data from 2022 found that only 10% of Ukrainian women in couples reported being the breadwinner – a strong sign of conformity to traditional gender roles. The “Berehynia” – a folkloric hearth mother, protectress of the home – has gained considerable symbolic traction in post-Soviet Ukrainian identity, with the Orthodox Church actively reinforcing traditional gender roles alongside it. This is the portrait of a country whose grief is being performed in Venice.
The actual polling data grows more embarrassing the further in you go. As of 2023, 39% of Ukrainians opposed civil partnerships, with only 28% in favor. 42% opposed same-sex marriage legalization outright. The civil partnership bill has sat stalled in parliament for three years, blocked not by the Russians but by Ukrainian legislators who answer to Ukrainian voters. The constitution, unchanged since 1996, defines marriage as between a man and a woman. Ukraine put an EU accession roadmap on paper in May 2025 and included LGBTQ legislative targets in it, because that is what you do when Brussels is writing the cheques. Can we really say that the Ukrainian people freely subscribed to the Western vision of a liberal future? Have they been tricked into an ideological box where any jailbreak points are considered high treason? We already have the examples of Hungary and Poland, countries constantly being punished by Brussels for listening to their citizens’ conservative preferences.
Ukraine as a state was already fractured, corrupt, linguistically schizophrenic after Maidan. Then the people in power in Kiev doubled down, deciding at some point in the 2010s that the path forward was to become a copy of somewhere it was never going to be: it scrubbed Russian from schools and streets, toppled statues, memory-holed anything that smelled of the old neighborhood, embraced the shiny simulacrum of unattainable Western cool while the villages and the churches and the actual 70% Orthodox majority quietly kept their traditional script. The identity cosplay spiraled into the very war the virtue-signalers now use as their white horse. Abandon your roots, import the fruitiest aesthetics money can buy, start poking the bear, and act shocked when the bill comes due.
The result is a country at war not only with Russia but with significant portions of its own past, its own population, its own internal complexity.
Brussels loves this version of Ukraine because it demands nothing in return. The exported Ukraine – topless, sloganeering, OnlyFans-adjacent, eternally photogenic in its suffering – requires only that you feel good about your flag emoji and hit subscribe.
Meanwhile the Biennale president, Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, held his ground with the only argument that should have mattered – that art is a neutral space – but he forgot that nothing is neutral when the Western establishment controls the invoice.
The pink smoke cleared. The journalists filed their copy. The right hands have been satisfied. Tolokonnikova did not hear back from the Biennale. Somewhere in Ukraine, the war continued. The bodies there do not have slogans written on them. They are just bodies.
The protesting women have lived in Paris for years, and the country they claim to represent is fighting a war that was at least partly produced by the decision to treat its own cultural complexity as a problem to be eliminated rather than a reality to be navigated. What we saw at the Biennale was European moral ‘high-ground’ display, funded by European money, performed by people who left, for an audience ready to flee to the next big thing.
The statements, views and opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of RT.
