Women on two remote Estonian islands have lived in the absence of men for over a century, but now face an uncertain future. Here's a look inside their lives.

Mar 12, 2020, 21:25 IST

Estonia is home to over 2,000 islands, but two — Kihnu and Manija — are distinct in that they are inhabited mostly by women.

When photographer Anne Helene Gjelstad first visited Kihnu in 2005, little did she know that she would return 12 times over the course of the next 11 years.

After just a few days on the island, Gjelstad was captivated by the women she met. She observed that they took care of pretty much everything, from raising children to making clothes and ploughing the fields.

After just a few days on the island, Gjelstad was captivated by the women she met. She observed that they took care of pretty much everything, from raising children to making clothes and ploughing the fields.

Out of the 350 people that live full-time on Kihnu, Gjelstad estimates that only three are men. For most of the year, the men are away from the island either fishing or working on the mainland or abroad.

Out of the 350 people that live full-time on Kihnu, Gjelstad estimates that only three are men. For most of the year, the men are away from the island either fishing or working on the mainland or abroad.

To the outside world, Kihnu and Manija islands are best known for their rich textile traditions, songs, and dances that the women have upheld over time.

Together, the small, agricultural islands make up the UNESCO Kihnu Cultural Space.

Beyond the tourist gaze, the women go about their daily lives quietly. "They are modest and want to live their daily lives without interference from the outside world," Gjelstad wrote in her book "Big Heart, Strong Hands," a visual summary of her time on the islands.

Beyond the tourist gaze, the women go about their daily lives quietly. "They are modest and want to live their daily lives without interference from the outside world," Gjelstad wrote in her book "Big Heart, Strong Hands," a visual summary of her time on the islands.

The women's lives are ones of resilience. Järsumäe Virve remembers working on collective farms during the 50-year Soviet occupation that ended in the early '90s. "We had to work all the time. We had no free evenings, no free Sundays, no holidays," she told Gjelstad.

The women's lives are ones of resilience. Järsumäe Virve remembers working on collective farms during the 50-year Soviet occupation that ended in the early '90s. "We had to work all the time. We had no free evenings, no free Sundays, no holidays," she told Gjelstad.

However, the future of the islands is uncertain. For one, many of the islands' young residents leave to study don't come back. Tika Mann's family is among those that are geographically dispersed. Many of her grandchildren now live abroad.

However, the future of the islands is uncertain. For one, many of the islands' young residents leave to study don't come back. Tika Mann's family is among those that are geographically dispersed. Many of her grandchildren now live abroad.

Tourist dollars allow locals to remain on the island, but "unchecked growth may also have negative consequences," Gjelstad wrote. "Local debate is often about avoiding the island becoming a museum."

In 2008, a few years after her initial visit, Gjelstad received an invitation to return to Kihnu to photograph a funeral, something few foreigners have witnessed.

When a Kihnu woman reaches her 60s, she starts designing her own funeral dress, Gjelstad learned. After death, if a woman's legs are on the thinner side, family and friends will stuff her stockings with hay to make her appear stronger and more hardworking.

When a Kihnu woman reaches her 60s, she starts designing her own funeral dress, Gjelstad learned. After death, if a woman's legs are on the thinner side, family and friends will stuff her stockings with hay to make her appear stronger and more hardworking.

"It was really beautiful and emotional," Gjelstad said of the experience. Having participated in the ceremony, Gjelstad felt called to learn more about the older women — the islands' "hushed culture bearers" — and document their stories for future generations.

"It was really beautiful and emotional," Gjelstad said of the experience. Having participated in the ceremony, Gjelstad felt called to learn more about the older women — the islands' "hushed culture bearers" — and document their stories for future generations.

In total, Gjelstad got to know and photograph 35 women, 10 of whom are still alive today. Some women, like Tilli Alma, wanted to dress up in traditional clothing for the photographs, but over time Gjelstad encouraged women to wear more of their everyday clothing.

In total, Gjelstad got to know and photograph 35 women, 10 of whom are still alive today. Some women, like Tilli Alma, wanted to dress up in traditional clothing for the photographs, but over time Gjelstad encouraged women to wear more of their everyday clothing.

Gjelstad would return to the island for one to two weeks at a time. She brought back prints for the women she photographed, which led more members of the community to open up to her.

When Gjelstad first met Sauendi Mann at her farmhouse, they communicated mostly through gestures. To engage in long conversations with the women, Gjelstad worked with an interpreter.

Lohu Ella is one of the women Gjelstad spent the most time with. The collapse of the Soviet Union was the happiest moment of her life, she told Gjeslstad. Today, Ella has a small pension and leads a comfortable life selling handicrafts to tourists with her daughter.

Lohu Ella is one of the women Gjelstad spent the most time with. The collapse of the Soviet Union was the happiest moment of her life, she told Gjeslstad. Today, Ella has a small pension and leads a comfortable life selling handicrafts to tourists with her daughter.

Järsumäe Virve has written and performed a number of songs about life in the countryside and regularly appears in the news. Locals will often steer visitors looking for Virve in the opposite direction to safeguard her privacy.

Järsumäe Virve has written and performed a number of songs about life in the countryside and regularly appears in the news. Locals will often steer visitors looking for Virve in the opposite direction to safeguard her privacy.

Gjelstad's last portrait of Mann became the book's cover. "She is still here, even if she now is gone," Gjelstad wrote.

"Life is often hard. This is normal here," Gjelstad said. "Nobody asks questions. You do what you must. This is how you get a big heart and strong hands. When I understood that, my project had its title."

"Life is often hard. This is normal here," Gjelstad said. "Nobody asks questions. You do what you must. This is how you get a big heart and strong hands. When I understood that, my project had its title."

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Women on two remote Estonian islands have lived in the absence of men for over a century, but now face an uncertain future. Here's a look inside their lives.

Estonia is home to over 2,000 islands, but two — Kihnu and Manija — are distinct in that they are inhabited mostly by women.

When photographer Anne Helene Gjelstad first visited Kihnu in 2005, little did she know that she would return 12 times over the course of the next 11 years.

After just a few days on the island, Gjelstad was captivated by the women she met. She observed that they took care of pretty much everything, from raising children to making clothes and ploughing the fields.

Out of the 350 people that live full-time on Kihnu, Gjelstad estimates that only three are men. For most of the year, the men are away from the island either fishing or working on the mainland or abroad.

To the outside world, Kihnu and Manija islands are best known for their rich textile traditions, songs, and dances that the women have upheld over time.

Together, the small, agricultural islands make up the UNESCO Kihnu Cultural Space.

Beyond the tourist gaze, the women go about their daily lives quietly. "They are modest and want to live their daily lives without interference from the outside world," Gjelstad wrote in her book "Big Heart, Strong Hands," a visual summary of her time on the islands.

The women's lives are ones of resilience. Järsumäe Virve remembers working on collective farms during the 50-year Soviet occupation that ended in the early '90s. "We had to work all the time. We had no free evenings, no free Sundays, no holidays," she told Gjelstad.

However, the future of the islands is uncertain. For one, many of the islands' young residents leave to study don't come back. Tika Mann's family is among those that are geographically dispersed. Many of her grandchildren now live abroad.

Tourist dollars allow locals to remain on the island, but "unchecked growth may also have negative consequences," Gjelstad wrote. "Local debate is often about avoiding the island becoming a museum."

In 2008, a few years after her initial visit, Gjelstad received an invitation to return to Kihnu to photograph a funeral, something few foreigners have witnessed.

When a Kihnu woman reaches her 60s, she starts designing her own funeral dress, Gjelstad learned. After death, if a woman's legs are on the thinner side, family and friends will stuff her stockings with hay to make her appear stronger and more hardworking.

"It was really beautiful and emotional," Gjelstad said of the experience. Having participated in the ceremony, Gjelstad felt called to learn more about the older women — the islands' "hushed culture bearers" — and document their stories for future generations.

In total, Gjelstad got to know and photograph 35 women, 10 of whom are still alive today. Some women, like Tilli Alma, wanted to dress up in traditional clothing for the photographs, but over time Gjelstad encouraged women to wear more of their everyday clothing.

Gjelstad would return to the island for one to two weeks at a time. She brought back prints for the women she photographed, which led more members of the community to open up to her.

When Gjelstad first met Sauendi Mann at her farmhouse, they communicated mostly through gestures. To engage in long conversations with the women, Gjelstad worked with an interpreter.

Lohu Ella is one of the women Gjelstad spent the most time with. The collapse of the Soviet Union was the happiest moment of her life, she told Gjeslstad. Today, Ella has a small pension and leads a comfortable life selling handicrafts to tourists with her daughter.

Järsumäe Virve has written and performed a number of songs about life in the countryside and regularly appears in the news. Locals will often steer visitors looking for Virve in the opposite direction to safeguard her privacy.

Gjelstad's last portrait of Mann became the book's cover. "She is still here, even if she now is gone," Gjelstad wrote.

"Life is often hard. This is normal here," Gjelstad said. "Nobody asks questions. You do what you must. This is how you get a big heart and strong hands. When I understood that, my project had its title."