Latest news with #Mavkas
Telegraph
13-04-2025
- Telegraph
‘Women are not just victims of war': The Ukrainians crafting a new line of defence
Folklore and snipers don't normally go hand in hand. But in Horenka, a small village in the Bucha district infamous for the massacre of civilians and mass graves dug into the land when Russians invaded in the winter of 2022, they do. It is here, some three years after the world learnt the brutal tactics Vladimir Putin's army used to ravage a once-peaceful community, that the Horenski Mavkas spend their days weaving camouflage kikimora suits (also known as ghillie suits) to clothe the Ukrainian warriors on the front line of the war. In Ukrainian folklore, mavka is a mythical, ethereal, female creature who moves between the worlds of living and dead, casting her spell. In recent times, the mavka has become the embodiment of strength and self-sacrifice, and today takes the form of a group of Ukrainian women – from grandmothers to young women – who use textiles as a way of fighting for their country. The Mavkas volunteers are certain that the camouflage products they weave with love provide a special protective power to their soldiers. Now, photographer Alena Grom, a Donetsk native who, with her family, was forced to flee her hometown during Russia's 2014 invasion in the east of Ukraine, has submitted her portraits of 15 women who do this work for this year's Sony World Photography Awards and exhibition at London's Somerset House. Each woman pictured has her own story and motivation, Grom explains. There is the grandmother who waits for her grandchildren to return from evacuation, a mother who yearns for her son to come back from the war alive, another who fled the occupied Donbas and dreams of having a safe home once more, and a fourth woman who weaves because she fears the return of the Russians. Grom, who moved to Bucha after 2014 only to be forced to flee the Russians once more during its occupation of the district in March 2022, is now telling the stories of these women who 'persist' through life 'amidst adversity'. 'Ukraine is experiencing and reflecting on the most terrible collective trauma – the trauma of war,' Grom says. 'In such moments, the empathy of society becomes most apparent. The project is about the victims of this war, but also about the struggle. It is about what holds Ukrainians together and what gives them strength.' According to the United Nations, 77 per cent of the buildings in Horenka were destroyed by Russian aggression, while the residents are still learning how to heal from the trauma of having their loved ones and neighbours murdered. As such, the Mavkas' commitment to the cause is striking. For more than two years, 60 women have gathered to weave – even when blackouts caused by Russian missile strikes meant they had to work by candlelight without heating. 'In ancient times, Ukrainian women got together to embroider, sing songs, and pray,' Grom says. 'The vyshyvanka [traditional embroidered shirt] has long been a symbol of the Ukrainian people, their unity and traditions. Now, camouflage items are our modern vyshyvanka. 'The weaving of camouflage takes place in every village, town, community, school, museum and metro station. It has become a mass movement. Therefore, it can be said that these images define and mark our time.' Grom explains that before Russia's full-scale invasion, the Mavkas did not know each other, but now, they are like family. She photographed them because she feels it is imperative to share their story, to preserve a part of history when women at war are so often written out. Grom adds: 'Until the 20th century, the history of war was rarely written from a female perspective. Military events were often depicted either pompously, glorifying the deeds of heroes, or tragically, demonstrating the suffering of soldiers dying for the ideals of their homeland. 'It was considered the woman's task to inspire those fighting for victory, to mourn the fallen and to care for the wounded. I think not only about the role of women in any war but also about how a feminine perspective helps to reinterpret this traumatic experience from an artistic point of view. The project demonstrates how Ukrainian women have stepped beyond the defined roles and proposed a new narrative. The military conflict in Ukraine has changed traditional gender roles; women have gained mobility, independence and opportunities for leadership. 'Women are not just victims of war; they are leaders of change. This project addresses feminism and the shifting social roles. While men have gone to war, women have taken on new roles.' It can take four women six hours to weave a kikimora suit. This is done using a wooden stand and involves stretching a fishing net over it, before using fabric or burlap to make the body with sleeves. It is then adjusted to the required length and the weaving begins. If the thread the women have to work with is thin, they will weave two at a time, with some using crochet hooks and others just their fingers. As the Telegraph 's defence editor, I have travelled with Ukrainian troops to the front line of Shevchenkivskyi District, near the city of Zaporizhzhia, in the south of Ukraine. I have spent time with a sniper drenched in sweat beneath his kikimora, having just come off a 24-hour shift. At the time, I did not think to ask where his suit, which provides crucial camouflage, had been made. Now I wonder, had it been made by one of these women? Was the love that the Mavkas had put into the suit the same power that enabled him to joke and smile as we talked about how his exhausting shift had gone? To this day I don't know whether that sniper has survived the punishing front line, but it is a comforting thought that perhaps he is still fighting with the help of the Mavkas behind him. For Grom, war has been ever-present in her life. She never knew her grandfather because he died from wounds received in the Second World War. Her mother, who grew up in the post-war years, lived with a fear of hunger, always saying, 'Bread, more bread!' and insisting there had always to be a sack of flour at home in case of war. After being forced to flee the east of Ukraine to Kyiv, it felt as though Grom's family's past was catching up with her. 'Physically, I was in Kyiv, but mentally, I was in the semi-destroyed Donbas,' she says. 'Photography helped me overcome trauma. Through photography, I became acquainted with different places, cities, people, and their way of life. The internal monologue turned into a dialogue with society and troubled times. In my projects, I talk about myself, my loved ones, displaced persons and war. Trips to the war zone became a logical continuation of my work. 'It is very important for me to constantly keep the topic of war relevant so that the world community does not forget that in the heart of Europe, a bloody massacre unleashed by Russia continues daily. I invite people living in peaceful areas to hear and notice those who see war every day.' Alena Grom is shortlisted in the Professional Competition, Sony World Photography Awards 2025, exhibition at Somerset House, 17 April-5 May;
Yahoo
30-01-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
For Ukraine's female partisans in occupation, hope lies in resistance
Somewhere in the streets of Russian-occupied Simferopol, the capital of Crimea, a woman puts a sticker on the wall. It's a short message, but if she is seen doing it, she will face arrest, prosecution, and likely, torture. The message is: "Soon, we will be home again." On another sticker, the most dangerous three words in the occupied Crimea: "This is Ukraine." What makes it even more risky for their bearer is the language. The words are in Ukrainian. The woman putting up the stickers is a member of Zla Mavka, an all-female resistance group. She is on a dangerous mission: to give hope. In the occupied territories, hope is a prized commodity. As Russia's full-scale war is about to reach its grim third anniversary, its grip over one-fifth of Ukraine's territory only grew tighter. The prospects for full military liberation of the occupied regions — including Crimea and parts of the Donbas region occupied since 2014 — seem ever more distant. After seeing the liberation of the parts of Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Kherson oblasts in 2022, Ukrainians in other occupied areas have been hoping that their turn will come soon. Now they struggle to find comfort in the latest news. Nonetheless, Olesia, one of the three women who founded Zla Mavka, an all-women resistance movement that operates across occupied territories, including Crimea and Zaporizhzhia Oblast, says she plans to fight as long as possible. Olesia's name has been changed and her last name is not being disclosed to protect her identity as she lives under Russian occupation. "As long as there is hope, we will continue to resist," she told the Kyiv Independent. The name, Zla Mavka, or Evil Mavka, harkens back to old Ukrainian folklore — the mavka is a woodland female spirit who uses its beautiful appearance to lure men to their deaths. An image of a young woman, clad in white garb and wearing a wreath of flowers, became the most iconic attribute of their imagery. Mavkas are not easy to reach. Their members never know when a Russian soldier will stop them in the street to inspect the contents of their phones. Olesia sends her answers in writing through an intermediary. Audio or video is deemed too risky. Her responses are somber and free of embellishments. "If we lose, we won't have a life here," she writes. "We will have to leave our homes because living under Russian occupation is worse than prison." Read also: Opinion: Trading territories means trading people Olesia comes from a city in southeastern Ukraine that was seized by Russia mere days after the outbreak of the full-scale war. After Moscow illegally declared the annexation of the lands they seized, hers and other cities under Russian control were to be remodeled into Potemkin villages — a veneer of a harmonious cohabitation covering up arrests, torture, and repressions. On Women's Day on March 8, 2023 — more than a year after the start of the occupation — Russian troops were lined up in the city's streets to dutifully hand out flowers to Ukrainian women. The gesture had a different effect than Russia might have hoped. It was the "insolence of Russian occupiers and their attitudes toward women" that inspired the Zla Mavka founding, Olesia explains. "We wanted to remind them that they are not at home, that this is Ukraine, and they are not welcome," she says. "We wanted to remind them that they are not at home, that this is Ukraine, and they are not welcome." The trio of founders, one of whom is an artist, began distributing posters bearing an inscription in Russian reading "I don't want flowers! I want my Ukraine back!" and a drawing of a woman smashing a Russian soldier with a bouquet. Since these early days, the movement grew to hundreds of activists, forming a decentralized group coordinated through anonymous chatbots on a messenger app. The group spread to different occupied regions and became especially active in Crimea, with few members hailing even from Donbas. Zla Mavka may be only one of several resistance groups that sprung up in Russian-held areas, including the Yellow Ribbon and Atesh. But its all-female character and the use of humor and creativity sets it apart from others. Creativity is the group's greatest strength, Olesia says, half-jokingly suggesting that women can be more sophisticated in the ways of resistance than their male counterparts. Among the many acts of resistance since the foundation of the group, Mavkas say they created fake ruble banknotes reminding the Russians that "Crimea is Ukraine," burned Russian flags, and filled the streets with pro-Ukrainian graffiti, posters, and poetry. At times, they say they mix laxatives into food and alcohol served to Russian soldiers, a treat they mischievously dubbed the "Mavka cocktail." Their activities also venture into more usual resistance activities, including the distribution of self-published newspapers to counter Russian propaganda or — according to the Ukrainian military-run National Resistance Center — passing information about the Russian military to Ukraine. But Olesia emphasizes that Zla Mavka is more than just a resistance group. It has become a source of support for Ukrainians amid the hardship of occupation — a community where anonymity is no obstacle to connection. Read also: Inside occupied Ukraine's most effective resistance movements "It's disgusting, nauseating," Olesia describes what she feels seeing Russian soldiers in the streets of her hometown every day. "It's especially difficult when you have to talk to them. You want to say everything you think about them, scratch out their faces, I don't know what… but you have to be discreet and not reveal anything." The Mavka diaries, vividly illustrated stories written by individual members and published by the group on social media, present poignant accounts of life under Russian war and occupation. "We held on to the last moment but had to leave for Zaporizhzhia," reads one of the diaries, published in February 2024. "My husband stayed in Mariupol. Forever. My heart remained there, right in the yard of our house that we had been building with love for so long. We buried him in our yard.' Omnipresent fear and suppression of Ukrainian identity have become eponymous with the Russian occupation. Ukrainian citizens are denied medical care unless they accept Russian passports. Men are forcibly drafted to fight against their own country. The Ukrainian identity of children is being erased in schools before they're sent off to "patriotic" military training camps. "I have never felt so much fear in my life as I do now. Being under occupation, I constantly feel in danger; I fear for my life. I am afraid that they will come for me and imprison me for supporting Ukraine. I am afraid that they will torture me. I am afraid that I will never see my son," reads another passage from a Mavka from Starobilsk, a city in Luhansk Oblast occupied since March 2022. "I am afraid that they will come for me and imprison me for supporting Ukraine. I am afraid that they will torture me." Even for those who do not plant bombs under railway tracks or report the movement of Russian troops to Ukrainian authorities, the realities of the occupation are unavoidable and deeply personal. Displaying Ukrainian symbols is punished, and people are afraid to speak the Ukrainian language. It is in the acts of resistance, great or small, that Ukrainians find strength while living under occupation. "You feel that you are doing something for which you will not be ashamed to look your children in the eyes, that you are helping, that you did not break," Olesia explains. But every time, it is as scary as the first time, she admits, using a common Ukrainian saying that translates to: "The eyes are scared, but the hands are doing." At the time when Zla Mavka was founded, the hope felt across Ukraine was palpable. Not only were Russian forces humiliated in Kyiv Oblast, but Ukrainian counteroffensives in the fall of 2022 liberated dozens of towns and villages in Kherson and Kharkiv oblasts, including the city of Kherson. But then a new counteroffensive, the long-awaited one that was meant to cut into Russian lines in Zaporizhzhia Oblast in the summer of 2023, didn't succeed. Since then, the front line has been moving in Russia's favor, with Ukraine suffering a series of painful losses in the eastern Donetsk Oblast. Both Kyiv and its Western partners now acknowledge that a liberation of Ukrainian land by force of arms is unlikely in the near future. As U.S. officials propose ceasefire deals that would leave millions of Ukrainians under Russian occupation, hopelessness is creeping in. Read also: As Russians inch closer to Pokrovsk, civilians in the area are left with a choice — stay under fire or leave life behind "It's scary. People are thinking about options of what to do if it happens," Olesia says of a ceasefire that would leave the occupied lands under Russian control. "Many people despair, many are trying to decide how to live (under the occupation)." News from the front line brings no comfort as well, as Russia continues to raze and capture new villages, one by one. "Sometimes it seems that behind all those headlines about territories and kilometers, some forget that these are all people, lives, homes, destinies," Olesia says. As it's capturing more Ukrainian land, Russia is also tightening its grasp on the occupied territories, according to Olesia. The occupation administration has ramped up surveillance, with increasingly common security checks and more cameras in the streets. Even the initial advantage that Mavka held — that Russian soldiers would not suspect women to be resistance members — has lost its edge as the occupiers grow more careful, Olesia says. It is hard enough to fight against overwhelming odds in constant fear. It is harder still when hope is in short supply. In spite of this, the Mavkas fight on. Talking about what keeps her motivations, Olesia says laconically, "Somebody has to do it. It just happens to be us." Although layered with melancholy, her messages reveal a sense of purpose and perseverance. "The power is in the people. Each of us has the power to do something to help this world, from a leaflet to big decisions in the world's seats of power," she says in a message from occupied Ukraine to the free world. "We are here, and despite everything, we continue to resist because evil must not win. Please fight with us and for us." Hi, this is Martin Fornusek. With our team, we strive to bring you true stories of the Ukrainian resistance, of the bravery of Ukrainian men and women like Olesia defying Russian occupation for so many years. We wouldn't be able to do so without the support of readers like you. To help us continue in this work, please consider becoming a member of the Kyiv Independent's community. Thank you very much. We've been working hard to bring you independent, locally-sourced news from Ukraine. Consider supporting the Kyiv Independent.
