Whatever the outcome of Trump's “territory exchange” scam would be, the Crimean Tatars will lose out. At best, everything will remain unchanged. From time to time, the slogan “Crimea is Ukraine” will appear in texts and slogans.

In the worst case, the US will recognize Crimea as Russian, and thus the world will gradually begin to normalize the crime. Even rare scandals with new world maps, where the peninsula is shaded in Russian colors, will no longer be newsworthy. But there are different ways to lose. In this case, losing with dignity means losing loudly. In order to understand that the victim is resisting, their voice must be audible.

Between the moment when Steve Witkoff ate a “Russian cheburek” from Putin's hands and the meeting in Anchorage, we had 10 days to make our Crimean Tatar voice heard by the world. The cheburek in Witkoff's mouth was as much a message from Moscow as the yantyk in Kyiv's Musafir during British Prime Minister Keir Starmer's visit to Ukraine in May. For those who are unfamiliar with Crimean Tatar culture, let me explain: these political gestures are not about food.

The very next day after the “Russian cheburek,” my friends and I came up with the idea of launching a massive trolling social media campaign against Witkoff. In short, 30-second videos, Crimean Tatars — and then their friends and allies around the world — were to tell Trump's buddy the same thing: "Steve, you ate a fake. Come visit us, dear, in Kyiv, Warsaw, Istanbul, or Washington, and try real chebureks. Chebureks are not Russian, they are Crimean Tatar, and Crimea is not Russia, it is Ukraine." And on the day of the meeting in Alaska, the chebureks could be handed over to the American delegation. Perhaps then the heroine of Anchorage would have been not only the ABC journalist who shouted questions about the killing of peaceful Ukrainians in Putin's face. When you don't have your army, navy, or sabotage groups, creative solutions are the only way to get into the minds of your enemies and give your friends a loud information hook.

Why did this idea have a chance to go viral? It contained irony and sarcasm, and it would have worked on several levels at once. In addition to “pure politics,” there was the theme of cultural appropriation, that is, the appropriation of foreign heritage by the dominant culture. Even in a crazy world that has decided to abandon the freedoms of the last 30 years, the anti-colonial struggle remains relevant. Dark-skinned people no longer allow white people to appropriate dreadlocks and other attributes of African culture. “American tacos” are increasingly considered a faux pas and are changing their names to Mexican ones, and even the famous Swedish meatballs were officially recognized as borrowed from the Turks 10 years ago. The theme of stealing chebureki would be a direct analogy to Russia's theft of Crimea, and it could work even in countries that support Russia but not colonialism.

Why did the campaign fail, or rather, why didn't it even get off the ground? Creativity alone was not enough to promote it. It was important that the video be recorded by well-known personalities of Crimean Tatar origin at the initial stage. As you understand, there are not many such people in Ukraine, especially when it comes to international recognition. In addition, the video had to be recorded in English. In the second stage, we planned to involve Crimean Tatar restaurants in Ukraine and European countries (there are not many of them either), and then ordinary Crimean Tatars and Ukrainians would pick up the flash mob. Perhaps celebrities from other countries would join in, too. Perhaps they would have been motivated by solidarity with Crimea and Ukraine. Perhaps by antipathy towards Trump... It doesn't matter. None of this happened.

Ten years ago, when Crimea was already occupied, the idea of political penetration into the minds of Europeans (and Ukrainians), who were gradually forgetting about the peninsula, was also relevant. And after one vivid performance on the Maidan, Irena Karpa, who was then working as a cultural attaché at the Ukrainian Embassy in France, offered to help organize cultural events for Crimean Tatars in Paris. Bold decisions and people were needed: performers and activists. At that time, there were simply no suitable people or good ideas. This time, half the battle was won. An idea was conceived, scripts were written that could be adapted to specific personalities, and directors specializing in viral videos for Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok were found. Only one thing was required of Crimean Tatar celebrities: to contribute their social capital in the form of their faces on camera, uttering sharp phrases. And here's what happened next.

Negotiations with an influencer currently living in the Ukrainian capital lasted several hours. At first, the condition was that the word “Putin” should not be mentioned. Then the mention of Moscow caused fear. In the end, the celebrity asked to remove Witkoff as well. The video turned into an advertisement for chebureki in English, because “mom is leaving Kyiv for Crimea tomorrow,” and “what if something happens.”

The second celebrity asked for time to consult with her family, all of whom live in one of the European capitals. An hour later, we received a categorical “no” because in Crimea, there are brothers, shops, and the FSB. No politics, please contact us again — but only with cultural proposals.

The third interviewee (probably the most recognizable Crimean Tatar face in the world) personally remained silent, and the producers replied that the person was currently overwhelmed with offers and would not be able to participate in another project.

Telling the world that chebureki are our food, not Russian, is either scary or never scary for Crimean Tatars. There was also no one to bring Crimean Tatar flags to Anchorage so that at least one tamga would fly among hundreds of blue and yellow banners. Of course, we can continue to blame Chubarov, the Mejlis, the State Department, and the world behind the scenes for all the information failures, demanding renewal, rejuvenation, new blood, and destruction “to the ground, and then some.” But Alaska is a region with strong Eskimo organizations, with which our indigenous peoples' forums and their Crimean Tatar members, who post selfies every time they visit New York, have probably long-established ties. Well, the “June 26 initiative,” which brought together promising Crimean Tatar politicians, should have latched onto such news stories, which don't come along that often.

To be fair, it should be said that several people from the diaspora in Canada and the US expressed their willingness to appear in the “cheburek movie.” But, first of all, we are not talking about celebrities, but about ordinary citizens. And secondly, it was already too late. As the famous Crimean Tatar proverb says, “Henna is expensive before the wedding, but after that it is only good for dyeing your ass.” It's about the same with cold cheburek. It only goes well with warm vodka, and together they may just deserve to be called Russian cuisine.