Tan pronto como podamos, compartiremos información sobre el programa, los espacios y la forma en que todo el mundo puede participar en su construcción, en camino hacia el Foro y durante el Foro. Sigue con atención las actualizaciones.

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

Leer el capítulo completo

Alors que le capitalisme hétéropatriarcal s’acharne à nous contraindre au consumérisme et à la conformité, nous constatons que nos luttes sont cloisonnées et séparées par des frontières aussi bien physiques que virtuelles.

Avec les défis supplémentaires d’une pandémie mondiale à surmonter, cette stratégie du « diviser pour mieux régner » a favorisé l’expansion de l’exploitation dans de nombreux domaines.

Malgré tout, du 1er au 30 septembre 2021, le festival Crear | Résister | Transform : un festival dédié aux mouvements féministes ! de l’AWID nous a emmené·e·s à la découverte de ce que cela signifiait d’incarner nos réalités dans des espaces virtuels. Lors du festival, des activistes féministes du monde entier se sont réuni·e·s non seulement pour partager des expériences de libertés, de résistances et de solidarités transfrontalières durement gagnées, mais aussi pour exprimer ce à quoi pourrait ressembler une forme transnationale d’unité. 

C’est précisément cette unité qui a le potentiel de dépasser les frontières, permettant de tisser une vision de l’avenir qui est transformatrice parce qu’abolitionniste et anticapitaliste. À travers des infrastructures numériques que nous avons investies avec notre queerness, notre résistance et nos imaginaires, le festival a présenté un moyen de se détourner des systèmes qui nous rendent complices de l’oppression des autres et de nous-mêmes. 

Si Audre Lorde nous a appris que « les outils du maître ne détruiront jamais la maison du maître », Sara Ahmed nous a montré en revanche que nous pouvons en faire mauvais usage. Le fait d’avoir à créer un espace de rassemblement, en dépit de toutes les autres contraintes pesant sur nos emplois du temps, nous a permis d’imaginer une façon de rompre avec la réalité du capitalisme hétéropatriarcal. 

Maintenant, si nous comprenons le rassemblement comme une forme de plaisir, il devient alors possible de faire le lien entre le plaisir transgressif et la résistance transnationale/transdigitale; entre les types de plaisir qui bousculent les frontières d’une part, et la queerness, la théâtralité, la lutte pour la terre et les autochtones, l’anticapitalisme et l’organisation anticoloniale d’autre part.

La présente édition a tenté de donner une idée de la manière dont l’exercice de rassemblement du festival a revêtu de multiples formes et imaginations. Au-delà des collaborations directes avec certain·e·s de ses orateurices et rêveur·se·s, nous avons fait appel à une pléthore d’autres voix du Sud mondial pour aborder plusieurs de ces sujets et thématiques. Vous trouverez ci-dessous une carte de certains des panels du festival qui nous ont le plus inspiré·e·s.

Súmate al movimiento feminista abocado a recuperar la acción por el clima del control corporativo

Con 1773 cabilderos de los combustibles fósiles presentes en la COP29 del año pasado, nos dirigimos, junto con otres feministas a Belém (Brasil) del 10 al 21 de noviembre de 2025. Allí continuaremos denunciando las soluciones falsas, llamando la atención sobre la captura corporativa, y exigiendo que los Estados cumplan sus compromisos bajo las Responsabilidades Comunes pero Diferenciadas y las Capacidades Respectivas (en inglés) para impulsar las alternativas económicas feministas.

USD 2,7 billones para gasto militar. USD 300.000 millones para la justicia climática. Estamos aquí para dar vuelta el relato.

Encuentro Ecosocialista Internacional

Paneles, talleres, plenarias y espacios de intercambio entre colectivos, activistas y organizaciones que luchamos para recorrer de forma colectiva el camino hacia una agenda y un programa de lucha por el ecosocialismo.

📅 8 - 11 de noviembre de 2025
📍 Buenos Aires, Argentina

Regístrate aquí

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.

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?

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?

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.

Sexting Like a Feminist: Humor in the Digital Feminist Revolution

On September 2nd, 2021, the amazing feminist and social justice activists of AWID’s Crear | Résister | Transform festival came together not only to share resistance strategies, co-create, and transform the world, but also to talk dirty on Twitter.

The exercise was led by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah, co-founder of the blog Adventures From The Bedrooms of African Women and author of The Sex Lives of African Women, who paired up with the Pan-Africanist digital queer womanist platform AfroFemHub, to ask the question: How can we safely and consensually explore our pleasure, desires, and fantasies via text?

Basically: How would a feminist sext?

I believe this is a critically important question because it looks at the larger issue of how one navigates the online world with a feminist understanding. Under capitalism, discourse around bodies and sex can be dehumanizing and distorting, and navigating sexual pleasure in virtual spaces can feel performative. So seeking out avenues where we can explore how we share our desire in ways that are affirming and enthusiastic can push back against dominant models of presentation and consumption to reclaim these spaces as sites for authentic engagement, proving that all sexting should be just that: feminist.

Plus, allowing feminist discourse to embody its playful side in online discourse helps reframe a popular narrative that feminist engagement is joyless and dour. But as we know, having fun is part of our politics, and an inherent part of what it means to be feminist.

Using the hashtag #SextLikeAFeminist, scholars and activists from all over the world chimed in with their thirstiest feminist tweets, and here are my top ten.

As these tweets show, it turns out that sexting like a feminist is sexy, funny – and horny. Yet, it never loses sight of its commitment to equity and justice.

Les partenaires suivantes organisent les pôles de la COP30 :

1. Caribbean Feminist Climate Justice Movement, Barbade
2. Gender Interactive Alliance (GIA)*, Pakistan
3. Women’s Initiative for Sustainable Environment (WISE)*, Nigéria
4. Réseau des Acteurs du Développement Durable (RADD), Cameroun
5. MASIPAG*, Philippines

*Sites web en anglais