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.
El Tributo de AWID es una exhibición de arte que honra a feministas, a activistas por los derechos de las mujeres y de la justicia social de todo el mundo que ya no están con nosotrxs.
En 2020, hacemos un cambio
El Tributo de este año cuenta y comparte las historias y narraciones de quienes crearon conjuntamente realidades feministas, ofrecieron visiones de alternativas a los sistemas y actores que nos oprimen, y propusieron nuevas formas de organizarnos, de movilizarnos, de luchar, de trabajar, de vivir y de aprender.
Se agregan a la galería 49 retratos nuevos de feministas y defensorxs de derechos humanos. Aunque muchxs feministas y defensorxs han fallecido debido a edad avanzada o enfermedad, muchísimxs han sido asesinadxs debido a su trabajo y por ser quienes eran.
Esta violencia creciente (de parte de Estados, empresas transnacionales, crimen organizado, sicarios no identificados, etc.) no se dirige solo a activistas individuales sino a nuestro trabajo común y a las realidades feministas.
Al compartir las historias de lxs activistas en este Tributo, mantenemos vivo su legado y nos inspiran para el trabajo futuro de nuestros movimientos.
Lors retratos de 2020 fueron diseñados por la ilustradora y animadora galardonada, Louisa Bertman.
En AWID nos gustaría agradecer a las familias y organizaciones que nos compartieron sus historias personales, y así haber contribuido a este memorial. Nos unimos a ellxs para continuar el extraordinario trabajo de estxs activistas y defensorxs, y en el esfuerzo para asegurarnos de que se logre justicia en los casos que permanecen en la impunidad
"Ellos trataron de enterrarnos pero no sabían que éramos semillas."‐ Proverbio Mexicano
Presentamos el Tributo por primera vez en 2012
Primero tomó forma como una exposición física de retratos y biografías de feministas y activistas que habían fallecido, en el 12º Foro Internacional de AWID, en Turquía. Ahora vive como una galería en línea, que actualizamos cada año.
Desde 2012 hemos presentado más de 467 feministas y defensorxs.
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.
Diana Isabel Hernández Juárez fue una maestra guatemalteca, defensora de los derechos humanos y activista comunitaria y del medioambiente. Fue la coordinadora del programa ambiental de la parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, en la costa sur del país.
Diana dedicó su vida a co-crear conciencia ambiental, y trabajó de modo particularmente estrecho con comunidades locales para abordar problemas ambientales y proteger los recursos naturales. Inició proyectos tales como viveros forestales, granjas municipales, huertas familiares y campañas de limpieza. Participó activamente en programas de reforestación, tratando de recuperar especies nativas y paliar la falta de agua, en más de 32 comunidades rurales.
El 7 de septiembre de 2019, Diana recibió disparos y fue asesinada por dos hombres armados desconocidos mientras se encontraba participando de una procesión en su comunidad. Diana tenía solamente 35 años en el momento de su muerte.
Snippet FEA Unio Otras Photo 3 (ES)
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
Participé en una actividad solo para afiliadxs, y lo que me conmovió en particular fue ver cómo había espacio para que todas compartieran, y que no había ningún juicio al respecto. Toda la sesión fue enérgica y vibrante.- Kirthi Jayakumar, fundadora de The Gender Security Project, India
Cette communauté est un endroit de connexions, où l’on comprend nos combats individuels comme faisant partie de luttes mondiales, et où l’on peut même parfois danser ! Il n’existe aucun endroit de la sorte en ligne, où être en contact avec des activistes de terrain, qui viennent du monde entier, et forger de la solidarité et de la sororité..- Paz Romero, Argentina
Jaitun, souvent appelée « Amma », œuvrait à la protection des droits reproductifs des femmes et des filles en Inde. Son travail s’est particulièrement centré sur la défense des personnes pauvres et marginalisées, dont les filles et femmes dalits et musulmanes.
Jaitun était la force vitale derrière l’affaire Jaitun contre Janpura Maternity Home & Ors. Sa persévérance à obtenir justice a permis d’aboutir à un jugement sans précédent rendu par la Cour Suprême de Delhi. Le gouvernement indien a ainsi été tenu responsable de n’avoir pas rempli plusieurs de ses obligations juridiques, telles que les soins de santé reproductive et le droit à l’alimentation.
Sa fille Fatema, qui vivait sous le seuil de pauvreté, s’était vu refuser l’accès à des services de santé reproductive et avait dû accoucher en public, sous un arbre. Jaitun et Fatema étaient à cette époque sans domicile, car le gouvernement avait démoli leur maison dans le cadre d’un projet de réaménagement et de gentrification à New Delhi.
« Depuis, le jugement a fait jurisprudence pour de nombreux·euses avocat·e·s et activistes du monde entier, et notamment l’ancien Rapporteur spécial des Nations Unies sur le droit à la santé, non seulement comme source d’inspiration, mais comme solide tremplin pour obtenir la justice. » - Jameen Kaur
Jaitun a inspiré de très nombreuses autres femmes vivant dans la pauvreté à réclamer leurs droits. Elle s’est éteinte en 2017.
« Avec le décès de Jaitun, nous venons de perdre une inimitable guerrière pour la justice, mais son esprit de résistance perdure. » - Jameen Kaur
« Je n’ai, au cours de mes 18 années de plaidoyer pour les droits humains, jamais rencontré de femme qui m’ait tant inspirée et émue qu’Amma. Son courage féroce, son humour inimitable - nous la comparions à l’actrice de Bollywood Hema Malini -, ses colères lorsque l’on passait trop de temps sans venir la voir : elle nous disait, une étincelle dans le regard, « Tu as oublié Amma, Amma ne te parle plus », puis faisait volte-face de manière mélodramatique, pour se retourner en riant et tendre les bras pour une embrassade. Sa gentillesse, et en fin de compte son amour, sa joie d’aimer et sa volonté que chacun·e ait le droit de vivre dignement en faisaient un être à part . Elle me manque terriblement. » - Jameen Kaur
Snippet FEA Linda Porn Bio (FR)
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.
A 30 años de la adopción de la Declaración y Plataforma de Acción de Beijing, existe una ola creciente de fascismos que ejercen gran poder e influencia en los espacios multilaterales, todo un retroceso para las conquistas de igualdad de género y la protección de los derechos humanos en el mundo entero.
En torno a la CSW69, estamos organizando, en conjunto y de forma horizontal, una serie de valientes espacios sobre el terreno y en línea a fin de compartir estrategias y forjar un poder feminista más allá de Beijing +30. Nuestra presencia colectiva trastorna las prácticas institucionales de exclusión en dichos espacios y, a la vez, apoya los procesos de organización de los movimientos en torno a las alternativas feministas a los sistemas de opresión.
Súmate a las conversaciones desde el 10 al 21 de marzo de 2025, mientras transformamos de forma colectiva la CSW69 en espacios para y sobre la resistencia y la solidaridad.
Rosa Candida Mayorga Muñoz was a Guatemalan social worker, union leader and labor rights defender. She was affectionately called Rosita and she inspired change.
In the 1980’s, Rosa became the first female member of the Executive Committee of the Union of Workers of the Institute of National Electrification (STINDE), a union she first joined to advocate for women’s labor rights. For her, this meant fighting for equal opportunities in a company where many women faced a discriminatory and violent system created by company authorities. Rosa had also suffered sexual harassment in her workplace, both by co-workers and managers. She was not to be kept quiet though.
Rosa continued fighting and was part of the effort to mould the struggle into a more specific form, that of the INDE-STINDE Collective Pact of Working conditions. This pact was a pioneer, the first in Guatemala to typify the concept of (sexual) harassment. It serves as a reference for the Guatemalan legislation on labor matters and is an encouragement for other unions.
“She had no fighting tools other than her own ideals... Many times she was intimidated, harassed to put the fight aside, but her courage generated the image of hope for grassroots unionists. Rosita created an image of respect, not only within her union, but before the authorities of the institution, before the women's movement; she was recognized as a pioneer of the trade union women's movement, in a space that had been more dominated by men.” - Maritza Velasquez, ATRAHDOM
Rosa passed away on 4 April 2018 at the age of 77.
Snippet FEA Principles of work Education and Learning (EN)
EDUCATION AND CONTINUOUS LEARNING
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.
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. (...)
