Guatemala - Rural Women Diversify Incomes and Build Resilience
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Supporting feminist, women’s rights and gender justice movements to thrive, to be a driving force in challenging systems of oppression, and to co-create feminist realities.
Building Feminist Economies is about creating a world with clean air to breath and water to drink, with meaningful labour and care for ourselves and our communities, where we can all enjoy our economic, sexual and political autonomy.
In the world we live in today, the economy continues to rely on women’s unpaid and undervalued care work for the profit of others. The pursuit of “growth” only expands extractivism - a model of development based on massive extraction and exploitation of natural resources that keeps destroying people and planet while concentrating wealth in the hands of global elites. Meanwhile, access to healthcare, education, a decent wage and social security is becoming a privilege to few. This economic model sits upon white supremacy, colonialism and patriarchy.
Adopting solely a “women’s economic empowerment approach” is merely to integrate women deeper into this system. It may be a temporary means of survival. We need to plant the seeds to make another world possible while we tear down the walls of the existing one.
We believe in the ability of feminist movements to work for change with broad alliances across social movements. By amplifying feminist proposals and visions, we aim to build new paradigms of just economies.
Our approach must be interconnected and intersectional, because sexual and bodily autonomy will not be possible until each and every one of us enjoys economic rights and independence. We aim to work with those who resist and counter the global rise of the conservative right and religious fundamentalisms as no just economy is possible until we shake the foundations of the current system.
Our Actions
Our work challenges the system from within and exposes its fundamental injustices:
Advance feminist agendas: We counter corporate power and impunity for human rights abuses by working with allies to ensure that we put forward feminist, women’s rights and gender justice perspectives in policy spaces. For example, learn more about our work on the future international legally binding instrument on “transnational corporations and other business enterprises with respect to human rights” at the United Nations Human Rights Council.
Mobilize solidarity actions: We work to strengthen the links between feminist and tax justice movements, including reclaiming the public resources lost through illicit financial flows (IFFs) to ensure social and gender justice.
Build knowledge: We provide women human rights defenders (WHRDs) with strategic information vital to challenge corporate power and extractivism. We will contribute to build the knowledge about local and global financing and investment mechanisms fuelling extractivism.
Create and amplify alternatives: We engage and mobilize our members and movements in visioning feminist economies and sharing feminist knowledges, practices and agendas for economic justice.
“The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling – their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability. Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing”.
Winnie has been described as a “militant firebrand activist” who fought the apartheid regime in South Africa.
She was imprisoned multiple times, and on many occasions placed in solitary confinement.
Ma’Winnie, as she is affectionately remembered, was known for being outspoken about the challenges Black women faced during and after apartheid, having been on the receiving end of these brutalities herself as a mother, wife and activist during the struggle. She transcended the misconception that leadership is gender, class or race-based. Despite being a controversial figure, she is remembered by many by her Xhosa name, “ Nomzamo”, which means "She who endures trials".
Ma’Winnie continues to be an inspiration to many, particularly young South African women for whom her death has spurred a burgeoning movement, with the mantra: "She didn't die, she multiplied."
The current global economic crisis provides stark evidence that the economic policies of the last 3 decades have not been working.
The devastation that the crisis has wrought on the most vulnerable households in the Global North and Global South is a reminder that the formulation of economic policy and the realization of human rights (economic, social, political, civil and cultural) have for too long been divorced from one another. Economic policy and human rights do not have to be opposing forces, but can exist symbiotically.
Macroeconomic policies affect the operation of the economy as a whole, shaping the availability and distribution of resources. Within this context, fiscal and monetary policies are key.
Definition
Fiscal policy refers to both public revenue and public expenditure, and the relationships between them as expressed in the government budget.
Monetary policy includes policies on interest and exchange rates and the money supply, as well as the regulation of the financial sector.
Macroeconomic policies are implemented using instruments such as taxation, government spending, and control over the supply of money and credit.
These policies affect key prices such as interest and exchange rates that directly influence, among other things, the level of employment, access to affordable credit, and the housing market.
Applying a human rights framework to macroeconomic policy allows States to better comply with their obligation to respect, protect, and fulfill economic and social rights. Human rights are internationally agreed-upon universal standards. These legal norms are articulated in United Nations treaties including, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR).
Article 1 of the UDHR states that, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.”
Although the UDHR was written about six decades ago its relevance is enduring. Many of the ideas address concerns and critical issues that people continue to face globally. Issues regarding inhuman punishment (Art. 5), discrimination (Art. 7), property ownership (Art. 17), equal pay for equal work (Art. 23/2), and access to education (Art. 26/1) are pertinent matters in countries South and North of the equator.
More specifically, States have an obligation under international law to respect, protect and fulfill human rights, including the economic and social rights of people within their jurisdiction. This is particularly relevant now given the financial crisis. In the U.S., regulation is skewed in favor of certain interests. The failure to extend government’s supervisory role in the context of social and economic change is a failure with regard to the obligation to protect human rights.
Feminist perspective
States should abide by key human rights principles to achieve economic and social rights. Some of the principles have potentially important implications for governance of financial institutions and markets, yet these possibilities have been underexplored.
Economic and social rights have a concrete institutional and legal grounding. Global declarations, international treaties, covenants, and, in a number of cases, national constitutions have incorporated aspects of the economic and social rights framework—providing an institutional infrastructure in national and international law.
Some have suggested that a consideration of global justice may not be a useful pursuit because of the institutional complexities involved. However, this does not get around that fact that global institutions already have an impact on social justice, both positive and negative.
It is useful to tease out the implications that elements of alternative frameworks have for economic governance, specifically those supported by existing institutions. Economic and social rights represent one such concrete framework. The framework is an evolving one, and ongoing discussion and deliberation is necessary to address underdeveloped areas and potential deficiencies.
Known as “Ate Liza,” Annaliza was the president of the Agrarian Reform Council for Mindanao Pioneers, an umbrella group in Tacurong City, Philippines.
A loved mother of four, teacher and community leader, Annaliza is remembered by her community as “she who leads when no one wants to lead, she who talks when no one wants to talk, she who stood with courage to help the agrarian reform beneficiaries to own lands.”
Annaliza was shot dead by unknown assailants in front of the Sultan Kudarat State University (SKSU) while on her way to Salabaca National High School in Esperanza.
Her family have said “Naghihintay pa rin kami ng hustisya para sa kanya” (we are still waiting justice for her).
Forum 2024 - FAQ - Registration EN
Registration
Defending our land and ourselves from corporate power
These industries 'extract' raw materials from the Earth: mining, timber, gas, oil are some examples
This economical model exploits nature and as it intensifies, so does the inequality between global North with their large corporations, and the global South, where resources are extracted.
Land contamination, water pollution, environmental damage, communities displaced are only some of the consequences.
Mariam was a paralegal at the Kawagib Moro Human Rights Alliance.
Mariam was a staunch critic of militarization in Moro communities, and consistently denounced aerial bombardment and encampment. She had to seek sanctuary after exposing and calling out the injustices committed against Muslim communities in the Philippines.
She is believed to have been killed by suspected military agents because of her work as a WHRD. The assailants who killed Mariam waited for her, caught up with the vehicle she was using and shot her seven times.
The AWID Forum Access Fund
We strive to make the AWID Forum a truly global gathering with participation from a diverse array of movements, regions and generations. To this end, AWID mobilizes resources for a limited Access Fund (AF) to assist some participants with the costs of attending the Forum.
The 14th AWID International Forum will take place 11-14 January 2021, in Taipei, Taiwan.
How will the Access Fund be allocated?
For this AWID Forum, there will be no application process.
Access Fund grants will be allocated by invitation only to:
Two persons per activity selected for the Forum program (decided by those organizations, groups or individuals organizing the activity)
Participants who identify as part of Priority Forum Constituencies (PFCs) recommended by the organizations, networks and groups who are co-creating the Forum with AWID.
PFCs are those which we consider would strengthen our collective power as movements, are not centered in mainstream feminist movements, and whose Feminist Realities we would like to honor, celebrate and visibilize:
- Black feminists
- Indigenous feminists
- Trans, gender non-conforming and intersex feminists
- Feminists with disabilities
- Feminist sex workers and informal workers, including migrant workers
- Feminists affected by migration
- Women affected by drug policy
- Feminists from the Forum regions (with a focus on the Pacific and mainland China)
In addition, AWID will fund approximately 100 participants from the Forum’s location. Forum Committee Members (Content and Methodology, Access and Host) as well as those in the Artists Working Group [link] are also granted Access Fund support.
What does the Access Fund cover?
For selected participants, the Access Fund will cover the cost of their:
Flight
Accommodation
Visa
Local transportation in Taipei
Travel medical insurance
The Access Fund will NOT cover their:
Forum registration fee
Transportation to and from the airport in their city of departure
Other incidental costs
Apart from the Access Fund, how can I fund my participation at the Forum?
We have listed other ideas on how to fund your participation at the AWID Forum on the Funding Ideas page.
Andaiye in Swahili means ‘a daughter comes home’. Born Sandra Williams on 11 September 1942 in Georgetown, Guyana, she changed her name to ‘Andaiye’ in 1970 as the Black Power movements swept her country and the wider Caribbean region.
Andaiye was seen as a transformative figure on the frontlines of the struggles for liberation and freedom. She was an early member and active in the leadership of the Working People’s Alliance (WPA), a socialist party in Guyana which fought against authoritarian rule and continued throughout her life to focus on justice for the working-class and rural women’s rights and on bridging ethnic barriers between Indo and Afro-Guyanese women.
Andaiye was a founding member of Red Thread Women, an organization that advocated for women’s care work to be fairly remunerated, worked at the University of the West Indies and with CARICOM. Never afraid to challenge governments, she pointed out gender imbalances in state boards, laws that discriminated against sex workers, called for abortion rights in Jamaica and spoke out against trade agreements such as the Caribbean Single Market and Economy (CSME) that allowed for the free movement of women domestic migrant workers but did not give their children the same rights.
Andaiye published several scholarly essays, wrote newspaper columns and also edited the last books of Walter Rodney, the Guyanese political activist and fellow WPA leader, who was assassinated in 1980. A cancer survivor, Andaiye was one of the founders of the Guyana Cancer Society and the Cancer Survivors’ Action Group. She also served on the executive of the Caribbean Association for Feminist Research and Action (CAFRA), as a Director of Help and Shelter and as Board Member of the Guyana National Commission on Women. She received a number of awards, including the Golden Arrow of Achievement in Guyana (the fourth highest national award).
Andaiye passed away on 31 May 2019 at the age of 77. The subsequent tributes that flowed in from activists, friends and those inspired by her life spoke eloquently to her amazing legacy and her beautiful humanity.
Here are but a few:
“Andaiye had a profound effect on me...she was so many things, an educator, fighter, she taught me to be self-critical, to think more clearly, she taught me about survival, about incredible courage, about compassion, about going beyond external appearances and treating people as people and not being distracted by status, class, race...anything.” - Peggy Antrobus, Feminist Activist, Author, Scholar, Barbados
“The kind of confident idealism Andaiye expressed, this willingness to confront the world and a stubborn belief that you could actually change it... That politics of hope...How else to honour her life, legacy and memory but to keep doing the work ethically and with ongoing self-critique? And to put women’s caring work at the center of it.” - Tonya Haynes, Barbados
“I can hear her quip at our collective keening. So through the tears I can laugh. Deep bows to you beloved Andaiye, thank you for everything. Love and light for your spirit’s journey. Tell Walter and all the ancestors howdy.” - Carol Narcisse, Jamaica
Janet Benshoof was a human rights lawyer from the United States and an advocate for women’s equality, sexual and reproductive rights.
She campaigned to broaden access to contraceptives and abortions across the world, and battled anti-abortion rulings and in the American territory of Guam. She was arrested in 1990 for opposing her country’s most restrictive abortion law, but won an injunction at the local court in Guam that blocked the law and eventually won at the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, striking down the law for good.
“The women in Guam are in a very tragic situation. I never intend to be quiet about that.” - Janet Benshoof for People Magazine
Janet established landmark legal precedents including the US Food and Drug Administrations’ approval of emergency contraception, as well as the application of international law to ensure the rights of rape victims in the Iraqi High Tribunal’s prosecution of Saddam-era war crimes.
Janet was President and founder of the Global Justice Center, as well as founder of the Center for Reproductive Rights, the world’s first international human rights organization focused on reproductive choice and equality. She served 15 years as Director of the American Civil Liberties Union’s Reproductive Rights Project, where she spearheaded litigation shaping US constitutional law on gender equality, free speech, and reproductive rights.
“Janet was known for her brilliant legal mind, her sharp sense of humor, and for her courage in the face of injustice.” - Anthony D. Romero
Named one of the “100 Most Influential Lawyers in America” by the National Law Journal, Janet was the recipient of numerous awards and honors.
She was born in May 1947 and passed away in December 2017.
A complex and evolving network of anti-rights actors is exerting increasing influence in international spaces as well as domestic politics. Often backed by obscure funding, these actors build tactic alliances across issues, regions, and faiths to increase their impact.
We are witnessing fascist and fundamentalist actors that, while nationalist in their discourse, are completely transnational in their ideological underpinnings, political alliances, and networks of financing. In some cases these groups are backed by obscure funding flows, linked with big business, or far-right political parties. However, they also create strategic alliances, including, in some cases, with segments of the feminist and women’s rights movements, and distance themselves from more outwardly extreme elements to appear more legitimate. Anti-rights actors are also spreading and replicating their brand of anti-rights organizing - be that campaigning and lobbying or strategic litigation - across the globe.
Table of Contents
CitizenGo
Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF)
Funding of Anti-rights Actors
The Links Between Anti-trans Feminists and Christian Fundamentalists
Exercise: Let’s Map the Landscape
Movement Resistance Story: Catolicadas, a Powerful Communication Tool to Promote Gender Equality and Sexual and Reproductive Rights
Gloria Chicaiza, an Ecuadorian social and environmental activist, was a fervent defender of land and water. She defied the status quo, fighting against a model of development based on extraction and worked tirelessly for ecological justice and the rights of communities affected by mining.
In diverse areas of Ecuador, Gloria was part of resistance actions in favour of protecting the ecosystem. With passion and dedication, Gloria supported the indigenous and environmental movement, its communities and organizations who oppose mining projects and protect their territories and collective life projects. She spoke out, in local and international foras, against the criminalization of dissent and resistance, the pressure and violence being enacted against community activists, in particular, women human rights defenders and in support of community led efforts for food sovereignty and sustainability.
She was the Mining Justice Coordinator at Acción Ecológica, member of the Latin American Network of Women Defenders of the Social and Environmental Rights and a Board member at the Observatory of Mining Conflicts of Latin America.
In 2014, Gloria supported the coordination of a delegation to the UN COP 20 Dialogue on Climate Change. The group consisted of 25 Indigenous women from Latin America.
Gloria passed away due to complications from a lung transplant on December 28, 2019. She is remembered for her resistance and tireless work.
"The fastest way to achieve sustainability is still resistance." - Gloria Chicaiza (2010 interview)
Tributes:
“Para GLORIA. GLORIA Agua. GLORIA Tierra. GLORIA Madre. GLORIA Revolución. GLORIA Hermana. GLORIA Cielo. GLORIAmiga. GLORIAstral. Thank you for weaving us together.” -Liliana Gutierrez
“Thank you Glorita, for sustaining hope, for keeping the fabric strong, for connecting the community, for the united hands, for solidarity, thank you Glorita for standing with us in the most difficult moments. Thank you for teaching us that throughout life, nobody gets tired.” (Chakana News)
“Gloria Chicaiza cherished and flourished in being one of many. And as humble as she was, she had an uncanny ability to lead and maintain a steady and thunderous beat, a life-affirming pulse that guided, mobilized, and inspired communities and networks in the protection of Mother Earth. She denounced all forms of violence against cuerpos-territorios. She endorsed el buen vivir.” - Gabriela Jiménez, Latin America Partnerships Coordinator, KAIROS
“Thank you Gloria Chicaiza from infinity we are sure that you will continue to support our struggle. You who continued to struggle with us despite your failing health. You will live on in the forests and the water that you defended with such courage. You will live on in our hearts.”- The community of Intag in Ecuador
Yannia Sofía Garzón Valencia I am a Black woman and a community weaver. I live in Santander de Quilichao in Cauca, Colombia. I am interested in the creative processes that organize sustainable collective life. I like exchanging thoughts and cooking, investigating and analyzing, planting seeds and learning from plants, reading and playing. I am currently coordinating the observatory of gender-based violence against afro-descendant communities in Colombia (@VigiaAfro).
The three of us were “sharing” the afternoon in a neighborhood south of Bogota.
There was an unusually large green playing area and we sat on little wooden stools under an elderberry tree. We were finally experiencing that other form of love – that pleasure of being together and listening to each other. For me, these kinds of chats are among the expressions of love that life had only recently allowed me to enjoy. I had not known this other form of love – the kinds found outside workshops, activist spaces, classrooms, or workplaces – to be possible. Yet we three friends spent the afternoon amongst ourselves and we did not pretend to be blind to the color of our respective skins. Rather, it was a lived factor that allowed us to intimately discuss the similarities and differences in our childhood and youthful experiences.
Those chats were unrelated to any upcoming activities of the Black movement in Colombia, but they still nourish me and acquire new meanings. Our closeness was woven through coming together, recognizing each other, and identifying the uniqueness of our liberations. And by realizing there is not just one but many paths to liberation – those paths we inhabited every time we said “no” and rebelled. Far from feeling discomfort, we met in an authenticity made of weakness and strength, one which brought us closer instead of separating us.
Our purpose on that beautiful afternoon was to just be – to have an awareness of simply being amongst ourselves. We walked through our pasts so that the memories that stayed with us were those we decided to keep as ours, and not those that fear let through and found a place for. We remembered exact fragments of TV shows, and sang songs written by artists who had taught us about loving well, hating well, cursing like the worst villain, and suffering like the best leading lady.
We told each other about our school pranks, and what remained in our subconscious after being exposed to the many ways the media repeats the same thing – after the teachers and nuns at school overexposed us to stories so that we would identify with and appropriate Cinderella’s aspirations for our own lives. This would set the tone for the rest of our story: the drama of the impoverished and diminished girl who is yet to achieve her full value through an act that redeems her condition. And that act can only be brought about by the gaze of a male who, at the very least, is white, hence deserving of what is between our thighs – his “main aspiration” – and the “perfect realization of our dreams,” which we are told should then be our main aspiration.
There were three of us there that afternoon. Each had been brought up in a different part of the country, but it was fascinating that we could all still quote fragments and situations from songs and soap operas that often – as we realized by getting to know each other – shared codes or symbols that were replicated, with a few variations, in our homes, in our first relationships, and in our neighborhoods and schools. Brought up by “dramas” (is that what that very successful genre is called?) where the more you suffer, the more you deserve, the issue of “how and in which situations it is acceptable and legitimate to suffer” becomes an important mandate on how the person who suffers should be seen, what they should do, and whom they should be. Some of us managed to liberate ourselves and “learn” a definition of love that could only be learnt in adulthood, shattering illusions, and accepting natural sin. And becoming aware of the industrial production of a virgin, which we may refuse to look like as she has no place in our understanding, and the disappointment this alienation brings.
After singing, we reviewed our early sexual explorations. I never thought that most people experienced them before the age of nine and that even in adulthood, those experiences, those memories, remain a heavy burden. Even today, in thousands of places, millions of girls and boys see their innocence curtailed by lack of trust and the ignorance we present them with when they try to explore their bodies. Blaming curiosity is a most efficient control mechanism. We went back to the brief conversations we had when we changed the history of our lives from cursed Black beings to a perspective that rebirthed us. We remembered how many of our aunts and female cousins left their homes, their core, their roots, to seek a future outside, elsewhere.
The future comes with a price: it demands that those relationships that marked our childhood are reshaped and confined to oblivion. They are our foundations, but they are not relevant if we want to move ahead. For us, advancing was to learn by heart what we do to ourselves with the opportunities we find elsewhere. That it is elsewhere, and not within us, that opportunities lie, that we are available, that we need to be outside. However, for many of our aunts and female cousins, the few opportunities to enroll and stay in an evening class or take a sabbatical from domestic work were paid for by becoming the first sexual experience of relatives living in the future. A future for which others before them had also paid for, and whose price they had already forgotten. The demand for this payment arrived with the same inevitability as a public utility service bill. We will not take up that legacy.
In Colombia and Latin America, there was an etiquette manual called La urbanidad de Carreño (Carreño’s Etiquette Manual). It was mandatory reading until the 90s in both public and private schools. The manual conditioned how bodies were perceived and my mother, taken in and brought up by Carmelite nuns, knew it by heart. The first time I read it I had to stop more than once to rub my stomach, which hurt from laughing so much. It has ridiculous instructions such as: take a shower with your eyes closed and turn off the lights to wear your nightclothes. Different chapters address how one is to behave at home, in the street, and during a dinner or lunch party – in short, the norms of good taste and etiquette. The ethical core of good citizens was the urbanity that allowed one to distance oneself from rural life. The same manual indicated that shouting a greeting to an acquaintance on the other side of the street was indecorous; good manners dictate that you must cross the street. By the same token, men must remove their coats and place them over puddles of water if accompanying a woman whose shoes should not get wet. I thought about greeting someone across a river, and how it is so hot where we live that we don’t require coats.
"She learned that to care for her belly, she needed to keep her tissues warm, to avoid the cold that comes through the soft spot on the top of the head, through the feet, the ears, so it would not hurt particularly at moontime. For that, you need to be careful about what you eat and what you don’t eat, how you dress and how you walk, as all that has to do with girls’ health. The woman elder says that, from her devoted grandfather, she learnt that cramps became more common when houses no longer had floors made of mud and/or wood. When concrete and tiles came, when the material making up the house allowed the cold to come in through the feet, tension also grew in the belly tissue."
The manual’s author, Mr. Carreño is the opposite of the grandfather of a woman elder born in Turbo. She told me once that her grandfather was a wise man, that he told her about birthing and how to take care of her body. She learned that to care for her belly, she needed to keep her tissues warm, to avoid the cold that comes through the soft spot on the top of the head, through the feet, the ears, so it would not hurt, particularly at moontime. For that, you need to be careful about what you eat, how you dress, and how you walk, as all that has to do with a girl’s health. The woman elder said that, from her devoted grandfather, she learnt that cramps became more common when houses no longer had floors made of mud and/or wood. When concrete and tiles came, when the material making up the house allowed the cold to come in through the feet, tensions in the belly tissue also grew.
Surprised again. Such a distance between Don Carreño and the wise grandfather in terms of being aware of life – as distant as the mandates of proper behavior that stifle your impulses and senses, even the most common sense that values health. At that moment, I was able to understand one of the many ways that concrete obstructs the earth’s breathing, and our own as part of her. I had not realized there was, and still is, the architecture and materials for taking care of our bodies. In Colombia, as well as in other countries, the materials used to make houses are taken as indicators of multidimensional poverty. A house built with concrete moves the home away from being considered poor. This is just one disappointing example of how progress pushes us to abandon the relationship between our environment and our body. Good taste and urbanity pushes us outside: to move forward, they lie, you have to go out there.
It bothered us to realize that neither our mothers nor fathers had spoken to us about menstruation, except when the brown stain had already smeared our knickers. They failed to preserve us from the shame that was supposed to be a natural feeling once menstruation had come. Along with menstruation came the belly cramps often endured in silence, because there was work to be done; some cramps were due to cysts, hematomas, or fibroids that killed the grandmothers who had discovered and forgotten the healing treatments, and then were forgotten themselves. That our mothers and fathers’ breaths turned colder and colder, but the Outside froze familiarity and, instead of warming our bellies, passed judgment with advice similar to warnings of the only thing men care about. This was applied to all men – legitimizing the plundering role of the phallus, as if its only option was to take what we have between our legs. The multiple versions of that truth were replaced by an unmovable and deeply-set naturalization: telling all women that we must preserve ourselves for one of them, for the one that will first introduce his penis inside us, for the one that will give us something in exchange, and that we are women only because we aspire to and let him put it inside us. As a girl I explored little penises and clitorises and, in between games among girls, the question was whispered: whose turn is it to play man and whose turn is it to play woman? And the answer: the beginnings of little orgasms, regardless of with whom. I guess the same must happen among male bodies.
The experiences and explorations of our aunts, female cousins, and acquaintances focused on the body and its nudity as taboo. They avoided expressing and naming it, to the point of covering it up, assigning new names to its excreting, expelling, procreating, and, just for us women, its receiving functions. Once I heard a woman elder in a workshop say that when she was living with her grandmother, her memory was of this old woman sleeping with one eye open, the other closed, and a rifle by the mattress. The softest night sound was enough for her to grab the rifle and aim. This is a common situation in the Colombian Pacific, where some harmful behaviors are normalized. Married and single men who like a young woman would enter her room at night – we call it gateada. It was a risk: if those with authority in the home realized what was happening, abuse or not, the man could be hurt or even killed.
This practice of taking the law into one’s own hands has failed to put an end to gateadas, even today. In that same workshop – as I kept telling my sisters – other participants said that neither they nor their mothers would leave their daughters alone with their fathers at bath time, unless the girls were wearing underwear. I remembered then my father’s voice saying, when I was seven, your mother never let me bathe you. After sharing this, another woman responded that, in contrast, her father would give her a bath naked in the courtyard of her childhood home until she turned seven, and then her eldest brother did it until she turned nine. She never felt anything strange in the way they looked at her; for them, it was just another task in caring for the most spoiled child in the home. She remembered being seen for what she was: a daughter child, a sister child, who did not like the water.
Once again childhoods, yesterday and today. We were surprised by that story, and it comforted us. Even I had seen things being different elsewhere; my daughter’s father bathed her in the tub until she was almost two. Even before turning two, he would give her a few soft slaps upwards on her bum, to make it bigger, as he said. Here, we could also speak of other dimensions of how we construct our bodies, but that is a different story. For me, it was one care task, among many, that we agreed to divide between ourselves before the baby was born. And the decision to not see every man as a lurking rapist does not mean they are not rapists, but instead that they can stop being so. There are also men and male bodies that have been brought up to never be rapists.
This is still happening. It happened to a friend of ours and to my own daughter. I thought: how can it be that some women are coupled with men they cannot trust to care for their daughters? I am sure that my mum loved my dad. And even though we seldom speak about the woman she was before becoming my mum, I know her experiences of abuse cannot be compared to the brutality and over-tolerance of those of today. But that is still a decision many women in many places make, and that leads to other questions. How often, how repeated were cases of abuse in our extended families to make women openly, or in indiscernible ways, forbid their partners from bathing their daughters? Is it related to the media overexposure we are subject to almost from birth? What makes family ties blur and turn into just bodily-satisfaction exchanges? Is it the proximity to urban values that cares so much about the right shapes of female bodies as objects of desire, and pushes male bodies to behave like owners and conquerors, fulfilling the mandate to mimic media representations so they feel safe in their identity? Is it concrete and other codes, like the Carreño etiquette, that sustain it? Is it encouraged by the need to forget certain relationships as the price of progress, that insistence on “doing for the outside?” What happens to what we learned in our times, those of us who, in secret or not, undertook sexual explorations as children? Were they erased by guilt? Were they the seeds of mistrust and shame in nudity? Were they the seeds of mistrust and shame of being inside oneself? Indeed, aren’t these learnings possibilities to trust in, understand the nudity of bodies as part of respecting oneself and others? These questions emerge in trusted spaces, where the fear to say what one thinks and feels is driven away by the intention of accompaniment. I imagine how many of us there are in all corners of this planet and I am certain these are not new questions, that messages in them are repeated, and that we find ourselves living the answers.
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.
“I am a wonder… Therefore I have been born by a mother! As I begin to stutter, my life has been like no other…” - Ayanda Denge (read the whole poem below)
Ayanda Denge was a transwomxn, sex worker, activist, poet. She was Xhosa, from Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. After travelling through different cities of the country, she moved to Cape Town.
As a committed and fervent social justice activist, she fought for the rights of sex workers, trans persons, and for those of people living with HIV and AIDS. She was also a motivational speaker on cancer awareness, and campaigned for affordable and social housing, especially for poor and working-class people. Ayanda stood tall as a mountain against different and often abusive faces of discrimination.
“Being transgender is not a double dose, but it’s a triple dose of stigmatisation and discrimination. You are discriminated against for your sexual identity, you are discriminated against for your work, and you are discriminated against for your HIV status.” - Ayanda Denge, 2016
She was acting chairperson at the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Taskforce (SWEAT) and also worked as an Outreach Coordinator at Sisonke, a national sex workers’ movement in South Africa.
“From us, from our regional head office, to SWEAT where I sit on the board, to Sisonke, a movement of sex workers in Cape Town. We all amalgamate, we have one cry and it’s a cry that is recognised internationally by international sex workers. We want decriminalisation of sex work.” - Ayanda Denge, 2016
She lived in the Ahmed Kathrada House, which was being occupied by the Reclaim the City campaign for social housing. In 2018, Ayanda was elected house leader. On 24 March 2019, she was stabbed to death in her room. The year prior, another resident was killed.
Reclaim the City draws a connection between the safety of the house residents and the Provincial Government withholding electricity and the human right to water:
“We cannot separate the safety of women and LGBTQI people living in the occupation from the refusal by the Western Cape Provincial Government to turn the electricity and water back on at Ahmed Kathrada House.
The house is pitch black at night. We need lights to keep each other safe. It is as if the Province wishes to punish poor and working class people, whose only crime is that we needed a home. While they may disagree with our reasons for occupying, they should be ashamed of themselves for putting politics before the safety and dignity of residents of this city.
Rest in Peace comrade Ayanda Denge, we shall remember you as we carry the torch forward in the struggle for decent well-located housing.”
Poem by Ayanda:
I am a wonder…
Therefore I have been born by a mother!
As I begin to stutter,
My life has been like no other.
Born in pain
Nourished by rain
For me to gain
Was living in a drain.
As I shed a tear
I stand up and hold my spear.
Voices echo, do not fear
Challenges within a year,
Challenges of hurt are on my case;
Community applauds as they assume I have won my race;
But in reality my work strides at a tortoise pace;
On bended knee I bow and ask for grace.
For the Lord
Is my Sword;
To remind humanity
That he provides sanity.
Why Lord am I this wonder?
The Lord answers me with the rain and thunder,
For questioning my father
Who has in the book of lambs
A name called Ayanda.
From the streets my life was never sweet
The people I had to meet;
At times I would never greet;
Even though I had to eat;
I’d opt to take a bow
Rather than a seat
“For my life represents that of a lotus flower, that out of murky and troubled waters I bloomed to be beautiful and strong...” - Ayanda Denge, watch and listen
Tributes:
“Ayanda, I want to say to you that you are still a survivor, in our hearts and minds. You are gone but you are everywhere, because you are love. How beautiful it is to be loved, and to give love. And Ayanda, that is the gift that you have given us. Thank you for all of the love, we truly did need you. Going forward, I promise to you that we will all commit to continue with the struggle that you have dedicated so much energy and your time to. And we will commit ourselves to pursuing justice in this awful ending to your life.” - Transcript of a message, in a farewell Tribute to Ayanda
“Ayanda was an activist by nature. She knew her rights and would not mind fighting for the rights of others. For me, it was no shock that she was involved with many organizations and it was known that she was a people’s person. It did not need to be the rights of LGBTI but just the rights of everyone that she stood for.” - Ayanda’s sister
I know you are so close. You can feel it can't you? How things need to shift and you need to centre yourself.
This is a letter to tell you to do it. Choose your healing. Choose to be OK. Better than OK. Choose to be whole, to be happy. To cry tears for yourself and no one else. Choose to shut out the world and tell them that 'you will be back in 5 mins'. Or five days. Or five years.
Or never.
Choose to not take it all on. Choose to take none of it on. Because none of it is yours. It was never yours. They told you since you were born that it was yours. Your family's problems. Your lovers' problems. Your neighbours' problems. The globe's problems. The constant whisper that these problems belong to you. They are yours. Yours to hold, yours to shoulder. Yours to fix.
That was a lie.
A bamboozle
A long con.
A scam.
The problems of the universe are not yours.
The only problems that are yours are your own. Everyone else can take a hike.
Allow yourself to drop everything and sprint off into the jungle. Befriend a daisy clad nymph, start a small library in the roots of a tree. Dance naked and howl at the moonlight. Converse with Oshun at the river bed.
Or simply drink a cup of tea when you need to take a moment to breathe.
Give yourself permission to disappear into the mist and reappear three countries over as a mysterious chocolatier with a sketchy past and penchant for dramatic cloaks and cigars.
Or stop answering work calls on weekends.
Let yourself swim to deserted island with a lover and dress only in the coconut shells from coconut rum that you make and sip at sunset.
Or say no when you don't have the capacity to create space for someone.
The options for holding yourself are endless.
Whatever you do, know the world will always keep spinning. That's the beauty and the pain of it. No matter who or what you choose over yourself and your soul the world will always keep spinning.
Therefore, choose you.
In the morning when that first light hits, choose you. When it’s lunchtime and it’s time to cry on company time, choose you. In the evening, when you are warming up leftovers because you didn’t have time to cook again, choose you. When anxiety wakes you up and existence is silent at 3:45 am.
Choose you.
Because the world will always keep twirling on a tilt and you deserve to have someone always trying to make it right side up for you.