Anit-Racism Movement (ARM) / Flickr (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)
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.
Around the world, feminist, women’s rights, and allied movements are confronting power and reimagining a politics of liberation. The contributions that fuel this work come in many forms, from financial and political resources to daily acts of resistance and survival.
AWID’s Resourcing Feminist Movements (RFM) Initiative shines a light on the current funding ecosystem, which range from self-generated models of resourcing to more formal funding streams.
Through our research and analysis, we examine how funding practices can better serve our movements. We critically explore the contradictions in “funding” social transformation, especially in the face of increasing political repression, anti-rights agendas, and rising corporate power. Above all, we build collective strategies that support thriving, robust, and resilient movements.
Our Actions
Recognizing the richness of our movements and responding to the current moment, we:
Create and amplify alternatives: We amplify funding practices that center activists’ own priorities and engage a diverse range of funders and activists in crafting new, dynamic models for resourcing feminist movements, particularly in the context of closing civil society space.
Build knowledge: We explore, exchange, and strengthen knowledge about how movements are attracting, organizing, and using the resources they need to accomplish meaningful change.
Advocate: We work in partnerships, such as the Count Me In! Consortium, to influence funding agendas and open space for feminist movements to be in direct dialogue to shift power and money.
Related Content
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.
Sou uma ativista individual, não colaboro com qualquer grupo, organização e/ou movimento neste momento. Devo participar no inquérito mesmo assim?
Não, apreciamos o seu trabalho, mas, de momento, não solicitamos respostas de indivídues.
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.
الاستطلاع متواجد في KOBO وهي منصة برمجيات مفتوحة المصدر لجمع وإدارة المعطيات. لتعبئة الاستطلاع، يمكنكم/ن الضغط على هذا الرابط. اتبعوا/ن التعليمات لتكملة الاستطلاع.
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
Всего 47 вопросов, из которых 27 являются обязательными*, а остальные 20 – дополнительными. Большинство вопросов – это вопросы с множественным выбором. Мы надеемся, что вы ответите на все вопросы.
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.
إن رغبتم/ن في سحب استطلاعكم/ن ومحيه لأي سبب كان، لديكم/ن الحق الكامل بالقيام بذلك. الرجاء التواصل معنا عن طريق هذا النموذج وكتابة "استطلاع المال" في عنوان رسالتكم/ن وسنقوم بسحب ومحي أجوبتكم/ن.
Могу ли я связаться с кем-либо, если у меня возникнут вопросы?
Если у вас есть какие-либо вопросы или сомнения, пожалуйста, свяжитесь с нами через форму здесь, указав «Опрос «Где деньги?» (WITM Survey) в качестве заголовка вашего сообщения. или напишите нам по адресу witm@awid.org
Snippet - Join CSW69 Conversations Intro_EN
Join us through the #FreezeFascisms conversations!
As we navigate the global polycrisis, movements are tirelessly building power beyond traditional power structures. The wave of US presidential executive orders is intended to scare us, but no amount of fascist ideology can erase our existence and resistance.
We invite you to be a part of the solidarity-building campaign to expose and resist fascist forces undermining feminist and gender justice movements in your contexts!
Spark conversations in a brave space: Share stories of struggles and resistance to fascisms in your contexts on the AWID Community Platform. Not a member yet? Join here
Support movements that have been impacted: Amplify fundraisers, resourcing opportunities, mutual aid efforts using the #FreezeFascisms (we’re still on X, Instagram, LinkedIN, and we’re also on Bluesky)
Organize around alternatives: We’ve been building our community of practice on feminist economic alternatives & autonomous resourcing. Sign up to be part of it here.
Snippet - CSW69 - Other events - EN
Find AWID staff at these partners' events!
Snippet - WCFM type of funder - EN
Type of funder:
Filter your search by funders from different sectors i.e., philanthropic foundations, multilateral funders, women’s and feminist funds
Snippet2 - WCFM type of funding- EN
Type of funding:
Be it core funding, programmes & projects or rapid response/ emergency grants.
Snippet - COP30 - Links
$2.7 trillion for the military. $300 billion for climate justice. We're here to flip the script.
AWID’s Tribute is an art exhibition honouring feminists, women’s rights and social justice activists from around the world who are no longer with us.
In 2020, we are taking a turn
This year’s tribute tells stories and shares narratives about those who co-created feminist realities, have offered visions of alternatives to systems and actors that oppress us, and have proposed new ways of organising, mobilising, fighting, working, living, and learning.
49 new portraits of feminists and Women Human Rights Defenders (WHRDs) are added to the gallery. While many of those we honour have passed away due to old age or illness, too many have been killed as a result of their work and who they are.
This increasing violence (by states, corporations, organized crime, unknown gunmen...) is not only aimed at individual activists but at our joint work and feminist realities.
The stories of activists we honour keep their legacy alive and carry their inspiration forward into our movements’ future work.
The portraits of the 2020 edition are designed by award winning illustrator and animator, Louisa Bertman.
AWID would like to thank the families and organizations who shared their personal stories and contributed to this memorial. We join them in continuing the remarkable work of these activists and WHRDs and forging efforts to ensure justice is achieved in cases that remain in impunity.
“They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.” - Mexican Proverb
The Tribute was first launched in 2012
It took shape with a physical exhibit of portraits and biographies of feminists and activists who passed away at AWID’s 12th International Forum, in Turkey. It now lives as an online gallery, updated every year.
“Don’t give up fighting because the struggle is not over; it has just begun”. – Marianna Karakoulaki
Since the summer of 2015, Idomeni, a village at the Greek-Macedonian border, has increasingly turned into a site of the largest unofficial refugee camp in Greece. At the end of May it was shut down by authorities. For a year now, Marianna Karakoulaki, a young woman originally from a small town in the north-western part of the country has been covering the refugee crisis in Idomeni as a freelance journalist.
With colleagues behind Greek riot police during a protest in Thessaloniki, Greece
Marianna has also been covering social protests and riots, mostly from Thessaloniki where she has been living for the past couple of years. Reporting for several media outlets, including Deutsche Welle (DW), IRIN News, and the Middle East Eye, she additionally produces TV reports, recently being part of a Channel 4 News production: Macedonia: tracking down the refugee kidnap gangs which has won several awards including ‘TV News Story of the Year’ from Foreign Press Association in London.
Feminism, a red thread
“I absolutely and without any doubt identify as a feminist, it’s part of my identity along with being an atheist and a leftist.” – Marianna Karakoulaki
Throughout Marianna’s experiences, education and work, feminism has been a red thread throughout her life. She feels she has “always identified with feminism, without actually knowing what it was”, from her teen years and all through her Master’s degree studies in International Security at the University of Birmingham, United Kingdom. Marianna has countered occasional bouts of depression, and alongside studying about movements and the struggle for equality, feminism has inspired and given her a new approach to “pretty much everything”.
“It [feminism] entirely changed my academic focus, political ideology, and general approach to life. That is the reason I always wear a necklace with the feminist fist.” - Marianna Karakoulaki
During a protest at the Greek-Macedonian border next to the newly built Macedonian fence
In her work, Marianna tries to focus on feminist subjects aiming to give voice to those on the margins especially in Greece seeing “gender related issues are either ignored or not covered as they should be.”
But even though she has been reporting about the refugee crisis for the past year, she has been, as she tells us, deliberately avoiding writing a story on refugee women.
“The main reason for that is that I don’t really want to intrude in refugee women’s lives just for the sake of a good story; I have heard some stories that would have been worth publishing, but for a reason it never felt right as these people are in a vulnerable position. Their voice needs to be heard but there is the right moment for that and for me this is when they finally reach a safe space where they are protected.” - Marianna Karakoulaki
A bit more about Marianna
In her current academic work, she is one of the directors and editors of E- International Relations (E-IR), an online academic publication, where she is currently editing a book on migration in the 21st century due to be published in late 2016. Marianna has also taught at several workshops in Greece on gender equality, gender issues, and the diversity of feminisms and has written papers and articles on abortion rights specifically in the United States of America, as well as about feminist and women’s issues in the Middle East.
Marianna joined AWID as a member because:
“I joined AWID as it’s an organization where its priority areas are very close to my ideology and focus, plus it is giving a voice to those in parts of the world that cannot be heard, and I like that.”
And in answer to the question “what change would you like to see in your lifetime?” Marianna responded:
“If I had to choose a change that I’d like to see in my lifetime, that would be equality that will come from a bottoms-up approach; that will demand time, effort, and devotion. It will also demand a re-approach of the movements’ tactics and strategy. I also have a utopian dream of a world without nations and borders based on self-organisation, but that is rather impossible.”
«No dejen de pelear porque la lucha no ha terminado: recién empieza.» – Marianna Karakoulaki
Desde el verano (boreal) de 2015, Idomenei, un pueblo ubicado en la frontera entre Grecia y Macedonia, albergó el campamento no oficial de personas refugiadas más grande de Grecia. A fines de mayo de 2016, las autoridades lo cerraron. Desde hace ya un año, Marianna Karakoulaki, una joven originaria de otra ciudad pequeña pero en el noroeste del país, ha venido cubriendo la crisis de las personas refugiadas en Idomenei como periodista independiente.
Con colegas tras la policía en una protesta en Thessaloniki, Grecia
Marianna también ha cubierto protestas y levantamientos sociales, en particular desde Thessaloniki donde vivió durante los últimos años. Es corresponsal de varios medios como Deutsche Welle (DW), IRIN News, y Middle East Eye. Además, produce informes para la televisión y recientemente intervino en una producción de Channel 4 News: Macedonia: tracking down the refugee kidnap gangs [En la pista de las bandas que secuestran refugiadxs en Macedonia; en inglés] que obtuvo varios premios, entre ellos el de cobertura noticiosa del año en televisión otorgado por la Asociación de Prensa Extranjera en Londres.
Feminismo, un hilo conductor rojo
«Me defino como feminista, absolutamente y sin ninguna duda. Es parte de mi identidad, al igual que ser atea y de izquierda.» – Marianna Karakoulaki
El feminismo ha sido un hilo conductor rojo que recorre todas las experiencias, la formación y el desempeño laboral de Marianna a lo largo de su vida. Considera que: «desde siempre me he identificado con el feminismo, sin saber qué era», ya en su adolescencia y durante sus estudios de Maestría en Seguridad Internacional en la Universidad de Birmingham, Reino Unido. Marianna hizo frente a crisis depresivas esporádicas y además de estudiar los movimientos y las luchas por la igualdad, el feminismo la ha inspirado y le ha aportado un nuevo enfoque «prácticamente sobre todas las cosas».
«El feminismo cambió por completo mis prioridades académicas, mi ideología política y mi enfoque sobre la vida en general. Por eso siempre llevo puesto un colgante con el puño feminista.» - Marianna Karakoulaki
Durante una protesta en la frontera entre Grecia y Macedonia cerca de la recientemente construida barrera fronteriza macedonia
En su trabajo, Marianna intenta abordar temáticas feministas para hacer que se escuchen las voces de los márgenes sobre todo en Grecia «ya que los temas de género son ignorados o no se los cubre como se debería».
Pero aunque lleva más de un año informando sobre la crisis de las personas refugiadas ha tratado, en forma deliberada, de evitar escribir sobre las mujeres refugiadas.
«La razón principal es que no quiero entrometerme en las vidas de las mujeres refugiadas solo para obtener una buena nota; escuché algunas historias dignas de ser publicadas, pero nunca sentí que fuera apropiado hacerlo porque son personas en una posición de vulnerabilidad. Es necesario que se escuchen sus voces pero hay un momento adecuado para hacerlo y para mí ese momento será cuando por fin lleguen a un espacio seguro donde estén protegidas.» - Marianna Karakoulaki
Un poco más acerca de Marianna
En su trabajo académico actual, es una de las directoras y editoras de E- International Relations [Relaciones internacionales electrónicas; E-IR], una publicación académica en línea para la que está editando un libro sobre migraciones en el siglo XXI que se publicará este año. Marianna también ha dictado varios talleres en Grecia sobre igualdad de género, otras temáticas de género y la diversidad de los feminismos. Escribió artículos académicos y periodísticos sobre el derecho al aborto en Estados Unidos así como sobre temáticas feministas y de mujeres en Medio Oriente.
Marianna se afilió a AWID porque:
«...es una organización cuyas áreas prioritarias son muy afines a mi ideología y a lo que yo priorizo. También porque le da voz a quienes viven en zonas del mundo desde las que no pueden ser escuchadas, y eso me gusta.»
En respuesta a la pregunta sobre qué cambios le gustaría ver en su vida, Marianna afirmó:
«Si tuviera que elegir un cambio que quiero ver en mi vida, sería una igualdad producto de un enfoque ‘desde abajo hacia arriba’. Eso llevará tiempo, esfuerzo y dedicación, así como una revisión de las tácticas y la estrategia de los movimientos. También tengo el sueño utópico de un mundo sin naciones ni fronteras, cuya base sea la organización autónoma, pero eso es bastante imposible.»
« Ne cessez jamais de vous battre parce que la lutte n’est pas finie ; elle vient juste de commencer. » – Marianna Karakoulaki
Depuis l’été 2005, Idomeni, un village situé à la frontière gréco-macédonienne, est progressivement devenu le plus vaste camp officieux de réfugié-e-s de Grèce. À la fin du mois de mai, ce camp a été fermé par les autorités. Et depuis maintenant un an, Marianna Karakoulaki, une jeune journaliste indépendante originaire d’une petite ville du nord-ouest du pays, couvre les événements qui se produisent dans ce village.
Accompagnée par des collègues derrière la police anti-émeute grecque durant une manifestation à Thessalonique
Marianna a aussi couvert les manifestations et les émeutes qui se sont déroulées principalement à Thessalonique, la ville où elle vit depuis quelques années. Outre le travail qu’elle effectue pour différents médias, dont Deutsche Welle (DW), IRIN News et the Middle East Eye, elle réalise également des reportages pour la télévision. Elle a récemment co-réalisé un reportage d’actualité, Macedonia: Tracking down the refugee kidnap gangs (Macédoine : sur la trace des gangs qui kidnappent les réfugiés, en anglais), qui a remporté plusieurs prix dont celui du meilleur reportage d’actualité pour la télévision décerné par l’Association de la presse étrangère à Londres.
Le féminisme, un fil rouge
« Je me sens absolument féministe, sans aucune réserve. Mon féminisme fait partie de mon identité, tout comme mon athéisme et mes convictions politiques de gauche. » – Marianna Karakoulaki
Le féminisme a été le fil rouge de la vie, de l’éducation et du travail de Marianna. Elle a l’impression « de s’être toujours sentie féministe, même quand elle ne savait pas encore vraiment ce que ce mot signifiait », et ce depuis son adolescence et tout au long de ses études de master en sécurité internationale à l’université de Birmingham, au Royaume-Uni. Pendant les épisodes dépressifs occasionnels qu’elle a connu et pendant toutes ses années d’études des mouvements et de la lutte pour l’égalité, le féminisme l’a inspirée et lui a permis d’adopter une nouvelle approche « d’à peu près tout ».
« Il [le féminisme] a entièrement changé mon orientation académique, mon idéologie politique et mon approche de la vie au sens large. C’est la raison pour laquelle je porte toujours autour du cou le poing féministe. » - Marianna Karakoulaki
Pendant une manifestation à la frontière greco-macédonienne à côté d’une clôture macédonienne nouvellement construite
Dans le cadre de son travail, Marianna tente de se consacrer aux questions féministes en donnant la possibilité à celles qui sont reléguées à la marge de s’exprimer, notamment en Grèce où « les questions relatives au genre sont soit ignorées soit insuffisamment prises en charge ».
Elle travaille depuis un an sur la crise des réfugié-e-s, mais elle a délibérément évité d’écrire un article sur les femmes réfugiées.
« J’ai pris cette décision tout d’abord parce que je ne voulais pas faire intrusion dans la vie de ces femmes dans le simple but de dénicher une bonne histoire. J’ai entendu des récits qui auraient méritées d’être publiées mais, sans vraiment savoir pourquoi, je ne me suis jamais sentie autorisée à raconter la vie de ces personnes dans telle situation de vulnérabilité. Il faut que leurs voix soient entendues, mais il y a un bon moment pour le faire, et je pense qu’il faut attendre qu’elles atteignent enfin un espace sûr dans laquelle leur protection est assurée. » - Marianna Karakoulaki
Quelques informations complémentaires sur Marianna
Dans le cadre académique, elle est membre de l’équipe de direction et de rédaction de E- International Relations (E-IR), un site académique pour lequel elle dirige la publication d’un livre sur les migrations au XXIe siècle, à paraître fin 2016. Marianna a également dispensé des cours lors de différents ateliers organisés en Grèce sur l’égalité de genre, les questions de genre et la diversité des féminismes. Elle a également écrit des articles sur le droit à l’avortement notamment aux États-Unis mais aussi sur les questions féministes ou relatives aux femmes dans le Moyen-Orient.
Marianna explique comme suit sa décision de devenir membre de l’AWID :
« Je suis devenue membre de l’AWID parce qu’il s’agit d’une organisation dont les domaines d’action prioritaires sont très proches de mon idéologie et de mes préoccupations et qui donne la parole aux personnes du monde entier que l’on entend jamais, et j’aime beaucoup cela. »
À la question « quel changement aimeriez-vous voir se matérialiser de votre vivant ? », Marianna apporté cette réponse :
« Si je devais choisir un changement que j’aimerais voir survenir de mon vivant, ce serait l’instauration d’une égalité issue d’une approche venue de la base ; cela demandera du temps, des efforts et du dévouement. Cela exigera également une refonte des tactiques et stratégies des mouvements. Je fais aussi le rêve utopique d’un monde sans nations ni frontières fondé sur l’auto-organisation, mais je crains que cela ne soit pas possible. »
Pour en savoir plus sur Marianna, n’hésitez pas à consulter son site internet (en anglais)
