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.
Lxs defensorxs se identifican a sí mismas como mujeres y personas lesbianas, bisexuales, transgénero, queer e intersex (LBTQI) y otrxs que defienden derechos y que debido a su trabajo en derechos humanos están bajo riesgos y amenazas específicos por su género y/o como consecuencia directa de su identidad de género u orientación sexual.
Lxs defensorxs son objeto de violencia y discriminación sistemáticas debido a sus identidades y su inclaudicable lucha por derechos, igualdad y justicia.
El Programa Defensorxs colabora con contrapartes internacionales y regionales así como con lxs afiliadxs de AWID para crear conciencia acerca de estos riesgos y amenazas, abogar por medidas de protección y de seguridad que sean feministas e integrales, y promover activamente una cultura del autocuidado y el bienestar colectivo en nuestros movimientos.
Riesgos y amenazas dirigidos específicamente contra lxs defensorxs
lxs defensorxs enfrentan los mismos tipos de riesgos que todxs lxs demás defensorxs de derechos humanos, de comunidades y del medio ambiente. Sin embargo, también están expuestas a violencia y a riesgos específicos por su género porque desafían las normas de género de sus comunidades y sociedades.
Por defender derechos, lxs defensorxs están en riesgo de:
Ataques físicos y muerte
Intimidación y acoso, incluso en los espacios virtuales
Acoso judicial y criminalización
Agotamiento
Un enfoque integral y colaborativo de la seguridad
Trabajamos de manera colaborativa con redes internacionales y regionales y con nuestrxs afiliadxs
para crear conciencia de las violaciones de derechos humanos contra lxs defensorxs y de la violencia y discriminación sistemáticas que enfrentan
para fortalecer los mecanismos de protección y asegurar respuestas más oportunas y efectivas para lxs defensorxs que están en riesgo
Trabajamos para promover un enfoque integral de la protección que incluya:
remarcar la importancia del autocuidado y el bienestar colectivo, y reconocer que el significado de cuidado y bienestar puede variar entre las diferentes culturas;
documentar las violaciones dirigidas contra lxs defensorxs usando una perspectiva feminista interseccional;
promover el reconocimiento y celebración social del trabajo y la resiliencia de lxs defensorxs; y
construir espacios ciudadanos que conduzcan al desmantelamiento de las desigualdades estructurales sin restricciones ni obstáculos.
Nuestras acciones
Nos proponemos contribuir a un mundo más seguro para lxs defensorxs, sus familias y comunidades. Creemos que actuar por los derechos y la justicia no debe poner en riesgo a lxs defensorxs, sino que debe ser valorado y celebrado.
Promoviendo la colaboración y coordinación entre organizaciones de derechos humanos y organizaciones de derechos de las mujeres en el plano internacional para fortalecer la capacidad de respuesta en relación a la seguridad y el bienestar de lxs defensorxs.
Apoyando a las redes regionales de defensorxs y de sus organizaciones, tales como la Iniciativa Mesoamericana de Mujeres Defensorxs de Derechos Humanos y la WHRD Middle East and North Africa Coalition [Coalición de Defensorxs de Derechos Humanos de Medio Oriente y África del Norte], promoviendo y fortaleciendo la acción colectiva para la protección, poniendo el énfasis en establecer redes de solidaridad y protección, promover el autocuidado y la incidencia y movilización por la seguridad de lxs defensorxs.
Aumentando la visibilidad y el reconocimiento de lxs defensorxs y sus luchas, así como de los riesgos que enfrentan, a través de la documentación de los ataques que sufren, e investigando, produciendo y difundiendo información sobre sus luchas, estrategias y desafíos.
Movilizando respuestas urgentes de solidaridad internacional para lxs defensorxs que están en riesgo a través de nuestras redes internacionales y regionales y de nuestrxs afiliadxs activxs.
Contenido relacionado
Snippet FEA No feminist economies without feminist unions (ES)
¡No hay economías feministas sin sindicatos feministas!
A través de la organización laboral y sindical, Sopo, Sabrina y Linda no solo luchan por los derechos de lxs mujeres, lxs trabajadorxs esenciales, lxs trabajadorxs migrantes y lxs trabajadores sexuales, sino por los derechos de todxs lxs trabajadorxs.
La lucha para acabar con la explotación de lxs trabajadores es una lucha feminista, y nos muestra que no hay economías feministas sin sindicatos feministas.
FRMag - Las Triple (ES)
Las Triple Cripples: ¡hablemos de sexo, nena!
por Nandini Tanya Lallmon
Olajumoke «Jay» Abdullahi y Kym Oliver son feministas revolucionarias en más de un sentido. (...)
Tshegofatso Senne is a Black, chronically-ill, genderqueer feminist who does the most. Much of their work is rooted in pleasure, community, and dreaming, while being informed by somatic abolitionism and disability, healing, and transformative justices. Writing, researching, and speaking on issues concerning feminism, community, sexual and reproductive justice, consent, rape culture, and justice, Tshegofatso has 8 years of experience theorising on the ways in which these topics intersect with pleasure. They run their own business, Thembekile Stationery, and their community platform Hedone brings people together to explore and understand the power of trauma-awareness and pleasure in their daily lives. Tshegofatso believes deeply in the individual and collective potential of regenerative and sustainable change, pleasure, and care work.
The body. The most permanent home we have.
The body, not the thinking brain, is where we experience most of our pain, pleasure, and joy, and where we process most of what happens to us. It is also where we do most of our healing, including our emotional and psychological healing. And it is where we experience resilience and a sense of flow.
These words, said by Resmaa Menakem in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, have stayed with me.
The body; it holds our experiences. Our memories. Our resilience. And as Menakem has written, the body also holds our traumas. It responds with spontaneous protective mechanisms to stop or prevent more damage. That is the power of the body. Trauma is not the event; it is how our bodies respond to events that feel dangerous to us. It is often left stuck in the body, until we address it. There’s no talking our body out of this response – it just is.
Using Ling Tan’s Digital Superpower app, I tracked how my body felt as I travelled around different parts of my city, Johannesburg, South Africa. The app is a gesture-driven online platform that allows you to trace your perceptions as you move through locations by logging and recording the data. I used it to track my psychosomatic symptoms – physical reactions connected to a mental cause. Whether that be flashbacks. Panic attacks. Tightness in the chest. A fast heartbeat. Tension headaches. Muscle pain. Insomnia. Struggling to breathe. I tracked these symptoms as I walked and travelled to different areas in Johannesburg. And I asked myself.
Where can we be safe? Can we be safe?
Psychosomatic responses can be caused by a number of things, and some are not as severe as others. After experiencing any kind of trauma you may feel intense distress in similar events or situations. I tracked my sensations, ranked on a scale of 1-5, where 1 were the instances I barely felt any of these symptoms – I felt at ease rather than on-guard and jumpy, my breath and heart rate were stable, I was not looking over my shoulder – and number 5 being the opposite – symptoms that had me close to a panic attack.
As a Black person. As a queer person. As a genderqueer person who could be perceived as a woman, depending on what my gender expression is that day.
I asked myself.
Where can we be safe?
Even in neighbourhoods one might consider “safe,” I felt constantly panicked. Looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, adjusting the way my T-shirt sat so my breasts wouldn’t show up as much, looking around to make sure I knew multiple routes to get out of the place I was should I sense danger. An empty road brings anxiety. A packed one does too. Being in an Uber does. Walking on a public road does. Being in my apartment does. So does picking up a delivery from the front of the building.
Can we be safe?
Pumla Dineo Gqola speaks of the Female Fear Factory. It may or may not be familiar, but if you’re someone socialised as a woman, you’ll know this feeling well. The feeling that has you planning every step you take, whether you’re going to work, school, or just running an errand. The feeling that you have to watch how you dress, act, speak in public and private spaces. The feeling in the pit of your stomach if you have to travel at night, get a delivery, or deal with any person who continues to socialise as a cis man. Harassed on the street, always with the threat of violence. Us existing in any space comes with an innate fear.
Fear is both an individual and a socio-political phenomenon. At an individual level, fear can be present as part of a healthy well developing warning system […] When we think about fear, it is important to hold both notions of individual emotional experience and the political ways in which fear has been used in different epochs for control. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
South African women, femmes, and queers know that every step we take outside – steps to do ordinary things: a walk to the shops, a taxi to work, an Uber from a party – all of these acts are a negotiation with violence. This fear, is part of the trauma. To cope with the trauma we carry in our bodies, we develop responses to detect danger – watching the emotional responses of those around us, reading for “friendliness.” We’re constantly on guard.
Day after day. Year after year. Life after life. Generation after generation.
On the additional challenge of this learned defence system, author of The Body Keeps Score, Bessel Van Der Kolk, has said
It disrupts this ability to accurately read others, rendering the trauma survivor either less able to detect danger or more likely to misperceive danger where there is none. It takes tremendous energy to keep functioning while carrying the memory of terror, and the shame of utter weakness and vulnerability.
As Resmaa Menakem has said, trauma is in everything; it infiltrates the air we breathe, the water we drink, the foods we eat. It is in the systems that govern us, the institutions that teach and also traumatise us, and within the social contracts we enter into with each other. Most importantly, we take it with us everywhere we go, in our bodies, exhausting us and eroding our health and happiness. We carry that truth in our bodies. Generations of us have.
So, as I walk around my city, whether an area is considered “safe” or not, I carry the traumas of generations whose responses are embedded in my body. My heart palpitates, it becomes difficult to breathe, my chest tightens – because my body feels as though the trauma is happening in that very moment. I live hyper vigilant. To the point where one is either too on-guard to mindfully enjoy their life, or too numb to absorb new experiences.
For us to begin to heal, we need to acknowledge these truths.
These truths that live in our bodies.
This trauma is what keeps many of us from living the lives we want. Ask any femme or queer person what safety looks like to them and they’ll mostly share examples that are simple tasks – being able to simply live joyful lives, without the constant threat of violence.
Feelings of safety, of comfort and ease, are spatial. When we embody our trauma, it affects the ways we perceive our own safety, affects the ways we interact with the world, and alters the ways we are able to experience and embody anything pleasurable and joyful.
We have to refuse this burdensome responsibility and fight for a safe world for all of us. Walking wounded as many of us are, we are fighters. Patriarchy may terrorise and brutalise us, but we will not give up the fight. As we repeatedly take to the streets, defying the fear in spectacular and seemingly insignificant ways, we defend ourselves and speak in our own name. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
Where can we be safe? How do we begin to defend ourselves, not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional, psychological, and spiritual senses?
“Trauma makes weapons out of us all,” adrienne maree brown has said in an interview conducted by Justin Scott Campbell. And her work, Pleasure Activism, offers us multiple methodologies to heal that trauma and ground ourselves in the understanding that healing, justice, and liberation can also be pleasurable experiences. Especially those of us who are the most marginalised, who may have been raised to equate suffering with “The Work.” The Work that so many of us have gone into as activists, community builders and workers, those serving the most marginalised, The Work that we struggle in order to do, burning ourselves out and rarely caring for our minds and bodies. The alternative is becoming more informed about our trauma, able to identify our own needs, and becoming deeply embodied. That embodiment means we are simply more able to experience the world through the senses and sensations in our bodies, acknowledging what they tell us rather than suppressing and ignoring the information it is communicating with us.
Being constantly in conversation with our living body and intentionally practising those conversations connects us to embodiment more deeply; it allows us to make tangible the emotions we feel as we interact with the world, befriend our bodies, and understand all that they try to teach us. When understanding trauma and embodiment paired, we can begin to start the healing and access pleasure more holistically, healthily, and in our daily lives without shame and guilt. We can begin to access pleasure as a tool for individual and social change, tapping into the power of the erotic as Audre Lorde described it. A power that allows us to share the joy we access and experience, expanding our capacity for happiness and understanding that we are deserving of it, even with our trauma.
Tapping into pleasure and embodying the erotic gives us the expansion of being deliberately alive, feeling grounded and stable and understanding our nervous systems. It allows us to understand and shed the generational baggage we’ve been carrying without realising; we can be empowered with the knowledge that even as traumatised as we are, as traumatised as we potentially could be in the future, we are still deserving of pleasurable and joyful lives, that we can share that power with our people. It is the community aspect that is missing from the ways we care for ourselves; self-care cannot exist without community care. We are able to feel a deeper internal trust, safety, and power of ourselves, especially in the face of future traumas that will trigger us, knowing how to soothe and stabilise ourselves. All this understanding leads us to a deep internal power that is resourced to meet any challenges that come your way.
As those living with deep generational traumas, we have come to distrust and perhaps think we are incapable of containing and accessing the power we have. In “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” Lorde teaches us that the erotic offers a source of replenishment, a way to demand better for ourselves and our lives.
For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavours brings us closest to that fullness.
I don’t say any of this lightly – I know that this is easier said than done. I know that many of us are prevented from understanding these truths, from internalising or even healing them. Resistance comes with acts of feeling unsafe, but is not impossible. Resisting power structures that keep the most powerful safe will always endanger those of us shoved to the margins. Acknowledging the traumas you’ve faced is a reclamation of your lived experiences, those that have passed and those that will follow; it is resistance that embodies that knowledge that we are deserving of more than the breadcrumbs these systems have forced us to lap up. It is a resistance that understands that pleasure is complicated by trauma, but it can be accessed in arbitrary and powerful ways. It is a resistance that acknowledges that our trauma is a resource that connects us to each other, and can allow us to keep each other safe. It is a resistance that understands that even with pleasure and joy, this is not a utopia; we will still harm and be harmed, but we will be better equipped for survival and thrive in a community of diverse care and kindness. A resistance that makes way for healing and connecting to our full human selves.
Healing will never be an easy and rosy journey, but it begins with the acknowledgment of the possibility. When oppression makes us believe that pleasure is not something that we all have equal access to, one of the ways that we start doing the work of reclaiming our full selves — our whole liberated, free selves — is by reclaiming our access to pleasure.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha has said in her article in Pleasure Activism (to which she contributed),
I know that for most people, the words “care” and “pleasure” can’t even be in the same sentence. We’re all soaking in ableism’s hatred of bodies that have needs, and we’re given a really shitty choice: either have no needs and get to have autonomy, dignity, and control over your life or admit you need care and lose all of the above.
The power that this has? We understand our traumas, so we understand those of others; we embody the sensations we experience and tend to them rather than distract and avoid. We access pleasure in ways that make us want to share that joy with those in our communities. When we are trauma-informed, we give ourselves more room to experience all this and give ourselves, and others, permission to heal. Imagine, a community in which everyone has access, resources, and time to live pleasurable lives, in whichever way they want and deserve. In which spatial traumas are lessened because the people that occupy them are trauma-aware, are filled with a tender care. Isn’t that healing? Is that not working through generational traumas? Does that not build and sustain healthier futures for us all?
It is time we reconnected with the ancestral knowledge that we deserve to live full lives. We need to get back in touch with our natural right to joy and existing for ourselves. To feel pleasure simply for the sake of it. To not live lives of terror. It sounds radical; it feels radical. In a world where we have been socialised and traumatised to numb, to fear, to feel and remain powerless, to be greedy and live with structural issues that lead to mental illness, what a gift and wonder it is to begin to feel, to be in community with those who feel, to be healthily interdependent in, to love each other boldly. Feeling is radical. Pleasure is radical. Healing is radical.
You have permission to feel pleasure. You have permission to dance, create, make love to yourself and others, celebrate and cultivate joy. You are encouraged to do so. You have permission to heal. Don’t bottle it up inside, don’t try to move through this time alone. You have permission to grieve. And you have permission to live. - adrienne maree brown, “You Have Permission”
Somatic embodiment allows us to explore our trauma, work through it and make meaningful connections to ourselves and the collective. Doing this over time sustains our healing; just like trauma, healing is not a one-time only event. This healing helps move us toward individual and collective liberation.
In “A Queer Politics of Pleasure,” Andy Johnson speaks about the ways in which the queering of pleasure offers us sources of healing, acceptance, release, playfulness, wholeness, defiance, subversion, and freedom. How expansive! When we embody pleasure in ways that are this holistic, this queer, we are able to acknowledge the limitation.
Queering pleasure also asks us the questions that intersect our dreaming with our lived realities.
Who is free or deemed worthy enough to feel pleasure? When is one allowed to feel pleasure or pleased? With whom can one experience pleasure? What kind of pleasure is accessible? What limits one from accessing their full erotic and pleased potential? - Andy Johnson, “A Queer Politics
of Pleasure”
When our trauma-informed pleasure practices are grounded in community care, we begin to answer some of these questions. We begin to understand the liberating potential. As pleasure activists, this is the reality we ground ourselves within. The reality that says, my pleasure may be fractal, but it has the potential to heal not only me and my community, but future bloodlines.
I am a whole system; we are whole systems. We are not just our pains, not just our fears, and not just our thoughts. We are entire systems wired for pleasure, and we can learn how to say yes from the inside out. - Prentis Hemphill, interviewed by Shar Jossell
There’s a world of pleasure that allows us to begin to understand ourselves holistically, in ways that give us room to rebuild the realities that affirm that we are capable and deserving of daily pleasure. BDSM, one of my deepest pleasures, allows me a glimpse into these realities where I can both feel and heal my trauma, as well as feel immeasurable opportunities to say yes from the inside out. While trauma keeps me stuck in a cycle of fight or flight, bondage, kneeling, impact, and breath play encourage me to stay grounded and connected, reconnecting to restoration. Pleasure that is playful allows me to heal, to identify where traumatic energy is stored in my body and focus my energy there. It allows me to express the sensations my body feels through screams of pain and delight, to express my no with no fear and revel in the fuck yes. With a safety plan, aftercare, and a deeper understanding of trauma, kink offers a place of pleasure and healing that is invaluable.
So whether your pleasure looks like cooking a meal at your leisure, engaging in sex, having bed days with your people, participating in disability care collectives, having someone spit in your mouth, going on accessible outings, having cuddle dates, attending an online dance party, spending time in your garden, being choked out in a dungeon,
I hope you take pleasure with you wherever you go. I hope it heals you and your people.
Recognising the power of the erotic within our lives can give us the energy to pursue genuine change within our world. - Audre Lorde, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power”
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.
Hevrin Khalaf était une grande dirigeante politique kurde de Syrie dans la région autonome du Rojava, où les femmes kurdes risquent leur vie pour résister aux offensives turques et pour bâtir un système féministe.
Elle a travaillé en tant que secrétaire-générale du Parti du Futur de la Syrie, un groupe qui souhaitait construire des ponts, réconcilier les différents groupes ethniques et mettre sur pied une « Syrie démocratique, pluraliste et décentralisée ».
Véritable symbole de cet effort de réconciliation, elle a également oeuvré à la promotion de l’égalité entre les femmes et les hommes et fut représentante auprès des journalistes en visite, des humanitaires et des diplomates.
Hevrin a de plus été diplômée en tant qu’ingénieure civile, à la ville de Derik, ainsi que l’une des fondatrices de la Fondation pour la Science et la Libre pensée en 2012.
Elle a été torturée et assassinée le 12 octobre 2019 par la milice Ahrar al-Sharqiya, soutenue par la Turquie, lors d’une opération militaire contre les Forces démocratiques syriennes dans le Rojava.
« L’assassinat de Khalaf est un tournant majeur dans l’histoire moderne de la Syrie, celui-ci ayant une fois de plus confirmé la validité du vieux proverbe kurde qui dit : « Il n’y a de véritable ami·e que la montagne ». Je serai toujours ami avec Khalaf et sa vision d’un monde meilleur. » – Ahed Al Hendi
Nous vivons dans un monde où la destruction de la Nature alimente notre économie mondiale actuelle.
FRMag - Roots of Love and Resilience
Kunyit Asam : Les racines de l’amour et de la résilience
par Prinka Saraswati
Les cycles menstruels sont généralement d’une durée de 27 à 30 jours. Pendant cette période, les règles elles-mêmes ne durent que 5 à 7 jours. L’épuisement, les sautes d’humeur et les crampes sont le résultat de l’inflammation qui se produit alors. (...)
< illustration : « Mouvement féministe », Karina Tungari
40 Years of AWID: The Scrapbook
Gather, Seed, and Disrupt.
In 2022, AWID celebrates 40 years since our founding. We’re using this moment to reflect on our past and learn from the road traveled as we prepare to look forward, and to forge the journey ahead. As we move through cycles of progress and pushback, we know that struggles for women’s rights and gender justice are iterative and non-linear. In collaboration with artist Naadira Patel, we created a scrapbook that highlights a handful of snapshots from AWID’s last four decades of feminist movement support.
We have not done all this on our own. We share this with deep appreciation for the constellation of feminist activists and groups that have made this work possible. In this context of so many converging crises, we embrace the opportunity to celebrate the power and resilience of feminist movements around the world.
Laurie Carlos was an actor, director, dancer, playwright, and poet in the United States. An extraordinary artist and visionary with powerful ways of bringing the art out in others.
“Laurie walked in the room (any room/every room) with swirling clairvoyance, artistic genius, embodied rigor, fierce realness—and a determination to be free...and to free others. A Magic Maker. A Seer. A Shape Shifter. Laurie told me once that she went inside people’s bodies to find what they needed.” - Sharon Bridgforth
She combined performance styles such as rhythmic gestures and text. Laurie mentored new actors, performers, writers and helped amplify their work through Naked Stages, a fellowship for emerging artists. She was an artistic fellow at Penumbra Theater and supported with identifying scripts to produce, with a goal of “bringing more feminine voices into the theater”. Laurie was also a member of Urban Bush Women, a renowned contemporary dance company telling stories of women of the African diaspora.
In 1976, as Lady in Blue, she made her Broadway debut in Ntozake Shange’s original and award-winning production of the poetic drama For colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf. Laurie’s own works include White Chocolate, The Cooking Show, and Organdy Falsetto.
“I tell the stories in the movement—the inside dances that occur spontaneously, as in life—the music and the text. If I write a line, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a line that is spoken; it can be a line that’s moved. A line from which music is created. The gesture becomes the sentence. So much of who we are as women, as people, has to do with how we gesture to one another all the time, and particularly through emotional moments. Gesture becomes a sentence or a state of fact. If I put on a script ‘four gestures,’ that doesn’t mean I’m not saying anything; that means I have opened it up for something to be said physically.” Laurie Carlos
Laurie was born and grew up in New York City, worked and lived in Twin Cities. She passed away on 29 December 2016, at the age of 67, after a battle with colon cancer.
Tributes:
“I believe that that was exactly Laurie’s intention. To save us. From mediocrity. From ego. From laziness. From half-realized art making. From being paralyzed by fear.
Laurie wanted to help us Shine fully.
In our artistry.
In our Lives.” - Sharon Bridgforth for Pillsbury House Theatre
“There’s no one that knew Laurie that wouldn’t call her a singular individual. She was her own person. She was her own person, her own artist; she put the world as she knew it on stage with real style and understanding, and she lived her art.” - Lou Bellamy, Founder of Penumbra Theater Company, for Star Tribune
El título de la conversación «¿Pansexual, ginosexual o abrosexual? Una exploración de lo queer, el placer y la positividad sexual» da mucho para pensar. Tiffany Kagure Mugo (escritora, educadora y curadora de HOLAAfrica) comienza la sesión con una lectura de Touch [Tocar/Tacto], una compilación recientemente publicada de ensayos de ficción y no ficción sobre sexo, sexualidad y placer. En este fragmento, la autora propone la idea de que el placer es constante y continuo, que está presente en las actividades cotidianas, y que no se circunscribe a las relaciones sexuales.
Esta idea de que el placer es parte de la vida diaria (al igual que tantas otras cosas) atraviesa la conversación, que también abarca temas sobre el deseo, la atracción y la orientación sexual.
Desde el comienzo, existe una sensación de esperanza y posibilidad. Tiffany presenta opciones y explica alternativas, dándonos un nuevo lenguaje para hablar sobre quiénes somos, qué nos gusta, y cómo lo queremos. Esto se refiere al deseo y al sexo, pero se trata primordialmente de autoconocimiento y empoderamiento. Tiffany habla apasionadamente sobre tomar decisiones desde un lugar de poder: aprender sobre la propia identidad para poder elegir lo mejor para unx mismx.
En una conversación abierta y libre, que representa la actitud que Tiffany propone que todxs adoptemos, aprendemos que el conocimiento sobre sexo y sexualidad está en permanente cambio, que los límites se están desplazando. Lo que podemos haber aprendido o, más fundamentalmente, aquello que se nos ocultó durante la infancia o la adultez es exactamente el lugar desde donde deberíamos comenzar a desaprender y reprogramarnos. Tiffany señala que, actualmente, las personas jóvenes necesitan herramientas para comprender las experiencias que ya están teniendo, un recordatorio para no subestimar jamás lo que lxs niñxs y adolescentes saben sobre la clase de placer/es que quieren procurarse en la vida.
La conversación abrió mi mente a esto: conocerme a mí misma me ayudará a desarrollar mi confianza; podré encarar relaciones con cuidado no solo de mí misma sino de otras personas también. Aprender el lenguaje de orientación, atracción, deseo y placer contribuirá a profundizar mis futuras conexiones. Valoré el espacio para pensar sobre este aspecto de mi vida: las partes privadas e íntimas a las que no accedo habitualmente. El entusiasmo de Tiffany sobre el placer y la identidad desplazó mis propias barreras, permitiéndome considerar nuevas posibilidades personales.
La idea de aprender a establecer conexiones holísticas no es algo común todavía. En general, vivimos en una cultura de conexiones instantáneas y pasajeras. Casi no hay tiempo para reflexionar verdaderamente sobre cómo y por qué buscamos relaciones o parejas... al menos, no hasta que llega un momento de crisis.
Por supuesto, existen espacios privilegiados que están abiertos a preguntas y conversaciones, tales como el festival «Crear Résister Transform» de AWID y otras plataformas o publicaciones en línea que promueven la libertad de pensamiento. Pero el acceso a la información de fuentes útiles y sin prejuicios es algo que todavía debe ser descifrado. Esto puede deberse en parte al hecho de que la gente no se siente segura en el lenguaje de la sexualidad y el placer.
La idea del lenguaje y las herramientas se repite durante toda la presentación de Tiffany. Ella y sus colegas están haciendo el trabajo de hablar, enseñar y nutrir, viendo qué es lo que cada persona necesita, dónde están esas personas, qué quieren para sí mismxs, y caminando junto con ellxs mientras construyen sus mundos ideales, brindándoles nuevas palabras y definiciones para ayudarlxs a configurar sus identidades en las diferentes etapas de sus vidas.
Esta es la clase de conversaciones que se necesita, incluso en una sociedad que permanentemente difunde un sinfín de mensajes sobre el cuidado de la salud, con diferentes grados de detalle. A veces la gente debe retrotraerse de las instancias de perspectiva global, y sentirse alentada a aprender sobre sus opiniones y deseos individuales. Esto es lo que hace la ponencia de Tiffany: genera un espacio para cada persona, dentro del rompecabezas general.
Un punto culminante de la ponencia de Tiffany fue la sección sobre los diferentes tipos de atracción:
Sexual: el deseo expreso de tener relaciones sexuales con una o varias personas Sensual: el deseo de tocar a una o varias personas, de estar físicamente cerca, sin necesariamente incluir una relación sexual Romántica: el deseo de salir con una o varias personas, o de estar en una relación con una o varias personas Platónica: el deseo de construir amistades profundas Estética: el deseo de mirar a una o varias personas, sintiendo placer por su apariencia
Estos cinco tipos o niveles de atracción ofrecen una forma abreviada para definir el deseo y el placer, y ayudan a contextualizar las distintas clases de placer que pueden experimentar las personas.
Pensar la atracción más allá de lo físico o sexual ofrece una nueva perspectiva sobre la conexión. Es una oportunidad para restar presión a las relaciones, abriendo oportunidades para asociaciones diferentes, más esclarecidas y satisfactorias.
Esta libertad y este conocimiento que propone Tiffany configuran una hoja de ruta hacia el futuro. La presentación ofreció una nueva perspectiva sobre aquello que es posible.
Tal como lo expresa el fragmento de apertura, el placer es continuo. A la luz de la ponencia de Tiffany, también resulta claro que el placer es dinámico y apasionante. Siempre hay más para aprender.
Esto puede parecer abrumador al comienzo, pero del otro lado del titubeo se encuentran la esperanza, el potencial y la libertad.
Fadila M. fue una activista tribal soulaliyate de Azrú, en la región Ifrane de Marruecos. Luchó contra una forma específica de discriminación territorial dirigida a las mujeres tribales.
Como parte del Movimiento de Mujeres Soulaliyate por el Derecho a la Tierra, trabajó para reformar el marco legislativo relacionado con la administración de la propiedad comunitaria, a través de la adopción, en 2019, de tres proyectos de ley que garantizan la igualdad de mujeres y varones.
Según las leyes consuetudinarias vigentes, las mujeres no tenían derecho a beneficiarse de la tierra, en especial aquellas que eran solteras, viudas o divorciadas. En Marruecos, los derechos a las tierras colectivas eran transmitidos tradicionalmente entre los varones de la familia mayores de 16 años. Desde 2007, Fadila M. ha sido parte del movimiento de mujeres, la primera movilización nacional de base por los derechos a la tierra. Una de sus conquistas ha sido que, en 2012, las mujeres soulaliyate pudieron registrarse por primera vez en las listas de beneficiarixs, y recibir compensaciones relacionadas con la cesión de tierras. El movimiento también logró la enmienda del dahir (decreto del Rey de Marruecos) de 1919, para garantizar el derecho a la igualdad de las mujeres.
Fadila M. falleció el 27 de septiembre de 2018. Las circunstancias de su muerte no son claras. Participó en una marcha de protesta relacionada con el tema de las tierras colectivas y, si bien las autoridades informaron que su muerte fue accidental y que tuvo un paro cardíaco camino al hospital, la sección local de la Asociación de Derechos Humanos de Marruecos (AMDH) señaló que Fadila fue sofocada por un miembro de la fuerza policial utilizando una bandera marroquí. Su familia solicitó una investigación, pero los resultados de la autopsia no fueron dados a conocer.
Nota: Como no ninguna fotografía/imagen de Fadila M. disponible, la obra de arte (en lugar de un retrato) pretende representar por lo que luchó y trabajó: la tierra y los derechos a vivir y tener acceso a esa tierra y lo que crece en ella.
