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!
« C’[elle] était une personne qui se caractérisait par son travail acharné en faveur de la défense des droits humains et la construction de la paix à Nariño, notamment dans la municipalité de Samaniego-Nariño » - Jorge Luis Congacha Yunda pour Página10
Paula Andrea Rosero Ordóñez était avocate au sein du bureau du Ministère public à Samaniego, Nariño, l’agence principale qui défend les droits des citoyen·ne·s en Colombie.
Elle s’est concentrée sur les droits civils et politiques, les enjeux d’impunité et de justice, et a contribué à dévoiler les abus de pouvoir, dont la corruption. Elle a également participé à des projets de construction de la paix dans sa ville natale, Samaniego, comme le Conseil municipal pour la paix et le Bureau municipal de femmes.
Paula a reçu des menaces de mort après avoir exposé une gestion irrégulière des ressources, de même que porté plainte contre des actes de corruption au sein de l’Hôpital Lorencita Villegas dans la municipalité de Nariñense. Elle a été assassinée le 20 mai 2019, lorsque deux hommes se sont approchés d’elle et l’ont abattue à bout portant.
Snippet FEA Sopo Japaridze Quote (FR)
"Nous savons que tout est contre nous et il y a très peu de chances de changer cela. Mais nous croyons en l'intervention et je pense que nous avons une opportunité et nous devrions l'utiliser. C'est pourquoi nous faisons tout ce que nous faisons. Nous sommes prêt·e·s à pousser pour des choses inouïes."
Participez au Forum international de l'AWID - un rassemblement féministe mondial majeur - et bénéficiez de réductions spéciales et de points d'entrée pour le dialogue virtuel réservés aux membres de l'AWID. Co-créé par des mouvements féministes, le Forum est un espace unique de discussion profonde et d'imagination où nous remettons en question et renforçons notre organisation, et joignons nos luttes et nos réalités féministes.
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.
حالياً سيتواجد الاستطلاع على منصة KOBO باللغات العربية، الإنجليزية، الفرنسية، البرتغالية، الروسية والاسبانية. ستكون لديكم/ن الفرصة لاختيار اللغة التي تريدون تعبئة الاستطلاع بها في بداية الاستطلاع.
Magaly Quintana was known by many in Nicaragua as ‘La Maga’ (meaning wizard). She was a feminist historian, activist, and an unyielding defender of women’s rights demanding justice for the victims of femicide.
Magaly was committed to documenting and building statistics on women and girls who were killed as a result of sexual violence in the country.
“She rebuilt the life of each one, of their families, to show those lives that had been torn away.” - Dora María Téllez
Magaly also criticized the government for reforming Law 779 addressing violence against women. A product of the hard work of Nicaraguan women’s movements, this law included important provisions to criminalize femicide before its reform. She argued that legislative reforms weakened the law and limited the definition of femicides to homicides, as a result invisibilizing violent crimes against women.
Magaly’s feminist organizing began in the early 1980s. She was the director of Catholic Women for the Right to Choose, advocating for the right to therapeutic abortion after it was banned in 2006. In 2018, she supported the protests against Daniel Ortega’s government.
Magaly was born in May 1952 and passed away in May 2019.
“See you later, my dearest Magaly Quintana. Thanks so much, thanks for your legacy. We’ll see you again, as strong and powerful as ever.”- Erika Guevara Rosas (American Director of Amnesty International)
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo 1 (EN)
Our values - Justice and systemic change
Justice and systemic change
We work towards a world based on social, environmental, and economic justice; and interdependence, solidarity, and respect. We work towards dismantling systems of oppressive power and against all its manifestations, including patriarchy, fundamentalisms, militarisms, fascisms and corporate power that threaten our lives and our world. We want a just world where resources and power are shared in ways that enable everyone to thrive.
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.
Наша группа не имела ежегодного финансирования в период с 2021 по 2023 год. Можем ли мы пройти опрос?
Да, мы хотим получить ваш ответ, независимо от того, сколько раз (один, два или три) вы получали финансирование в период между 2021 и 2023 годами.
Janet Benshoof fue una abogada de derechos humanos de los Estados Unidos, y defensora de la igualdad de las mujeres y de los derechos sexuales y reproductivos.
Hizo campaña para ampliar el acceso a los anticonceptivos y al aborto en todo el mundo, y luchó contra las sentencias antiaborto y en el territorio estadounidense de Guam. Fue arrestada en 1990 por oponerse a la ley de aborto más restrictiva de su país. Sin embargo, obtuvo una medida cautelar en el tribunal local de Guam que bloqueó la ley y, finalmente, ganó en el Tribunal de Apelaciones del Noveno Circuito, que llevó a la anulación de la ley para siempre.
"Las mujeres de Guam están en una situación muy trágica. No tengo intención de callarme al respecto." - Janet Benshoof para la revista People.
Janet sentó precedentes jurídicos históricos, entre ellos, la aprobación de la anticoncepción de emergencia por parte de la Administración de Alimentos y Medicamentos de los Estados Unidos, así como la aplicación del derecho internacional para garantizar los derechos de las víctimas de violación en el Tribunal Superior de Iraq, durante el procesamiento de los crímenes de guerra de la época de Saddam.
Janet fue Presidenta y fundadora del Centro de Justicia Global, y fundadora también del Centro de Derechos Reproductivos, la primera organización internacional de derechos humanos del mundo centrada en la elección y la equidad reproductiva. Durante 15 años se desempeñó como directora del Proyecto de Derechos Reproductivos de la Unión Americana de Libertades Civiles, donde encabezó litigios que dieron forma a las leyes constitucionales de los Estados Unidos sobre igualdad de género, libertad de expresión y derechos reproductivos.
"Janet era conocida por su mente jurídica brillante, su agudo sentido del humor y su coraje ante la injusticia". - Anthony D. Romero
Nombrada una de las "100 Abogadas más influyentes de América" por el National Law Journal, Janet recibió numerosos premios y honores.
Nació en mayo de 1947 y falleció en diciembre de 2017.
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo Panel (ES)
Miembrxs del sindicato OTRAS
Join the Feminist Realities journey (Forum page)
Únete al viaje por las Realidades feministas
Este Foro de AWID celebrará y difundirá las realidades feministas que nos rodean en diferentes etapas de desarrollo.
“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.
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.
Juli Dugdale était une féministe australienne pratiquant un leadership intergénérationnel ancré dans les principes du féminisme, de l’inclusion et de l’égalité. Elle était une leader, une pair et une encadrante pour de nombreuses femmes, et particulièrement des jeunes femmes du monde entier.
Juli a été une membre dévouée de l’équipe de l’Association des jeunes femmes chrétiennes (YWCA), bénévole et fervente défenseure du leadership des jeunes femmes pendant plus de 30 ans.
Elle assurait un lien très fort entre le mouvement australien du YWCA et le bureau international. Sa confiance dans les capacités de leadership des jeunes femmes a entre autres donné lieu à un partenariat pluriannuel avec le ministère australien des Affaires étrangères et du Commerce, de même qu’à la rédaction du manuel Rise Up, un guide mondial pour le leadership transformationnel des jeunes femmes, lancé en 2018.
Juli est décédée à Genève, en Suisse, le 12 août 2019.
Hommages :
« Pour celles et ceux qui ont travaillé avec Juli, ce fut un privilège. Pour celles et ceux qui n’ont pas travaillé avec elle, sachez que son héritage perdure dans le travail que nous faisons tous les jours, et dans la mission du mouvement des YWCA. » – YWCA Australie
« Juli Dugdale occupera toujours une place privilégiée dans le cœur de nombreuses personnes du mouvement du YWCA, particulièrement ici en Aotearoa et dans le Pacifique. Juli entretenait une relation particulière avec le Pacifique, et soutenait de manière remarquable les jeunes femmes de la région. De nature humble, aimable, aimante, affectueuse, dévouée et passionnée, elle avait un cœur généreux. Elle incarnait la vision du « leadership transformationnel » du YWCA avec une vision et une clairvoyance extraordinaires, et a de plus aidé à renforcer les capacités de générations de jeunes femmes leaders dans le monde. » – YWCA Nouvelle-Zélande
