Guatemala - Rural Women Diversify Incomes and Build Resilience
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Priority Areas
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”.
Arundhati Roy, War Talk
Related Content
Ika Vantiani
Bunga-Transgirl are girl, Analog collage, 2020
Bunga or flower in English is something that is often associated with women in Indonesia. Meaning, a flower can also be associated with transgender women. Because transgender women are women. As beautiful, as strong, and they both lived not only waiting to be 'picked' but instead grew and bloom and died as they pleased. This work is a tribute to my transgender women friends on The International Transgender Day of Visibility.
About Ika Vantiani
Ika Vantiani is an Indonesian artist, curator and crafter based in Jakarta. Her works explores the idea of being a woman in today’s society with the intertwined between media and consumption. Ika uses the discipline of collage and expands it into workshop, installation, and street art. Ika is the member of artist collectives including Micro Galleries, The Collage Club and It’s In Your Hands Collective.
Snippet - WITM Why now_col 2 - PT
O financiamento dos movimentos feministas é fundamental para garantir uma presença mais justa e pacífica, e um futuro liberto.
Na busca da abundância, e para acabar com esta escassez crónica, o inquérito WITM é um convite para os defensores do feminismo e da justiça de género se envolverem no percurso da recolha coletiva de testemunhos e de casos para mobilizar mais recursos financeiros de melhor qualidade e recuperar o poder no ecossistema de financiamento neste momento. Em solidariedade com os movimentos que continuam invisibilizados, marginalizados e sem acesso a financiamento central, de longo prazo, flexível e baseado em fundos fiduciários, o inquérito WITM destaca o estado efetivo dos recursos, desafia soluções falsas e aponta.
Celluloid Ishtar
Hind and Hind were the first documented queer couple in Arab history. In today’s world, they are a queer artist from Lebanon.
Sequence 1
When I was 6, I learned that my grandfather owned a movie theater. My mother recounted to me how it had opened in the early 1960s, when she was also about 6 years old. She remembered that they screened The Sound of Music on the first night.
I would pass by the theater every weekend and watch my grandfather play backgammon with his friends. I didn’t know he was living in the theater, in a room right under the projection booth. I later learned that he moved there after he and my grandmother separated and after the theater closed, in the 1990s, shortly after the Lebanese civil war had ended.
For years and until he passed away, I would mostly see my grandfather play backgammon in the unmaintained reception area of the movie theater. Those repeated scenes are all I remember of him. I never got to properly know him; we never talked about cinema, even though he spent all his time in a run-down movie theater. I never asked him what it was like to live in a place like this. He died when I was 12, on Christmas Eve, from a fall down the spiraling steps that led to the projection booth. It is almost poetic that he passed away in movement, in a house where moving images are perpetually suspended in time.
Sequence 2
In the spring of 2020, my cousin called me to say he had cleaned up my grandfather’s movie theater and asked me to meet him there. The two of us had always dreamed of renovating it. I got there before he did. In the reception area, the film poster frames were still there but the posters were gone. I knew there must have been some ticket stubs left somewhere; I found them stacked away in a small rusty tin box, on a shelf in the ticketing booth, and I pocketed some.
I began to walk around. On the main stage, the projection screen was quite dirty and a little torn on the side. I glided my index finger on the screen to remove a patch of dust and noticed that the screen was still white underneath. The fabric seemed to be in good shape too. I looked up to see that my grandmother’s curtains were still in place. They were made of white satin with a little embroidered emblem over the bridge of the curtain, representing the theater. There was a main seating area and a gallery. The chairs seemed to be very worn out.
I noticed the projector peeking out of a small window at the very end of the balcony seating area. I led myself up the spiraling steps of the projection booth.
The room was dark, but a source of light coming from the dusty windows revealed a stack of film reels tossed in a corner. Lifeless celluloid strips were tangled up against the foot of the film projector. The dusty reels were all Western, Bollywood, and Science-Fiction genre films with bad titles like The Meteor that Destroyed Earth, or something of the sort. My attention was caught by the dusty film strips – mostly snippets cut out from reels. One by one, the short strips depicted different kissing scenes, what seemed like a suggestive dance, a nondescript scene of a gathering, a close-up of a woman lying down with her mouth open, opening credits to a Bollywood film, and a “Now Showing” tag that went on for several frames.
The Bollywood film credits reminded me of my mother. She used to tell me how they would hand out tissues to audience members on their way out of screenings. I kept the kissing scene and suggestive dance strips; I assumed they had been cut out for censorship reasons. The close-up of the woman reminded me of an excerpt from Béla Balázs’ Visible Man, or The Culture of Film, The Spirit of Film, and Theory of the Film. He said that close-ups in film provided a
silent soliloquy, in which a face can speak with the subtlest shades of meaning without appearing unnatural and arousing the distance of the spectators. In this silent monologue, the solitary human soul can find a tongue more candid and uninhibited than any spoken soliloquy, for it speaks instinctively, subconsciously.
Balázs was mostly describing the close-ups of Joan in the silent film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc. He pointed out how, “...in the silent (movie), facial expression, isolated from its surroundings, seemed to penetrate to a strange new dimension of the soul.”
I examined the film strip further. The woman looked dead, her face almost mask-like. She reminded me of Ophelia by the painter John Everett Millais. In her book On Photography, Susan Sontag says a photograph is “a trace, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask.” These death masks are like a presence that reminds of an absence.
I remembered encountering a discourse between death and photography in Roberto Rossellini’s forgotten film The Machine that Kills Bad People. In this film, a cameraman goes around taking photographs of people, who would in turn freeze, and are later suspended in time. French film critic André Bazin used to say that photography snatches bodies away from the flow of death and stores them by embalming them. He described this photographic mummification as “the preservation of life by a representation of life.”
This projection booth, its whole layout, all the things that looked like they were moved, the celluloid strips on the ground, everything my grandfather left a mark on – I felt very protective of.
Underneath the strips was an undone dusty film reel. It seemed like someone had been watching the reel manually. At that moment, my cousin made his way up the spiraling steps to find me examining it. He rubbed his fingers along his chin and, in a very-matter-of-fact way, said, “You found the porn.”
Sequence 3
I looked at the film strip in my hand and realized it was not a death scene. The strip was cut out of the porn reel. The woman was moaning in ecstasy. Close-ups are meant to convey feelings of intensity, of climax, but I had never really used Balázs’ theories to describe a porn scene. He wrote how “the dramatic climax between two people will always be shown as dialogue of facial expressions in close-up.” I pocketed the film strip and I named the woman Ishtar. She has lived in my wallet ever since. It seemed strange to compare the close depiction of Joan’s fears and courage with Ishtar’s facial expression in ecstasy.
According to my cousin, my grandfather’s brother would wait until my grandfather left the theater and, instead of closing, invite his friends for some after-hour private screenings. I didn’t think much of it. It was a common practice, especially during and after the Lebanese civil war. After the war, television sets were almost in every Lebanese household. I even remember having one in my bedroom in the late 1990s, when I was around 6 years old. I was told that buying porn films on VHS was popular at the time. Mohammed Soueid, a Lebanese writer and filmmaker, once told me that movie theaters used to screen art films and pornography from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, so that they could survive. I also heard that projectionists would cut up porn reels to make different montages, so that they could screen something different every night. Eventually, people stayed within the comforts of their homes to watch VHS tapes on their televisions, and movie theaters began to run out of business.
Sequence 4
My cousin went back downstairs to go through an archive of paperwork in the office space. I stayed in the booth and began to slip the film strip between my index and middle finger, sliding it up with my thumbs and slowly running the frames through my hands. I lifted the strip against the dusty window and squinted to make sense of the monochrome vignettes. In this series of frames was an extreme close-up of a dick shoved into a vagina. It went on for several frames until I came across a knot in the film, and I imagined the rest.
Sequence 5
Hank is showcasing his hard-on in front of Veronika who is lying in bed across a Louis XIV secrétaire knockoff. She gets up slowly and slides the thin strap of her see-through négligé off her left shoulder. Hank unties her veiled robe, turns her around, slaps her ass, and pushes her down against the secrétaire. He thrusts his dick inside her pussy repeatedly as the back of the furniture bangs against the wallpaper-adorned wall.
Sequence 6
I was always attentive to the interior décor, ever since I was told by my Women in Porn Studies professor that the largest porn archives in North America are interestingly used to examine the middle-class furniture of that epoch. So, while Veronika is bending over and being taken from behind by Hank, a university research assistant could very well be trying to guess the design of the gold motif on the secrétaire, or study the rococo relief on a wooden chair in some corner.
For a moment, the booth became a space for female sexual imagination, disrupting a space otherwise promised for the freedom of male sexuality. I was sure that only men were able to access movie theaters that screened porn films. The film reel was too entangled to undo in a projection booth where dust had accumulated for over a decade, so I stuffed it into my duffle bag and walked out of the theater.
I am not sure what came over me, but I felt compelled to keep it. I wanted to feel the thrill of safeguarding something mysterious, something unorthodox. In my mind, I was sure people knew I was hiding something as I walked down the street. A feeling of guilt intertwined with pleasure came over me. It felt kinky.
Sequence 7
I got into the house, preoccupied with the thought of having a porn reel in my duffle bag and the stream of thoughts that had unfolded on my walk home. I immediately went to my bedroom. In some distant part of my mind, I remembered that I shared a wall with Layla’s room next door. She was probably not home, but the possibility of being heard excited me. I closed my bedroom door and I took the film strip of Ishtar out.
I imagined her dressed in a light green veiled dress, dancing seductively in front of me, swinging her hips sideways and smiling with her eyes. I got onto my bed. I slipped my fingers into my panties. I lifted my hips. I trailed my hand down my thighs to part them, and slid two fingers in. I tensed up as I palpated my various creases. I moaned before I could stop myself. I panted and swayed. The rays of sun coming through my window planted reluctant kisses onto my skin. I held my breath in and my limbs quivered. I swallowed my breath and laid flat on the mattress.
Sequence 8
When I was an undergraduate student, I had taken an introductory film class and Professor Erika Balsom had scheduled a screening of Bette Gordon’s Variety. I was excited to watch producer Christine Vachon’s first film before she moved onto producing films that are now part of the New Queer Cinema movement. Variety was described as a feminist film about Christine, a woman who begins to work as a ticketing clerk in a porn movie theater in New York city called The Variety Theater. Christine overhears the films at the theater but never goes in. Eventually, she becomes interested in a regular customer, whom she watches closely. She follows him to an adult shop where she stands aside and flips through adult magazines for the first time.
Christine’s voyeurism was displayed in different ways throughout the film. The script was also ridden with excess, and erotic monologues that would be considered obscene or vulgar.
In a scene set in an arcade, she reads erotica to her boyfriend. The camera goes back and forth between a close-up of her boyfriend Mark’s butt as he was playing pinball, swinging his hips back and forth against the arcade machine, and a close-up of Christine’s face as she recited her monologue.
Sequence 9
“Sky was hitchhiking and he got a ride from a woman in a pick-up truck. It was late at night and he needed a place to stay, so she offered him her place.
She showed him to his room and offered him a drink. They drank and talked and decided to turn in. He couldn’t sleep, so he put on his pants and walked down the hall to the living room. He was a stop short of being seen, but he could see. The woman was naked and spread on the coffee table with only her legs dangling over. Her whole body was excitingly white as if it’d never seen the sun. Her nipples were bright pink, fire-like, almost neon. Her lips were open. Her long auburn hair licking the floor, arms stretched, fingers tickling the air. Her oiled body was round with no points, no edges. Slithering between her breasts was a large snake curving up around one, and down between the other. The snake’s tongue licking toward the cunt, so open, so red in the lamp light. Hot and confused, the man walked back to his room, and with great difficulty, managed to fall asleep. The next morning, over strawberries, the woman asks him to stay another night. Again, he couldn’t sleep […]”
Sequence 10
When I was 23, Lynn, the girl I was dating from film class, surprised me by taking me to watch erotica short films on Valentine’s Day. The event took place at The Mayfair Theater, an independent old movie theater. The architecture of the theater recalled North American Nickelodeons, but with a campy touch. Its balconies were decorated with life-size cardboard cutouts of Swamp Thing and Aliens.
That year, the festival was judged by adult star Kacie May and the program consisted of an hour and a half of short films. The content ranged from soft-core machismo-ridden shorts to scat fetish films. We watched a few minutes of what seemed to be heterosexual soft porn. It followed a couple who start making love in a modern living room space, then move to the bedroom. It was mostly footage of them kissing each other, touching each other, and making love missionary-style. Then a woman with a short brown bob crawled onto the bed, licking the back of her own hand in short strokes. She meowed and crawled over the unconcerned couple. They continued to make love. She crawled out to the kitchen, picked up her empty bowl with her teeth, and placed it onto a pillow. She kept walking over them until the end of the short. It seemed quite absurd. I began to laugh, but Lynn looked a bit uncomfortable. I then looked to our left, watching other audience members chugging beers and inhaling popcorn while laughing hysterically. Their uninterrupted laughter and loud comments really set the tone of the festival. Watching the audience became more interesting than watching the erotic films. The Mayfair Theater often showed cult films, and watching cult films is a communal experience.
It’s not exactly how I imagined my mother’s uncle watching porn in my grandfather’s theater. Movie theaters were openly screening porn films at that time, but I could not picture it happening within my mother’s hometown. I pictured him watching the film from the projector in the booth, so he could quickly stop the screening in case any unexpected guests decided to stop by. His friends sat on the balcony in the back. No one could get in from there unless they had a key, so it was safe. They had to think of everything. It was a conservative Christian neighborhood and they would not want to cause any trouble. They were most likely overcome with excitement and guilt. The voices of loud homoerotic banter merged with sound bites of grunting and moaning, but they reminded each other to keep it down every few minutes. They took turns to check the windows to make sure the sound was not loud enough to alarm any neighbors. Sometimes, they would turn off the speaker and there would be no sound.
Sequence 11
After a political protest in 2019, I came across a bookstand on Riad El Solh street, close to Martyr’s Square in downtown Beirut. Towards the end of the table, past the copies of Hugo and de Beauvoir, I found a stack of erotica novels and adult magazines. They were all translations of Western publications. I really did not care which one I picked; I just knew I wanted to own a copy for the thrill of it. I looked for the most interesting cover art.
As he was giving me my change back, the vendor asked me, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
He scanned my breasts, gliding his eyes downwards. He probably assumed I worked in the porn or sex industry. I looked into his eyes and said, “No.” I turned around, ready to walk away with my magazine. He then stopped me to say that he had a large archive in his basement, and that he regularly sold porn collections and publications on EBay, to Europe and the USA. Although I was interested in rummaging through that archive, I was not comfortable enough to take his offer. It did not feel safe. I asked him where he found these novels. To my surprise, they were produced in Lebanon.
Walking towards the Riad El Solh statue, I read through the journal I had bought and found the format of the text somewhat canted; the font was a bit smudged, making it illegible. The photographs inside were comprised of faded pornographic collages. It looked raw; I liked that. The title of the novel read, Marcel’s Diaries.
The cover art was clearly a magazine cut-out pasted over a blue sheet. In the picture, a shirtless woman is grabbing her lover’s head, digging her fingers in his hair, while he is kissing her neck from behind. Her skirt is zipped down. Her lover has his hand on her lower right hip. She has her hand over his. Her lips are puckered up and open, almost like she is moaning with pleasure, her 1970s straight blonde hair running down her chest and partially covering her nipples.
I opened the first page. The preface read
شهوات”
“وشذوذ
which either translates to
“Desire
and deviance”
or to
“Desire
and kink”
I read through the first chapter and I found that whoever translated the text had changed the main character’s name to Fouad, an Arabic name. I assumed they wanted their Lebanese male audience to identify. As I read through, I found that all of his lovers had foreign names like Hanna, Marla, Marcel, Marta.
Sequence 12
I realized on page 27, chapter four, that Marcel was one of Fouad’s lovers.
Sequence 13
The scene took place in a movie theater. Movie theaters were often spaces for sexual freedom in North America, especially since the 1970s after the sexual revolution.
I also assumed they kept all the other foreign names so that it sounds exotic and less taboo. Pornography and erotica were attributed to West Hollywood, despite the fact that the Arab world historically produced erotic texts. Erotica became taboo, and the only way to safely produce it was to market it as foreign, as exotic.
It is interesting how the exotic covers for the erotic. The difference between the two adjectives is rooted in their Greek etymologies: exotic is from exo, “outside,” meaning alien or foreign. Erotic is derived from Eros, the god of sexual love. So, what’s exotic is mysterious and foreign – what’s erotic is sexy.
In Lebanon there is a thin line between the exotic and the erotic in cinema, like the thin line between art films and porn films. In 2015, during a conversation with filmmaker Jocelyne Saab in a Vietnamese restaurant in Paris, I learned that she had to shoot her art film Dunia a second time to change the dialect from Egyptian to Lebanese. She told me that her actors were Egyptian, and that she wasn’t strict about the script. She was not allowed to use Egyptian dialect. It had to be in Lebanese because the producers were concerned about the borderline erotic scenes in the film. So, they made it foreign.
Какую цель преследует опрос «Где деньги?»
Ключевая цель исследования – осветить финансовое положение различных феминистских движений, инициатив за права женщин, гендерную справедливость, ЛГБТКИ+ и смежных движений по всему миру и, основываясь на этом, еще больше усилить аргументы в пользу увеличения объема денежных средств и передачи власти феминистским движениям.
Love letter to feminist movements: A goodbye from Hakima and Cindy
Dear feminist movements,
You welcomed us with open arms when it was announced during the 2016 AWID Forum in Bahia that we would be AWID’s new Co-EDs. It was a moment that felt full of possibility, we were building a feminist oasis that would help sustain our collective struggles forward. We left Bahia with a sharp sense of responsibility, to do our best in your service and to lead AWID in ways that would be most supportive and impactful for you.
It is now time for us to step aside for new leadership!
Over five years into our journey, we are stepping down as AWID’s Co-EDs. Our decision comes as we wrap up the current strategic cycle. We see this as an ideal moment to step aside and support a leadership refresh. We believe that transformative feminist leadership is cyclical.
We so appreciate the opportunity we had to play a role in AWID’s 40 year history, holding and shepherding the organization through the difficult context of global pandemic, and so many spiraling crises.
Feminist movements, we know you will be part of our next journey, whatever that may be. You have consistently taught us about strength and resilience. We may move to different roles, but we will collectively continue to move together.
How We Moved
We have vivid memories of those of you in Indonesia, Malaysia, Nepal, Thailand, Taiwan and beyond who met us to co-create the AWID Forum with so much generosity and spark. Without a doubt, our greatest regret from the last five years is that we could not give you an in-person Forum.
Once we came to the difficult (albeit necessary) decision to cancel the AWID Forum, we focused on grappling with the existential questions so many of our organizations were facing: how do we shift our ways of working to be relevant, account for the exhaustion, sickness, and grief affecting all of us in different ways? How do we build meaningful relationships when we are limited to being online? There are still no straightforward answers to these questions, but feminist movements, you have shown the way.
We were so proud to see the ways feminists were leading responses to mitigate the impacts of COVID-19 on our communities. Feminists are frontline responders in crisis and we will continue to demand recognition and resources for this work. You often responded enthusiastically to our outreach, showing up in amazing ways in our Feminist Bailout campaign and later in the Crear Resister Transform festival. You jumped into collaborative advocacy with us – whether influencing human rights spaces, policy makers or funders.
Our work with you inspired us at AWID to make an important pivot in expanding opportunities for engagement among our members that is not centralized through AWID. We call this a solidarity-based approach to membership and we are excited to be launching this year the AWID Community platform.
You taught us that, since we can’t count on the system, what is especially important is that we show up for each other. We hope that what we did well over these years was to make space for new and deeper relationships and possibilities of mutual support and collaboration.
We give a special shout-out of love and respect to the current and former AWID team (both our staff and Board members) whom we’ve had the honor to work with over these years. We’ve learned from each one of you and felt deep gratitude for everything you have contributed to AWID over the years.
We came into this role as AWID’s first pair of Co-Executive Directors. We learned from the many activist and community traditions of collective leadership and the feminist organizations who had done this before us. We know that we couldn’t have done this job without each other. We were able to leverage each other’s strengths and have each other’s backs to do the best job we could.
What’s Next
We came into role together and are leaving together, even as we will be staggering our departure dates. We are both committed to supporting a smooth transition and deliberate onboarding of the new leadership this year.
Feminist movements, you are in great hands with the AWID team. They’ve got this. And we are proud to be leaving the organization in such a strong and resilient place. Hopefully, we’ll see many of you at the AWID Forum in 2024 – you’ll recognize us as the kicked back, relaxed folks in the audience!
Love and appreciation for all that you’ve done with and for us. Your impact on our lives stretches well beyond the last 5 years, and no doubt will continue to stretch far into the future.
هل يمكن أن تعبئ مجموعة واحدة الاستطلاع أكثر من مرة واحدة؟
كلا. نطلب فقط تعبئة استطلاع واحد لكل مجموعة.
Love letter to Feminist Movements #7
Dearest Feminist community,
I am pleased to share with you one of my remarkable dates as feminist with disability. It was May 30, 2014 when we (the Nationwide Organization of Visually-Impaired Empowered Ladies NOVEL) participated in the Philippine Fashion Week Holiday 2014 for our white cane advocacy campaign. Two ladies who are blind walked down the catwalk to promote the white cane as one of the symbols of gender equality, empowerment, full inclusion and equal participation of women and girls with visual impairment in society.
Their walk in front of the crowd were extremely a nerve-wracking experience for me, as the proponent of our project with the Runway Productions (I enduringly waited for a year for its approval), knowing that they were not models, they were the crowned Ms. Philippines Vision and 1st Runner Up of 2013 Ms. Philippines on Wheels, Signs and Vision by Tahanang Walang Hagdanan, Inc. (House with No Steps). Also, they fell on their orientation and practiced the evening before the event and they didn’t have practice with professional models. Before the show started, I talked to them via mobile phone to boost their confidence and to pray together for God’s guidance. When they exited the catwalk, I breathed deeply while my tears were flowing. I was feeling euphoric because we did it despite the challenges we’ve been through! Our message to the world that women and girls with visual impairment can walk with dignity, freedom and independence on an equal basis with others, with the use of our assistive device - white canes was successfully delivered! We trended in social media and we were featured by television networks.
My life as a feminist with disability started as a means to mend my broken spirit and to see a different path towards finding my life’s purpose after I became victim-survivor to a vicious acid attack in 2007 while I was waiting for a ride going home from office. My eyes were severely damaged, to the point that I became a woman with low vision.
I never knew how joyful and purposeful my life could be again until I met women leaders in the gender and disability movement who influenced me to keep going. Their words of encouragement attracted me and became the sweetest music to my ears. My broken heart leaped like a hummingbird in flight every time I think of them and feminism which stimulated me to partake in making difference for our invisible sisters with disabilities and to those who continue to experience discrimination. To date, I am consumed by the desire to be with the movement. I cannot hide my excitement whenever I submit project proposals to different stakeholders for our sisters with disabilities' empowerment, development and advancement; and to make representations in local, national and international conversations to amplify our voices even at my expense.
Unexpectedly, I was selected as our country’s female representative in the 2012 World Blind Union (WBU) General Assembly in Thailand even though I was a newcomer in the disability movement. In the same year, I was elected as the only woman officer of the Philippine Blind Union (PBU) in its assembly. I was inspired to reach out, gather and empower our sisters with visual impairment on their rights and to know their intersecting issues. In 2013, we officially launched the Nationwide Organization of Visually-Impaired Empowered Ladies (NOVEL) to support the empowerment of our sisters with disabilities, build coalitions with cross-disability and women’s movements and promote gender and disability-inclusive development.
My participation as co-focal person of women with disabilities in our 2016 CEDAW Shadow Report submission convened by Women’s Legal and Human Rights Bureau (WLB) with the marginalized groups of women, opened many doors such as working with various women’s organizations and attending the 2017 Inclusion Days International in Berlin, Germany together with 3 Filipino women leaders with disabilities to share our good practices, mainly our engagement with the women’s movement in our country.
My journey as feminist with disability has been an emotional roller coaster for me. It gave me happiness and a sense of worth when I participated in promoting for our sisters with disabilities full inclusion, equal and effective participation in society, yet I felt frustrated and upset when I gave my all but I received negative remarks. Nevertheless, I feel that way because I am in love with the movement.
I see my future working in solidarity with the movement to ensure that our sisters with and without disabilities can equally and fully enjoy and participate in society.
Love lots,
Gina Rose P. Balanlay
Feminist with disability
Philippines
Да, доступ к опросу можно получить с помощью смартфона.
A Strategy, a Market and New Voices: Indigenous Women and the AWID Forums
The Forum was a key space for the Indigenous Women’s Movement (IWM) in its relationship to feminism. At AWID Forums, they developed engagement strategies that would then apply at other spaces like the United Nations. In that process, both indigenous women and feminists movements were transformed: new voices and issues emerged and feminists started to change their discourses and practices around land rights and spirituality, they understood collective rights better, and included the IWM in their events and agendas. Mónica Alemán and María Manuela Sequeira, from the IWM, shared this story of change.
Terei a oportunidade de partilhar os meus pensamentos sobre questões que não são abordadas pelas perguntas do inquérito?
Sim, encorajamo-lo a partilhar mais sobre questões importantes para si ao responder à(s) pergunta(s) aberta(s) no final do inquérito.
كيف ستعرضون وتعالجون المعطيات التي ستجمعونها في الاستطلاع؟
سيتم جمع المعطيات لأهداف إحصائية لتسليط الضوء على وضع التمويل للحركات النسوية العالمية وسيتم عرضها فقط بشكل إجمالي. لن تنشر AWID المعلومات عن اي منظمة محددة ولن تعرض أي من المعلومات التي ستمكّن من التعرّف على منظمة عن طريق موقعها أو صفاتها دون موافقة المنظمة.
Fornecer a membres da AWID, parceires do movimento e financiadores uma análise atualizada, robusta, baseada em fatos e orientada para a ação das realidades do financiamento de movimentos feministas e do estado atual do ecossistema do financiamento feminista.
2
Identificar e demonstrar oportunidades para transferir mais recursos de maior qualidade para a organização feminista, expor soluções falsas e interromper tendências que fazem com que o financiamento não seja bem-sucedido e/ou se mova contra a justiça de género e objetivos feministas interseccionais.
3
Articular visões, propostas e objetivos feministas para a justiça no financiamento.
WHRDs are self-identified women and lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex (LBTQI) people and others who defend rights and are subject to gender-specific risks and threats due to their human rights work and/or as a direct consequence of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
WHRDs are subject to systematic violence and discrimination due to their identities and unyielding struggles for rights, equality and justice.
The WHRD Program collaborates with international and regional partners as well as the AWID membership to raise awareness about these risks and threats, advocate for feminist and holistic measures of protection and safety, and actively promote a culture of self-care and collective well being in our movements.
Risks and threats targeting WHRDs
WHRDs are exposed to the same types of risks that all other defenders who defend human rights, communities, and the environment face. However, they are also exposed to gender-based violence and gender-specific risks because they challenge existing gender norms within their communities and societies.
By defending rights, WHRDs are at risk of:
Physical assault and death
Intimidation and harassment, including in online spaces
Judicial harassment and criminalization
Burnout
A collaborative, holistic approach to safety
We work collaboratively with international and regional networks and our membership
to raise awareness about human rights abuses and violations against WHRDs and the systemic violence and discrimination they experience
to strengthen protection mechanisms and ensure more effective and timely responses to WHRDs at risk
We work to promote a holistic approach to protection which includes:
emphasizing the importance of self-care and collective well being, and recognizing that what care and wellbeing mean may differ across cultures
documenting the violations targeting WHRDs using a feminist intersectional perspective;
promoting the social recognition and celebration of the work and resilience of WHRDs ; and
building civic spaces that are conducive to dismantling structural inequalities without restrictions or obstacles
Our Actions
We aim to contribute to a safer world for WHRDs, their families and communities. We believe that action for rights and justice should not put WHRDs at risk; it should be appreciated and celebrated.
Promoting collaboration and coordination among human rights and women’s rights organizations at the international level to strengthen responses concerning safety and wellbeing of WHRDs.
Supporting regional networks of WHRDs and their organizations, such as the Mesoamerican Initiative for WHRDs and the WHRD Middle East and North Africa Coalition, in promoting and strengthening collective action for protection - emphasizing the establishment of solidarity and protection networks, the promotion of self-care, and advocacy and mobilization for the safety of WHRDs;
Increasing the visibility and recognition of WHRDs and their struggles, as well as the risks that they encounter by documenting the attacks that they face, and researching, producing, and disseminating information on their struggles, strategies, and challenges:
Mobilizing urgent responses of international solidarity for WHRDs at risk through our international and regional networks, and our active membership.
“Our voice” to advance the social, cultural and economic well-being of women and girls
Founded in 2008, La Floraison’s mission is to mobilize, convene and support young women human rights activists in Fizi territory[1], a rural area in the South Kivu province of the Democratic Republic of Congo, to advance their social, cultural and economic wellbeing. Its mission is part of a broader vision for the emergence of a new group of young women concerned about their development and resolutely committed to becoming agents of sociocultural and economic progress within their environment. This brought about the slogan “Young women serving the community” which has been part of the association since its launch.
“I sacrificed all of my time to serve the most vulnerable, especially women victims of sexual violence,” Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, psychosocial assistant of one of the Floraison projects.
The organization uses an approach they call ‘Our Voice’ which ranges from awareness-building and information-sharing via a theatrical troupe, a newspaper and community radio, to advocacy, and mobilizing resources for women’s groups. ‘Our Voice’ is proof of our support and engagement toward a world without violence,” says Loy Honore, founder of La Floraison.
A counseling center for survivors of sexual and gender-based violence
For three years, La Floraison has supported the psychosocial care and socioeconomic reintegration of women and girls who are survivors of sexual and gender-based violence within the Nemba, Katenga and Rubana health centers in Fizi territory. Through the counselling center the project seeks to inform communities about sexual violence against women and girls, available services, and women’s rights and their legal implementation, as well as provide victims with counseling, referral to medical and legal support services and ensure their economic reintegration through Village Saving and Lending Associations (VSLA), while strengthening community activism against gender-based violence.
In addition to documenting, counselling, supporting, and providing referrals to survivors of sexual and gender-based violence, La Floraison mediates between survivors who have been shunned and their families. To compliment, the project includes community outreach on sexual and gender-based violence, creating and strengthening Committees for Surveillance and Alert, social and community conflict resolution, and women’s rights advocacy.
“Through the group, I found something worth more than money: solidarity!”
A 17 year old Burundian survivor of violence, and beneficiary of La Floraison support, tells her story:
“At 15, I gave birth to my first child with an old loyal client who offered a cow to my mother. The brutality of that old drunkard – beatings, death threats – wouldn’t allow for a moment’s peace at home. I came home but my mother wasn’t pleased with my behaviour. In October 2013, an old Congolese man, older than 49, presented the need to bring me to the DRC with him, my mother gave him her permission for marriage without asking me and the suiter gave 3 goats and 2 pairs of loincloths[2] as my dowry.
When we arrived in the DRC, I found out that he had 3 wives and that I had become the fourth; he had children older than me. After a month, the three first wives didn’t want me on the plot of land. The husband abandoned me without any support. I went to see the village chief but there was a language barrier. Without any ration or means of survival, I started to cultivate for people so that I could eat. When my husband learned that I was working for someone, he would come and threaten them by saying that I was his wife and that no one could use me without his consent. I did not understand anything because everything was happening in a language I don’t understand. Many people were scared to give me work. One day, three men came to my unprotected home around midnight. They raped me one by one. One of them heard my screams in Kirundi – who was also Burundian – and asked his friends to let me live. He advised me to leave because my husband was planning to kill me. In the morning, the neighbours came to my rescue.
I didn’t tell anyone what happened to me that night – the rape – because according to our customs, if others find out that you have been raped, no one can marry you any longer. In light of these threats, the village chief brought me to his home and the police came to investigate. It was not easy to help me because I was in the DRC illegally, but they began to look for my husband. My life became very difficult because I had already sold all of the goods I had for survival, and those of my child. I asked the village chief to send me to Burundi. That cost more than $30, it was not easy.
One day, a women working at the health centre came to look for me and asked me to come to the health centre for a private meeting. I was scared, but when I arrived at the location, she welcomed me very kindly, she reassured me, but I was so emotional and the meeting couldn’t take place because of all my crying. She gave me a new meeting, and this time, I told her everything that happened beginning from Burundi. The nurse also saw me and I went to Sebele[3] for care. She helped me a lot, with counselling and visits, even though I don’t speak fluent Swahili. I would go and see her at the health center and one day she came with me to the police station to follow-up on the progress of my case and asked the police officer to facilitate my repatriation to Burundi.
She also recommended that I join a savings and credit group founded in the village so that I could receive a loan to conduct small business transactions. Through the group, I found something worth more than money: solidarity! I didn’t know that I could find such generous people by my side, especially during such hardship. I received a small loan of 16,000FC, which allows me to sell fry (12,000FC) and corn flour (4,000FC). I can’t starve to death anymore.
Mentally, I feel good, but I still need to return to my country to live with my mother.”
[1] Fizi territory includes four rural communities, 27 groups, 142 towns and 1,634 villages. The infrastructure is in poor condition, particularly for education, health, employment, transportation and recreation. The area lacks electricity and few households have access to potable water and proper sanitation.
"Nuestra voz” para promover el bienestar social, cultural y económico de las mujeres y las niñas
La Floraison fue fundada en 2008 y su misión es movilizar, reunir y brindar apoyo a mujeres jóvenes activistas por los derechos humanos en el territorio de Fizi[1] –un área rural de la provincia de Kivu del Sur en la República Democrática del Congo– con el propósito de fomentar el bienestar social, cultural y económico de estas jóvenes. Su misión forma parte una visión más amplia para el surgimiento de un nuevo grupo de jóvenes preocupadas por su desarrollo y firmemente decididas a convertirse en agentes de progreso sociocultural y económico en su entorno. Así surgió el eslogan “Mujeres jóvenes al servicio de la comunidad”, que ha sido parte de la asociación desde su lanzamiento.
“Sacrifiqué todo mi tiempo para servir a las personas más vulnerables, en especial a las mujeres víctimas de violencia sexual”, Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, asistente psicosocial de uno de los proyectos de La Floraison.
La organización trabaja desde un enfoque al que denomina “Nuestra voz” y que incluye la concienciación y la información a través de una radio, un grupo de teatro y un periódico comunitarios, así como la incidencia y la movilización de recursos para los grupos de mujeres. ‘Nuestra voz’ es prueba de nuestro apoyo y compromiso con la construcción de un mundo sin violencia”, afirma Loy Honore, fundadora de La Floraison.
Un centro de atención para sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género
Desde hace tres años, La Floraison apoya la atención psicosocial y la reintegración socioeconómica de las mujeres y las niñas sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género en centros de salud de Nemba, Katenga y Rubana, en el territorio de Fizi. A través de los centros de atención, el proyecto busca informar a las comunidades sobre la violencia sexual contra las mujeres y las niñas, los servicios disponibles y los derechos de las mujeres y su implementación legal. La iniciativa se propone también asesorar a las víctimas, derivarlas a servicios médicos y de apoyo legal y asegurar su reintegración económica a través de las Asociaciones Aldeanas de Ahorro y Préstamo, a la vez que fortalece el activismo comunitario contra la violencia de género.
Además de documentar, asesorar, apoyar y derivar a las sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género, La Floraison media entre las sobrevivientes que han sido rechazadas y sus familias. Como complemento, el proyecto incluye la divulgación entre la comunidad sobre la violencia sexual y de género a través de la creación de comités de vigilancia y alerta, la resolución de conflictos sociales y comunitarios y la promoción y defensa de los derechos de las mujeres.
“A través del grupo encontré algo más valioso que el dinero: ¡la solidaridad!”
Una joven burundiana de 17 años sobreviviente de violencias y beneficiaria del apoyo de La Floraison, cuenta su historia:
“A los 15 años di a luz a mi primer hijo con un viejo buen cliente que le ofreció una vaca a mi madre. La brutalidad de ese viejo borracho –me propinaba golpizas y amenazas de muerte– no daban un momento de paz en el hogar. Volví a la casa de mi madre, pero ella no aprobó mi comportamiento. En octubre de 2013, un congoleño mucho mayor que yo, de más de 49 años, planteó la necesidad de llevarme con él a la República Democrática del Congo. Mi madre dio su permiso para el matrimonio sin consultarme y el pretendiente entregó 3 cabras y 2 pares de taparrabos[2] como dote.
Cuando llegamos a la RDC, descubrí que él tenía tres esposas y que yo me había converitdo en la cuarta; él tenía hijos mayores que yo. Al cabo de un mes las tres primeras esposas no me querían en la parcela de tierra. El esposo me abandonó sin ningún apoyo. Fui a ver al jefe de la aldea pero estaba la barrera del idioma. Sin comida ni medios de superviviencia, empecé a cultivar para otras personas para poder comer. Cuando mi esposo se enteraba de que yo estaba trabajando para alguien, venía y los amenazaba diciendo que yo era su esposa y que nadie podía usarme sin su consentimiento. Yo no entendía nada porque todo sucedía en un idioma que no comprendo. Muchas personas tenían miedo de darme trabajo. Un día, tres hombres llegaron a mi hogar desprotegido alrededor de la medianoche. Me violaron uno a uno. Uno de ellos oyó mis gritos en kirundi –él también era de Burundi– y le pidió a sus amigos que me dejaran vivir. Me aconsejó que huyera porque mi esposo planeaba matarme. Por la mañana, los vecinos vinieron a rescatarme.
No Ie dije a nadie lo que me había sucedido esa noche –la violación– porque de acuerdo con nuestras costumbres, si los demás saben que has sido violada, ya nadie querrá casarse contigo. A la luz de estas amenazas, el jefe de la aldea me llevó a su casa y la policía empezó a investigar. No era fácil ayudarme porque estaba en la RDC ilegalmente, pero empezaron a buscar a mi esposo. Mi vida se volvió muy difícil porque para sobrevivir había vendido todo lo que tenía, y también las cosas de mi hijo. Le pedí al jefe de la aldea que me enviara a Burundi. Eso costaba más de $30, y no era fácil.
Un día, una mujer que trabajaba en el centro de salud vino a verme y me dijo que fuera al centro de salud para una cita privada. Yo tenía miedo, pero cuando llegué al lugar, ella me recibió con mucha amabilidad, me reconfortó, pero yo estaba muy conmovida y la reunión no pudo tener lugar a causa de mi llanto. Me dio una nueva cita, y esa vez le conté todo lo sucedido desde el principio en Burundi. También me vio la enfermera y fui a Sebele[3] para que me atendieran. Ella me ayudó mucho, con asesoramiento y visitas, aunque yo no hablaba swahili fluidamente. Yo iba a verla al centro de salud y un día fue conmigo a la estación de policía para ver cómo iba mi caso y le pidió al funcionario policial que facilitara mi repatriación a Burundi.
Ella también me recomendó que me uniera a un grupo de ahorro y crédito fundado en la aldea ya que así podría recibir un préstamo y hacer pequeñas transacciones comerciales. A través del grupo encontré algo más valioso que el dinero: ¡la solidaridad! No sabía que podría encontrar personas tan generosas a mi lado, en especial durante momentos tan duros. Recibí un pequeño préstamo de 16.000FC, que me permite vender pescado (12.000FC) y harina de maíz (4.000FC). Ya no moriré de hambre.
Mentalmente me siento bien, pero todavía necesito regresar a mi país a vivir con mi madre”.
[1] El territorio de Fizi incluye cuatro comunidades rurales, 27 grupos, 142 pueblos y 1634 aldeas. La infraestructura es insuficiente, en especial para la educación, la salud, el empleo, el transporte y la recreación. El área carece de electricidad y pocos hogares tienen acceso a agua potable y a saneamiento adecuado.
« Notre voix » pour améliorer le bien-être social, culturel et économique des femmes et des filles
Créée en 2008, La Floraison se donne pour mission de mobiliser, consolider et appuyer les énergies de jeunes femmes activistes des droits humains dans le territoire de Fizi[1], zone rurale de la province du Sud-Kivu en République démocratique du Congo, afin d’améliorer leur bien-être social, culturel et économique. Sa mission s’inscrit dans le cadre d’une vision plus globale de l’éclosion d’une nouvelle catégorie de jeunes femmes soucieuses de leur développement et résolument engagées à être des actrices de progrès socioculturel et économique dans leur environnement. C’est ainsi qu’est né le slogan « Jeunes femmes au service de la communauté », porté par l’association depuis sa création
« Je me suis sacrifiée à passer tout mon temps au service des vulnérables et surtout des femmes victimes de violences sexuelles», Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, assistante psychosociale dans le cadre d’un des projets de La Floraison.
L’organisation utilise une approche qu’elle intitule « Notre voix », qui va de la sensibilisation et l’information via une troupe théâtrale, un journal écrit et des radios communautaires, au plaidoyer et à la mobilisation des ressources de groupements féminins. « « Notre voix » est la preuve de notre souci et de notre engagement vers un monde sans violence », dit Loy Honore, Fondatrice de La Floraison.
Une maison d’écoute pour les survivantes de violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre
Depuis trois ans, La Floraison appuie la prise en charge psychosociale et la réinsertion socioéconomiques des femmes et des filles qui ont survécu aux violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, dans les aires de santé de Nemba, Katenga et Rubana, en territoire de Fizi. Dans le cadre d’une maison d’écoute, ce projet cherche à informer les communautés sur les violences sexuelles faites aux femmes et aux filles, les services disponibles, les droits des femmes et leur cadre légal d’exécution, ainsi qu’à fournir aux victimes un accompagnement, une orientation vers des services de soutien médical et juridique et assurer leur réinsertion économique à travers des Associations Villageoises d’Epargne et de Crédit (AVEC), tout en renforçant l’activisme communautaire contre les violences basées sur le genre.
En plus des activités d’identification, d’écoute, de soutien et d’orientation des survivantes de violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, La Floraison assure une médiation entre les survivantes qui ont été rejetées et leurs familles. De façon complémentaire, le projet comprend des activités de sensibilisation communautaire sur les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, la création et le renforcement de Comités d’Alerte et de Surveillance, la résolution de conflits sociaux et communautaires et la consolidation d’un plaidoyer en faveur des droits des femmes.
« Au sein du groupe, j’ai trouvé quelque chose qui dépasse même l’argent : la solidarité ! »
Une survivante burundaise de la violence, âgée de 17 ans et bénéficiaire de l’assistance proposée par La Floraison, raconte son histoire :
« A 15 ans, j’ai mis au monde mon premier enfant avec un vieux et fidèle client qui a proposé une vache à ma mère. Le comportement brutal de ce vieux soulard – coups, menaces de mort – n’a pas permis une entente dans le foyer. Je suis rentrée à la maison mais ma mère n’a pas été satisfaite de ma réaction. En octobre 2013, un vieil homme congolais âgé de plus de 49 ans a voulu m’amener avec lui en RDC, ma mère a donné son accord pour me marier sans me demander mon avis et le prétendant lui a remis 3 chèvres et deux paires de pagnes[2] pour ma dot.
Quand nous sommes arrivés en RDC, j’ai trouvé qu’il avait 3 femmes et que j’étais devenue la quatrième ; il avait des enfants plus âgés que moi. Après un mois, les trois premières femmes n’ont pas accepté que je reste dans la parcelle agricole. Le mari m’a abandonnée sans aucun soutien. Je suis allée voir le chef de village mais la communication a posé problème en raison de la différence de langue. Sans ration ni moyen de survie, j’ai commencé à cultiver pour les gens pour que je puisse manger. Quand mon mari apprenait que je travaillais pour quelqu’un, il venait le menacer en disant que j’étais son épouse et que personne ne pouvait m’utiliser sans son consentement. Je ne comprenais rien car tout se passait dans une langue que je ne comprends pas. Plusieurs personnes avaient peur de me faire travailler. Un jour, trois hommes se sont introduits dans ma maison non protégée vers minuit. Ils m’ont violée à tour de rôle. L’un d’eux a entendu mes cris en Kirundi – il était aussi burundais – et a demandé à ses amis de me laisser en vie. Il m’a conseillée de partir car mon mari avait l’intention de me tuer. Le matin, les voisins sont venus à mon secours.
Je n’ai dit à personne ce qui m’est arrivée cette nuit – le viol – car selon nos coutumes, si l’entourage apprend que vous avez subi le viol, personne ne peut plus se marier avec vous. Au vu de ces menaces, le chef de village m’a installée chez lui et la police est venue faire des investigations. Ça n’a pas été facile de m’assister car j’étais installée illégalement en RDC, mais ils ont commencé à chercher mon mari. Ma vie était devenue très difficile car j’avais déjà vendu tous les biens que j’avais pour ma survie et celle de mon enfant. J’ai demandé au chef de village de me faire partir au Burundi, il fallait plus de 30$, ce n’était pas facile.
Un jour, une femme travaillant au centre de santé est venue me chercher et m’a demandé de venir au centre de santé pour un entretien en privé. J’avais peur, mais lorsque je suis arrivée sur le lieu, elle m’a très bien accueillie, elle m’a rassurée, mais l’émotion était si grande que les pleurs n’ont pas permis un entretien libre. Elle m’a donnée un nouveau rendez-vous et cette fois-là, je lui ai révélé tout ce qui m’est arrivée à partir du Burundi. L’infirmier m’a aussi reçu et je suis allée à Sebele[3] pour les soins. Elle m’a beaucoup aidée par des conseils et des visites, même si je ne parle pas convenablement le Swahili. Je passais la voir au centre de santé et un jour elle m’a accompagnée au poste de la police pour suivre le déroulement de mon dossier et a demandé à la police de faciliter mon rapatriement vers le Burundi.
Elle m’a aussi conseillée de rejoindre un groupe d’épargne et crédit créé dans le village pour que je puisse bénéficier du crédit pour me permettre de mener des petites activités commerciales. Au sein du groupe, j’ai trouvé quelque chose qui dépasse même l’argent : la solidarité ! Je ne savais pas que je pouvais trouver des personnes généreuses à mes côtés surtout pendant ces moments de dures épreuves. J’ai eu un petit crédit de 16000FC qui me permet de commercialiser les fretins (12000FC) et la farine de maïs (4000FC). Je ne peux plus mourir de faim.
Mentalement je me sens bien, mais j’ai encore besoin de regagner mon pays pour vivre avec ma mère. »
[1] Le territoire de Fizi comprend quatre collectivités rurales, 27 groupements, 142 localités et 1.634 villages. Ses structures de base sont en mauvais état, notamment pour l’éducation, la santé, l’emploi, les transports et les loisirs. La région n’est pas électrifiée et peu de ménages disposent d’un accès à l’eau potable et aux infrastructures hygiéniques appropriées.
"Overcoming adversity and healing the pain" - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong, an AWID member since January 2015, is an Irish citizen with Nigerian roots. In 2001, she migrated to Ireland because she was forced to leave Nigeria after experiencing domestic, sexual and reproductive abuse.
“I don’t think anyone should be put in that situation where they are a slave to someone…. It shouldn’t happen to anyone”, she says.
Her arrival to Ireland as an asylum seeker and a single mother was extremely difficult at the beginning.
“People judge you even without knowing your situation”, she says. But due to her determination, Iniobong completed post-secondary education and has since worked in different paid and voluntary positions.
For years Iniobong kept her experience of abuse and forced migration to herself. She feared her family’s reactions and did not want to be judged, pitied or labelled.
In 2014, Iniobong chose to break her silence.
She spoke out for herself but also “for people who are currently experiencing what I had gone through, for survivors, for those who have given up hope and those who want to make a fresh start.”
“I am grateful because I have a voice and I can use it freely.”
Iniobong also uses her voice to advocate for the rights of women and children who are facing different kinds of violence.
With the help of some friends, she founded Love and Care for People Worldwide, a non-governmental organisation that supports women, children and youth affected by abuse, poverty and other forms of social exclusion. “I wanted to offer people hope and make them know their determination combined with some support.” The organisation offers diverse activities to help strengthen children’s and women’s self-confidence, learning and vocational skills.
“I would not sell my happiness for anyone. I have to be happy for me. And not continue living my life to please every other person but me.”
"Superando la adversidad y sanando el dolor" - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong es una ciudadana irlandesa con raíces nigerianas, que forma parte de AWID desde enero de 2015. Llegó a Irlanda en 2001 tras ser obligada a abandonar Nigeria por sufrir violencia doméstica, sexual y reproductiva.
“Nada justifica que una persona sea puesta en la situación de ser esclava de otra. Es algo que no debería sucederle a nadie, declara.
Su llegada a Irlanda como solicitante de asilo y madre soltera fue muy difícil al principio. Las personas te juzgan incluso sin conocer tu situación, afirma. Con determinación, Iniobong completó sus estudios superiores y ha realizado numerosos trabajos, tanto remunerados como voluntarios.
Durante varios años, guardó silencio sobre sus experiencias de abuso y migración forzada. Sentía temor de la reacción de su familia y no quería ser juzgada, etiquetada o que sintieran lástima por ella. En 2014, Iniobong decidió romper el silencio, lo hizo por ella misma, pero también por aquellas personas que ahora están sufriendo lo que yo sufrí, por las supervivientes, por quienes han perdido la esperanza y por quienes desean comenzar de nuevo.
“Agradezco tener voz y poder usarla con libertad."
Iniobong también usa su voz para defender los derechos de aquellas mujeres, niñas y niños que están viviendo algún tipo de violencia. Con la ayuda de algunas amistades, fundó Love and Care for People Worldwide (Amor y protección para las personas de todo el mundo), una organización no gubernamental que apoya a las mujeres, niñas y niños afectados por el abuso, la pobreza y otras formas de exclusión social. Quería dar esperanzas a la gente, que conocieran su valor y que tuvieran cierto apoyo. La organización ofrece distintas actividades para ayudar a fortalecer la confianza de las mujeres, las niñas y niños, sus habilidades para aprender y sus destrezas vocacionales.
“No vendería mi felicidad por nadie. Es por mí que debo ser feliz y no dejar de vivir mi vida por complacer a nadie que no sea yo.”
Escuche la historia de Iniobong con sus propias palabras. (en inglés)
« Surmonter l'adversité et guérir de la douleur » - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong, membre de l’AWID depuis janvier 2015, est citoyenne irlandaise et d’origine nigérienne. En 2001, elle est arrivée en Irlande après avoir été forcée de quitter le Nigéria suite à des violences domestiques, sexuelles et reproductives.
« Je pense que personne ne mérite d’être l’esclave de quelqu’un. Cela ne devrait arriver à personne. » dit-elle.
Au début, son arrivée en Irlande, comme demandeuse d’asile et fille mère, a été très difficile : « les gens vous jugent sans vraiment connaître votre situation », commente-t-elle. A force de détermination, Iniobong a achevé ses études secondaires et a occupé de nombreux postes rémunérés et bénévoles.
Pendant des années, Iniobong a gardé toute cette histoire d’abus et de départ forcé pour elle. Par crainte des réactions de sa famille et aussi parce qu’elle ne voulait pas qu’on la juge, qu’on la plaigne ou lui mette une étiquette. En 2014, Iniobong a choisi de rompre la loi du silence, pour elle, et aussi « pour toutes celles et ceux qui endurent ce qu’elle a vécu, pour les survivant-e-s, pour les personnes qui n’ont plus d’espoir et celles qui veulent prendre un nouveau départ.»
« Je suis reconnaissante d’avoir une voix et de pouvoir m’exprimer librement. »
Iniobong fait aussi entendre sa voix pour militer pour les droits des femmes et des enfants qui subissent eux-mêmes différentes formes de violence. Avec l’aide de quelques ami-e-s, elle a fondé “Amour et attention aux gens du monde entier” (Love and Care for People Worldwide), une organisation non-gouvernementale qui aide les femmes, les enfants et les jeunes ayant subi des abus, et souffrant de pauvreté et d’autres formes d’exclusion sociale. “Je voulais apporter de l’espoir aux gens et leur faire savoir que nous soutiendrons leur détermination.” L’organisation propose différentes activités qui permettent de renforcer la confiance en soi des enfants et des femmes, de les éduquer et de développer leurs compétences professionnelles.
« Je ne pourrais jamais brader mon bonheur. C’est mon bonheur. Je continuerai de vivre pour moi-même et non pour satisfaire les autres. »
Ecoutez Iniobong raconter son histoire avec ses propres mots (en anglais)
The Abortion Rights Campaign "Breaking the Silence" in Ireland
The Abortion Rights Campaign (ARC) - advocating for free, safe, and legal abortion in Ireland - has been an AWID member since May 2015. It is a grassroots, non-hierarchical, all-volunteer organization and is autonomous in its pro-choice activism.
ARC partners with numerous social justice, human rights and gender equality groups working on issues that intersect with and are impacted by Ireland’s failure to support full sexual and reproductive health and rights (SRHRs) for women since the 1983 8th Amendment of the Irish Constitution.
Although ARC only formed in January 2013, it currently actively partners with over 15 organizations throughout Ireland and internationally including the women’s councils, transgender, immigrant, traveler and regional/rural groups.
The march is part of ARC’s wider mission to secure access to free, safe, and legal abortion, while challenging the restrictive, stigmatized, and patriarchal environment surrounding SRHRs in Ireland.
Cathie Doherty, one of the co-conveners of ARC tells us, “There is an appetite in Ireland for real change, contrary to the statement from the Minister for Health and the Taoiseach. We need to end the hypocrisy of travel and the hypocrisy which forces women who cannot travel to carry pregnancies or to break the law by importing the abortion pill. We can change Ireland. We can have a society which treats us as the valuable human beings that we are.”
ARC works closely with women who have had abortions to tell their stories. They create a safe space where women can speak and be listened to. Ireland’s ‘Speak-Out’ organized in 2013 and again in 2014 gave a platform to women to talk about their abortions and reproductive health experiences abroad or illegally in Ireland. Some women have shared their stories with the press.
The Comedian and writer Tara Flynn recently spoke publicly about her experience in the Irish Times and said about the March for Choice that she will also MC for, “It’s time to acknowledge real women’s stories – women we all know – and actual facts: hundreds of thousands of women have had to travel and will continue to travel for healthcare they need, or put themselves at risk. Silence has got us nowhere. It’s time to talk.”
Dismantling Myths Through Social Media
For ARC, social media is an effective platform to campaign for and highlight bodily autonomy issues which often more traditional media fail to engage with.
“We strive to incorporate the use of new media and technologies into all of our advocacy work, with the aim of engaging as wide an audience as possible,” ARC said.
Ahead of International Women's Day in 2014, ARC ran the '8 days, 8 myths' campaign, dismantling the stigma and falsehoods surrounding abortion.
La Campaña por el Derecho al Aborto «Rompiendo el Silencio» en Irlanda
Abortion Rights Campaign [Campaña por el Derecho al Aborto, ARC] — que aboga por el aborto libre, seguro y legal en Irlanda — se afilió a AWID en mayo de 2015. Se trata de una organización de base, no jerárquica y formada por personal voluntario, que actúa de forma autónoma en su activismo por el derecho a decidir.
ARC trabaja en conjunto con numerosos grupos de justicia social, derechos humanos e igualdad de género en temáticas relacionadas entre sí y que se ven afectadas por el hecho de que desde 1983, cuando se aprobó la octava enmienda a la Constitución irlandesa, el país no ha brindado un apoyo pleno a la salud y los derechos sexuales y reproductivos de las mujeres.
Aunque la ARC se creó recién en enero de 2013, ya trabaja activamente con más de 15 organizaciones de toda Irlanda y también a nivel internacional, entre las que se cuentan Consejos de Mujeres y grupos trans*, de inmigrantes, de simpatizantes, regionales y rurales.
Marcha por el Derecho a Decidir
En el marco del Día de Acción Global por un Aborto Legal, Seguro y Gratuito, la ARC organizó su Cuarta Marcha Mundial por el Derechoa Decidir, el 26 de septiembre de 2015. La marcha es parte de la misión de ARC que incluye tanto garantizar el acceso al aborto libre, seguro y legal, como cuestionar el ambiente restrictivo, estigmatizado y patriarcal que rodea a la salud y los derechos sexuales y reproductivos en Irlanda.
Cathie Doherty, una de los co-convocantes de ARC afirma: «En Irlanda hay ganas de que se produzca un cambio real, en contra de lo que sostienen el Ministro de Sanidad y del Primer Ministro. Tenemos que acabar con la hipocresía de los viajes al exterior, que obliga a las mujeres que no pueden viajar a continuar con sus embarazos o a incumplir la ley importando píldoras para abortar. Podemos cambiar Irlanda. Podemos tener una sociedad que nos trate como seres humanos valiosos, que lo somos».
«Alza la voz» – Romper el silencio y acabar con el estigma
La ARC trabaja en estrecha colaboración con las mujeres que han abortado para que cuenten sus historias, creando un espacio seguro donde las mujeres pueden hablar y ser escuchadas. La acción «Speak Out» [Alza la voz] organizada en 2013 y nuevamente en 2014 facilitó una plataforma a las mujeres para que pudieran hablar sobre sus experiencias de abortos y atención a la salud reproductiva en el extranjero o ilegalmente en Irlanda.
Algunas mujeres compartieron sus historias con la prensa. La actriz y escritora Tara Flynn habló recientemente en público sobre su experiencia a través del periódico The Irish Times, en declaraciones sobre la Marcha por el Derecho a Decidir en la que se dispone a participar: «Es hora de admitir las historias de las mujeres reales — las mujeres que todo el mundo conoce — y los hechos concretos: cientos de miles de mujeres han tenido que viajar y continuarán viajando para obtener la atención médica que necesitan, o han puesto en riesgo su vida. El silencio no nos ha llevado a ninguna parte. Es hora de alzar la voz".
Desmontando mitos a través de las redes sociales
Para la campaña ARC, las redes sociales son una plataforma eficaz para hacer campaña y poner de relieve cuestiones que tienen que ver con la autonomía corporal, de las que no se ocupan los medios de comunicación más tradicionales.
«Nos esforzamos por incorporar el uso de los nuevos medios y las tecnologías en todo nuestro trabajo de incidencia, con el objetivo de involucrar a un público lo más amplio posible», afirmó una portavoz de la ARC.
En 2014, en la semana previa al Día Internacional de las Mujeres, ARC organizó la campaña «8 días, 8 mitos», para acabar con el estigma y las mentiras que rodean al aborto.
Cuarta Marcha Anual por el Derecho a Decidir (en inglés)
Na última década, os financiadores investiram significativamente mais dinheiro na igualdade de género; no entanto, apenas 1% do financiamento filantrópico e de desenvolvimento 
