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How emigration reshapes identity for Ukrainian children and teenagers

Opinion

29 March, 07:25 PM

Ulyana Kulikova

Marketing Specialist, Community Leader, and Advocate for Ukrainian Initiatives

More than 6 million Ukrainian refugees are currently living outside the country, according to UNHCR data as of early 2026. Among them are over 1.5 million children and adolescents of preschool and school age. Most host countries are struggling to provide enough Ukrainian-speaking psychologists or culturally sensitive support programs.

Developmental psychology has long described childhood and adolescence as a sequence of normative crises — turning points where the personality reorganizes itself in order to move forward. For Ukrainian children growing up in emigration, these crises do not disappear or pause. They unfold — but under fundamentally altered conditions, where each one becomes sharper, more complex, and often more painful.

A map of development: what happens and when

American psychologist Erik Erikson described eight stages of personality development. The first four — covering childhood and adolescence — lay the foundation of who a person becomes. Each stage is a crisis in the precise sense of the word: not a catastrophe, but a fork between two possible directions. The outcome determines what psychological resource — or deficit — a person carries into the next stage.

The first crisis, trust versus mistrust, takes place in infancy. At its core is a simple question: is the world safe? When care is consistent and warm, a basic sense of security emerges — one that underpins all future development. When it is not, chronic anxiety takes root and can persist throughout life.

The second crisis, autonomy versus shame, unfolds in early childhood. The child begins to assert their will, make choices, and act independently. If this autonomy is supported, a sense of agency develops. If it is suppressed, the child learns that their desires are something to be ashamed of.

The third crisis, initiative versus guilt, emerges at preschool age. The child begins to plan, imagine, and act with intention. The central question becomes: am I allowed to want and to act? If initiative is repeatedly discouraged, a deeper pattern of guilt forms — one that inhibits action later in life.

The fourth crisis, competence versus inferiority, defines early school years. The child encounters structured expectations for the first time: learning, rules, measurable results. Success, when recognized, builds a sense of competence — the belief that challenges can be handled. Failure, especially when repeated, can create a lasting sense of inadequacy.

The fifth crisis — identity versus role confusion — is the central struggle of adolescence. Between roughly ages 12 and 18, a person assembles a sense of self from memories, language, culture, relationships, and imagined futures. A successful outcome produces what Erikson called a stable identity. Failure leaves a person unable to answer the most basic question: who am I?

The sixth crisis, intimacy versus isolation, follows in late adolescence and early adulthood. The task here is to form genuine closeness — in friendships, partnerships, and communities. But intimacy requires identity. Without a stable sense of self, closeness either turns into fusion — losing oneself in others — or becomes impossible, resulting in isolation.

How emigration reshapes every stage

Emigration does not cancel these crises. It transforms the conditions in which they unfold — often in ways that complicate or distort their resolution.

The first crisis: when safety becomes uncertain

For children who have experienced war and forced displacement, the formation of basic trust is already disrupted. Familiar surroundings disappear, adults themselves are anxious, and daily life loses predictability. Even in physical safety, the child’s nervous system has already learned that stability can vanish at any moment.

Trust can still develop — but it requires deliberate effort. Consistency, warmth, and small, predictable routines become critical. Yet these are precisely the things that are hardest to maintain when parents themselves are overwhelmed.

The second and third crises: autonomy and initiative in instability

Young children build a sense of self by mastering their environment. Emigration replaces that environment repeatedly — new countries, languages, schools, and often multiple relocations. The child barely learns one set of rules before encountering another.

In such conditions, autonomy becomes fragile. It is difficult to assert oneself where the rules are unclear. Initiative becomes even harder: planning and acting require a stable horizon.

Instead, children may adopt a strategy of “freeze and wait” — passive compliance. In an unstable world, this is a rational adaptation. But when it persists, it becomes limiting.

The fourth crisis: from “I can” to “I don’t understand”

School is the first major test of competence. For displaced children, that test takes place in a foreign language, within unfamiliar expectations and social codes.

A child who felt capable at home suddenly becomes “the one who doesn’t understand.” This is not just an academic setback — it strikes at the core developmental task of this stage.

A sense of incompetence formed here can linger for years. It may appear as anxiety, physical complaints without clear cause, avoidance of school, or the opposite extreme: rigid perfectionism driven by fear of failure.

At the same time, many children develop what psychologists call an “adaptation facade.” On the surface, they integrate — learning the language, making friends, performing well academically. But beneath this lies a constant tension between who they are at home and who they must be outside it.

Immigrant children often invest enormous energy into becoming invisible — blending in, passing as local. Over time, this can produce a deeper belief: that their authentic self must be hidden.

The fifth crisis: identity without materials

Adolescence is where emigration exerts its strongest pressure.

Identity is built through language, peer groups, cultural references, places tied to memory, and a coherent personal narrative. Emigration disrupts all of these simultaneously.

Language becomes fragmented — the adolescent thinks between two systems, neither fully their own. Peer groups are lost, and new ones may not fully accept them. Cultural codes fail: humor, references, and shared meanings do not translate. Geography disappears — meaningful places remain elsewhere.

Most profoundly, the narrative breaks. Psychologists describe this as a “narrative rupture”: the inability to connect past and present into a coherent story.

Adolescents respond in different ways. Some adopt rigid identities — either hyper-identification with their Ukrainian identity or complete assimilation into the host culture. Both are defensive responses rather than stable solutions, and their costs tend to emerge later.

The sixth crisis: intimacy without grounding

Young adults — those between roughly 18 and 23 — enter what psychologist Jeffrey Arnett calls “emerging adulthood.” It is a period of searching: for work, relationships, and meaning.

Emigration complicates this search in a specific way. Intimacy requires identity — you cannot meet another person fully without knowing who you are. When identity remains unstable, relationships either become overly dependent or emotionally distant.

For young Ukrainians abroad, this is intensified by a double expectation: host societies demand integration, while families often expect return. Any choice can feel like betrayal. The result is paralysis — an inability to fully commit to either path.

Research among displaced Ukrainians in Warsaw, Berlin, and Vienna shows elevated levels of anxiety and depression — not only from war exposure, but from what sociologists call “identity weightlessness”: the experience of not being rooted anywhere.

What helps: guidance for adults

The most important thing adults can do is acknowledge the child’s experience without minimizing it. Resilience is not the absence of distress; it is the presence of someone who can witness it.

Identity formation takes time. Pressuring children or adolescents to choose “who they are” — Ukrainian or integrated — often produces defensive reactions. What helps instead is supporting both dimensions at once.

The goal is not choosing one identity over another, but learning to hold both without losing either.

There are also warning signs to watch for. In younger children: regression, refusal to speak their native language, or frequent unexplained physical complaints. In adolescents: withdrawal from both peer groups, sharp swings between patriotism and rejection of their own culture, or signs of depression. In young adults: a persistent feeling of being “between two chairs” and difficulty making decisions.

The hidden resource of crisis

Despite these challenges, research shows that young people who navigate emigration with adequate support often develop remarkable strengths: empathy, cognitive flexibility, and tolerance for uncertainty.

But this outcome is not automatic. It depends on whether the crisis is supported — whether adults remain present in difficult moments, and whether society allows space for complexity instead of demanding rapid assimilation.

Hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian children and adolescents are passing through some of the most critical developmental stages of life — and doing so far from home.

They should not be seen only as refugee children, but as individuals in the midst of becoming.

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