I know Sia Kosioni well. Anastasia Kosioni. Born on May 16. After 20 years at SKAI’s central newscast, she still carries something of the girl she was in the early days.

She told me: “I was going to come on my motorbike, but since you told me to be properly groomed, I came in Kostas’s car.”

Three things led me to this conversation. First, her serious health ordeal in the ICU—Sia, you really should have had the pneumococcal vaccine. Second, her two decades of steady presence at SKAI’s main news desk—the channel is identified with her, and she with the channel. And third, her views on journalism—and beyond.

Scene 1: “Kostas is not a politician to me—he is the man I love”

Dimitris Danikas: You’ve been through a very difficult time.

Sia Kosioni: Yes, it was tough.

D.D.: Why didn’t you get vaccinated?

S.K.: Because I didn’t know I should. It’s usually recommended for people over 65.

D.D.: It’s actually recommended for everyone.

S.K.: I wasn’t informed. Later, doctors told me it’s especially important for people who are constantly around others. I’ll get it now—I’m a good student.

D.D.: Were you always like that?

S.K.: I got the grades I aimed for. I learned quickly. I knew that with a bit more effort I could get a perfect score, but I was also satisfied with slightly less if it came easily.

D.D.: Where were you born?

S.K.: In our first home, near Patision, in what people call “old good Athens,” specifically in Agios Meletios. My father was an ophthalmologist. Later, my parents decided to raise us closer to nature, in Upper Melissia. Back then, it was forests on one side and vineyards on the other. That’s why, even though I’m from the city, I feel deeply connected to nature.

Now Kostas and I live in the center, in Makrygianni.

D.D.: What’s it like living with a politician?

S.K.: Kostas is not a politician to me—he is the man I love. And I managed to love him because he doesn’t behave like a typical politician. He does what he believes is right, not what is politically convenient. He’s courageous, a man of integrity—that’s why I’m with him.

Scene 2: Through Sia’s eyes

D.D.: How did you meet?

S.K.: The first meeting didn’t go well. It was on the radio, when he was running for mayor of Karpenisi. I was quite aggressive—borderline arrogant. Afterwards, I felt bad and called to clarify: “It’s not personal, it’s professional.” He replied, “No problem.”

At the time, we were both in other relationships. There was no thought of anything more.

D.D.: Who influenced you on television? Elli Stai, perhaps?

S.K.: I can’t say one person shaped me more than others. I’ve always been obsessed with news—and with history.

D.D.: Still, you must have someone in mind.

S.K.: Why—because we’re both blonde with blue eyes?

D.D.: No—because you share a similar irony.

S.K.: That’s for viewers to judge. What matters to me is having honest conversations. People know I may be strict, but I’m fair. What annoys me most is when I ask one thing and get a completely different answer—that’s a classic political tactic, and I don’t accept it.

Scene 3: “I took every opportunity I saw”

D.D.: What was your first job?

S.K.: At a music radio station in Thessaloniki. Then small news bulletins, then financial radio, then my own show. For two years, I hosted a 6 a.m. program—I’d wake up at 4 a.m. while my fellow students were coming back from nights out.

I worked at ERT3, wrote for magazines—anything that came my way, I took it.

Later, after my Master’s at the London School of Economics, I returned and worked simultaneously in print, radio, and television. Endless hours, seven days a week.

D.D.: You judge your own work first.

S.K.: I worked extremely hard—nonstop. I’ve made mistakes, of course. I’ve been criticized, even attacked.

But I’m not confrontational by nature. I try to understand others before judging them.

Scene 4: “There is a lot of toxicity”

D.D.: What do people say about you?

S.K.: There have been periods of intense toxicity—beyond criticism. Organized attacks, trolling.

D.D.: Is that because of your husband?

S.K.: Some people see it that way, but they’re a minority.

D.D.: Some assume that because of your channel and your husband, you lean politically.

S.K.: That’s a classic way to diminish a woman—define her through her husband. I’m independent. I had this career before him. I exist in it despite him—not because of him.

Scene 5: “I chased my dreams”

S.K.: I grew up in a family that gave me opportunities. It never crossed my mind that being a woman would limit me.

Of course, others underestimated me at times.

My father, a doctor, was shocked when I chose journalism: “We don’t know anyone in this field,” he said. I told him, “I’ll manage.”

I’ve always worked hard. I’m not afraid of effort. Fear exists—but it can be useful if you manage it.

Scene 6: “Journalism is a vocation”

S.K.: Journalists are intermediaries between power and citizens. If we identify with power, we lose trust.

There’s no absolute freedom anywhere—but there is responsibility.

I’m one of those who still believe journalism is a calling, a service. Call me romantic—I don’t mind. If we lose that, we lose everything.

Scene 7: “My appearance gives me confidence”

D.D.: What defines you more—your words or your image?

S.K.: Would you ask that if I were a man?

D.D.: Your image is part of your strength.

S.K.: I don’t deny it. But if that were all, I wouldn’t still be here. Appearance matters—it’s respect for the audience. But it’s not everything.

It gives me confidence, yes—but the substance is what keeps you there.

Final thoughts

D.D.: What was the hardest moment of your life?

S.K.: After what I went through recently, only health matters. Everything else seems smaller now.

If I had gone to the hospital a little later, we might not be having this conversation. That changes how you see everything.

I realized how fragile life is—and how much I still want to do.

This experience taught me to listen to my body. I used to push myself beyond limits. Now I try not to forget that lesson.

As we wrapped up, I asked about her future.

Her answer said it all:

“I don’t know what I’ll do next. The only thing I know is that I don’t want this job to wear me out. I want to step away on my own terms—when I feel I can’t do it anymore.”