In September 2016, the 13th AWID international Forum brought together in Brazil over 1800 feminists and women’s rights advocates in a spirit of resistance and resilience.
This section highlights the gains, learnings and resources that came out of our rich conversations. We invite you to explore, share and comment!
What has happened since 2016?
One of the key takeaways from the 2016 Forum was the need to broaden and deepen our cross-movement work to address rising fascisms, fundamentalisms, corporate greed and climate change.
With this in mind, we have been working with multiple allies to grow these seeds of resistance:
Movements can also benefit from new methodologies on Visioning Feminist Futures (Coming up soon!)
And through our next strategic plan and Forum process, we are committed to keep developing ideas and deepen the learnings ignited at the 2016 Forum.
What happens now?
The world is a much different place than it was a year ago, and it will continue to change.
The next AWID Forum will take place in the Asia Pacific region (exact location and dates to be announced in 2018).
We look forward to you joining us!
About the AWID Forum
AWID Forums started in 1983, in Washington DC. Since then, the event has grown to become many things to many peoples: an iterative process of sharpening our analyses, vision and actions; a watershed moment that reinvigorates participants’ feminisms and energizes their organizing; and a political home for women human rights defenders to find sanctuary and solidarity.
When you do a search for “Female Genital Mutilation” or “FGM” online, an image of four line-drawings of the female anatomy pop up next to its Wikipedia entry. It illustrates four types of violence. The first being a partial cut to the clitoris. The second, a more invasive cut with the entire clitoris removed. The third is progressively worse with the removal of the clitoris, labia majora and minora. And the fourth box illustrates a series of hash marks to symbolize stitches over the vaginal opening to allow only for urination and menstruation.
As a survivor of FGM, most questions about my story fixate on the physical. The first question I usually get asked is what type of FGM I underwent. When I told a journalist once that I went through Type 1, she said “oh, that’s not so bad. It’s not like type three which is far worse.” She was technically right. I had the least invasive form. And for many years, I gaslighted myself into feeling a sense of relief that I was one of the lucky ones. I comforted myself noting that I could have been less fortunate with all of my genitalia gouged out, not just the clitoral tip. Or worse I could have been one of the ones who didn’t survive at all. Like Nada Hassan Abdel-Maqsoud, a twelve year old, who bled to death on a doctor’s operating table earlier this year in Upper Egypt. Nada is a reminder to me that for every data point -- 200 million women and girls who live with the consequences of FGM globally -- there is a story. Nada will never be able to tell hers.
As much as I find the label “survivor” suffocating at times -- I also realize there is privilege embedded in the word. By surviving, you are alive. You have the ability to tell your story, process the trauma, activate others in your community and gain insights and a new language and lens to see yourself through.
The act of storytelling can be cathartic and liberating, but it can also shatter the storyteller in the process.
Without integrating the psychosocial support of trained clinicians into storytelling and healing retreats, well-intentioned interventions can result in more trauma. This is all the more important as FGM survivors navigate the double pandemic of their own PTSD from childhood trauma, and the indefinite COVID-19 global shutdown.
In many anti-FGM advocacy spaces, I have seen this insatiable hunger to unearth stories -- whatever the cost to the storyteller. The stories help activate funding and serve as a data point
for measuring impact.
Survivor stories then become commodities fueling a storytelling industrial complex. Storytellers, if not provided proper mental health support in the process, can become collateral damage.
My motivation in writing this piece is to flip the script on how we view FGM survivors, prioritizing the storyteller over the story itself.
FGM survivors are more than the four boxes describing how the pieces of our anatomy were cut, pricked, carved, or gouged out. In this essay, I’ll break down the anatomy of an FGM survivor’s story into four parts: stories that break, stories that remake, stories that heal, and stories that reveal.
Type 1: Stories that break
I was sitting in the heart of Appalachia with a group of FGM survivors, meeting many for the first time. As they shared their traumas, I realized we all belonged in some way or another to the same unenviable club. A white Christian survivor from Kentucky - who I don’t think I would have ever met if we didn’t have FGM survivorship connecting us - told the contours of her story.
There were so many parallels. We were both cut at seven. She was bribed with cake after her cut. I was bribed with a jumbo-sized Toblerone chocolate bar when mine was over. Absorbing her trauma overwhelmed me. And I imagine when I shared my story, others in the circle may also have been silently unraveling. We didn’t have a clinician or mental health professional in a facilitation role and that absence was felt. The first night, I was sharing a room with six other survivors and tried hard to keep the sounds of my own tears muffled. By the last day, I reached breaking point. Before leaving for the airport, my stomach contracted and I convulsively vomited. I felt like I was purging not only my pain, but the pain of the others I’d absorbed that week. We all dutifully produced our stories into 90 second social media friendly soundbites with narration and photos. But at what cost?
Type 2: Stories that remake
On February 6, 2016, the Guardian published my story as a survivor. The second it was released, I was remade. My identity transformed from nondescript, relatively invisible mid-level Foreign Service Officer to FGM survivor under a public microscope. That same day, then-U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power tweeted my story with the introduction: “I was seven years old” before linking to the article. The tweet symbolized a moment for me where my personal and professional worlds collided. Since then, they have been forever intertwined.
Even though I spent ten years of my career as a diplomat focused on other issues -- I lived in Cairo during the early days of the Arab Spring in 2011 and served in Baghdad and Erbil when the Syrian revolution turned from an uprising to civil war -- all of those past experiences that began to make mefeel erased. When I spoke on panels, my identity would be reduced to “survivor.” Like other survivors, I have worked hard to rewrite the script on how others see me.
I reinsert pieces of my other identities when speaking to underscore to the broader public that while yes, I am a survivor of childhood trauma and while my FGM story may have remade a part of my identity, it doesn’t define me.
Type 3: Stories that heal
With the guidance of a mental health expert, I have spent the last few months doing a deep dive into my FGM survivor story. I have told and retold my story over dozens of times in public venues. My goal is to break the culture of silence and inspire action. At this point, the telling of my story has almost become mechanized, as though I am reciting a verse from the Quran I memorized as a kid. I would always start with: “I was sitting an anthropology class when a fellow student described her research project on Female Genital Mutilation. And that’s when I had the memory jolt. A memory I had suppressed since childhood came flooding to the foreground.” I go into the details of what happened in granular detail -- the color of the floor, the feelings of confusion and betrayal in the hazy aftermath. And then I go on to talk about the afternoon I confronted my mother about the summer she and my father shipped my brother and off to India to stay with my aunt. The summer it happened. I later found out my aunt cut me without my parents’ consent. In my years of telling and retelling this story, I would have moments I felt nothing, moments I would break down, and moments of relief. It was a mixed bag, often contradictory emotions happening all at once.
When I began to take apart the story, I discovered the core moment where I felt most gutted. It wasn’t the cut itself. It was the aftermath. I remember sitting in a corner alone, feeling confused and ashamed. When I looked at my aunt on the other side of the room, she was whispering to my cousin and they both pointed and laughed at me. Unearthing the moment of shame - the laughter - has haunted me since childhood. The piece that was carved out of me is called “haram ki boti” which translates into sinful flesh. Over time, the physical scar healed. But for many FGM survivors, the psychological wounds remain
Type 4: Stories that reveal
Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical from the Foreign Service. I was burning out on both ends -- I had just completed a really tough assignment in Pakistan and was also doing anti-FGM
advocacy in my personal capacity. When I came home, an acquaintance from graduate school approached me to capture my story on film. As part of the process, she would send a camera
crew to shadow me. Sometimes while giving speeches, other times filming mundane interactions with friends and family. On a visit to my home in Texas, I’ll never forget the moment where my mom told me her story of survival. As part of the film, we went on a roadtrip to Austin to visit the university where I first had the memory jolt. My mom is patiently waiting for the cameraman to set up his tripod. My father is standing next to her.
In the end, we eventually had the conversation I never had the courage to have with either of my parents face to face. Looking them both in the eye, retelling my story with a camera as witness, we discussed how FGM ripped our family apart (specifically my dad’s relationship with his sister). For the first time, I heard my mom talking about her own experience and the feeling of betrayal when she discovered my aunt cut me without her consent. When I later told her that FGM was actually indigenous to the U.S. and Europe and that it was a cure for hysteria (prescribed by doctors) up until the 19th century, my mother exclaimed “that’s crazy to me, this was a cure for hysteria. I’m going to educate other doctors to speak out.” And in that moment, my mother, a survivor who had never shared her story before, became an activist.
My story, intertwined with her story, revealed a tightly woven fabric of resistance. With our voices, we were able to break the cycle of intergenerational structural violence. We were able to rewrite the stories of future generations of girls in our own family and hopefully one day, the world.
This is a woman breaking free from her mundane reality, devoid of color. She dreams in a colorful, "nonsensical" way that people in her life would not understand. She could be considered insane, yet her dreams are more vivid and imaginative than actual life. This is frequently how schizophrenia occurs to me, more engaging and exciting than real life.
Mena Mangal was a prominent TV journalist, women’s rights advocate and cultural adviser to Wolesi Jirga, the lower house of Afghanistan's national parliament.
For more than a decade, she worked for Ariana TV, Tolo TV's Pashto-language channel Lamar, and the private Afghan national television broadcaster Shamshad TV. As a presenter, Mena focused on women’s rights and cultural talk shows.
"Women's rights activist Wazhma Frogh said Mangal "had a loud voice" and actively spoke out as an advocate for her people."
Off-screen, she also ran popular social media pages that advocated for the rights of Afghan girls and women to education and work. In terms of her private life, Mena wrote extensively about being forced into an arranged marriage in 2017 and the process she had to go through to finally obtain a divorce.
In a Facebook post, Mena wrote she was receiving death threats from unknown sources but would continue to carry out her work.
On 11 May 2019, she was attacked by unknown gunmen and shot dead in broad daylight in a public space in Southeast Kabul.
"We are concerned about the situation because it has a direct impact on women who work outside their homes...Female journalists are changing their professions due to the increasing risks they are facing." - Robina Hamdard, Kabul-based women’s rights activist.
Claudia is a feminist psychologist with a Masters degree in Development Equality and Equity. She has been a human rights activist for 30 years, and a women’s rights activist for the last 24.
Claudia works in El Salvador as the co-founder and Executive Director of Asociación Mujeres Transformando. For the past 16 years she has defended labour rights of women working within the textile and garment maquila sector. This includes collaborations to draft legislative bills, public policy proposals and research that aim to improve labour conditions for women workers in this sector. She has worked tirelessly to support organizational strengthening and empowerment of women workers in the textile maquilas and those doing embroidery piece-work from home.
She is an active participant in advocacy efforts at the national, regional and international levels to defend and claim labour rights for the working class in the global South from a feminist, anti-capitalist and anti-patriarchy perspective and class and gender awareness raising. She is a board member with the Spotlight Initiative and its national reference group. She is also part of UN Women’s Civic Society Advisory Group.
Position
Co-President
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Membership why page page - to join as a member block
AWID Community is an online social networking platform for specifically for AWID members. It’s a feminist space for connection, resistance and celebration. A space for critical feminist conversations, collective power and solidarity. It is also a space for post-event dialogues, navigating difficult political learnings and community care
Principles of Engagement
Welcome to Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!
Principles of Engagement
AWID is committed to creating an online space that invites and challenges us all to operate from a place of courage, curiosity, generosity and shared responsibility.
We invite you to co-create spaces with us that are free of harassment and violence, where everyone is respected in their gender identity and expression, race, ability, class, religion, language, ethnicity, age, occupation, type of education, sexuality, body size, and physical appearance. Spaces where we recognize inequalities in our world and strive to transform them in our own interactions with each other.
We want to create a space where ...
we can all be present
This means that we are able to listen, understand and relate to each other. To feel close, in spite of it all being virtual. For this, we will make interpretation available and open channels (like chat and other tools) for you to react and share. To hear each other better, we invite you to wear headphones during the conversation. If it is possible for you , we suggest that you close your email and any other likely source of distraction while you are in the conversation.
all forms of knowledge are valued
Let us celebrate the multiple ways in which knowledge shows up in our lives. We invite you to approach the conversation with curiosity and openness to learn from others, allowing ourselves to unlearn and relearn through the exchange, as a way to start collectively building knowledge.
all of us feel welcome
We are committed to holistically approaching accessibility by being mindful of different physical, language, mental and safety needs. We want a space that is welcoming of folks from various backgrounds, beliefs, abilities and experiences. We will be proactive but we also ask that you communicate your needs with us, and we will do our best within our capacity to address these needs.
all of us feel safe and respected:
We all commit individually and collectively to respect each other’s privacy and to seek people’s consent before sharing any images or content generated during the conversation that involves them.
Creating a safer, respectful and enjoyable environment for the conversations, is everybody's responsibility.
Reporting
If you notice that someone is behaving in a discriminatory or offensive manner, please contact the reference person who will be indicated at the beginning of the session.
Any participants that express oppressive language or images, will be removed from the call and will not be readmitted. We will not engage with them in any way.
Snippet FEA Linda Porn Bio (EN)
Linda Porn is yet another heroine of feminist union organizing and sex worker activism nationally (in Spain) and transnationally.
Originally from Mexico, she has been living in Spain since the 2000s. She is a sex worker, an activist, a single mother and a multidisciplinary artist. Drawing from these different identities, she uses performance, video art and theater to vizibilize struggles at the intersections of transfeminism, sex work, migration, colonialism and motherhood.
She combines art and sex work while caring for her daughter as a single mother.
Linda also belongs to sex workers collectives that fight for their rights, such as the OTRAS union and CATS Murcia. She also co-founded the group 'Madrecitas' - that visibilises and denounces racist institutional violence against migrant families. Violence to which she and her daughter were subjected as a sex worker and migrant single mother.
«Quiero transmitir el siguiente mensaje a todos los tunecinos y tunecinas: Tenemos que unirnos para decir no a la censura y a los juicios contra el derecho a opinar.» - Lina Ben Mhenni (entrevista de 2013)
Lina Ben Mhenni fue bloguera, activista y docente de lingüística tunecina. Se expresaba en contra de la censura en Internet, defendía la libertad de expresión, y era una defensora de los derechos humanos y de las mujeres. Lina luchó también por la liberación de lxs estudiantes arrestadxs durante el gobierno del anterior presidente Zine El Abidine.
«Es cierto que la información y la Internet son importantes, pero para hacer una revolución es crucial estar en el territorio. Algunas personas aquí en Túnez piensan que el cambio se dará mediante un simple “me gusta” en Internet. Yo creo que hay que estar activxs en el terreno. Y, por supuesto, que hay que combinar las acciones en el terreno con la acción en las redes.» - Lina Ben Mhenni (entrevista en POCIT)
En 2010 co-organizó una protesta que desafió la decisión gubernamental de suprimir medios de comunicación e instalar la censura de Internet. Lina era muy conocida por su blog «A Tunisian Girl», y por su trabajo durante la revolución tunecina de 2011. En su blog, difundió la información sobre el levantamiento, compartió imágenes que documentaban las protestas, y fue una de las pocas voces que hablaron sobre los asesinatos y la represión de lxs manifestantes de Sidi Bouzid. Lina publicaba en su blog utilizando su nombre real en lugar de un seudónimo que protegiera su identidad, y fue una de lxs pocxs bloguerxs en hacerlo.
«Nuestra libertad de expresión corre verdadero peligro. Me temo que estamos perdiendo los extraordinarios frutos de la revolución: la desaparición del miedo y nuestra libertad de expresión. Tenemos que seguir luchando para proteger y preservar este derecho.» - Lina Ben Mhenni (entrevista de 2013)
Lina tenía solamente 36 años cuando falleció, el 27 de enero de 2020, debido a complicaciones derivadas de una enfermedad autoinmune.
«Libertad, mejor educación y mejor salud—eso era lo que todxs queríamos. Cuando fracasábamos, ella nos empujaba.» - Hala, maestra de Lina
Sanyu es una feminista que reside en Nairobi (Kenia). Ha dedicado los últimos 10 años a apoyar a los movimientos obreros, feministas y por los derechos humanos, promoviendo la rendición de cuentas empresarial, la justicia económica y la justicia de género. Ha trabajado con el Centro de Información sobre Empresas y Derechos Humanos, en International Women’s Rights Action Watch Asia y el Pacífico (IWRAW, Observatorio Internacional de los Derechos de las Mujeres) y la Iniciativa de Derechos Humanos de la Commonwealth. Posee una maestría en Leyes y Derechos Humanos y una licenciatura en Derecho de la Universidad de Nottingham. Sus escritos se han publicado en el Business and Human Rights Journal, Human Rights Law Review, y plataformas como Open Global Rights, Democracia Abierta, entre otras. En sus ratos libres, le gusta caminar por el bosque y perseguir mariposas.
Position
Gerente Construcción de Economías Feministas
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Forum anchors (Forum page)
Forum Anchors
The AWID Forum will be organized around 6 interconnected topics. These ‘anchors’ center feminist realities.
“Forgotten Song” [«Canción Olvidada»]“Ode to the Moon” [Oda a la Luna»]“Vapour and Fire” [«Vapor y Fuego»]
Sobre Upasana Agarwal
Upasana es unx ilustradorx y artista no binarie de Calcuta, India. Su obra explora narrativas identitarias y personales, que empean restos o evidencias visuales de los contextos con los que trabaja. Le atraen especialmente los diseños en patrones que, para ellx, comunican verdades complejas sobre el pasado, el presente y el futuro. Cuando Upasana no está ilustrando, organiza y dirige un centro de arte comunitario queer y trans de la ciudad.
Activiste sociale et de l’environnement équatorienne, Gloria Chicaiza était une fervente défenseuse du droit à la terre et à l’eau. Elle s’est opposée au statu quo en luttant contre un modèle de développement fondé sur l’extraction et a oeuvré sans relâche pour la justice écologique et les droits des communautés affectées par l’exploitation minière.
Dans divers endroits de l’Équateur, Gloria a participé à des actions de résistance en faveur de la protection de l’écosystème. Avec passion et dévouement, Goria a apporté son soutien au mouvement autochtone et environnemental, à ces communautés et organisations qui s’opposent aux projets miniers et protègent leurs territoires et leurs projets de vie collectifs. Elle est intervenue au sein de forums locaux et internationaux contre la criminalisation des dissident·e·s et des résistant·e·s, contre les pressions et la violence exercées à l’encontre des activistes communautaires, en particulier des femmes défenseuses des droits humains, et pour soutenir les efforts déployés par les communautés en faveur de la souveraineté alimentaire et de la durabilité.
Elle était la coordonnatrice de la justice minière à Acción Ecológica, membre du Réseau latino-américain des femmes défenseuses des droits sociaux et environnementaux, et membre du conseil d'administration de l'Observatoire latino-américain des conflits miniers.
En octobre 2010, Gloria a été accusée par la société minière Curimining/Salazar Resources S.A. (dont le siège est à Vancouver, au Canada) d’avoir commandité un acte de terrorisme, de sabotage et d’association illégale dans le but de commettre un crime. Acción Ecológica a estimé qu’il s’agissait là de “représailles pour son travail de dénonciation concernant l’impact des activités minières dans le pays”.
En 2015, Gloria a facilité la coordination d’une délégation, composée de 25 femmes autochtones d’Amérique latine, affectée au Dialogue sur le changement climatique de la COP 20 des Nations Unies.
Gloria est décédée le 28 décembre 2019 des suites de complications liées à une transplantation pulmonaire. On se souvient d’elle pour ses actes de résistance et son travail acharné.
"Le moyen le plus rapide de parvenir à la durabilité reste encore la résistance.” - Gloria Chicaiza (2010 interview)
Hommages :
“Pour GLORIA. GLORIA Eau. GLORIA Terre. GLORIA Mère. GLORIA Révolution. GLORIA Soeur. GLORIA Ciel. GLORIAmie. GLORIAstrale. Merci de nous avoir entrelacé·e·s.” -Liliana Gutierrez
“Merci Glorita, d’avoir nourri l'espoir, d’avoir préservé la solidité de la structure, d’avoir tissé des liens avec la communauté, pour les mains unies, pour la solidarité, merci Glorita de t’être tenue à nos côtés dans les moments les plus difficiles. Merci de nous avoir appris que tout au long de la vie, personne ne se fatigue.” (Chakana News)
“Gloria Chicaiza appréciait ne pas sortir du lot et s’y épanouissait. Et aussi humble qu'elle fût, elle avait une capacité inouïe à mener et garder un rythme régulier et étourdissant, un pouls de vie qui guidait, mobilisait et inspirait les communautés et les réseaux dans la protection de la Terre Mère. Elle a dénoncé toutes les formes de violence contre les “cuerpos-territorios” (les corps comme territoires). Elle soutenait le “buen vivir" (“bien vivre”). - Gabriela Jiménez, coordonnatrice des partenariats en Amérique latine, KAIROS
“Merci Gloria Chicaiza, nous sommes sûr·e·s que depuis l’infini, tu continueras à soutenir notre combat. Toi qui as continué de te battre en dépit de ta santé défaillante. Tu continueras de vivre dans les forêts et les eaux que tu as défendues avec tant de courage. Tu vivras dans nos coeurs.” - La communauté d’Intag en Équateur
Originaire des Fidji, Veena Singh est féministe et femme de couleur. Élevée dans une petite commune rurale de ces îles, elle tire sa force de la richesse de son héritage mixte (sa mère est une femme autochtone fidjienne et son père est de descendance indo-fidjienne). L’identité et le vécu de Veena ont largement façonné son engagement envers la justice, l’équité et l’inclusion. Avec plus d’une vingtaine d’années d’expérience dans les droits humains, l’égalité des genres, l’épanouissement de la communauté et l’inclusion sociale, Veena croit passionnément qu’il faut faire bouger les lignes du pouvoir pour provoquer le changement transformateur qui permettra de construire l’économie de la bienveillance. Elle travaille dans des domaines très divers, notamment l’épanouissement de la communauté ; les femmes, la paix et la sécurité ; les politiques sociales ; les droits humains ; et le plaidoyer politique.
Elle est profondément engagée à faire avancer l’inclusion, la paix et la justice, la santé et les droits sexuels et reproductifs, la justice climatique, la justice transitionnelle et les droits humains. Elle possède une vaste expérience des réseaux de terrain, des organisations internationales et des institutions gouvernementales, et elle place toujours au centre les approches pilotées à l’échelle locale et par les communautés ainsi que les principes féministes.
En dehors de sa « vie de bureau », Veena est une défenseuse de l’environnement, de la santé mentale et c’est aussi une écrivaine. Mère de 11 chats, elle ne jure que par les saris et a un gros faible pour le courrier traditionnel et les cartes postales. Observatrice attentive des mouvements féministes aux Fidji et dans le Pacifique, Veena est en plein parcours personnel pour « décoloniser sa pensée et soi-même, en entreprenant une introspection radicale ». Par-dessus tout, elle est animée par le désir et le rêve de livrer des écrits auxquels pouvoir s’identifier, qui résonnent auprès des autres, en connectant avec la diaspora du Pacifique et en amplifiant les voix marginalisées.
