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
◾️Support the work of feminist UN experts in the face of backlash and pressure
◾️Advocate for state accountability
◾️ Work with feminist movements and civil society organizations to advance rights related to gender and sexuality.
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Our values - Justice and systemic change
Justicia y cambio sistémico
Trabajamos por un mundo basado en la justicia social, ambiental y económica; y por la interdependencia, la solidaridad y el respeto. Trabajamos para desmantelar los sistemas de poder opresivo y contra todas sus manifestaciones, incluidos el patriarcado, los fundamentalismos, los militarismos, los fascismos y el poder corporativo que amenazan nuestras vidas y nuestro mundo. Queremos un mundo justo en el que los recursos y el poder sean compartidos en formas que permitan que todas las personas prosperen.
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
Tenderness is the Sharpest Resistance
A Film Series on Asian/Pacific Feminist Realities
Curated by Jess X. Snow With assistance from Kamee Abrahamian and Zoraida Ingles
Across Asia and the Pacific, and all of it’s vast diaspora, fierce women and trans folks have been fighting for a future where they can all be free. As rising sea levels threaten the Pacific islands, and the coasts of continental Asia, the fight to protect other Earth and the Ocean intensifies all over the globe. Our planet stores a geologic memory of everything that it has experienced. The rise of colonization, industrialization, and environmental destruction is connected to the rise of the binary patriarchal nation state. The power within the Earth, to reincarnate, heal, and bloom in the face of violence, must then be connected to the woman, to motherhood, to indigeneity and all forces that are expansive, sacred and queer. It is no coincidence that Feminist Realities unite the fight to protect the rights of women, trans and LGBTQ+ people with the fight to protect the Earth. From mother-daughter protectors of Mauna Kea in the Kingdom of Hawaii, to the complex mother-child relationships of Vietnamese refugees, to queer sexual awakenings in conservative India, the reclaimation of home in Inner Mongolia, to the struggle toward LGBTQ liberation in the Phillipines -- this collection of films is a cosmology of the ways current-day Asian Pacific women and queer and trans folks champion the journey to our collective liberation across oceans and borders.
All of these films have a strong sense of place: indigenous activists protect their sacred lands, youth peel back colonial narratives of their homeland to uncover hidden truths, complex motherhood and relations of care are explored, and characters turn to their own bodies and sexuality as sanctuary when the family and city that surrounds them threaten their safety.
AFTEREARTH
By Jess X. Snow
“A haunting film with stunning shots invoking feminist environmental resistance and how deeply rooted this is in connection to cultural history and land…”
- Jessica Horn, PanAfrican feminst strategist, writer and co-creator of the temple of her skin
In the experimental documentary, Afterearth, four women fight to preserve the volcano, ocean, land and air for future generations. Through music, poetry, and heartfelt testimonial that honors locations touched by the Pacific Ocean–Hawaiʻi, the Philippines, China, and North America, Afterearth is a poetic meditation on four women’s intergenerational and feminist relationship to the lands and plants they come from.
STANDING ABOVE THE CLOUDS
By Jalena Keane Lee
In Standing Above the Clouds, Native Hawaiian mother-daughter activists stand together to protect their sacred mountain, Mauna Kea from being used as a site to build one of the world’s largest telescopes. As protectors of Mauna Kea, this film highlights the interconnected relationship between Aloha ʻĀina (love of the land) and love for one’s elders and the future generations to come.
NƯỚC (WATER/HOMELAND)
By Quyên Nguyen-Le
In the experimental narrative short, Nước (Water/Homeland) a Vietnamese-American genderqueer teen challenges dominant narratives of the Vietnam War in Los Angeles, California. Through striking dream sequences and breaks from reality, this film follows their journey to piece together and understand their mother's experience as a Vietnam War refugee.
KAMA’ĀINA
By Kimi Lee
In Kama’āina, a queer sixteen-year-old girl must navigate life on the streets in Oahu, until she eventually finds refuge by way of guidance from an auntie at Pu’uhonua o Wai’anae–Hawaiʻi’s largest organized homeless encampment.
DEVI
By Karishma Dev Dube
In Devi (goddess in Hindi) a young closeted lesbian, Tara risks both family and tradition to embrace her attraction to her family’s maid. Set in New Delhi, Devi is a coming of age story, as it is a commentary on the social and class lines that divide women in contemporary India today.
HEADING SOUTH
By Yuan Yuan
In Heading South, Chasuna, an 8 year old girl, raised by her mother in the Inner Mongolian Plateau, visits her abusive father in the big city. While at her father’s house, she is introduced to a new addition to the family, and must come to terms with the fact that her true home is inseparable from her mother and land.
Outrun
By Johnny Symons & S. Leo Chiang
In the feature film, Outrun, we follow the journey of the first transgender woman in the Philippine Congress. Facing oppression in a predominantly Catholic nation, her triumphant journey becomes an outcry for the rights of LGBTQ+ people globally.
Spanning documentary, narrative, and experimental forms, these films illustrate that community care, self-love, and deep transformative listening between our loved ones is a portal to the Feminist Realities we are bringing into existence today. From all across the Asia Pacific and it’s diaspora, these stories teach us that in the face of violence, tenderness is the sharpest force of resistance.
Jess X. Snow is a film director, artist, pushcart-nominated poet, children’s book author and community arts educator who creates queer asian immigrant stories that transcend borders, binaries and time.
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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
Leah Tumbalang was a Lumad woman of Mindanao in the Philippines. The story of Lumad Indigenous peoples encompasses generations of resistance to large-scale corporate mining, protection of ancestral domains, resources, culture, and the fight for the right to self-determination.
Leah was a Lumad leader as well as a leader of Kaugalingong Sistema Igpasasindog to Lumadnong Ogpaan (Kasilo), a Lumad and peasant organization advocating against the arrival of mining corporations in Bukidnon, Mindanao province. She was unwavering in her anti-mining activism, fervently campaigning against the devastating effects of mineral extraction on the environment and Indigenous peoples’ lands. Leah was also an organizer of the Bayan Muna party-list, a member of the leftist political party Makabayan.
For almost a decade, Leah (along with other members of Kasilo) had been receiving threats for co-leading opposition against the deployment of paramilitary groups believed to be supported by mining interests.
“Being a Lumad leader in their community, she is at the forefront in fighting for their rights to ancestral land and self-determination.” - Kalumbay Regional Lumad Organization
Being at the forefront of resistance also often means being a target of violence and impunity and Leah not only received numerous death threats, but was murdered on 23 August 2019 in Valencia City, Bukidnon.
According to a Global Witness report, “the Philippines was the worst-affected country in sheer numbers” when it comes to murdered environmental activists in 2018.
Sarah Hegazy, una audaz activista egipcia por los derechos LGBTQI+, vivía en una sociedad en la que lxs integrantes de su comunidad, sus cuerpos y sus vidas, enfrentan prejuicios letales a menudo. La resistencia de Sarah estaba arraigada en la deconstrucción del sistema dominante, opresor y patriarcal, y de sus actores antiderechos.
«[En Egipto], toda persona que no sea varón, musulmán, suní, heterosexual y partidario del sistema, es rechazada, reprimida, estigmatizada, arrestada, exiliada o asesinada. Este problema se relaciona con el sistema patriarcal en su conjunto, ya que el Estado no podría ejercer su represión contra lxs ciudadanxs, si no hubiera una opresión preexistente desde la infancia», escribió Sarah Hegazy el 6 de marzo de 2020
La supresión de la voz de Sarah por parte del gobierno egipcio alcanzó su pico más violento en 2017, cuando fue arrestada por alzar una bandera arcoíris en el recital de Mashrou’ Leila (una banda libanesa cuyo cantante principal es abiertamente gay) en El Cairo. Fue acusada de pertenecer a un grupo ilegal, y de «promover la desviación sexual y el libertinaje».
«Fue un acto de apoyo y solidaridad, no solamente con el cantante [de Mashrou’ Leila] sino con todas las personas oprimidas... Nos enorgulleció alzar la bandera. Nunca nos imaginamos la reacción de la sociedad y del Estado egipcio. Para ellos, yo era una criminal: alguien que buscaba destruir la estructura moral de la sociedad.» - Sarah Hegazy
Sarah estuvo encarcelada por tres meses, durante los cuales fue torturada y agredida sexualmente. En enero de 2018, después de ser liberada bajo fianza, pidió asilo en Canadá, donde estaba segura, pero seguía prisionera de los recuerdos del abuso y la violencia que su cuerpo y su alma habían sufrido.
«Salí de esta experiencia después de tres meses con un caso muy intenso y serio de TEPT [trastorno por estrés postraumático]. La prisión me mató. Me destruyó», dijo Sarah Hegazy a NPR.
Sarah se quitó la vida el 14 de junio de 2020, luego de dejar una nota escrita a mano en árabe:
«A mis hermanxs: traté de encontrar redención y fallé, perdónenme.
A mis amigxs: la experiencia [el viaje] fue muy dura y soy demasiado débil como para resistir, perdónenme.
Al mundo: has sido tremendamente cruel, pero perdono.»
Su legado y su coraje continuarán, llevados adelante por quienes la aman y creen en aquello por lo que Sarah luchó.
Tributos:
«A Sarah: Descansa, solo descansa, libre de esta violencia implacable, de este patriarcado letal impulsado por el Estado. Con rabia, con dolor, con extenuación, resistimos.» - Rasha Younes, investigadora sobre derechos LGBT de Human Rights Watch. Lee el texto completo
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.
