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AWID is an international, feminist, membership organisation committed to achieving gender equality, sustainable development and women’s human rights

AWID Forum: Co-creating Feminist Futures

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:

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.

Learn more about previous Forums

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My Queer Ramadan 

by Amal Amer, California, US

I pray with my family for the first time in six years while wrapped in a keffiyah I scavenged from a dumpster.

Since coming into myself, I have refused to pray in jamaat with my family. Joining in the ranks of hierarchy, “women” behind “men” irks me. It grates my skin and teeth to the degree where I can’t focus, and the standing, bowing, and kneeling feels like a battle against my true being. Each second listening, a betrayal of my nature. Instead, I pray by myself in my own way. 

Yet this Ramadan, I feel different. Back in my childhood home after many years, I am choosing to fast. I choose suhoor with my family, and praying together feels like a natural extension of eating together. After eating, my mother, father, brother and I line up for fajr. 

I pray behind Baba, but my prayer is my own. I close my eyes, staying with my breath and my body. 

My eyes closed, I open my inner sight to a wide open window on a vista of mountains, bright sun spreading over a light mist of clouds. This was the view I had while praying in jamaat at a queer Muslim wedding I attended in the mountains of the South of France last September. 

I lined up with the wedding guests, queer and trans folks of North and West African, Arab, and European descent. Folks of all faiths joined while some chose to stand in respect at the sides or behind. The groups did not fall along fault lines of “Muslim” or “non-Muslim,”  “religious” or “non religious.” The two lovers marrying each led us in prayer, and so did the Muslim woman officiating the nikkah. Each of the three led us in two rounds of prayers, two raqat.

I showed up as I was, my body uncovered. I had not washed. I only passed my camera to a friend who chose to stand at the side. 

In the first sujood, I broke down crying. I wore a jean dress that loves my body, one found at a thrift store my ex-girlfriend pointed me to.

The sobs come through my whole body during the prayer, and I put my head to the earth with my community like a homecoming. A return to the embrace of love both intensely personal and communal, and I am held.

It feels like swimming in the sea with multiple people:  joyful togetherness. But when you go beneath the water, it’s just you and the current. 

Like a dozen people buried in the same graveyard. Separate, but sharing the same soil. Becoming one with the growing earth. 

That was how it felt to pray in communion at a queer Muslim wedding.

I welcomed the light of acceptance while showing up as myself that day, with a group of people who had also chosen to claim all the parts of themselves in love. That light made a home in me, and it illuminates my heart in the dark living room at fajr this Ramadan morning. Though I pray with my birth family who do not accept all of me, I see myself praying in jamaat at that glorious wedding with all of my queer Muslim ancestors, my queer angels, my lineage, my soul family, my queer Muslim family, all standing in prayer. Bowing as one. 

My family’s home does not always feel like my own, though I am here now. I take the bukhoor from room to room, barefoot. Smolder from the censer, an incense that says, “Here I am.” Baraka, blessings from the source of all, Allah and the Goddess to each room in the house, bidding good and dispersing the unbidden. 

As I write this the sky turns the same royal blue I am familiar with from exiting the club and pulling all-nighters. It is the gradient of morning I step into as I go to sleep. 

Word meanings:

  • Ramadan: the Muslim holy month, traditionally observed with 29 days of fasting without food or water during daylight hours

  • Keffiyah: a patterned scarf common in the SWANA region. The black and white version referred to here is associated with the Palestinian liberation movement 

  • Pray in jamaat: Islamic ritual prayer in a group. Participants follow one person, traditionally male, who calls the prayer aloud.

  • Suhoor: the meal before the fast starts at dawn

  • Fajr: the dawn prayer

  • Baba: father

  • Raqat: one round of prayer consisting of standing, bowing, kneeling, and pressing the head to the ground

  • Sujood:the prayer position when one presses one’s head to the earth

  • Nikkah: the religious marriage ceremony 

  • Bukhoor: an Arabic incense, woodchips soaked in resin

  • Baraka: blessing

 


“Angels go out at night too”

by Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren), France

Pictures of angels in my life, just some women and non-binary people of color hanging out, taking care of themselves and expressing love to each other. It's these simplest moments that are the most empowering.

Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren)
Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren)
Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren)
Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren)
Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren)

 


< Freeing the Church, Decolonizing the Bible for West Papuan Women

Kunyit Asam: The Roots of Love and Resilience >

Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo 4 (FR)

Photo d'un groupe de personnes manifestant la nuit

Membership why page - Angelina Mootoo quote

En rejoignant l’AWID, j’espère pouvoir contribuer à la mobilisation du mouvement féministe. Pas seulement pour les femmes privilégiées, mais pour TOUTES les femmes et activistes féministes..- Angelina Mootoo, féministe intersectionnelle et caribéenne, Guyane/USA

Laurie Carlos

Laurie Carlos was an actor, director, dancer, playwright, and poet in the United States. An extraordinary artist and visionary with powerful ways of bringing the art out in others. 

“Laurie walked in the room (any room/every room) with swirling clairvoyance, artistic genius, embodied rigor, fierce realness—and a determination to be free...and to free others. A Magic Maker. A Seer. A Shape Shifter. Laurie told me once that she went inside people’s bodies to find what they needed.” - Sharon Bridgforth 

She combined performance styles such as rhythmic gestures and text. Laurie mentored new actors, performers, writers and helped amplify their work through Naked Stages, a fellowship for emerging artists. She was an artistic fellow at Penumbra Theater and supported with identifying scripts to produce, with a goal of “bringing more feminine voices into the theater”. Laurie was also a member of Urban Bush Women, a renowned contemporary dance company telling stories of women of the African diaspora.

In 1976, as Lady in Blue, she made her Broadway debut in Ntozake Shange’s original and award-winning production of the poetic drama For colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf. Laurie’s own works include White Chocolate, The Cooking Show, and Organdy Falsetto

“I tell the stories in the movement—the inside dances that occur spontaneously, as in life—the music and the text. If I write a line, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a line that is spoken; it can be a line that’s moved. A line from which music is created. The gesture becomes the sentence. So much of who we are as women, as people, has to do with how we gesture to one another all the time, and particularly through emotional moments. Gesture becomes a sentence or a state of fact. If I put on a script ‘four gestures,’ that doesn’t mean I’m not saying anything; that means I have opened it up for something to be said physically.” Laurie Carlos

Laurie was born and grew up in New York City, worked and lived in Twin Cities. She passed away on 29 December 2016, at the age of 67, after a battle with colon cancer.



Tributes:  

“I believe that that was exactly Laurie’s intention. To save us. From mediocrity. From ego. From laziness. From half-realized art making. From being paralyzed by fear.
Laurie wanted to help us Shine fully.
In our artistry.
In our Lives.” - Sharon Bridgforth for Pillsbury House Theatre

“There’s no one that knew Laurie that wouldn’t call her a singular individual. She was her own person. She was her own person, her own artist; she put the world as she knew it on stage with real style and understanding, and she lived her art.” - Lou Bellamy, Founder of Penumbra Theater Company, for Star Tribune 

Read a full Tribute by Sharon Bridgforth

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Sobre la base de nuestros 20 años de historia movilizando más y mejor financiamiento para el cambio social encabezado por los feminismos, AWID te invita a responder la nueva edición de nuestra encuesta insignia, WITM

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Jaitun

Jaitun, comúnmente conocida como «Amma», estaba comprometida con garantizar los derechos reproductivos de las mujeres y niñas de India. Se dedicó, particularmente, a abogar por quienes viven en la pobreza y son más marginadas, incluidas las mujeres y niñas dalit y musulmanas.

Jaitun fue la fuerza vital detrás del caso Jaitun versus Janpura Maternity Home & Ors. Su perseverancia por la justicia llevó a que la Corte Suprema de Delhi emitiera una sentencia innovadora, que obligó al gobierno indio a hacerse responsable del incumplimiento de cierto número de obligaciones legalmente vinculantes, tales como la atención a la salud reproductiva y el derecho a la alimentación.

A su hija Fatema, quien vivía por debajo de la línea de pobreza, se le negaron los servicios reproductivos, y tuvo que dar a luz en público, bajo un árbol. En ese momento, tanto Jaitun como Fatema estaban en situación de calle, ya que su casa había sido demolida por el gobierno como parte del programa de reurbanización y gentrificación de Nueva Delhi.

«Desde entonces, esta sentencia ha sido utilizada por innumerables abogadxs y activistas de todo el mundo, incluyendo al ex-Relator Especial de la ONU sobre el derecho a la salud, no solamente como fuente de inspiración, sino como una sólida plataforma para promover la justicia.» - Jameen Kaur

Jaitun ha sido una inspiración para que muchas otras mujeres que viven en la pobreza reclamen sus derechos. Falleció en 2017.

«Con la muerte de Jaitun, hemos perdido una incomparable guerrera de la justicia, pero su espíritu de desafío pervive.» -Jameen Kaur

«En mis dieciocho años como defensora de los derechos humanos, nunca he encontrado una mujer que me inspirara ni que conmoviera mi espíritu de la forma en que lo hacía Amma. Su sonora valentía, su inimitable humor (solíamos compararla con la actriz de Bollywood, Hema Melini) cuando se sentía molesta porque habíamos pasado tanto tiempo lejos de ella... con un brillo en los ojos, decía “Ustedes se han olvidado de Amma, Amma ahora no les habla”, y luego con gran dramatismo se ponía de espaldas para darse vuelta enseguida riendo y estirando los brazos para un abrazo. Su bondad y, en definitiva, su amor y su alegría por el amor y el derecho de todxs nosotrxs a vivir con dignidad. La extraño terriblemente.» - Jameen Kaur

What Our Members Say - En

What Our Members Say

Upasana Agarwal

Forgotten Song
Forgotten Song
Ode to the Moon
Ode to the Moon
Vapour and Fire
Vapour and Fire

About Upasana Agarwal

Upasana Agarwal

Upasana is a non binary illustrator and artist based out of Kolkata, India. Their work explores identity and personal narratives by using a visual remnant or evidence of the contexts they work with. They are especially drawn to patterns which to them communicate complex truths about the past, present and future.  When Upasana is not illustrating they organise and run a queer and trans community art centre in the city. 

Snippet FEA Principles of work Education and Learning (ES)

Una pila de libros con una tapa rosa y un birrete negro en la parte superior.

EDUCACIÓN Y APRENDIZAJE CONSTANTE

FRMag - Editors Note (ES)

Nota de la editora

Las Realidades Feministas son una invitación cálida y afectuosa, una suerte de acto de cuidado y preservación colectivo (en oposición al autocuidado), una invitación a atesorar, a hacer inventario de toda la labor realizada para que no desaparezca. (...)

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Isabel Cabanillas de la Torre

Isabel Cabanillas de la Torre était une jeune artiste et activiste féministe très appréciée de Ciudad Juárez, au Mexique. Elle était connue pour ses belles peintures textiles, très expressives. Les yeux faisaient partie des représentations emblématiques de son travail. Ses peintures murales ont métamorphosé les immeubles décrépis et laissés à l’abandon du centre-ville de Ciudad Juárez, ornant leurs façades de messages de vie et de commentaires politiques.

Isabel voulait, à travers son art et son activisme politique, attirer l’attention sur les violences basées sur le genre omniprésentes dans sa ville natale. Elle était bénévole dans le réseau Mesa de Mujeres pour l’Observatoire citoyen sur le genre, qui supervise le travail des juges, procureurs et avocats de la défense dans les affaires de féminicides et autres violations basées sur le genre. Elle était également membre de Hijas de su Maquilera Madre, un collectif féministe dont le nom fait référence aux filles de mères qui travaillent dans les maquiladoras, ou zones de traitement pour l’exportation. Certaines de ces mères ont figuré parmi les premières victimes de féminicide dans la ville.

Le dernier projet d’Isabel, toujours en cours, était une installation artistique pour protester contre une entreprise canadienne qui cherchait à extraire du cuivre dans le désert de Samalayuca. 

Le 18 janvier 2020, Isabel a été tuée par balle alors qu’elle rentrait chez elle à vélo dans le centre de Juárez, dansce qui semble avoir été un acte ciblé, son corps ayant été retrouvé à côté de son vélo.

Le meurtre d’Isabel a déclenché une nouvelle vague d’indignation contre les féminicides dans la région, des centaines de personnes ont manifesté jusqu’au pont frontalier entre le Mexique et les États-Unis, le bloquant pendant des heures et scandant « Ni Una Menos » (pas une de plus) alors que des collectifs féministes continuaient de manifester contre les meurtres de femmes dans tout le pays. Au cours de la seule année 2019, 3 142 femmes et filles ont été tuées au Mexique. Un grand nombre ont été spécifiquement ciblées du fait de leur genre.

Elle adorait faire du vélo.

« Le vélo était son symbole de liberté. Il symbolisait le fait d’être libre dans les rues. » - Marisol (une amie d’Isabel)