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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Snippet FEA Criminalization of sex workers (EN)
Most Member States of the European Union have laws and practices that either criminalize or control sex workers in ways unacceptable to them. Criminalization of sex workers and/or their clients only contributes to increase the vulnerability of sex workers, who are already facing stigma, discrimination and exclusion from society on a daily basis. In Spain for example, the government is currently trying to pass an Organic Law for the Abolition of Prostitution, which will result in more clandestiny and violence. Let’s dive into the stories of sex workers and union organizers fighting to decriminilaze sex work and advance their labor rights.
We believe in a full application of the principle of rights including those enshrined in international laws and affirm the belief that all human rights are interrelated, interdependent and indivisible. We are committed to working towards the eradication of all discriminations based on gender, sexuality, religion, age, ability, ethnicity, race, nationality, class or other factors.
Sylvia Rivera was a civil rights activist, a transvestite and sex worker.
Known as the New York Drag queen of color, Silvia was fierce and tireless in her advocacy, in defense of those who were marginalized and excluded as the “gay rights” movement mainstreamed in the United States in the early 1970’s.
In a well-known speech on Christopher Street Day in 1973, Sylvia, shouted through a crowd of LGBT community members:
“You all tell me, go and hide my tail between my legs.
I will no longer put up with this shit.
I have been beaten.
I have had my nose broken.
I have been thrown in jail.
I have lost my job.
I have lost my apartment.
For gay liberation, and you all treat me this way?
What the fuck’s wrong with you all?
Think about that!”
In 1969, at age 17, Silvia took part in the iconic Stonewall Riots by allegedly throwing the second Molotov cocktail to protest the police raid of the gay bar in Manhattan. She continued to be a central figure in the uprisings that followed, organizing rallies and fighting back police brutality.
In 1970, Sylvia worked together with Marsha P. Johnson to establish Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (S.T.A.R.), a political collective and organisation that would set up projects of mutual support for trans people living on the streets, those struggling with drug addiction and in prisons and in particular for trans people of color and those living in poverty.
Defiant of labels, Silvia lived life in a way that challenged people in the gay liberation movement to think differently. She said:
“I left home at age 10 in 1961. I hustled on 42nd Street. The early 60s was not a good time for drag queens, effeminate boys or boys that wore makeup like we did. Back then we were beat up by the police, by everybody. I didn't really come out as a drag queen until the late 60s. when drag queens were arrested, what degradation there was. I remember the first time I got arrested, I wasn't even in full drag. I was walking down the street and the cops just snatched me. People now want to call me a lesbian because I'm with Julia, and I say, "No. I'm just me. I'm not a lesbian." I'm tired of being labeled. I don't even like the label transgender. I'm tired of living with labels. I just want to be who I am. I am Sylvia Rivera.
Through her activism and courage, Sylvia offered a mirror that reflected all that was wrong within society, but also the possibility of transformation. Sylvia was born in 1951 and passed away in 2002.
Participé en una actividad solo para afiliadxs, y lo que me conmovió en particular fue ver cómo había espacio para que todas compartieran, y que no había ningún juicio al respecto. Toda la sesión fue enérgica y vibrante.- Kirthi Jayakumar, fundadora de The Gender Security Project, India
Cynthia Cockburn fue una socióloga feminista, escritora, académica, fotógrafa y activista por la paz.
Estudió los aspectos relacionados con el género en la violencia y el conflicto e hizo importantes contribuciones al movimiento por la paz gracias a sus investigaciones sobre masculinidad y violencia, así como gracias a su activismo local e internacional.
Cynthia aportó un análisis feminista potente sobre la militarización y la guerra, y fue una de las académicas cuyos escritos y estudios demostraron claramente cómo la violencia de género desempeñaba un papel clave en la perpetuación de la guerra. Al trabajar en estrecha colaboración con activistas por la paz en distintos países en conflicto, sus conclusiones abarcaron diversos contextos, entre ellos: Irlanda del Norte, Bosnia y Herzegovina, Israel/Palestina, Corea del Sur, Japón, España y el Reino Unido. También logró incluir en sus investigaciones y escritos académicos una interpretación sobre cómo la violencia se experimenta como un continuo de tiempo y escala y cómo se percibe de forma muy diferente cuando se analiza desde la perspectiva de género.
En sus propias palabras: "El género nos ayuda a ver la continuidad, la conexión entre los casos de violencia".
Cynthia conectó su trabajo de investigación con el activismo que sostuvo a nivel local e internacional con los movimientos por la desmilitarización, el desarme y la paz. Ayudó a iniciar el campamento de paz de las mujeres de Greenham Common, que defendía el desarme nuclear universal en Gran Bretaña, y formó parte también de la creación del capítulo londinense de Women in Black [Mujeres de Negro]. A lo largo de las décadas, Cynthia organizó y participó en vigilias semanales locales y en el coro político Raised Voices [Elevar las Voces], para el que, además de cantar, escribió varias letras de canciones que forman parte de su repertorio.
Su activismo la llevó a apoyar también el trabajo de la Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom [Liga Internacional de Mujeres por la Paz y la Libertad] (WILPF, por su siglas en inglés), el European Forum of Socialist Feminists [Foro Europeo de Feministas Socialistas] y Women Against Fundamentalism [Mujeres contra el Fundamentalismo].
"Cynthia arrojó claridad feminista, tejió comunidades feministas, cantó canciones de paz, escuchó, escuchó, escuchó, observó los pájaros - y detuvo el tráfico. Siempre estaré agradecida y en deuda con ella, la otra 'Cynthia'" - Cynthia Enloe.
Cynthia nació en julio de 1934 y falleció en septiembre de 2019, a la edad de 85 años.
Porque é que são necessários o nome e as informações de contacto do grupo/organização e/ou movimento que preencher o inquérito?
Pedimos estes dados para facilitar a revisão das respostas, para evitar respostas duplicadas e para poder entrar em contacto com o seu grupo caso não tenha conseguido completar o inquérito e/ou tenha dúvidas ou perguntas adicionais. Para mais informações sobre como utilizamos as informações pessoais que recolhemos através do nosso trabalho, clique aqui.
Snippet FEA Sabrina Sanchez Bio (FR)
Nous vous présentons Sabrina Sanchez, incroyable femme trans, migrante, travailleuse du sexe, organisatrice, transféministe et l'une des fondatrices du syndicat OTRAS.
Originaire de Mexico, elle a émigré en Espagne il y a 17 ans après avoir obtenu son diplôme en communication et a commencé à travailler comme travailleuse du sexe.
Il ne fallut pas longtemps avant qu'elle ne s'implique dans l'activisme trans et l'activisme des travailleur·euses du sexe à Barcelone. Après avoir rejoint l'Association des Professionnel·les du Sexe (Asociación de Profesionales del Sexo, Aprosex), elle a commencé à travailler dans son secrétariat et a fondé le syndicat espagnol des travailleur·euses du sexe OTRAS.
Fait divers: elle est aussi mécanicienne automobile et adepte de la course à pied!
Our arepa: Resistance from the Kitchen
by Alejandra Laprea, Caracas, Venezuela (@alejalaprea)
I live in a country of the impossible, where there are no bombs yet we are living in a war.
A war that exists only for those of us living in this territory.
I live in a country no one understands, which few can really see, where various realities co-exist, and where the truth is murdered time and again.
I live in a country where one has to pay for the audacity of thinking for oneself, for taking on the challenge of seeing life another way.
I live in a country of women who have had to invent and reinvent, time and again, how they live and how to get by.
I live in Venezuela, in a time of an unusual and extraordinary threat.
Since 2012 my country has been subjected to an unconventional war. There are no defined armies or fire power. Their objective is to dislocate and distort the economy, affecting all households, daily life, the capacity of a people to dream and build a different kind of politics, an alternative to the patriarchal, bourgeois, capitalist democracy.
Venezuelan women are the primary victims of this economic war. Women who historically and culturally are responsible for providing care, are the most affected and in demand. However, in these years of economic and financial embargo, Venezuelan women have gone from being victims to the protagonists on the front lines defending our territory.
Battles are fought from the barrios, kitchens, and small gardens. We defend the right of girls and boys to go to school, and to be given something so simple as some arepas for breakfast.
Arepas are a kind of corn cake that can be fried, roasted or baked and served sweet or savoury as a side or main dish. It is a staple in the diet of all Venezuelans.
In Venezuela, arepas mean culture, family, food sovereignty, childhood nostalgia, the expert hands of grandmothers molding little balls, the warmth that comforts you when recovering from illness.
Arepas connect us as a people with the pre-Colombian cultures of corn, a resistance that has endured for more than five centuries. They are the Caribbean expressed differently on firm ground.
They are an act of resistance.
When my mother was a girl, they would start grinding the dry corn early in the morning to make arepas. The women would get up and put the kernels of corn in wooden mortars and pound it with heavy mallets to separate the shells. Then they would boil, soak, and grind the corn to make dough, and finally they would mold it into round arepas. The process would take hours and demand a lot of physical effort.
In the mid-20th century a Venezuelan company industrialized the production of corn meal. For an entire generation that seemed like an act of liberation, since there was now a flour that you could simply add water to and have hot arepas in 45 minutes time.
But that also meant that the same generation would lose the traditional knowledge on how to make them from scratch. My grandmother was an expert arepa maker, my mother saw it as a girl, and for me the corn meal came pre-packaged.
In the war with no military, the pre-cooked corn meal came to be wielded as an instrument of war by the same company that invented it, which was not so Venezuelan anymore: today the Polar group of companies is transnational.
We women began to recuperate our knowledge by talking with the eldest among us. We searched in the back of the closets for our grandmothers’ grinders, the ones we hadn’t thrown away out of affection. Some families still prepared the corn in the traditional way for important occasions. In some towns there were still communal grinding stations which had been preserved as part of local history or because small family businesses refused to die. All of these forms of cultural resistance were activated, and we even went so far as to invent new arepas.
Today we know that in order to resist we cannot depend on one food staple. Although corn arepas continue to be everyone’s favourite, we have invented recipes for arepas made of sweet potato, cassava, squash, and celery root.
We have learned that we can use almost any root vegetable to make arepas. Cooperative businesses have developed semi-industrial processes to make pre-cooked corn meal. In other words, we have recuperated our arepas and their preparation as a cultural good that belongs to all.
My artivism aims to decolonize our senses in everyday life. I like to create spaces that communicate how we weave together our different struggles, and that render visible dissident (re)existences, other possible worlds, and living bodies here in the SOUTH.
As we continue to fight in our struggles, let us remember how essential it is that we support each other, believe each other, and love ourselves and our sisters. When this system fucks us over, we must take time to look after our (physical and mental) health, that of our sisters, and to understand that each one of us carries unique stories, making us fighters in resist
Marga RH (@Marga.RH)
Until dignity becomes a habit
These portraits are inspired by the voices of resistance and protest movements in Latin America, especially by the key role that feminised bodies play in these struggles. It is a tribute to the grassroots feminist movements in resistance.
Forum Theme (Forum page)
Thème du Forum
Le thème du 14e Forum international de l'AWID est «Réalités féministes : notre pouvoir en action».
Ce Forum célébrera et amplifiera les propositions audacieuses autour de nous, à tous les stades de déveoppement !
Doris Valenzuela Angulo était une activiste sociale, leader et défenseure des droits humains afrodescendante de Buenaventura, en Colombie. Elle faisait partie du réseau national Comunidades Construyendo Paz en Colombia (CONPAZ, Communautés construisant la paix en Colombie) composé d’organisations présentes dans les communautés affectées par le conflit armé œuvrant en faveur de la non-violence et la justice socio-environnementale.
Doris s’opposait à la violence paramilitaire continue, aux pressions incessantes des mégaprojets cherchant à déplacer sa communauté, et à la complicité de l’État. Confrontée à l’un des contextes les plus difficiles de son pays, elle joua un rôle de premier plan dans l’initiative de résistance non-violente sans précédent Espacio Humanitario Puente Nayero, un lieu urbain conçu pour assurer la cohésion communautaire, la sécurité, la créativité et l’action collective.
Ce combat non-violent unique en son genre des familles de l’Espacio Humanitario Puente Nayero attira l’attention et le soutien des agences tant locales qu’internationales. En septembre 2014, la Commission interaméricaine des droits de l’Homme accorda des mesures de protection préventives à la communauté, ordonnant au gouvernement colombien d’adopter des mesures nécessaires en vue de protéger la vie et l’intégrité physique des habitant·e·s. Les menaces et la violence des paramilitaires se poursuivirent néanmoins. Malgré l’assassinat de son fils Cristian Dainer Aragón Valenzuela en juillet 2015,Doris continua à mettre toute son énergie à éviter le recrutement forcé des enfants et des jeunes par les néo-militaires. Elle devint alors également une cible, recevant constamment des menaces pour son activisme et le travail qu’elle accomplissait.
Les incessantes agressions et menaces de mort dont elle était l’objet forcèrent Doris à quitter la Colombie. Elle vécut en Espagne de février 2017 à février 2018, dans le cadre du programme de protection temporaire d’Amnesty International pour les défenseur·e·s des droits humains en danger.
Doris a été assassinée en avril 2018 à Murcie, en Espagne, par son ex-compagnon. Elle n’avait que 39 ans.
Hommages :
« Doris, cette année passée avec toi nous a montré combien une personne peut avoir la capacité de transformer et créer de l’espoir en dépit des événements profondément négatifs et dévastateurs qui jalonnent sa vie... Nous poursuivons notre engagement à défendre tous les droits humains. Ton courage et ta lumière nous guideront toujours. » - Montserrat Román, Amnesty International, Groupe de La Palma, Espagne
Extrait de « Mots pour Doris Valenzuela Angulo », d’Elsa López
« ... Tu le savais. Tu l’as toujours su. Et malgré tout cela, tu as résisté sans faillir à tant d’injustice, de misère, de persécution. Tu t’es élevée, fière et acharnée, contre ceux qui continuaient à vouloir que tu abandonnes tout espoir, que tu t’abaisses, que tu te rendes. Debout, tu as réclamé haut et fort ta liberté et la nôtre, qui était la tienne. Rien ni personne n’est parvenu à paralyser tes efforts pour changer le monde et le rendre plus généreux et plus vivable. Tu vis parmi nous, aujourd’hui plus vivante que jamais malgré la mort. Tu vis encore par tes actes, par ton courage, par ta grandeur lorsque tu pleurais pour cette terre promise que tu invoquais à chacun de tes cris, pour tous ces déserts que tu as habités. Toi. Toujours en vie. Doris Valenzuela Angulo.
Ce ne sont que des mots. Je sais. Je le sais, moi aussi. Mais les mots nous unissent, nous protègent, nous donnent la force et le soutien nécessaires pour continuer à aller vers la lumière que tu défendais tant... »
