Natalia Vodianova is a Woman of the Year because... "She never forgot her past and her sister.... There is no limit to how much work, how many phone calls, how much begging she will do on behalf of children."
—Diane von Furstenberg, 2005 Woman of the Year
Supermodel Natalia Vodianova, 32, has an unforgettable face. But it's a face the world might never have seen if not for her little sister Oksana, the motivating force who pushed her into modeling. And in a tribute to Oksana, born with special needs, Vodianova has devoted her life to giving back to other children like her.
Raised by a single mother in a working-class neighborhood in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, the sisters had what was then an unusual upbringing. Oksana, who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and autism, was completely nonverbal and couldn't walk until she was five. According to Human Rights Watch, 30 percent of children with disabilities in Russia are given up by their families to state orphanages. But Vodianova's mother refused to send Oksana away.
It was a deeply difficult life. Because of Oksana's needs, "my mother couldn't have a full-time job, so she had horrible, poorly paying jobs," Vodianova recalls. "Sometimes we didn't have anything to eat." To do her part, Vodianova sold fruit at a stand, even in the bitter cold. At 17, she decided to try to earn a little more money modeling—and, in short order, became one of the highest-paid models on earth, nicknamed Supernova, living in Paris, regularly gracing billboards and fashion magazine covers. She launched campaigns for Gucci, YSL, Calvin Klein, Versace. But though she was able to provide a comfortable life for her family, she knew this was not enough.
It's hard to overstate how little support there is in Russia for disabled children and their families. Many babies are abandoned at birth. For those who are not, life is a series of injustices: Buildings are not accessible, and as for school, the closest thing to special education is an often useless field of study called "defectology." The issue, says Judith E. Heumann, a special adviser for international disability rights with the U.S. State Department, is simply that Russian culture "still does not accept people with disabilities as being equal members of society."
Vodianova has made it her life's mission to change that. In 2004, affected deeply by the school massacre tragedy in Beslan (in which 186 children were killed) and looking for a way to help her grieving country heal, Vodianova founded the Naked Heart Foundation, now celebrating its tenth anniversary. Its purpose: to help make sure more children like Oksana have the services, the family help, and the cultural acceptance to live happy and full lives.
The organization starts from babyhood, offering psychological and legal support for parents, working with schools to help them teach special-needs children, and funding "family centers" that offer therapy and educational projects. The life-changing result: The communities served have seen a real impact on the number of children placed in orphanages. ("These parents can have a life," Vodianova says.) Across the country, Naked Heart has built more than 100 accessible parks and playgrounds; more than 2,000 children have attended its summer camps. It hosts conferences and trains specialists, and along the way Vodianova is essentially retraining Russian culture. Says Heumann: "The Naked Heart Foundation is helping people understand that disabled people can contribute meaningfully to their communities."
Vodianova, herself a mother of four, has known that truth her whole life. Now she's rallied the fashion industry around an issue that would otherwise have gone unnoticed, calling people like Valentino and Kate Moss to the cause. "Her work comes from the heart," says designer and friend Stella McCartney. "It's very rare in any industry to create something that gives back to other people. She's absolutely relentless in the effort that she's willing to put in."
As for Oksana, she is thriving. She regularly attends the family center Naked Heart built in her hometown, getting ready, braiding her own hair, and traveling by bus back and forth. "She has friends; she has a boyfriend, she holds his hand. It's incredible," Vodianova says, smiling, and remembering: "We slept in the same bed till I was 15. Because she didn't realize the reality, she would always cheer us up. In the midst of a very, very hard time, she was really a ray of life."
Julia Ioffe is a senior editor at The New Republic.
