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.
Les jeunes féministes sont au cœur de l’action de l’AWID.
De fait, 38 % de nos membres sont ont moins de 30 ans.
Nous estimons que les jeunes féministes représentent le présent et l’avenir de la lutte pour les droits des femmes. Nous encourageons les jeunes femmes à devenir des leaders du mouvement et notre programme « Activisme des jeunes féministes » est transversal à tous les autres aspects de notre travail.
Dans le même temps, en définissant les jeunes féministes comme l'un de nos domaines prioritaires, nous apportons de nouvelles perspectives aux débats actuels et veillons à ce que les jeunes activistes puissent exprimer clairement leurs priorités et leurs inquiétudes.
Née en 1928, Marceline était actrice, scénariste et réalisatrice.
En 2003, elle avait réalisé « La petite prairie aux bouleaux », mettant en vedette Anouk Aimée, ainsi que plusieurs autres documentaires. Survivante de l'holocauste, elle n'avait que quinze ans lorsque son père et elle furent arrêtés et envoyés dans des camps de concentration nazis. Les trois kilomètres qui la séparaient de son père à Auschwitz alors qu’elle-même était à Birkenau furent une distance insurmontable, décrite dans l’un de ses romans majeurs « Et tu n’es pas revenu ».
En parlant de son travail, elle a un jour déclaré: « Tout ce que je peux dire c’est que tout ce que je peux écrire, tout ce que je peux dévoiler, c’est à moi de le faire. »
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.
É claro que sim. As suas respostas serão eliminadas no final do processamento e da análise dos dados, e só serão usadas para fins de investigação. Os dados NUNCA serão divulgados fora da AWID e serão processados apenas por colaboradores e consultores da AWID que trabalham no projeto WITM connosco. Damos prioridade à sua privacidade e ao seu anonimato. Consulte a nossa política de privacidade detalhada aqui.
Our arepa: Resistance from the Kitchen
by Alejandra Laprea, Caracas, Venezuela (@alejalaprea)
I live in a country of the impossible, where there are no bombs yet we are living in a war.
A war that exists only for those of us living in this territory.
I live in a country no one understands, which few can really see, where various realities co-exist, and where the truth is murdered time and again.
I live in a country where one has to pay for the audacity of thinking for oneself, for taking on the challenge of seeing life another way.
I live in a country of women who have had to invent and reinvent, time and again, how they live and how to get by.
I live in Venezuela, in a time of an unusual and extraordinary threat.
Since 2012 my country has been subjected to an unconventional war. There are no defined armies or fire power. Their objective is to dislocate and distort the economy, affecting all households, daily life, the capacity of a people to dream and build a different kind of politics, an alternative to the patriarchal, bourgeois, capitalist democracy.
Venezuelan women are the primary victims of this economic war. Women who historically and culturally are responsible for providing care, are the most affected and in demand. However, in these years of economic and financial embargo, Venezuelan women have gone from being victims to the protagonists on the front lines defending our territory.
Battles are fought from the barrios, kitchens, and small gardens. We defend the right of girls and boys to go to school, and to be given something so simple as some arepas for breakfast.
Arepas are a kind of corn cake that can be fried, roasted or baked and served sweet or savoury as a side or main dish. It is a staple in the diet of all Venezuelans.
In Venezuela, arepas mean culture, family, food sovereignty, childhood nostalgia, the expert hands of grandmothers molding little balls, the warmth that comforts you when recovering from illness.
Arepas connect us as a people with the pre-Colombian cultures of corn, a resistance that has endured for more than five centuries. They are the Caribbean expressed differently on firm ground.
They are an act of resistance.
When my mother was a girl, they would start grinding the dry corn early in the morning to make arepas. The women would get up and put the kernels of corn in wooden mortars and pound it with heavy mallets to separate the shells. Then they would boil, soak, and grind the corn to make dough, and finally they would mold it into round arepas. The process would take hours and demand a lot of physical effort.
In the mid-20th century a Venezuelan company industrialized the production of corn meal. For an entire generation that seemed like an act of liberation, since there was now a flour that you could simply add water to and have hot arepas in 45 minutes time.
But that also meant that the same generation would lose the traditional knowledge on how to make them from scratch. My grandmother was an expert arepa maker, my mother saw it as a girl, and for me the corn meal came pre-packaged.
In the war with no military, the pre-cooked corn meal came to be wielded as an instrument of war by the same company that invented it, which was not so Venezuelan anymore: today the Polar group of companies is transnational.
We women began to recuperate our knowledge by talking with the eldest among us. We searched in the back of the closets for our grandmothers’ grinders, the ones we hadn’t thrown away out of affection. Some families still prepared the corn in the traditional way for important occasions. In some towns there were still communal grinding stations which had been preserved as part of local history or because small family businesses refused to die. All of these forms of cultural resistance were activated, and we even went so far as to invent new arepas.
Today we know that in order to resist we cannot depend on one food staple. Although corn arepas continue to be everyone’s favourite, we have invented recipes for arepas made of sweet potato, cassava, squash, and celery root.
We have learned that we can use almost any root vegetable to make arepas. Cooperative businesses have developed semi-industrial processes to make pre-cooked corn meal. In other words, we have recuperated our arepas and their preparation as a cultural good that belongs to all.
My artivism aims to decolonize our senses in everyday life. I like to create spaces that communicate how we weave together our different struggles, and that render visible dissident (re)existences, other possible worlds, and living bodies here in the SOUTH.
As we continue to fight in our struggles, let us remember how essential it is that we support each other, believe each other, and love ourselves and our sisters. When this system fucks us over, we must take time to look after our (physical and mental) health, that of our sisters, and to understand that each one of us carries unique stories, making us fighters in resist
Marga RH (@Marga.RH)
Until dignity becomes a habit
These portraits are inspired by the voices of resistance and protest movements in Latin America, especially by the key role that feminised bodies play in these struggles. It is a tribute to the grassroots feminist movements in resistance.
I am experiencing violence in one or more of my relationships. Can AWID advocate on my behalf?
Unfortunately, no. AWID is not a direct service or individual advocacy organization.
It would be better for you to seek legal advice and contact a women’s shelter or referral centre in your area.
The HotPeachPages is an online resource that offers links to women’s shelters around the world. AWID cannot vouch for the accuracy or quality of its listings, but it may be a good place to start if you don’t know of organizations in your area.
Dilma Ferreira Silva était une activiste de premier plan des droits amazoniens qui s’est battue durant plusieurs décennies pour les droits des personnes affectées par les barrages.
Elle faisait elle-même partie des 32 000 personnes déplacées par Tucuruí, un imposant barrage hydroélectrique, construit au Brésil sous la dictature militaire de 1964-1985.
En 2005, Dilma a été invitée à rejoindre le Mouvement des personnes affectées par les barrages (MAB) au Brésil et, en 2006, elle y a formé un collectif de femmes pour finir ensuite par devenir coordonatrice régionale du mouvement.
Évoquant son activisme, ses collègues racontent :
« Elle se distinguait très rapidement car elle n’avait jamais peur dans la lutte. »
Dilma vivait dans la localité rurale de Salvador Allenda, à 50 kilomètres de Tucuru. Elle a dédié sa vie à mieux protéger les communautés et les territoires affectés par la construction d’énormes projets. Elle était particulièrement préoccupée par l’impact de genre de ce type de projets et plaidait pour les droits des femmes.
Lors d’une réunion d’ordre national du MAB en 2011, Dilma évoqua les femmes affectées par les barrages, soulignant :
« Nous sommes les réelles Marias, guerrières, combattantes ici, nous nous confrontons au défi de la lutte quotidienne. »
Au cours des années suivantes, Dilma a organisé des groupes de terrain du MAB et travaillé avec les communautés pour former des coopératives paysannes qui permirent de mieux distribuer la nourriture au sein des communautés. Ensemble, elles ont amélioré la commercialisation de la pêche et développé un projet de citerne pour un accès à l’eau potable. Elle défendait aussi les agriculteurs·rices dont les terres étaient convoitées par les « grileiros » (personnes qui s’approprient les terres).
Le 22 mars 2019, à l’âge de 48 ans, Dilma, son mari et leur ami·e furent violemment assassiné·e·s. Ces trois meurtres s’inscrivirent dans une vague de violences en Amazonie contre les Movimento dos Trabalhadores Sem (mouvements des travailleurs·ses sans terre) et les activistes écologistes et autochtones.
Membership why page page - to join as a member block
Estas obras son un trabajo colaborativo de fotografías e ilustraciones realizadas por Siphumeze y Katia durante el confinamiento. Muestran narrativas negras queer de sexo y placer, bondage, sexo seguro, juguetes, salud mental y sexo, y mucho más. Fueron creadas para acompañar la antología Touch.
“Mental Health” [«Salud mental»]“Sex and Spirituality” [«Sexo y espiritualidad»]“Orgasm” [«Orgasmo»]
About the Artists:
Siphumeze Khundayi es una creadora de arte, fotógrafa y facilitadora interesada en las formas creativas de unir el diálogo y la práctica artística en relación con la identidad queer africana.
Es directora creativa de HOLAAfrica!, una colectiva en línea mujerista panafricanista.
Sus trabajos de performance individual y en colaboración han sido presentados en numerosos festivales y espacios teatrales, tales como el Ricca Ricca Festival de Japón.
En 2017 y 2018 dirigió dos producciones que fueron nominadas a los Naledi Theatre Awards y, en 2020, obtuvo un premio Standard Bank Ovation.
Como fotógrafa, participó en Italia en una exposición grupal titulada Flowers of my Soul, organizada por The Misfit Project. Produjo tres publicaciones para HOLAAfrica!, y sus trabajos fueron publicados dentro y como tapa del Volume Two: As You Like de las Gerald Kraak Anthologies.
Katia Herrera es una artista visual digital de 21 años, de la ruidosa ciudad de Santo Domingo, en la República Dominicana. A pesar de que se autodefine como introvertida, su obra es notablemente estruendosa en un mundo que intenta acallar las voces negras. Con títulos como “Black Woman” [«Mujer Negra»], “You Own the Moon” [«La Luna es Tuya»], “Earth Goddess” [«Diosa de la Tierra»], “Forever” [«Por Siempre»] y “Universe Protector” [«Protectora del Universo»], el legado de Herrera estará marcado por su pasión por poner de manifiesto la resistencia y la perseverancia de las personas negras del pasado y del presente, en contraposición a la narrativa de que la piel negra debería solamente ser asociada con la esclavitud.
Una de sus obras más hermosas y vivazmente tituladas, “Universe Protector”, representa al alma negra como una entidad divina plena de fortaleza, poder y grandeza. En su juventud, su amor por el diseño gráfico se vio estimulado por el talento artístico de su madre y su padre, y por el programa Photoshop que habían descargado en su computadora para su trabajo profesional de fotografía.
2007: se intensifica la participación de la sociedad civil con la creación del WWG sobre FpD
En octubre de 2007 se creó el Women’s Working Group on Financing for Development [Grupo de Trabajo de Mujeres sobre Financiación para el Desarrollo, WWG on FfD en inglés], una alianza entre organizaciones y redes por los derechos de las mujeres cuyo objetivo es defender y promover avances en cuanto a igualdad de género, empoderamiento de las mujeres y derechos humanos en los procesos de la ONU relacionados con la FpD.
En el tercer panel de alto nivel, la participación de la sociedad civil se incrementó exponencialmente. Además de las seis mesas redondas, hubo audiencias para la sociedad civil y el sector empresarial.
AWID leyó en plenaria la declaración de la sociedad civil que pedía a los gobiernos prestar una mayor atención a la importancia de las organizaciones por los derechos de las mujeres como agentes del desarrollo y a la necesidad de promover nuevos mecanismos de financiación para las mujeres en los países en desarrollo y los menos desarrollados. Esta declaración exhortó a los gobiernos a brindar un mayor apoyo a la arquitectura de género de la ONU para que el sistema en su conjunto pudiera avanzar en sus compromisos en materia de igualdad de género, empoderamiento de las mujeres y derechos humanos, incluyendo los derechos económicos, sociales, culturales y ambientales de todas las personas.
Snippet FEA Linda Porn Bio (EN)
Linda Porn is yet another heroine of feminist union organizing and sex worker activism nationally (in Spain) and transnationally.
Originally from Mexico, she has been living in Spain since the 2000s. She is a sex worker, an activist, a single mother and a multidisciplinary artist. Drawing from these different identities, she uses performance, video art and theater to vizibilize struggles at the intersections of transfeminism, sex work, migration, colonialism and motherhood.
She combines art and sex work while caring for her daughter as a single mother.
Linda also belongs to sex workers collectives that fight for their rights, such as the OTRAS union and CATS Murcia. She also co-founded the group 'Madrecitas' - that visibilises and denounces racist institutional violence against migrant families. Violence to which she and her daughter were subjected as a sex worker and migrant single mother.
Carol Thomas was a trailblazer for women’s sexual and reproductive rights in South Africa. A gifted gynecologist and founder of the WomenSpace, she practiced and advocated for non-traditional ways of delivering healthcare to women, offering services that were high quality, empathetic and accessible.
“She entered into not only the joy of pregnancies and new babies, but the anxieties of infertility and premature deliveries and female cancers, the heartbreak of miscarriages and stillbirths.” Helen Moffett
Carol thought in new paradigms that centered the needs of women with the least access to services and rights in society:
“The prevailing socio-economic environment that we find ourselves in means that women bear a disproportionate burden of disease and unemployment…As a black, previously disadvantaged woman I have a good sense of what is happening in our communities.” - Carol Thomas
Carol’s innovative and multi-award-winning social venture “iMobiMaMa” used mobile kiosks and interactive technology to connect women directly with antenatal and reproductive health services, information and support in communities all over South Africa.
Carol supported women both in wanted and unwanted pregnancies, mentoring many nurses and doctors during her lifetime.
She was also described as the go-to gynecologist “for trans folks who could have affirming care. She got it right when so many did not have the language or pronouns. Her warm blankets, listening and saying just what you needed to hear was so comforting.” -Marion Lynn Stevens
Carol Thomas was described as being at the height of her professional career when she died on 12 April 2019 of complications following a double lung transplant.
The tributes that poured in following her unexpected death referred to her as many things:
AWID Community is an online social networking platform for specifically for AWID members. It’s a feminist space for connection, resistance and celebration. A space for critical feminist conversations, collective power and solidarity. It is also a space for post-event dialogues, navigating difficult political learnings and community care
