AWID es un organización feminista internacional de membresía, que brinda apoyo a los movimientos que trabajan para lograr la justicia de género y los derechos de las mujeres en todo el mundo.
Confrontando al extractivismo y al poder corporativo
Defensoras de derechos humanos de todo el planeta defienden sus tierras, medios de subsistencia y sus comunidades ante las industrias extractivas y el poder corporativo. Ellas hacen frente a fuertes intereses económicos y políticos que promueven el robo de tierras, el desplazamiento de comunidades, la pérdida de los medios de subsistencia y la degradación del medioambiente.
¿Por qué resistir a las industrias extractivas?
El extractivismo es un modelo económico y político de desarrollo que mercantiliza la naturaleza y prioriza la ganancia por sobre los derechos humanos y el medioambiente. Arraigado en la historia colonial, refuerza las desigualdades sociales y económicas tanto a nivel local como global. Muchas veces, las mujeres negras, rurales e indígenas son las más afectadas por el extractivismo, y además son notablemente excluidas de la toma de decisiones. Desafiando estas fuerzas patriarcales y neocoloniales, las mujeres se alzan en defensa de los derechos, las tierras, las personas y la naturaleza.
Riegos críticos y violencia específica de género
Las defensoras que enfrentan a las industrias extractivas, experimentan una diversidad de riesgos, amenazas y violaciones, incluidas la criminalización, la estigmatización, la violencia y laintimidación. Sus historias dan cuenta de marcados aspectos de violencia sexual y de género. Entre los perpetradores se incluyen autoridades estatales y locales, las corporaciones, la policía, el ejército, las fuerzas paramilitares y de seguridad privada, y en algunos casos, sus propias comunidades.
Actuar juntxs
AWID y la Coalición Internacional de Mujeres Defensoras de Derechos Humanos (WHRDIC por su sigla en inglés) tienen el placer de anunciar «Defensoras de derechos humanos confrontado al extractivismo y al poder corporativo»; un proyecto interregional de investigación que documenta las experiencias vividas por las defensoras de Asia, África y América Latina.
Alentamos a activistas, integrantes de movimientos sociales, la sociedad civil organizada, donantes y responsables de políticas públicas, a leer y utilizar estas producciones para el trabajo de incidencia, con fines educativos y como fuente de inspiración:
AWID reconoce con gratitud las invaluables contribuciones de cada Defensora de Derechos Humanos que ha sido parte de este proyecto. Esta guía ha sido posible gracias su generosidad y apertura al compartir sobre sus experiencias y lecciones. Su coraje, creatividad y resiliencia son una inspiración para todxs nosotrxs. ¡Muchas gracias!
Nilcéa Freire was a Brazilian feminist activist, politician and academic. A persevering advocate for women’s rights and those of underrepresented minorities in the country, her life and work carried a long history of struggles and victories.
"While resisting we have to keep pushing for progress, and what we can achieve at this time, in my view, will be through the stupendous organization of young white women, and especially black women, in all of the state capitals and large cities of Brazil." - Nilcéa Freire
In 1999 she became the first woman to occupy the position of Dean at the State University of Rio de Janeiro. Here, she spearheaded the implementation of the first affirmative action policy for students graduating from public schools, requiring reserved places specifically for low-income black students in a public university. This system was adopted in dozens of other public universities.
Some years later, Nilcéa headed the Special Secretariat of Policies for Women in the government of former president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. In this capacity, she led the first National Women’s Conference. Over 12,000 women from across the country participated and the result of this collective work was embodied in the National Plan for Policies for Women.
Her commitment to women, Afro-Brazilians and indigenous peoples was also strongly reflected in her work to promote their rights through initiatives of the Brazil Ford Foundation office where she was a regional director.
The feminist activist Manoela Miklos recounted Nilcéa to be "a woman without equal".
At the age of 66, Nilcéa passed away in Rio de Janeiro on 29 December 2019 of cancer.
"Without words for the news of the death of dear Nilcea Freire. It is too sad to know that she left so early. She was always part of the ranks of those who do not settle for the injustices of the world. She was the Minister of Women, an activist, always active in the feminist cause. Much missed!” - Jandira Feghali, Federal Deputy
Tendencias anti-derechos en los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos
Chapter 6
En la Comisión Africana y en el Sistema Interamericano, los actores antiderechos impulsan nociones esencialistas de cultura y género para impedir el avance de los derechos y socavar las responsabilidades. Como vemos, los actores anti-derechos están ejerciendo su influencia sobre los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos, así como en los espacios internacionales.
La Comisión Africana de Derechos Humanos y de los Pueblos ha comenzado a definir a los derechos sexuales y de las mujeres como un menoscabo a su capacidad de ocuparse de los «derechos reales» y como contrarios a los «valores africanos», con lo cual se establece un precedente anti-derechos preocupante. La anulación del estatus de observador de la Coalición de Lesbianas Africanas es un ejemplo de esta tendencia y muestra la forma en que el espacio para el involucramiento feminista panafricanista está siendo restringido.
En la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y en el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos, las estrategias anti-derechos incluyen la oenegización de grupos religiosos, la utilización de discursos seculares, y la cooptación de marcos de discriminación. La influencia antiderechos se ha materializado de diversas maneras, que incluyen la intimidación de activistas trans y la obstrucción de la introducción de lenguaje progresista en las resoluciones.
Índice de contenidos
Silenciamiento de feministas en el Sistema Africano de Derechos Humanos
Grupos anti-derechos en América Latina: Asamblea General de la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos
Linda Porn est une autre héroïne de l'organisation syndicale féministe et de l'activisme des travailleur·euses du sexe au niveau national (en Espagne) et transnational.
Originaire du Mexique, elle vit en Espagne depuis les années 2000. Elle est travailleuse du sexe, militante, mère célibataire et artiste multidisciplinaire.
Puisant dans ces différentes identités, elle utilise la performance, l'art vidéo et le théâtre pour rendre visibles les luttes aux intersections du transféminisme, du travail du sexe, de la migration, du colonialisme et de la maternité. Elle combine l'art et le travail du sexe tout en prenant soin de sa fille en tant que mère célibataire.
Linda appartient également à des groupes de travailleur·euses du sexe qui luttent pour leurs droits, comme le syndicat OTRAS et CATS Murcia. Elle a également cofondé le groupe 'Madrecitas' - qui rend visible et dénonce la violence institutionnelle raciste contre les familles migrantes. Violence à laquelle elle et sa fille ont été soumises en tant que travailleuse du sexe et mère célibataire migrante.
Leah Tumbalang fue una mujer lumad de Mindanao, en Filipinas. La historia del pueblo indígena lumad abarca generaciones de resistencia contra la minería corporativa a gran escala, de protección de los territorios ancestrales, los recursos y la cultura, y de lucha por la autodeterminación.
Leah era una líder lumad, y dirigente de Kaugalingong Sistema Igpasasindog to Lumadnong Ogpaan (Kasilo), una organización lumad y campesina que lucha contra la instalación de corporaciones mineras en Bukidnon, en la provincia de Mindanao. Fue inclaudicable en su activismo anti minería, al emprender con fervor campañas contra los efectos devastadores de la extracción de minerales en el medio ambiente y las tierras de los pueblos indígenas. Era también una organizadora política de la lista electoral Bayan Muna, que integra el partido político de izquierda Makabayan.
Durante casi una década Leah (junto con otrxs integrantes de Kasilo) recibió amenazas debido a su oposición al despliegue de grupos paramilitares, que se cree son respaldados por intereses mineros.
«Como líder lumad de su comunidad, ella está en la primera línea de lucha por sus derechos a la tierra ancestral y a la autodeterminación.» - Kalumbay Regional Lumad Organization
Estar en la vanguardia de la resistencia también significa, a menudo, ser un blanco para la violencia y la impunidad, y Leah no solamente recibió numerosas amenazas de muerte, sino que fue asesinada el 23 de agosto de 2019 en la ciudad de Valencia, en Bukidnon.
Según un informe de Global Witness, «en números absolutos, Filipinas fue el país peor afectado» en lo que respecta a activistas ambientalistas asesinadxs en 2018.
Não me sinto à vontade para partilhar o nome do meu grupo e as nossas informações de contacto com a AWID. Devo preencher o inquérito ainda assim?
Absolutamente, estas perguntas são opcionais, e valorizamos o seu direito de permanecer anónimo. Queira preencher o inquérito independentemente da sua decisão de partilhar o nome do seu grupo, organização e/ou movimento e as respetivas informações de contacto connosco.
Snippet FEA Principles of work Education and Learning (EN)
EDUCATION AND CONTINUOUS LEARNING
FR Editor's note
Editor's note
Feminist Realities is a warm and caring invitation, a kind of en masse-care (versus self-care) act of preservation, an invitation to archive, to take stock of all the work lest it disappear. (...)
Sara Hegazy, une audacieuse activiste égyptienne des droits des LGBTQI+, vivait dans une société où les membres de sa communauté, leurs corps et leurs vies sont souvent victimes de préjugés mortels. La résistance de Sara puise ses racines dans le processus de déconstruction d'un système dominant, oppressif et patriarcal, et de ses acteurs antidroits.
« [En Égypte], toute personne qui n'est pas un homme, musulman, sunnite, hétéro et partisan du système, est rejetée, réprimée, stigmatisée, arrêtée, exilée ou tuée. Ce phénomène concerne le système patriarcal dans son ensemble, étant donné que l'État ne peut pratiquer sa répression contre les citoyens sans une oppression préexistant depuis l'enfance », écrivait Sara Hegazy le 6 mars 2020
La répression de la voix de Sara par le gouvernement égyptien atteignit son paroxysme en 2017, lorsqu’elle fut arrêtée pour avoir brandi un drapeau arc-en-ciel lors du concert de Mashrou' Leila (groupe libanais dont le chanteur principal est ouvertement gai) au Caire. Elle fut ensuite accusée d'avoir rejoint un groupe illégal et « d’incitation à la déviance sexuelle et à la débauche ».
« C’était un acte de soutien et de solidarité, non seulement envers le chanteur [de Mashrou' Leila] mais pour tou·te·s les opprimé·e·s… Nous étions fier·ère·s de porter le drapeau. Nous ne pouvions imaginer que la société et l’État égyptien réagiraient de cette façon. Ils m’ont vue comme une criminelle, quelqu’un qui cherchait à détruire la structure morale de la société ». - Sara Hegazy
Sara fut emprisonnée pendant trois mois, durant lesquels elle fut torturée et agressée sexuellement. En janvier 2018, après avoir été libérée sous caution, elle demanda l'asile au Canada où elle vécut en sécurité mais resta prisonnière des souvenirs de la violence et des sévices qu'elle avait subis dans son corps et son âme.
« Je suis sortie de cette expérience au bout de trois mois avec un cas très sévère et grave de SSPT [syndrome de stress post-traumatique]. La prison m'a tuée. Elle m'a détruite », déclara Sara Hegazy à la NPR (Radio d’État)
Sara s'est suicidée le 14 juin 2020, en laissant une note manuscrite en arabe :
« À mes frères et sœurs - j'ai essayé de trouver la rédemption et j'ai échoué, pardonnez-moi. »
« À mes amis - l'expérience [l’aventure] a été rude et je suis trop faible pour la supporter, pardonnez-moi. »
« Au monde - tu as été très cruel, mais je te pardonne. »
Son courage et son héritage seront perpétués par toutes les personnes qui l’aimaient et qui croient en ce pour quoi elle s’est battue.
Hommages :
« À Sara : repose-toi, repose-toi simplement, hors d’atteinte de cette violence implacable, de ce patriarcat étatique meurtrier. Dans la rage, dans le chagrin, dans l'épuisement, nous résisterons. » - Rasha Younes, chercheuse sur les droits LGBT à Human Rights Watch. Lisez le texte complet
سنقوم بتحليل الردود على الاستطلاع للوصول للاستنتاجات الأساسية والنتائج خلال المنتدى العالمي ل AWID في بانكوك، وعن طريق الانترنت في ديسمبر (كانون الأول) 2024. الرجاء التسجيل هنا لحضور المنتدى.
A Joy to the World: Six Questions with Naike Ledan
Interviewed by Chinelo Onwualu
Naike Ledan is a social justice defendant, a committed feminist that brings forward 20 years of experience in human rights and health justice advocacy, women’s empowerment, the fight for universal access to basic services and social inclusion, as well as civil society capacity building. She has built extensive work in Canada, West and southern Africa, as well as in Haiti, in civil rights advocacy, capacity building for CSOs, while emphasising the social determinants of structural exclusion. She values the principles of shared leadership, anticolonial, anti-oppressive, and anti-patriarchal spaces.
Chinelo You’re billed as a trans rights activist; I’m curious about how you made that journey.
Naike So, I grew up in Haiti until I was 18, then I lived in Montreal for 19 years. Coming back to Haiti in 2016, I thought I would be coming back home, but the place had changed and I had to readjust. I did not necessarily reconnect in the way that I’d expected to with childhood family and friends. I came back as an expat with a comfortable work situation, and I felt very much like a foreigner for a very long time. And at the same time, I felt very much at home because of the language, the understood silence, the not having to explain when we start singing a commercial – you know, that thing we share, that energy, that space, that spirit.
My return to self-love – I would call “rebirth” – coinciding with giving birth to my first child, giving birth to myself, and falling in love with my queerness or same-gender lovingness. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
What helped me was, I loved the work of going into the country and documenting people’s knowledge. So I left the comfort. I became a country director of a regional organisation that was queer as fuck! Most of my work was to find resources and build the capacity of civil society. My strategy was to go into the countryside, look for all these little organizations, help build their capacity, and fund them. I was not interested in politicians and shaking hands and taking pictures . I had a very good ally, Charlot Jeudy – the [queer] activist that got killed three years ago in his house. We got very close after an Afro-queer film festival we were planning got banned in Haiti. But it made a lot of noise and sparked conversations about queerness everywhere, so Charlot introduced me to every little CSO in every little corner of the country. And I would just be there to help organisation[s] with registering legally or building their strategic plan. So it’s been a lot of these kinds of work that made me a queer activist and by extension, a trans activist. Although I don’t call myself that – an activist. It’s such a loaded word, you know? And it’s something people call you. I think I’m just a lover and a fighter .
Chinelo Tell me about the workshop you conducted with AWID for the festival. What was it about and what was the context?
My deep self awareness during my childhood years and my engagement in questioning inequalities and injustice at a very very young age (+/- 4 years old). (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike International media doesn’t really talk about Haiti, but with a political environment that is as bad as ours, the economic environment is even more catastrophic. Being a more middle class Haitian, speaking different languages, having different passports, I was initially hesitant to take the space. But I often see myself as a bridge more than someone that would talk about themself. That is how I came to invite Semi, who is a brilliant young trans woman from outside Port-au-Prince, to take the space to talk for herself and walk us through the ecosystem of the realities for trans women in Haiti. We ended up building a session about uninclusive feminism – or, I would say, formal feminist spaces – and how trans girls in Haiti do not have spaces where they can contribute to women’s knowledge and sharing of women’s realities. So the AWID festival was the opportunity for me to give the space to the women who should have it. We had a wonderful time; we had wine online while hosting the conversation. My co-facilitator, Semi, shared what it is like to be a trans child/girl/woman at different stages of her life. She also shared the dangers of the street, of poverty, of exclusion, of “not passing,” and her victories as well.
Chinelo What is the relationship of trans women to feminist organizations in Haiti? What has been your experience with that?
Naike It’s been really hard – heartbreaking, actually – the experience of trans women in Haiti. From not existing at all to just being extremely sexualized. The other thing that’s been happening is how they’re being killed, and how those killings have gone unreported in the media. This is how non-existent, how erased trans women are. They’re everywhere but not in job settings, not in feminist settings, not in organizational settings. Not even in LGBT organizations. It’s only recently, and because of a lot of advocacy push, that some of these organization are kind of readjusting, but in feminist spaces, this is still out of the question. We are still having to deal with the old exclusionary discourse of “They’re not women. Of course, if they can pass…” The culture of passing, it’s a risk management conversation – how much you pass and how much you don’t pass and what it means for your body and the violence it inflicts. In the trans-exclusionary realities we live in, which are reproduced in a lot of feminist spaces, those that pass completely may be considered girls, but only to a certain extent. But how about falling in love, how about having a conversation, how about being in the closet, how about wanting a certain aesthetic, or a career? So really, the conversation about hormone therapy becomes about risk reduction, as Semi herself shared at the workshop. But we don’t have the option of hormone therapy, we don’t have the medical framework nor the system to support those who would like to pursue that option.
Chinelo When you talk about the way that trans people and queer people are thought of in society, it sounds like it might be similar to Nigeria, which can be a deeply homophobic environment.
Naike Haiti is a very complex country in a very beautiful way. Nothing is simple, you know, nothing is ever one way. Haitians are very tolerant – and they’re also very homophobic. You’re going to find regions in the countryside where people aren’t that homophobic at all because all the Vodou temples there, and this is a religion that respects life. One basic principle of the Vodou religion is that all children are children. So, there is no right or wrong in the religion. For the longest time, people thought of Haiti as a haven, a place where people are tolerant – we’re talking 70s, 80s, pre-HIV, 90s even. Then you had the earthquake [in 2010] where around 300,000 people died. And then all this money came from the south of the US through the Evangelicals to rebuild the country and find Jesus. So, the homophobia in Haiti is very recent. In the depth, in the heart of the soul of the culture, I cannot really say that it is homophobic. But in the everyday life, it surely lands on the skin of queer people, that violence. And that of women, of poor women, of dark women as well, because colorism runs deep in the Caribbean.
Chinelo How have you managed this? What’s been your strategy for survival?
My return to Haiti as part of my decolonizing process, and choosing to physically position my senses and my family’s senses to magic and blackness uncompromisingly. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike I’m really in love with my work. I love working. When I first arrived, I was working with this horrible NGO but I was doing amazing work. I was always in the countryside, conversing and learning from people, from women. And that filled my heart for so long because I’m very much in love with my culture, with black people, with black women – old black women, black babies. It just fills me up in a spiritual way. When we were in Canada my kids were in these all-white schools and tokenized. They did not speak Creole nor French. And now, they’re running free in the yard and starting to fight in Creole. I also found hubs of survival with the people I met. I created bonds with the queers and others who were weirdos like me and it’s been really wonderful. But now I’m struggling because I don’t feel safe in Haiti anymore. We have about 40 kidnappings per week in Port-Au-Prince – and it’s been like that since 2018. I’ve developed anxiety and panic attacks. So It’s time to go, and I’ve been asking myself, “where is home?” I spent 19 years in Montreal but I never felt at home there. When I left, I never missed it so I don’t want to go back. I’ve been crying a lot lately because it feels like entering a second exile.
Chinelo What’s your relationship to pleasure, leisure, and rest?
Naike My relationship with pleasure, leisure, and rest are for me one and the same. It is the lived moment when I indulge in the heat of the sun on my face for example. It is pleasure, leisure, and rest at the same time.
Pleasure: My go-to space, most solely a haven of celebration of myself. I reserve myself the power and the right to be loud or quiet in the enjoyment of the pleasure I experience. All the pleasure I viciously and abundantly indulge in, including and not limited to the pleasure of solitude and silence.
Leisure: biking, music festivals, eating, wine discoveries, dancing in Haitian traditional Vodou dances are amongst many that occur at the moment.
Rest: is what I live for. As an overachiever and a person that is literally in love with work, it is a paradox how lazy I am. No one knows that because all of what the world sees is this: an accomplished overworker. They do not know how I can just, uncompromisingly and profoundly indulge in idleness.
ExploreTransnational Embodiments
This journal edition in partnership with Kohl: a Journal for Body and Gender Research, will explore feminist solutions, proposals and realities for transforming our current world, our bodies and our sexualities.
نصدر النسخة هذه من المجلة بالشراكة مع «كحل: مجلة لأبحاث الجسد والجندر»، وسنستكشف عبرها الحلول والاقتراحات وأنواع الواقع النسوية لتغيير عالمنا الحالي وكذلك أجسادنا وجنسانياتنا.
