The Human Rights Council (HRC) is the key intergovernmental body within the United Nations system responsible for the promotion and protection of all human rights around the globe. It holds three regular sessions a year: in March, June and September. The Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) is the secretariat for the HRC.
The HRC works by:
Debating and passing resolutions on global human rights issues and human rights situations in particular countries
Examining complaints from victims of human rights violations or activist organizations on behalf of victims of human rights violations
Appointing independent experts (known as “Special Procedures”) to review human rights violations in specific countries and examine and further global human rights issues
Engaging in discussions with experts and governments on human rights issues
Assessing the human rights records of all UN Member States every four and a half years through the Universal Periodic Review
AWID works with feminist, progressive and human rights partners to share key knowledge, convene civil society dialogues and events, and influence negotiations and outcomes of the session.
With our partners, our work will:
◾️ Monitor, track and analyze anti-rights actors, discourses and strategies and their impact on resolutions
L’AWID propose la Boîte à outils « Où est l’argent pour les droits des femmes? » (« Where Is The Money for Women's Rights? », WITM) pour soutenir les individus et les organisations qui souhaitent mener leur propre recherche sur les tendances de financement en adaptant la méthodologie de recherche de l’AWID à une région, une question ou une population spécifique.
La Boîte à outils WITM de l’AWID est le produit de dix ans de recherches. La rméthologie WITM de l’AWID proposent une démonstration politique et pratique des ressources et des étapes qu’exige une solide recherche-action.
L’équipe 'Ressources des mouvements féministes' offre également un soutien technique et politique, avant et pendant le processus de recherche. Parcourez la boîte à outils et contactez fundher@awid.org si vous souhaitez plus de renseignements.
« La vie... c’est vivre dans la joie, se lever avec un but, sentir son énergie créative, répondre à son appel. » – Sylvia Robinson
Sylvia Robinson, infatigable leader et organisatrice communautaire, fut la fondatrice et directrice générale de l’Emergence Community Arts Collective (ECAC) à Washington, D.C.
Cet espace de performances créatrices foisonnantes rassemblait des initiatives d’éducation, d’engagement citoyen, d’arts, de services sociaux et spirituels et de pratiques de développement durable. Sylvia considérait cet endroit comme une maison où « il existe un équilibre et une synergie avec les activités dont les gens ont besoin pour entretenir la vie ».
Elle comptait également parmi les membres fondateur·trice·s du Georgia Avenue Community Development Taskforce, dans le nord-ouest de la capitale, un groupe de quartier actif dans le domaine de la justice sociale et de l’organisation qui veillait à ce que la communauté ait son mot à dire dans le redéveloppement et l’embourgeoisement du secteur.
« Nous demandons des logements abordables. Nous demandons que les petits commerces qui sont ici depuis longtemps ne soient pas balayés par de nouvelles enseignes. Nous demandons des espaces verts et des lieux où les gens peuvent se rencontrer. Nous demandons à ce que le paysage urbain soit amélioré, avec des rues en meilleur état et des éclairages publics. » – Sylvia Robinson, à propos du travail de la Taskforce
Avant de devenir organisatrice, et après avoir obtenu son diplôme en informatique, Sylvia avait travaillé dans le domaine des systèmes de contrôle du trafic aérien pendant plus d’une décennie. Elle s’est ensuite orientée vers le conseil relatif à la consommation d’alcool et de drogue, s’impliquant davantage dans le travail communautaire.
« Cette implication dans la communauté, c’était ma vocation. » – Sylvia Robinson
Née à Washington D.C. le 14 août 1961, Sylvia est décédée le 18 septembre 2017 après avoir lutté contre le cancer.
« L’esprit et l’héritage de Sylvia continueront d’inspirer cette communauté pour de nombreuses années. » – ECAC
Joanne is an African feminist who is passionate about dismantling gender inequalities on the African continent. Joanne has worked with a number of global organizations, media and think tanks including Amnesty International, Wrthy, Local Development Research Institute, BBC, East African Community (EAC) among others.She serves on a couple of boards including Freely in hope-an NGO based in Kenya and Zambia that seeks to equip survivors and advocates to lead in ending sexual violence and Msingi Trust-a movement of activists that meet at the confluence of faith and human rights. She has a Masters in Business Administration, Masters of Public Policy and a Bachelor of Laws. She is a book junkie with a penchant for fiction.
"This community is a place for connections, to understand our individual fights as part of global struggles, and sometimes even dance! There aren’t places like this online where you can meet real grassroots activists from all over the world and build solidarity and sisterhood."
- Paz Romero, Argentina
كلمة العدد | التجسيدات العابرة للحدود
فقدان الكلام
ترجمة رولا علاء الدين
تشينيلو أونوالو
غوى صايغ
«لمّا نكون مُستَقتِلين للتغيير، لِكوننا في حالة مرضٍ وتمرّدٍ في آنٍ واحد، تخلو لغتنا من التعقيد وتنصقل لتعكس أبسط ركائزها. (...) لكن، ومع استمرار المرض والثورة، تصبح اللغة المُصاغة في هذه الحالة وعنها أكثرَ عمقاً وأكثرَ تعبيراً عن الفوارق الدقيقة، وتكون منغمسة انغماساً شديداً في التجربة الإنسانية التي يواجه فيها المرءُ حدودَه عند نهاية العالم».
بدأنا التخطيط لعدد المجلّة هذا مع نانا داركوا قُبيل مهرجان «ابدعي، قاومي، غيٍّري: مهرجان للحراكات النسوية» لجمعية «حقوق المرأة في التنمية» AWID، وانطلقنا وقتها من سؤالٍ هو بالأحرى ملاحظة حول حالة العالم، ورغبة في تغيير الاعتقادات السائدة: لماذا لا تزال جنسانيّاتنا وملذّاتنا تخضع للترويض والتجريم مع أنّه يتمّ تذكيرنا مراراً وتكراراً بأنّها لا تأتي بأيّ قيمة أو تطوّر؟ واستنتجنا أنّ جنسانيّاتنا، لمّا تتجسّد، فيها ما يتعارض مع النظام العالمي الذي ما زال يتجلّى من خلال ضوابط الحدود، والتمييز العنصري في توزيع اللقاح، والاستعمار الاستيطاني، والتطهير العرقي، والرأسمالية المُستشرية. هل يمكننا إذاً القول إنّ لجنسانيّاتنا قدرةٌ تعطيليّة؟ وهل يصحّ هذا القول عندما ننظر إلى واقع حركاتنا التي يتمّ الاستيلاء عليها ومأسستها في سعيها للتزوّد بالموارد؟
عندما يصبح عملنا المتجسّد مادةً ربحية في أيدي الأنظمة التي نسعى إلى إزالتها فلا عجب أنّ جنسانيّاتنا وملذّاتنا توضَع جانباً من جديد، لا سيّما أنّها ليست مُربِحة بما فيه الكفاية. لقد تساءلنا، في مواقف عدّة خلال إنتاج هذا العدد، ما الذي سيحدث إذا رفضنا مراعاة خدمات الرأسمالية الأساسية؟ لكن هل نجرؤ على هذا التساؤل وقد أنهكنا العالم؟ ربما يتمّ تجاهل جنسانيّاتنا بهذه السهولة لأنها لا تُعتَبَر أشكالاً من أشكال الرعاية. ربما ما نحتاجه هو أن نعيد تصوّر الملذّة كشكلٍ من أشكال الرعاية الجذرية، تكون أيضاً مناهضة للرأسمالية وللمؤسساتية.
بدأنا العام الثاني على التوالي لحالة الجائحة العالمية وكان لا بدّ أن تركّز مقاربتنا للتجسيدات العابرة للحدود القومية على ملاحظة سياسيّة واحدة: أنّ الرعاية هي شكل من أشكال التجسيد. وبما أنّ جزءاً كبيراً من عملنا يتمّ حالياً من دون أيّ اعتبار للحدود بيننا وفينا فنحن جميعاً متجسّدون بشكلٍ عابرٍ للحدود القومية، ونحن جميعاً نفشل. نحن نفشل في رعاية ذاتنا، والأهمّ أننا نفشل في رعاية الآخرين.
هذا الفشل ليس من صنع أيدينا.
إنّ الكثير من أهالينا اعتبروا العملَ مقايضةً، أي أنّه شيءٌ يُعطى مقابل أجرٍ وضمانة بالحصول على الرعاية. صحيحٌ أنّه تمّ الإخلال بهذه المقايضة أحياناً، لكنّ أهالينا ما كانوا يأملون أنّ عملهم سيوفّر لهم الرِضا الذاتي، وكانوا يعتمدون لهذا الغرض على نشاطهم الترفيهي وهواياتهم ومجتمعاتهم. أمّا اليوم، فنحن، أولادهم الذين تمّت تهيأتنا لنعتبر العمل متشابكاً مع الشغف، توقّعاتنا مختلفة تماماً. نحن لا نفرّق بين العمل والترفيه ونعتبرهما عنصراً واحداً، وبالنسبة للكثيرين بيننا، العمل بات يجسّد الذات بكاملها.
إنّ الرأسمالية القائمة على الأبويّة والمغايَرة الجنسية لا ترى لنا أيّ قيمة، ناهيك عن عملنا وجنسانيّاتنا. إنّه نظامٌ سيستمر في طلب المزيد والمزيد منك إلى يوم مماتك، وبعدها سيستبدلك بشخصٍ آخر. يُنتَظَر منّا أن نكون على اتصال بالإنترنت في كلّ الأوقات، ما يعني أنّه لا يمكننا الانصراف عن العمل حتى لو شئنا ذلك. إنّ هذا التَتْجير للعمل وفصله تماماً عن الشخص قد تسلّل إلى كلّ ناحية من نواحي حياتنا، ويتمّ ترسيخ هذا التَتْجير حتى في الأوساط الأكثر نسويّة والأكثر تمرّداً وتشدّداً.
لطالما حمَلَت تطلّعات الرأسمالية ضرراً كبيراً بالأجساد التي لا تتوافق مع النموذج المثالي، وأولئك الذين يسعون إلى ترسيخ سلطتهم استغّلوا الجائحة كفرصة لاستهداف النساء والأقلّيات الجنسية وكلّ مَن يعتبرونه دون المستوى.
تمّ إعداد هذا العدد الخاص بفعل هذا الواقع، وطبعاً، رغماً عن هذا الواقع.
لقد قدّم المساهمون/ المساهمات والعاملون/ العاملات كلّهم تقريباً مجهوداً يفوق طاقاتهم، وكلٌّ من الأعمال الواردة هنا هو نتاجُ سعيٍ شغوف ولكن أيضاً نتاج حالة إنهاكٍ شديد. يشكّل هذا العدد، بطريقة غايةً في الواقعية، تجسيداً للعمل العابر للحدود القومية، علماً أنّ أيّ عمل في عصرنا الرقمي أصبحَ عابراً لتلك الحدود. وفيما فُرِضَ علينا تقبّل حدود جديدة، وهي حدود لا تخالف النظام القائم سابقاً بل تعزّزه، اختبرنا مباشرةً، إلى جانب مساهمينا، كيف تستنزف الرأسمالية طاقاتنا القصوى – كيف يصبح من الصعب بناء الحجج المتماسكة لا سيّما حينما تكون خاضعة لموعد التسليم. إننا نعاني بشكلٍ جَماعي من فقدان الكلام لأننا أساساً نعاني من فقدان العوالم.
الشعور بالضياع والوحدة في عالم الرأسمالية القائمة على الأبوية والمغايَرة الجنسية هو بالتحديد ما يجعل من الضروري أن نعيد تقييم أنظمة الرعاية التي نتّبعها وأن نُعيد النظر فيها. لقد حوّلنا هذا العدد بوسائل عدّة إلى مهمّة لإيجاد الملذّة في الرعاية. فبما أنّه بات من الصعب بناء الحجج المتماسكة، برزت الوسائط البصرية والمبتكرة وقد لجأ كثرٌ ممن اعتادوا الكتابة إلى هذه الوسائط كطرقٍ لإنتاج المعرفة واختراق الضباب الفكريّ الذي أحاط بنا. لقد ضمّينا في هذا العدد أصواتاً أخرى، بالإضافة إلى أصواتٍ عدّة استمعتم إليها في المهرجان، كوسيلة لإطلاق حوارات جديدة وتوسيع آفاقنا.
بما أنّ كلماتنا قد سُرِقَت منّا، يقضي واجبنا السياسي بأن نستمر في إيجاد الوسائل للحفاظ على أنفسنا والآخرين والاهتمام بأنفسنا وبالآخرين. بالتالي، يصبح تجسّدنا نوعاً من المقاومة إذ هو بداية إيجادنا لسبيل الخروج من الذات ودخولها.
“I’m no adherent to the concept of the ‘Third World’. I make films so that people - no matter what race or color they are - can understand them. For me there are only exploiters and the exploited, that’s all. To make a film means to take a position.” - Sarah Maldoror
Sarah Maldoror, a French filmmaker of West Indies descent, was a pioneer of Pan-African cinema. At the core of her work, she placed political concerns along with her longstanding involvement in decolonization movements.
Her groundbreaking film and “revolutionary picture” Sambizanga (1972) follows Angolan militants’ anti-colonial liberation struggle, as well as captures a woman’s perspective in a historical moment she finds herself in.
“For many African filmmakers, cinema is a revolutionary tool, a political education to raise consciousness. It is inscribed in the evolution of a Third Cinema striving to decolonize thought and advocate radical changes in society.” - Sarah Maldoror
Throughout her career, Sarah - together with a number of African and Caribbean artists - co-founded (1956) the first Black theatre troupe in France. She made around 40 films, comprising important documentaries that amplify the lives and work of black artists, including her friend and poet Aimé Césaire who wrote to her:
“To Sarah Maldo
who, a camera in hand,
fights oppression, alienation
and flies in the face
of human bullshit.”
Sarah was also committed to giving African women more ownership of the filmmaking process. In an interview, she pointed out:
"African women must be everywhere. They must be in the images, behind the camera, in the editing room and involved in every stage of the making of a film. They must be the ones to talk about their problems."
Sarah left an incredibly powerful legacy to be carried forward.
Born 19 July 1929, Sarah passed away on 13 April 2020 from complications of the coronavirus.
María es diseñadora gráfica y comunicadora visual. Ha trabajado con ONG e instituciones por los derechos humanos como Profamilia y OXFAM. Como mujer del Sur Global, se siente especialmente atraída a usar sus competencias para trabajar con organizaciones que ayudan a proteger el bienestar, así como los derechos de millones de niñas y mujeres de América Latina.
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Coordinadora, Comunicaciones Digitales
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Snippet FEA We are living in a world right (ES)
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.
Esta es su historia.
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Tshegofatso Senne is a Black, chronically-ill, genderqueer feminist who does the most. Much of their work is rooted in pleasure, community, and dreaming, while being informed by somatic abolitionism and disability, healing, and transformative justices. Writing, researching, and speaking on issues concerning feminism, community, sexual and reproductive justice, consent, rape culture, and justice, Tshegofatso has 8 years of experience theorising on the ways in which these topics intersect with pleasure. They run their own business, Thembekile Stationery, and their community platform Hedone brings people together to explore and understand the power of trauma-awareness and pleasure in their daily lives. Tshegofatso believes deeply in the individual and collective potential of regenerative and sustainable change, pleasure, and care work.
The body. The most permanent home we have.
The body, not the thinking brain, is where we experience most of our pain, pleasure, and joy, and where we process most of what happens to us. It is also where we do most of our healing, including our emotional and psychological healing. And it is where we experience resilience and a sense of flow.
These words, said by Resmaa Menakem in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, have stayed with me.
The body; it holds our experiences. Our memories. Our resilience. And as Menakem has written, the body also holds our traumas. It responds with spontaneous protective mechanisms to stop or prevent more damage. That is the power of the body. Trauma is not the event; it is how our bodies respond to events that feel dangerous to us. It is often left stuck in the body, until we address it. There’s no talking our body out of this response – it just is.
Using Ling Tan’s Digital Superpower app, I tracked how my body felt as I travelled around different parts of my city, Johannesburg, South Africa. The app is a gesture-driven online platform that allows you to trace your perceptions as you move through locations by logging and recording the data. I used it to track my psychosomatic symptoms – physical reactions connected to a mental cause. Whether that be flashbacks. Panic attacks. Tightness in the chest. A fast heartbeat. Tension headaches. Muscle pain. Insomnia. Struggling to breathe. I tracked these symptoms as I walked and travelled to different areas in Johannesburg. And I asked myself.
Where can we be safe? Can we be safe?
Psychosomatic responses can be caused by a number of things, and some are not as severe as others. After experiencing any kind of trauma you may feel intense distress in similar events or situations. I tracked my sensations, ranked on a scale of 1-5, where 1 were the instances I barely felt any of these symptoms – I felt at ease rather than on-guard and jumpy, my breath and heart rate were stable, I was not looking over my shoulder – and number 5 being the opposite – symptoms that had me close to a panic attack.
As a Black person. As a queer person. As a genderqueer person who could be perceived as a woman, depending on what my gender expression is that day.
I asked myself.
Where can we be safe?
Even in neighbourhoods one might consider “safe,” I felt constantly panicked. Looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, adjusting the way my T-shirt sat so my breasts wouldn’t show up as much, looking around to make sure I knew multiple routes to get out of the place I was should I sense danger. An empty road brings anxiety. A packed one does too. Being in an Uber does. Walking on a public road does. Being in my apartment does. So does picking up a delivery from the front of the building.
Can we be safe?
Pumla Dineo Gqola speaks of the Female Fear Factory. It may or may not be familiar, but if you’re someone socialised as a woman, you’ll know this feeling well. The feeling that has you planning every step you take, whether you’re going to work, school, or just running an errand. The feeling that you have to watch how you dress, act, speak in public and private spaces. The feeling in the pit of your stomach if you have to travel at night, get a delivery, or deal with any person who continues to socialise as a cis man. Harassed on the street, always with the threat of violence. Us existing in any space comes with an innate fear.
Fear is both an individual and a socio-political phenomenon. At an individual level, fear can be present as part of a healthy well developing warning system […] When we think about fear, it is important to hold both notions of individual emotional experience and the political ways in which fear has been used in different epochs for control. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
South African women, femmes, and queers know that every step we take outside – steps to do ordinary things: a walk to the shops, a taxi to work, an Uber from a party – all of these acts are a negotiation with violence. This fear, is part of the trauma. To cope with the trauma we carry in our bodies, we develop responses to detect danger – watching the emotional responses of those around us, reading for “friendliness.” We’re constantly on guard.
Day after day. Year after year. Life after life. Generation after generation.
On the additional challenge of this learned defence system, author of The Body Keeps Score, Bessel Van Der Kolk, has said
It disrupts this ability to accurately read others, rendering the trauma survivor either less able to detect danger or more likely to misperceive danger where there is none. It takes tremendous energy to keep functioning while carrying the memory of terror, and the shame of utter weakness and vulnerability.
As Resmaa Menakem has said, trauma is in everything; it infiltrates the air we breathe, the water we drink, the foods we eat. It is in the systems that govern us, the institutions that teach and also traumatise us, and within the social contracts we enter into with each other. Most importantly, we take it with us everywhere we go, in our bodies, exhausting us and eroding our health and happiness. We carry that truth in our bodies. Generations of us have.
So, as I walk around my city, whether an area is considered “safe” or not, I carry the traumas of generations whose responses are embedded in my body. My heart palpitates, it becomes difficult to breathe, my chest tightens – because my body feels as though the trauma is happening in that very moment. I live hyper vigilant. To the point where one is either too on-guard to mindfully enjoy their life, or too numb to absorb new experiences.
For us to begin to heal, we need to acknowledge these truths.
These truths that live in our bodies.
This trauma is what keeps many of us from living the lives we want. Ask any femme or queer person what safety looks like to them and they’ll mostly share examples that are simple tasks – being able to simply live joyful lives, without the constant threat of violence.
Feelings of safety, of comfort and ease, are spatial. When we embody our trauma, it affects the ways we perceive our own safety, affects the ways we interact with the world, and alters the ways we are able to experience and embody anything pleasurable and joyful.
We have to refuse this burdensome responsibility and fight for a safe world for all of us. Walking wounded as many of us are, we are fighters. Patriarchy may terrorise and brutalise us, but we will not give up the fight. As we repeatedly take to the streets, defying the fear in spectacular and seemingly insignificant ways, we defend ourselves and speak in our own name. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
Where can we be safe? How do we begin to defend ourselves, not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional, psychological, and spiritual senses?
“Trauma makes weapons out of us all,” adrienne maree brown has said in an interview conducted by Justin Scott Campbell. And her work, Pleasure Activism, offers us multiple methodologies to heal that trauma and ground ourselves in the understanding that healing, justice, and liberation can also be pleasurable experiences. Especially those of us who are the most marginalised, who may have been raised to equate suffering with “The Work.” The Work that so many of us have gone into as activists, community builders and workers, those serving the most marginalised, The Work that we struggle in order to do, burning ourselves out and rarely caring for our minds and bodies. The alternative is becoming more informed about our trauma, able to identify our own needs, and becoming deeply embodied. That embodiment means we are simply more able to experience the world through the senses and sensations in our bodies, acknowledging what they tell us rather than suppressing and ignoring the information it is communicating with us.
Being constantly in conversation with our living body and intentionally practising those conversations connects us to embodiment more deeply; it allows us to make tangible the emotions we feel as we interact with the world, befriend our bodies, and understand all that they try to teach us. When understanding trauma and embodiment paired, we can begin to start the healing and access pleasure more holistically, healthily, and in our daily lives without shame and guilt. We can begin to access pleasure as a tool for individual and social change, tapping into the power of the erotic as Audre Lorde described it. A power that allows us to share the joy we access and experience, expanding our capacity for happiness and understanding that we are deserving of it, even with our trauma.
Tapping into pleasure and embodying the erotic gives us the expansion of being deliberately alive, feeling grounded and stable and understanding our nervous systems. It allows us to understand and shed the generational baggage we’ve been carrying without realising; we can be empowered with the knowledge that even as traumatised as we are, as traumatised as we potentially could be in the future, we are still deserving of pleasurable and joyful lives, that we can share that power with our people. It is the community aspect that is missing from the ways we care for ourselves; self-care cannot exist without community care. We are able to feel a deeper internal trust, safety, and power of ourselves, especially in the face of future traumas that will trigger us, knowing how to soothe and stabilise ourselves. All this understanding leads us to a deep internal power that is resourced to meet any challenges that come your way.
As those living with deep generational traumas, we have come to distrust and perhaps think we are incapable of containing and accessing the power we have. In “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” Lorde teaches us that the erotic offers a source of replenishment, a way to demand better for ourselves and our lives.
For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavours brings us closest to that fullness.
I don’t say any of this lightly – I know that this is easier said than done. I know that many of us are prevented from understanding these truths, from internalising or even healing them. Resistance comes with acts of feeling unsafe, but is not impossible. Resisting power structures that keep the most powerful safe will always endanger those of us shoved to the margins. Acknowledging the traumas you’ve faced is a reclamation of your lived experiences, those that have passed and those that will follow; it is resistance that embodies that knowledge that we are deserving of more than the breadcrumbs these systems have forced us to lap up. It is a resistance that understands that pleasure is complicated by trauma, but it can be accessed in arbitrary and powerful ways. It is a resistance that acknowledges that our trauma is a resource that connects us to each other, and can allow us to keep each other safe. It is a resistance that understands that even with pleasure and joy, this is not a utopia; we will still harm and be harmed, but we will be better equipped for survival and thrive in a community of diverse care and kindness. A resistance that makes way for healing and connecting to our full human selves.
Healing will never be an easy and rosy journey, but it begins with the acknowledgment of the possibility. When oppression makes us believe that pleasure is not something that we all have equal access to, one of the ways that we start doing the work of reclaiming our full selves — our whole liberated, free selves — is by reclaiming our access to pleasure.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha has said in her article in Pleasure Activism (to which she contributed),
I know that for most people, the words “care” and “pleasure” can’t even be in the same sentence. We’re all soaking in ableism’s hatred of bodies that have needs, and we’re given a really shitty choice: either have no needs and get to have autonomy, dignity, and control over your life or admit you need care and lose all of the above.
The power that this has? We understand our traumas, so we understand those of others; we embody the sensations we experience and tend to them rather than distract and avoid. We access pleasure in ways that make us want to share that joy with those in our communities. When we are trauma-informed, we give ourselves more room to experience all this and give ourselves, and others, permission to heal. Imagine, a community in which everyone has access, resources, and time to live pleasurable lives, in whichever way they want and deserve. In which spatial traumas are lessened because the people that occupy them are trauma-aware, are filled with a tender care. Isn’t that healing? Is that not working through generational traumas? Does that not build and sustain healthier futures for us all?
It is time we reconnected with the ancestral knowledge that we deserve to live full lives. We need to get back in touch with our natural right to joy and existing for ourselves. To feel pleasure simply for the sake of it. To not live lives of terror. It sounds radical; it feels radical. In a world where we have been socialised and traumatised to numb, to fear, to feel and remain powerless, to be greedy and live with structural issues that lead to mental illness, what a gift and wonder it is to begin to feel, to be in community with those who feel, to be healthily interdependent in, to love each other boldly. Feeling is radical. Pleasure is radical. Healing is radical.
You have permission to feel pleasure. You have permission to dance, create, make love to yourself and others, celebrate and cultivate joy. You are encouraged to do so. You have permission to heal. Don’t bottle it up inside, don’t try to move through this time alone. You have permission to grieve. And you have permission to live. - adrienne maree brown, “You Have Permission”
Somatic embodiment allows us to explore our trauma, work through it and make meaningful connections to ourselves and the collective. Doing this over time sustains our healing; just like trauma, healing is not a one-time only event. This healing helps move us toward individual and collective liberation.
In “A Queer Politics of Pleasure,” Andy Johnson speaks about the ways in which the queering of pleasure offers us sources of healing, acceptance, release, playfulness, wholeness, defiance, subversion, and freedom. How expansive! When we embody pleasure in ways that are this holistic, this queer, we are able to acknowledge the limitation.
Queering pleasure also asks us the questions that intersect our dreaming with our lived realities.
Who is free or deemed worthy enough to feel pleasure? When is one allowed to feel pleasure or pleased? With whom can one experience pleasure? What kind of pleasure is accessible? What limits one from accessing their full erotic and pleased potential? - Andy Johnson, “A Queer Politics
of Pleasure”
When our trauma-informed pleasure practices are grounded in community care, we begin to answer some of these questions. We begin to understand the liberating potential. As pleasure activists, this is the reality we ground ourselves within. The reality that says, my pleasure may be fractal, but it has the potential to heal not only me and my community, but future bloodlines.
I am a whole system; we are whole systems. We are not just our pains, not just our fears, and not just our thoughts. We are entire systems wired for pleasure, and we can learn how to say yes from the inside out. - Prentis Hemphill, interviewed by Shar Jossell
There’s a world of pleasure that allows us to begin to understand ourselves holistically, in ways that give us room to rebuild the realities that affirm that we are capable and deserving of daily pleasure. BDSM, one of my deepest pleasures, allows me a glimpse into these realities where I can both feel and heal my trauma, as well as feel immeasurable opportunities to say yes from the inside out. While trauma keeps me stuck in a cycle of fight or flight, bondage, kneeling, impact, and breath play encourage me to stay grounded and connected, reconnecting to restoration. Pleasure that is playful allows me to heal, to identify where traumatic energy is stored in my body and focus my energy there. It allows me to express the sensations my body feels through screams of pain and delight, to express my no with no fear and revel in the fuck yes. With a safety plan, aftercare, and a deeper understanding of trauma, kink offers a place of pleasure and healing that is invaluable.
So whether your pleasure looks like cooking a meal at your leisure, engaging in sex, having bed days with your people, participating in disability care collectives, having someone spit in your mouth, going on accessible outings, having cuddle dates, attending an online dance party, spending time in your garden, being choked out in a dungeon,
I hope you take pleasure with you wherever you go. I hope it heals you and your people.
Recognising the power of the erotic within our lives can give us the energy to pursue genuine change within our world. - Audre Lorde, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power”
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.
María Digna Montero fue una garífuna (afrodescendiente e indígena) defensora de la tierra e integrante de la Organización Fraternal Negra Hondureña (OFRANEH), una organización de base que trabaja para proteger a las comunidades garífunas, sus derechos ancestrales, su cultura, sus recursos y su territorio.
María también enseñaba en la escuela local, e integraba el grupo de trabajo de Educación Bilingüe Intercultural de OFRANEH.
El 12 de octubre (Día de la Resistencia Indígena) de 2019, sujetos desconocidos le dispararon a María varias veces en el patio de su casa.
Fue una de las seis defensoras garífunas asesinadas entre septiembre y octubre de 2019 y, según OFRANEH, no hubo ninguna investigación de estos crímenes por parte de las autoridades. En un comunicado oficial, la organización también subrayó la conexión entre la violencia contra líderes garífunas y el incremento de las industrias extractivas que explotan los recursos naturales en sus comunidades, y definieron esta violencia como «parte de una estrategia de intimidación y de expulsión sistemática por parte del Estado de Honduras.»
«El recrudecimiento de la tensión y de los riesgos crecientes para la seguridad y derechos humanos de las lideresas en las comunidades y territorios ancestrales es producto del despojo, desplazamiento y criminalización hacia las comunidades, y de los mega proyectos extractivos que impulsa el Estado junto con las corporaciones nacionales e internacionales.» - Pronunciamiento de OFRANEH, 13 de octubre de 2019
Leila est une dirigeante, défenseuse et conseillère féministe transnationale qui compte plus de 25 ans d'expérience dans la promotion des droits humains, de l'égalité des genres et de la santé et des droits sexuels et reproductifs, ainsi que de la justice au niveau local et mondial. Née en Algérie, Leila a fait ses études aux États-Unis, en France et au Maroc. Au cours de sa carrière professionnelle, elle a vécu et travaillé en Afrique, en Europe et aux États-Unis.
Elle a occupé le poste de vice-présidente des programmes au Fonds mondial pour les femmes (GFW) pendant plus de cinq ans, où elle a supervisé son octroi de subventions stratégiques, le renforcement des mouvements, le plaidoyer mondial et les collaborations philanthropiques. Au sein du GFW, elle a doublé le montant de ses subventions pour atteindre plus de 17 millions de dollars, a lancé son travail sur les mouvements et les crises féministes et axées sur le genre, a créé un programme pour les adolescentes dirigé par un conseil consultatif de filles et a dirigé son travail de plaidoyer philanthropique. Avant cela, elle a fait partie de l'équipe de direction d'Ipas de 2002 à 2016, où elle a publié de nombreux articles sur le droit à l'avortement et la justice, dirigé des actions de plaidoyer mondiales et établi des partenariats avec des groupes féministes travaillant sur l'autogestion, la mobilisation communautaire et la réduction de la stigmatisation autour de l'intégrité corporelle et des droits sexuels et reproductifs. Alors qu’elle était basée en Afrique du Nord, elle a cofondé une société de conseil féministe intersectionnelle, Strategic Analysis for Gender Equality (SAGE), qui travaillait sur les intersections entre l'économie, le genre et les droits sexuels et reproductifs, et a dirigé le travail national, régional et mondial sur le genre du bureau du Caire de la Fondation Ford pendant 5 ans.
Leila dispose d'une vaste expérience dans les domaines de l'éducation populaire, le plaidoyer, l'organisation à but non lucratif, le développement de conseils d'administration, la philanthropie et le suivi et l'évaluation. C'est une communicatrice compétente qui privilégie une approche intersectionnelle pour centrer et amplifier les voix et les expériences des personnes les plus marginalisées. Elle a reçu la bourse Op-ed Public Voices de la Fondation Ford et a été boursière Fulbright au Maroc. Ses publications couvrent un large éventail de sujets, notamment les approches féministes et décoloniales de la philanthropie, la promotion des droits humains des femmes dans les contextes majoritairement musulmans, les stratégies féministes visant à promouvoir la justice reproductive, la promotion du recours des femmes aux avortements autogérés et la lutte contre la stigmatisation et la discrimination.
Leila est actuellement coprésidente du conseil du Center for Constitutional Rights et membre du conseil de Highlander Research and Education. Elle fait également partie du conseil de responsabilité du Numun Feminist Technology Fund et du comité consultatif de la Plateforme des femmes défenseuses des droits humains d'Afrique. Elle a précédemment siégé aux conseils d'administration de SisterSong Women of Color Reproductive Justice Collective, du Réseau mondial des femmes pour les droits sur la reproduction, du Fonds mondial pour les femmes, du Safe Abortion Access Fund et du Reproductive Health Technologies Project. Elle a été élue trésorière et membre du comité exécutif du conseil d'administration de Prospera et a siégé au comité directeur du Fonds Fenomenal pendant quatre ans. Leila est titulaire d'une maîtrise en santé publique et d'une maîtrise en études sur la région du Moyen-Orient et de l'Afrique du Nord, a étudié le droit islamique au Maroc et a poursuivi des études doctorales en sociologie en France. Elle a étudié l'arabe et l'allemand et parle couramment le français et l'anglais.
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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.
Snippet - CSW69 - Feminist Solidarity Space - EN
Feminist Solidarity Space
✉️ By registration for larger groups. Drop-ins for smaller groups. Register here
📅 Tuesday, March 11, 2025
🕒 12.00-2.00pm and 4.00-6.00pm EST
🏢 Chef's Kitchen Loft with Terrace, 216 East 45th St 13th Floor New York
