AWID’s Tribute is an art exhibition honouring feminists, women’s rights and social justice activists from around the world who are no longer with us.
In 2020, we are taking a turn
This year’s tribute tells stories and shares narratives about those who co-created feminist realities, have offered visions of alternatives to systems and actors that oppress us, and have proposed new ways of organising, mobilising, fighting, working, living, and learning.
49 new portraits of feminists and Women Human Rights Defenders (WHRDs) are added to the gallery. While many of those we honour have passed away due to old age or illness, too many have been killed as a result of their work and who they are.
This increasing violence (by states, corporations, organized crime, unknown gunmen...) is not only aimed at individual activists but at our joint work and feminist realities.
The stories of activists we honour keep their legacy alive and carry their inspiration forward into our movements’ future work.
The portraits of the 2020 edition are designed by award winning illustrator and animator, Louisa Bertman.
AWID would like to thank the families and organizations who shared their personal stories and contributed to this memorial. We join them in continuing the remarkable work of these activists and WHRDs and forging efforts to ensure justice is achieved in cases that remain in impunity.
“They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.” - Mexican Proverb
The Tribute was first launched in 2012
It took shape with a physical exhibit of portraits and biographies of feminists and activists who passed away at AWID’s 12th International Forum, in Turkey. It now lives as an online gallery, updated every year.
Моего языка нет в списке и мне сложно заполнить опрос – что мне делать?
AWID стремится к языковой справедливости, и мы сожалеем, что на данный момент проведение опроса на большем количестве языков не представляется возможным. Если вам нужна помощь в переводе или вы хотите заполнить анкету на любом другом языке, пожалуйста, свяжитесь с нами по адресу witm@awid.org
Rosa Candida Mayorga Muñoz was a Guatemalan social worker, union leader and labor rights defender. She was affectionately called Rosita and she inspired change.
In the 1980’s, Rosa became the first female member of the Executive Committee of the Union of Workers of the Institute of National Electrification (STINDE), a union she first joined to advocate for women’s labor rights. For her, this meant fighting for equal opportunities in a company where many women faced a discriminatory and violent system created by company authorities. Rosa had also suffered sexual harassment in her workplace, both by co-workers and managers. She was not to be kept quiet though.
Rosa continued fighting and was part of the effort to mould the struggle into a more specific form, that of the INDE-STINDE Collective Pact of Working conditions. This pact was a pioneer, the first in Guatemala to typify the concept of (sexual) harassment. It serves as a reference for the Guatemalan legislation on labor matters and is an encouragement for other unions.
“She had no fighting tools other than her own ideals... Many times she was intimidated, harassed to put the fight aside, but her courage generated the image of hope for grassroots unionists. Rosita created an image of respect, not only within her union, but before the authorities of the institution, before the women's movement; she was recognized as a pioneer of the trade union women's movement, in a space that had been more dominated by men.” - Maritza Velasquez, ATRAHDOM
Rosa passed away on 4 April 2018 at the age of 77.
Isabel es una feminista del Reino Unido con más de 10 años de experiencia en respuestas feministas a los fascismos, los fundamentalismos y las tendencias antiderechos. En AWID, su trabajo se centra en la construcción de conocimientos, y ha incluido la conducción de la producción de la serie Derechos en riesgo en colaboración con el Observatorio de la Universalidad de los Derechos. Posee una maestría en Estudios de Género de la Escuela de Estudios Orientales y Africanos (SOAS) y, con anterioridad, trabajó con Women Living Under Muslim Laws (Mujeres que viven bajo leyes musulmanas). Es una apasionada del trabajo entre movimientos, la construcción de conocimientos centrados en los movimientos y el uso de la expresión creativa para desmantelar los sistemas de opresión. Fuera del trabajo, Isabel se mantiene activa en distintos espacios dedicados a la justicia para las personas con discapacidad para el cuidado colectivo, el aprendizaje y la incidencia política.
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Responsable, Promoción de los Derechos Universales y la Justicia
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Reason to join 3
Share your stories and hear from others. By connecting our experiences, narratives and proposals we help co-create and amplify Feminist Realities.
¿Por qué AWID eligió Taipéi como sede del Foro?
AWID dedicó casi dos años al trabajo de identificar una sede para el Foro en la región Asia-Pacífico (la ubicación del Foro rota entre las distintas regiones).
Sobre la base de una investigación documental inicial y de consultas con aliadxs (que nos llevaron a eliminar muchas otras opciones de la región), organizamos una serie de visitas exhaustivas a Nepal, Malasia, Sri Lanka, Tailandia, Indonesia y, más tarde, Taiwán.
Cada visita incluyó, no solo la evaluación de la infraestructura logística, sino también encuentros con grupos y activistas feministas locales para entender mejor el contexto y conocer su percepción de las oportunidades y los riesgos potenciales de organizar un Foro de AWID en sus contextos.
En nuestras visitas encontramos movimientos feministas locales impresionantemente vibrantes y diversos.
Estos movimientos expresaron, en varias ocasiones, sentimientos encontrados respecto de las oportunidades y los riesgos que podría acarrearles la visibilidad de un evento como el Foro. En una de las visitas, durante los primeros treinta minutos de la reunión, escuchamos a lxs activistas presentes decir, en forma unánime, que un Foro de AWID sufriría una enorme reacción, que los derechos LGBTQ son un asunto particularmente candente, y que los grupos fundamentalistas aparecerían con toda su fuerza a interrumpir el evento.
Cuando respondimos, «De acuerdo, entonces ustedes no creen que sea una buena idea», nuevamente la respuesta unánime fue «Por supuesto que es una buena idea, ¡queremos cambiar la narrativa!». En algunos de estos lugares nos resultó difícil oír y ver que muchxs activistas feministas querían aprovechar la oportunidad de un evento grande y visible, y que estaban preparadxs a enfrentar los riesgos locales; pero nuestras consideraciones, como anfitrionxs de casi dos mil personas de todo el mundo, nos imponen un cálculo distinto del riesgo y la factibilidad.
También tuvimos que analizar qué significa organizar un foro feminista que a sea coherente con los principios de inclusión, reciprocidad y autodeterminación, en aquellos casos en que la política y la práctica de Estado son, en general, contrarias a estos principios (aunque lxs funcionarixs de los ministerios de turismo hayan trabajado arduamente para atenuar estas características).
Sopesamos las consideraciones de infraestructura con la oportunidad potencial de impulsar algunas agendas feministas a nivel nacional, y el contexto político nacional.
En muchos de estos lugares, monitorear el contexto nos resultó un ejercicio pendular: de un momento abierto y seguro para los debates feministas podíamos pasar a otro de brutal represión y xenofobia, capaz de sacrificar las prioridades feministas como piezas de negociación política para tranquilizar a las fuerzas antiderechos del ala derechista.
El proceso ha sido una reflexión aleccionadora sobre el contexto increíblemente complicado para el activismo por los derechos de las mujeres y la justicia de género en todo el mundo.
Nuestras dificultades en la región Asia-Pacífico nos llevaron a preguntarnos si no sería más fácil mover el Foro a una región distinta. Sin embargo, hoy en día no podríamos organizar un Foro de AWID en Estambul como lo hicimos en 2012, ni podríamos hacerlo en Brasil como lo hicimos en 2016.
Teniendo en cuenta toda esta complejidad, AWID seleccionó Taipéi como ubicación para el Foro porque:
ofrece un cierto grado de estabilidad y seguridad para la diversidad de participantes que convocamos al Foro;
tiene también un alto nivel de capacidad logística, y resulta accesible para muchxs viajerxs (con la facilitación de un trámite de visa electrónico para conferencias internacionales); y
el Foro es bien recibido por el movimiento feminista local, que está muy interesado en interactuar con feministas de todo el mundo.
Al organizar el Foro de AWID, estamos tratando de construir y sostener, de la mejor manera posible, un espacio para las diversas expresiones de solidaridad, indignación, esperanza e inspiración que son el núcleo de los movimientos feministas.
En este momento, creemos que Taipéi es la sede, dentro de la región Asia-Pacífico, que mejor nos permitirá construir ese espacio seguro y rebelde para nuestra comunidad feminista global.
De hecho, en el mundo contemporáneo no existe una ubicación ideal para un Foro centrado en las Realidades Feministas. Donde sea que vayamos, ¡debemos construir ese espacio juntxs!
Mirna Teresa Suazo Martínez era parte de la comunidad garífuna (afrodescendiente e indígena) de Masca, en la costa norte del Caribe de Honduras. Era una líder comunitaria, y una ferviente defensora del territorio indígena, tierra que fue vulnerada cuando el Instituto Nacional Agrario de Honduras otorgó licencias territoriales a gente ajena a la comunidad.
Este acto deplorable derivó en repetidos acosos, abusos y violencia contra la comunidad de Masca, dado que los intereses económicos de diferentes grupos se unieron a los de las fuerzas armadas y las autoridades hondureñas. Según la Organización Fraternal Negra Hondureña (OFRANEH), la estrategia de estos grupos es expulsar y exterminar a la población indígena.
«Masca, la comunidad Garífuna localizada junto al valle del Cuyamel, forma parte de la zona de influencia de una de las supuestas ciudades modelo, situación que ha disparado las presiones territoriales a lo largo de la costa Garífuna.» - OFRANEH, 8 de septiembre de 2019
Mirna Teresa, presidenta del Patronato de la comunidad de Masca en Omoa, también rechazaba con firmeza la construcción de dos plantas hidroeléctricas sobre el río que lleva el mismo nombre que su comunidad, Masca.
«La comunidad garífuna atribuye el agravamiento de la situación en su región a su oposición contra la explotación turística, el monocultivo de palma africana y el narcotráfico, al mismo tiempo que busca construir una vida alternativa a través del cultivo del coco y de otros productos de autoconsumo.» - Voces Feministas, 10 de septiembre de 2019
Mirna Teresa fue asesinada el 8 de septiembre de 2019 en su restaurante «Champa los Gemelos».
Fue una de las seis defensoras garífunas asesinadas solo entre septiembre y octubre de 2019. Según OFRANEH, las autoridades no han investigado estos crímenes.
«En el caso de las comunidades Garífunas, buena parte de los homicidios están relacionados con la tenencia y el manejo de la tierra. No obstante, las rencillas entre el crimen organizado han tenido como resultado asesinatos, como los recientemente ocurridos en Santa Rosa de Aguán.» - OFRANEH, 8 de septiembre de 2019
Marianne Mesfin Asfaw est une féministe panafricaine qui se consacre à la justice sociale et à la construction communautaire. Elle est titulaire d'une licence en études de genre et en relations internationales de l'Université de la Colombie-Britannique (UBC) et d'un master en études de genre et de droit de l'Université SOAS de Londres. Auparavant, elle travaillait dans l'administration universitaire et le soutien aux étudiant·e·s internationaux·ales, de même qu’à titre de chercheuse et d’animatrice dans des espaces féministes à but non lucratif. Elle a également travaillé et été bénévole auprès d'organisations non gouvernementales, notamment Plan International, dans des rôles administratifs. Avant d'occuper son poste actuel, elle a travaillé dans le soutien logistique et administratif à l'AWID. Elle est originaire d'Éthiopie, a grandi au Rwanda et est actuellement basée à Tkaronto/Toronto, au Canada. Elle aime lire, voyager et passer du temps avec sa famille et ses ami·e·s. Pendant les mois les plus chauds, on peut la trouver en train de se promener dans des quartiers familiers à la recherche de cafés et de librairies obscurs dans lesquels flâner.
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Coordonnatrice de l’Initiative de Construction d’Économies Féministes
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Values - intersectionality
Interseccionalidad
Creemos que para que los movimientos feministas sean transformadores y sólidos debemos seguir trabajando en nuestras similitudes y diferencias. También debemos cuestionar el poder y los privilegios, tanto dentro como fuera de nuestros movimientos.
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.
لماذا تسألون عن اسم المجموعة، المنظمة و\ أو الحركة التي تعبئ الاستطلاع؟
نسأل عن هذه المعلومات كي نسهّل عملية المعالجة وكي نستطيع أن نتواصل مع مجموعتكم/ن في حالة لم تستطيعون تكملة الاستطلاع و\ أو في حالة كانت لديكم/ن شكوك أو أسئلة إضافية. يمكنكم/ن قراءة المزيد عن كيف نستعمل المعلومات التي نجمعها خلال عملنا هنا.
Barbara Allimadi était une militante politique et des droits humains originaire d’Ouganda. En 2012, elle a coorganisé une manifestation contre l’agression policière télévisée d’Ingrid Turinawe, opposante politique dont le sein a été pressé par un officier de police. Durant la manifestation, Barbara et d’autres activistes se sont déshabillées et n’ont gardé que leur soutien-gorge devant le poste central de police de Kampala. Cet épisode fut par la suite désigné par la tristement célèbre « manifestation en soutien-gorge » en Ouganda.
« Nous avons opté pour une manifestation en soutien-gorge. Nous avons pensé qu’elle serait la plus appropriée par rapport aux faits. Ce n’est pas comme si nous étions en train de dire que nous ne nous respections pas. Nous étions dégoûtées par les actes commis. » - Barbara Allimadi, 2013 (Daily Monitor)
Diplômée en électronique et en ingénierie des communications de l’Université métropolitaine de Londres, Barbara était ingénieure réseau au Royaume-Uni et une fervente amatrice de musique reggae. Elle retourna en Ouganda en 2007, au moment du décès de sa mère.
En 2019, elle fut désignée Coordonnatrice pour les affaires internationales et la diaspora de l’Alliance for National Transformation (alliance pour la transformation nationale, ANT), un parti politique lancé la même année par un leader d’opposition.
« Nous voulons disposer d’une vie sûre et de biens, sans souffrance, sans blessure ni même de mort aux mains des forces de sécurité, qui sont censées nous protéger. Nous voulons surtout un environnement stable et propice dans lequel nous pourrons réaliser nos rêves et nos ambitions. » - Barbara Allimadi, vidéo de l’ANT
Barbara est décédée le 27 avril 2020.
Hommages :
« J’étais tellement fière de ma sœur pour plein de raisons, mais surtout pour sa recherche téméraire de la paix, de la démocratie, de la justice et de l’égalité en Ouganda. Au summum de son activisme, elle conduisait de nombreuses marches dans les rues de Kampala, jusqu’aux postes de police et au Parlement. » - Doris Allimadi, sœur de Barbara
« C’est avec une tristesse profonde que nous avons appris le décès précoce de Barbara Allimadi. Elle était une force vaillante, infatigable et courageuse pour le mouvement de libération en Ouganda. Nous adressons nos sincères condoléances à sa famille. Elle nous manquera terriblement. » - Akina Mama wa Afrika (tweet du 28 avril 2020)
« Le décès de Barbara est extrêmement triste pour nous, et pour toute sa famille. Elle s’est dévouée entièrement à lutter pour la justice, la liberté et les droits des autres, tout en servant la société civile jusqu’à sa récente adhésion au parti. » Maj Gen Mugisha Muntu, coordonnateur national de l’ANT
« Une soeur magnifique, charmante, drôle, charismatique et inspirante. Mes enfants ont perdu leur tante. L’Ouganda a perdu une combattante pour les libertés, brave et courageuse. Barbara disait autrefois “tant que vous pouvez respirer, continuez à agir pour atteindre vos rêves” » - Doris Allimadi, sœur de Barbara
Claudia is a feminist psychologist with a Masters degree in Development Equality and Equity. She has been a human rights activist for 30 years, and a women’s rights activist for the last 24.
Claudia works in El Salvador as the co-founder and Executive Director of Asociación Mujeres Transformando. For the past 16 years she has defended labour rights of women working within the textile and garment maquila sector. This includes collaborations to draft legislative bills, public policy proposals and research that aim to improve labour conditions for women workers in this sector. She has worked tirelessly to support organizational strengthening and empowerment of women workers in the textile maquilas and those doing embroidery piece-work from home.
She is an active participant in advocacy efforts at the national, regional and international levels to defend and claim labour rights for the working class in the global South from a feminist, anti-capitalist and anti-patriarchy perspective and class and gender awareness raising. She is a board member with the Spotlight Initiative and its national reference group. She is also part of UN Women’s Civic Society Advisory Group.
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Co-President
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Principles of Engagement
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.
