Women human rights defenders (WHRDs) worldwide defend their lands, livelihoods and communities from extractive industries and corporate power. They stand against powerful economic and political interests driving land theft, displacement of communities, loss of livelihoods, and environmental degradation.
Why resist extractive industries?
Extractivism is an economic and political model of development that commodifies nature and prioritizes profit over human rights and the environment. Rooted in colonial history, it reinforces social and economic inequalities locally and globally. Often, Black, rural and Indigenous women are the most affected by extractivism, and are largely excluded from decision-making. Defying these patriarchal and neo-colonial forces, women rise in defense of rights, lands, people and nature.
Critical risks and gender-specific violence
WHRDs confronting extractive industries experience a range of risks, threats and violations, including criminalization, stigmatization, violence and intimidation. Their stories reveal a strong aspect of gendered and sexualized violence. Perpetrators include state and local authorities, corporations, police, military, paramilitary and private security forces, and at times their own communities.
Acting together
AWID and the Women Human Rights Defenders International Coalition (WHRD-IC) are pleased to announce “Women Human Rights Defenders Confronting Extractivism and Corporate Power”; a cross-regional research project documenting the lived experiences of WHRDs from Asia, Africa and Latin America.
We encourage activists, members of social movements, organized civil society, donors and policy makers to read and use these products for advocacy, education and inspiration.
AWID acknowledges with gratitude the invaluable input of every Woman Human Rights Defender who participated in this project. This project was made possible thanks to your willingness to generously and openly share your experiences and learnings. Your courage, creativity and resilience is an inspiration for us all. Thank you!
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Nicole Barakat
We transcend time and place, Hand cut found paper (2017)We will remember who we are and We will persist Cotton embroidered hand cut lamé on wool silk cloth (2018)We will return home, Silk embroidered hand cut lamé on cotton velveteen (2018)We will heal in the now, Hand cut silk, wool, lamé, cotton, direct digital print silk satin on linen (2018)
we are infinite
An exhibition by Nicole Barakat, embodying her reconnection with the diaspora of objects from her ancestral homelands in the South West Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region.
Barakat presents a collection of textile works as manifestations of her practice of engaging with displaced, and often stolen objects held within Western museum collections including the Louvre, British Museum and Nicholson Museum.
To by-pass the gatekeepers and breach the vitrines holding these ancestral objects, Barakat reclaims pre-colonial, non-linear, receptive forms of knowing that are often devalued and dismissed by colonial and patriarchal institutions - engaging with coffee cup divination, dream-work, intuitive listening and conversations with the objects themselves (source).
About Nicole Barakat
Nicole Barakat is a queer femme, SWANA artist born and living on Gadigal Country (so-called Sydney, Australia). She works with deep listening and intuitive processes with intentions to transform the conditions of everyday life. Her work engages unconventional approaches to art-making, creating intricate works that embody the love and patience that characterises traditional textile practices.
Her works include hand-stitched and hand-cut cloth and paper drawings, sculptural forms made with her own hair, cloth and plant materials as well as live work where she uses her voice as a material.
Nicole’s creative practice is rooted in re-membering and re-gathering her ancestral knowing, including coffee divination and more recently working with plants and flower essences for community care and healing.
Snippet - Blog post Quote_EN
"We believe that this is the time for us to continue to organize from a place of solidarity, hope and radical imaginations."
- Beijing+30 & CSW: Feminist meaning-making at a time of polycrisis
Incluso en tiempos de crisis climática, los gobiernos continúan alentando el crecimiento de las industrias agrícolas a gran escala. Estas actividades envenenan la tierra, amenazan la biodiversidad y destruyen la producción de alimentos y los medios de vida locales. Mientras tanto, aunque las mujeres producen la mayoría de nuestros alimentos en el mundo, casi no poseen tierra.
¿Qué pasaría si percibiéramos la tierra y la Naturaleza no como una propiedad privada para ser explotada, sino como una totalidad con la cual aprender y coexistir en armonía? ¿Y si repararíamos nuestras relaciones con la tierra y adoptaríamos alternativas más sostenibles que nutran tanto al planeta como a sus comunidades?
Nous Sommes la Solution (Somos la Solución, NSS) es uno de los muchos movimientos liderados por mujeres que se esfuerzan por lograr este objetivo.
Hevrin Khalaf was a prominent Syrian Kurdish political leader in the autonomous region of Rojava where Kurdish women are risking their lives to resist the Turkish offensive and build a feminist system.
She was Secretary-General of the Future Syria Party (FSP), a group that aimed to build bridges, reconcile different ethnic groups and work towards a “democratic, pluralistic, and decentralized Syria.”
Hevrin was a symbol of this reconciliation effort. She also worked to promote equality between women and men and was a representative for visiting journalists, aid workers, and diplomats.
Hevrin was also a civil engineer from Derik, and was one of the founders of the Foundation for Science and Free Thought in 2012.
On 12 October 2019 she was tortured and murdered by the Turkish-backed militia, Ahrar al-Sharqiya during a military operation against Syrian Democratic Forces in Rojava.
“The killing of Khalaf is a turning point in Syria’s modern history. It once again demonstrated the old Kurdish proverb “no friends but the mountains.” I will always be a friend of Khalaf and her vision of a better world.” - Ahed Al Hendi
FRMag - Resistance from the Kitchen
Nuestra arepa: Cocina en resistencia
por Alejandra Laprea
Vivo en un país de lo imposible, donde no caen bombas pero padecemos una guerra. (...)
Tendencias anti-derechos en los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos
Chapter 6
En la Comisión Africana y en el Sistema Interamericano, los actores antiderechos impulsan nociones esencialistas de cultura y género para impedir el avance de los derechos y socavar las responsabilidades. Como vemos, los actores anti-derechos están ejerciendo su influencia sobre los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos, así como en los espacios internacionales.
La Comisión Africana de Derechos Humanos y de los Pueblos ha comenzado a definir a los derechos sexuales y de las mujeres como un menoscabo a su capacidad de ocuparse de los «derechos reales» y como contrarios a los «valores africanos», con lo cual se establece un precedente anti-derechos preocupante. La anulación del estatus de observador de la Coalición de Lesbianas Africanas es un ejemplo de esta tendencia y muestra la forma en que el espacio para el involucramiento feminista panafricanista está siendo restringido.
En la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y en el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos, las estrategias anti-derechos incluyen la oenegización de grupos religiosos, la utilización de discursos seculares, y la cooptación de marcos de discriminación. La influencia antiderechos se ha materializado de diversas maneras, que incluyen la intimidación de activistas trans y la obstrucción de la introducción de lenguaje progresista en las resoluciones.
Índice de contenidos
Silenciamiento de feministas en el Sistema Africano de Derechos Humanos
Grupos anti-derechos en América Latina: Asamblea General de la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos
📅 Tuesday, March 11, 2025
🕒 2.00-4.00pm EST
🏢 Chef's Kitchen Loft with Terrace, 216 East 45th St 13th Floor New York
Organizer: Observatory on the Universality of Rights (OURs) Consortium
Snippet - GII Intro (EN)
Gender Impact Investing & The Rise of False Solutions:
An Analysis for Feminist Movements
Gender Impact Investing (GII) is now trending as a solution to gender inequality. Yet, as our report indicates, it is actually part of the problem. Public and private institutions marketing GII equate it with promotion of gender equality and with increased resources for women and girls.
Neither claim is evidence-based.
Rather, GII is another expression of subjecting our lives and societies to the same financial logic that has shaped, and continues shaping, the profound inequalities in our world.
With this report, AWID offers the readers - feminists, gender justice advocates and stakeholders in gender impact investing - a critical analysis and substantiated evidence to understand GII, its narratives, and economic and political implications for feminist movements.
Diana Isabel Hernández Juárez fue una maestra guatemalteca, defensora de los derechos humanos y activista comunitaria y del medioambiente. Fue la coordinadora del programa ambiental de la parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, en la costa sur del país.
Diana dedicó su vida a co-crear conciencia ambiental, y trabajó de modo particularmente estrecho con comunidades locales para abordar problemas ambientales y proteger los recursos naturales. Inició proyectos tales como viveros forestales, granjas municipales, huertas familiares y campañas de limpieza. Participó activamente en programas de reforestación, tratando de recuperar especies nativas y paliar la falta de agua, en más de 32 comunidades rurales.
El 7 de septiembre de 2019, Diana recibió disparos y fue asesinada por dos hombres armados desconocidos mientras se encontraba participando de una procesión en su comunidad. Diana tenía solamente 35 años en el momento de su muerte.
FRMag - Armenians
Arménien·ne·s, le féminisme est notre passé et notre avenir
par Sophia Armen
Que cela vous plaise ou non, les ungerhouis font partie intégrante de nos histoires de résistance et elles ne disparaîtront pas de sitôt. (...)
Jaitun, souvent appelée « Amma », œuvrait à la protection des droits reproductifs des femmes et des filles en Inde. Son travail s’est particulièrement centré sur la défense des personnes pauvres et marginalisées, dont les filles et femmes dalits et musulmanes.
Jaitun était la force vitale derrière l’affaire Jaitun contre Janpura Maternity Home & Ors. Sa persévérance à obtenir justice a permis d’aboutir à un jugement sans précédent rendu par la Cour Suprême de Delhi. Le gouvernement indien a ainsi été tenu responsable de n’avoir pas rempli plusieurs de ses obligations juridiques, telles que les soins de santé reproductive et le droit à l’alimentation.
Sa fille Fatema, qui vivait sous le seuil de pauvreté, s’était vu refuser l’accès à des services de santé reproductive et avait dû accoucher en public, sous un arbre. Jaitun et Fatema étaient à cette époque sans domicile, car le gouvernement avait démoli leur maison dans le cadre d’un projet de réaménagement et de gentrification à New Delhi.
« Depuis, le jugement a fait jurisprudence pour de nombreux·euses avocat·e·s et activistes du monde entier, et notamment l’ancien Rapporteur spécial des Nations Unies sur le droit à la santé, non seulement comme source d’inspiration, mais comme solide tremplin pour obtenir la justice. » - Jameen Kaur
Jaitun a inspiré de très nombreuses autres femmes vivant dans la pauvreté à réclamer leurs droits. Elle s’est éteinte en 2017.
« Avec le décès de Jaitun, nous venons de perdre une inimitable guerrière pour la justice, mais son esprit de résistance perdure. » - Jameen Kaur
« Je n’ai, au cours de mes 18 années de plaidoyer pour les droits humains, jamais rencontré de femme qui m’ait tant inspirée et émue qu’Amma. Son courage féroce, son humour inimitable - nous la comparions à l’actrice de Bollywood Hema Malini -, ses colères lorsque l’on passait trop de temps sans venir la voir : elle nous disait, une étincelle dans le regard, « Tu as oublié Amma, Amma ne te parle plus », puis faisait volte-face de manière mélodramatique, pour se retourner en riant et tendre les bras pour une embrassade. Sa gentillesse, et en fin de compte son amour, sa joie d’aimer et sa volonté que chacun·e ait le droit de vivre dignement en faisaient un être à part . Elle me manque terriblement. » - Jameen Kaur
FRMag - Ghosts Of Girlhood
Ghosts Of Girlhood
by Akua Antiwiwaa
There is an old, hazy picture laying in front of me. In it I am dressed in all white, from the pearl beads fastened into my hair and tucked against my ears, to the ones that trail loosely around my tiny wrists. (...)
A Joy to the World: Six Questions with Naike Ledan
Interviewed by Chinelo Onwualu
Naike Ledan is a social justice defendant, a committed feminist that brings forward 20 years of experience in human rights and health justice advocacy, women’s empowerment, the fight for universal access to basic services and social inclusion, as well as civil society capacity building. She has built extensive work in Canada, West and southern Africa, as well as in Haiti, in civil rights advocacy, capacity building for CSOs, while emphasising the social determinants of structural exclusion. She values the principles of shared leadership, anticolonial, anti-oppressive, and anti-patriarchal spaces.
Chinelo You’re billed as a trans rights activist; I’m curious about how you made that journey.
Naike So, I grew up in Haiti until I was 18, then I lived in Montreal for 19 years. Coming back to Haiti in 2016, I thought I would be coming back home, but the place had changed and I had to readjust. I did not necessarily reconnect in the way that I’d expected to with childhood family and friends. I came back as an expat with a comfortable work situation, and I felt very much like a foreigner for a very long time. And at the same time, I felt very much at home because of the language, the understood silence, the not having to explain when we start singing a commercial – you know, that thing we share, that energy, that space, that spirit.
My return to self-love – I would call “rebirth” – coinciding with giving birth to my first child, giving birth to myself, and falling in love with my queerness or same-gender lovingness. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
What helped me was, I loved the work of going into the country and documenting people’s knowledge. So I left the comfort. I became a country director of a regional organisation that was queer as fuck! Most of my work was to find resources and build the capacity of civil society. My strategy was to go into the countryside, look for all these little organizations, help build their capacity, and fund them. I was not interested in politicians and shaking hands and taking pictures . I had a very good ally, Charlot Jeudy – the [queer] activist that got killed three years ago in his house. We got very close after an Afro-queer film festival we were planning got banned in Haiti. But it made a lot of noise and sparked conversations about queerness everywhere, so Charlot introduced me to every little CSO in every little corner of the country. And I would just be there to help organisation[s] with registering legally or building their strategic plan. So it’s been a lot of these kinds of work that made me a queer activist and by extension, a trans activist. Although I don’t call myself that – an activist. It’s such a loaded word, you know? And it’s something people call you. I think I’m just a lover and a fighter .
Chinelo Tell me about the workshop you conducted with AWID for the festival. What was it about and what was the context?
My deep self awareness during my childhood years and my engagement in questioning inequalities and injustice at a very very young age (+/- 4 years old). (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike International media doesn’t really talk about Haiti, but with a political environment that is as bad as ours, the economic environment is even more catastrophic. Being a more middle class Haitian, speaking different languages, having different passports, I was initially hesitant to take the space. But I often see myself as a bridge more than someone that would talk about themself. That is how I came to invite Semi, who is a brilliant young trans woman from outside Port-au-Prince, to take the space to talk for herself and walk us through the ecosystem of the realities for trans women in Haiti. We ended up building a session about uninclusive feminism – or, I would say, formal feminist spaces – and how trans girls in Haiti do not have spaces where they can contribute to women’s knowledge and sharing of women’s realities. So the AWID festival was the opportunity for me to give the space to the women who should have it. We had a wonderful time; we had wine online while hosting the conversation. My co-facilitator, Semi, shared what it is like to be a trans child/girl/woman at different stages of her life. She also shared the dangers of the street, of poverty, of exclusion, of “not passing,” and her victories as well.
Chinelo What is the relationship of trans women to feminist organizations in Haiti? What has been your experience with that?
Naike It’s been really hard – heartbreaking, actually – the experience of trans women in Haiti. From not existing at all to just being extremely sexualized. The other thing that’s been happening is how they’re being killed, and how those killings have gone unreported in the media. This is how non-existent, how erased trans women are. They’re everywhere but not in job settings, not in feminist settings, not in organizational settings. Not even in LGBT organizations. It’s only recently, and because of a lot of advocacy push, that some of these organization are kind of readjusting, but in feminist spaces, this is still out of the question. We are still having to deal with the old exclusionary discourse of “They’re not women. Of course, if they can pass…” The culture of passing, it’s a risk management conversation – how much you pass and how much you don’t pass and what it means for your body and the violence it inflicts. In the trans-exclusionary realities we live in, which are reproduced in a lot of feminist spaces, those that pass completely may be considered girls, but only to a certain extent. But how about falling in love, how about having a conversation, how about being in the closet, how about wanting a certain aesthetic, or a career? So really, the conversation about hormone therapy becomes about risk reduction, as Semi herself shared at the workshop. But we don’t have the option of hormone therapy, we don’t have the medical framework nor the system to support those who would like to pursue that option.
Chinelo When you talk about the way that trans people and queer people are thought of in society, it sounds like it might be similar to Nigeria, which can be a deeply homophobic environment.
Naike Haiti is a very complex country in a very beautiful way. Nothing is simple, you know, nothing is ever one way. Haitians are very tolerant – and they’re also very homophobic. You’re going to find regions in the countryside where people aren’t that homophobic at all because all the Vodou temples there, and this is a religion that respects life. One basic principle of the Vodou religion is that all children are children. So, there is no right or wrong in the religion. For the longest time, people thought of Haiti as a haven, a place where people are tolerant – we’re talking 70s, 80s, pre-HIV, 90s even. Then you had the earthquake [in 2010] where around 300,000 people died. And then all this money came from the south of the US through the Evangelicals to rebuild the country and find Jesus. So, the homophobia in Haiti is very recent. In the depth, in the heart of the soul of the culture, I cannot really say that it is homophobic. But in the everyday life, it surely lands on the skin of queer people, that violence. And that of women, of poor women, of dark women as well, because colorism runs deep in the Caribbean.
Chinelo How have you managed this? What’s been your strategy for survival?
My return to Haiti as part of my decolonizing process, and choosing to physically position my senses and my family’s senses to magic and blackness uncompromisingly. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike I’m really in love with my work. I love working. When I first arrived, I was working with this horrible NGO but I was doing amazing work. I was always in the countryside, conversing and learning from people, from women. And that filled my heart for so long because I’m very much in love with my culture, with black people, with black women – old black women, black babies. It just fills me up in a spiritual way. When we were in Canada my kids were in these all-white schools and tokenized. They did not speak Creole nor French. And now, they’re running free in the yard and starting to fight in Creole. I also found hubs of survival with the people I met. I created bonds with the queers and others who were weirdos like me and it’s been really wonderful. But now I’m struggling because I don’t feel safe in Haiti anymore. We have about 40 kidnappings per week in Port-Au-Prince – and it’s been like that since 2018. I’ve developed anxiety and panic attacks. So It’s time to go, and I’ve been asking myself, “where is home?” I spent 19 years in Montreal but I never felt at home there. When I left, I never missed it so I don’t want to go back. I’ve been crying a lot lately because it feels like entering a second exile.
Chinelo What’s your relationship to pleasure, leisure, and rest?
Naike My relationship with pleasure, leisure, and rest are for me one and the same. It is the lived moment when I indulge in the heat of the sun on my face for example. It is pleasure, leisure, and rest at the same time.
Pleasure: My go-to space, most solely a haven of celebration of myself. I reserve myself the power and the right to be loud or quiet in the enjoyment of the pleasure I experience. All the pleasure I viciously and abundantly indulge in, including and not limited to the pleasure of solitude and silence.
Leisure: biking, music festivals, eating, wine discoveries, dancing in Haitian traditional Vodou dances are amongst many that occur at the moment.
Rest: is what I live for. As an overachiever and a person that is literally in love with work, it is a paradox how lazy I am. No one knows that because all of what the world sees is this: an accomplished overworker. They do not know how I can just, uncompromisingly and profoundly indulge in idleness.
ExploreTransnational Embodiments
This journal edition in partnership with Kohl: a Journal for Body and Gender Research, will explore feminist solutions, proposals and realities for transforming our current world, our bodies and our sexualities.
نصدر النسخة هذه من المجلة بالشراكة مع «كحل: مجلة لأبحاث الجسد والجندر»، وسنستكشف عبرها الحلول والاقتراحات وأنواع الواقع النسوية لتغيير عالمنا الحالي وكذلك أجسادنا وجنسانياتنا.
