Olga Korolova escaped her house in Chernihiv, Ukraine, last weekend with her daughter, dog, and whatever belongings she could fit into two suitcases.
"I was driving like a crazy person," she admits. "I saw a bomb and all I could think was, 'Get away because of the baby,'" she said.
She drove for hours, eventually crossing the border into Poland, where she had a show scheduled for that night.
Korolova, one of Ukraine's best techno DJs, tossed out her program and only played songs from Ukrainian artists.
"I was crying on stage," she admits to BBC News. "I was playing and I was crying. It was the hardest set of my life, but I knew for sure I needed to do something."
Korolova's pay was donated to the Ukrainian army and charity that assist those affected by the conflict. She held a separate fundraising on her YouTube channel the next night. Her Instagram profile, which used to be filled with exotic holiday images and nightclub views, is now filled with updates from Ukraine and footage of the Russian invasion.
Her goal is to show viewers, particularly Russian fans, the enormity of the devastation.
"I'm astounded that Russians aren't recognizing the reality," she says. "It's as if they're in North Korea and have no idea what's going on. My Russian fans messaged me, saying, 'It's not real.' It's a sham. 'Every single one of your posts is a lie.' They are adamantly opposed to seeing it."
Korolova isn't the only one. In the face of violence, Ukraine's dynamic and blooming music culture has become a type of unofficial news outlet, documenting the fight for an audience that may not be tuned into standard news channels.
