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.
Aïssata Kane, también conocida afectuosamente como «Yaye Kadia»” [«Madre Kadia»], fue una feminista comprometida, durante toda su vida, con la defensa de los derechos de las mujeres africanas y, en especial, mauritanas.
En 1975 fue la primera mujer en ocupar el cargo de Ministra de Protección Familiar y Asuntos Sociales, puesto desde el cual Aïssata trabajó fervientemente para mejorar el estatus de las mujeres de su país.
Este trabajo incluyó el fomento de la educación de niñas y mujeres, la lucha contra la práctica de alimentación forzada de mujeres jóvenes, la incidencia para la inclusión de una legislación sobre derechos maritales, y la promoción de la creación de un cupo de representación femenino en el Parlamento.
«[Aïssata] materializaba todas sus pasiones con humildad, valentía y determinación. No quería molestar a nadie con su lucha en todos estos frentes simultáneos.» - Ball Halimata Dem, sobrina de Aïssata
Fundó la Unión Nacional de Mujeres de Mauritania (UNFM), creando y publicando con otras activistas Marienou, una revista dedicada a la emancipación de las mujeres mauritanas. Aïssata también dirigió varias organizaciones subregionales y locales, por ejemplo, como Presidenta de la Asociación Internacional de Mujeres Francófonas (AIFF) y, como firme ecologista, fue Presidenta de la Asociación para la Protección del Medio Ambiente de Mauritania (APEM).
En 2018, recibió el Premio a la Mujer Pionera, en honor a su trabajo para la promoción del estatus de las mujeres de Mauritania y como reconocimiento de su fuerte liderazgo y su sentido de la innovación.
Aïssata falleció el 10 de agosto de 2019.
Snippet FEA Principles of Work Antiracism (ES)
ANTI RACISMO
¿Pueden los hombres formar parte de la membresía de AWID?
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
Enciende tu fuego feminista leyendo nuestras investigaciones y publicaciones varias sobre financiamiento, defensoras de derechos humanos, construcción de movimientos, fundamentalismos, justicia económica, seguimiento y evaluación feminista y más
Rejoignez-nous en prenant part aux conversations#FreezeFascisms!
(#BloquerLesFascismes) !
Alors que nous affrontons de multiples crises dans le monde entier, nos mouvements œuvrent sans relâche à construire une influence qui dépasse les structures de pouvoir traditionnelles. La vague de décrets présidentiels américains vise à nous intimider, mais aucune idéologie fasciste, quelle que soit son ampleur, ne peut effacer notre existence et notre résistance.
Nous vous invitons à rejoindre la campagne de solidarité pour dénoncer et résister aux forces fascistes qui sapent les mouvements féministes et de justice de genre dans vos communautés !
Déclenchez des conversations au sein d’un espace courageux : partagez vos initiatives de lutte et de résistance aux fascismes à votre échelle sur la plateforme de la Communauté AWID. Pas encore membre ? Rejoignez-nous ici.
Soutenez les mouvements qui ont été touchés : relayez les collectes de fonds, les ressources disponibles, les efforts d’entraide en utilisant #FreezeFascisms #BloquerLesFascismes (nous sommes toujours sur X, Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, mais aussi sur Bluesky !)
Mobilisez-vous autour d’alternatives : nous avons créé une communauté de pratiques à adopter pour des alternatives économiques féministes et un financement autonome. Inscrivez-vous pour en faire partie ici(en anglais)
Rosane Santiago Silveira, que l’on appelait affectueusement Rô Conceição, était une activiste brésilienne pour l’environnement et les droits humains qui se battait inlassablement pour protéger l’environnement, là où il était le plus menacé.
Il pouvait entre autres s’agir de le défendre sur l’île de Barra Valha, mise en danger par une exploitation pétrolière, ou de le protéger avec des campagnes contre l’accaparement des terres et l’expansion de plantations d’eucalyptus dans l’État de Bahia, où Rosane était membre du conseil de la réserve d’extractivistes de Cassurubá.
« La réserve d’extractivistes est une zone protégée où les familles résidentes vivent des produits naturels extraits de la forêt. Ces activités contribuent à protéger l’intégrité de la forêt. » - Global Justice Ecology Project (source initiale : Rede Brasil Atual)
Elle participait à des activités syndicales et des mouvements culturels et de défense des droits humains. Rosane consacrait une grande partie de sa vie à des causes qui lui étaient chères, mais qui concernaient également la terre, les forêts, les rivières et les communautés dont les droits et vies sont constamment en danger.
Elle a été torturée et assassinée le 29 janvier 2019 à Nova Viçosa, une ville du sud de Bahia.
« Malheureusement, un sentiment d’insécurité totale règne désormais, parce que l’État ne juge pas ces crimes. Nous étions avec elle à Noël, et tout le monde s’est rendu compte qu’elle était inquiète. Nous savons maintenant qu’elle avait reçu trois menaces de mort », Tuian, le fils de Rosane dans un entretien avec Rádio Brasil Atual. (source initiale : Rede Brasil Atual)
Lorsqu’on effectue une recherche en ligne sur les « Mutilations génitales féminines » ou « MGF », un schéma en quatre parties sur l’anatomie des femmes apparaît à côté d’une page Wikipédia dédiée. (...)
📅 Mardi 11 mars 2025
🕒 18.00h-20.00h EST
🏢 Chef's Kitchen Loft with Terrace, 216 East 45th St 13th Floor New York
Organisé par : AWID
Snippet - Podcast Intro (EN)
We are thrilled to announce the launch of AWID’s new podcast THAT FEMINIST FIRE. Our narrative series unravels over 40 years of feminist movements—and reimagines a way forward.
In our pilot season, you’ll hear five compelling stories that are part of a constellation of feminist activism today. Hosted by our very own Gopika Bashi, Deputy Director of Programmes at AWID, each episode explores unique but interconnected feminist realities that are achieving greater gender justice and human rights.
Produced by our Webby-winning podcast partner Hueman Group Media, you can subscribe toTHAT FEMINIST FIREand listen to our first episode here.
Find us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Share with your network! Help us spread stories that ignite our feminist fire and move us to action.
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.
