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.
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
Lorena Borjas, a trans Latina woman and activist, lived and worked in the Jackson Heights neighborhood of Queens, New York City. In those streets, she looked after her community for years, advocating for trans and immigrant rights, supporting survivors of human trafficking and abuse, campaigning for sex workers’ rights and those of people living with HIV and AIDS.
Lorena was strong and tireless in her fight to support, defend, and have the back of those most marginalized and discriminated by transphobia, misogyny and racism.
“She pushed us to shine authentically, to become a scream of subversion that says, ‘I am here, and I deserve happiness, too.’” - Cecilia Gentili, a trans activist and Lorena’s friend
Having faced numerous traumas and hardships herself, as a trans immigrant woman and victim of human trafficking, Lorena pulled knowledge and emotional memory from the well of her experiences in order to help build and strengthen the community she was part of and which was part of her. Some of the ways she did this was to organize and mobilize support ranging from providing condoms and connecting trans women to different services, to setting up an HIV testing clinic in her own home.
"She was such a beautiful soul who helped others when her journey was difficult and painful as an immigrant, as a trans immigrant. She believed the trans community needed love, acceptance, and compassion, and she gave it all.” - Luchia Dragosh, QPTV Supervising producer of a documentary about Lorena
In more than 25 years of activism, she also founded the Lorena Borjas Community Fund together with Chase Strangio (lawyer and trans rights activist). The Fund helps the many different members of her community (and especially trans persons) dealing with immigration challenges to avoid the cycle of arrest-jail-deportation.
Lorena passed away in March 2020 of complications from COVID-19.
Her enormous and beautiful legacy will be taken forward through the streets of Queens by the network and community she co-created.
“We will pick up her work where she left it, work that is essential to the well-being of “mis pajaras” as she called the trans girls of Queens under her wing.” - Cecilia Gentili
Tributes:
"Lorena brought light to us when we were living through a very dark time here in New York. She brought us light when we were dealing with the crack epidemic, when we were dealing with the AIDS crisis, dealing with changes in immigration policies." - Cristina Herrera, founder and CEO of Translatina Network and Lorena’s friend
"Lorena has done more than anyone else I know to shine a light on the epidemic of trafficking in transgender communities and to help other trans women escape exploitation." - Lynly Egyes (represented Borjas on behalf of the Transgender Law Center)
"Ashawo Work na Work": Cómo lxs jóvenes feministas de Ghana están haciendo realidad los futuros feministas
por Fatima B. Derby
En 2017, la campaña de AWID #PracticaSolidaridad destacó cómo lxs jóvenes feministas podían construir un futuro feminista apoyándose mutuamente, participando en conversaciones interregionales entre ellxs, marchando en solidaridad con otrxs activistas y abriendo canales de colaboración entre los movimientos. (...)
“Si nos mantenemos en silencio, nos matan. Si hablamos (nos matan) también. Así que, hablemos” Cristina Bautista, 2019.
Cristina Bautista fue una integrante de la comunidad Indígena Nasa, cuyo hogar se sitúa en la región del norte del Cauca, en Colombia. Cristina formó parte de la resistencia Nasa como líder y defensora de los derechos de la tierra, pero también como trabajadora social y gobernadora de la reserva Indígena Nasa Tacueyó.
Incansable defensora de los derechos del pueblo Nasa, Cristina habló alto y claro sobre la violencia dirigida contra su comunidad. En un discurso ante las Naciones Unidas, Cristina reclamó la protección de las vidas de las mujeres indígenas, y su participación en las diferentes esferas de la vida. En 2017, Cristina entró en el programa de Becas Indígenas de la Oficina de Derechos Humanos de la ONU y en 2019 recibió una subvención del Fondo de Contribuciones Voluntarias de la ONU para los Pueblos Indígenas.
"Me gustaría sacar a la luz la situación actual de los pueblos indígenas en Colombia, el asesinato de líderes indígenas, la represión de las protestas sociales. El acuerdo de paz, en lugar de ayudar, lo que ha hecho es reforzar el conflicto y la explotación de territorios sagrados en Colombia... En la situación actual, en casi todas las naciones indígenas, como mujeres, estamos trabajando para encontrar un futuro mejor para nuestras familias. No quiero que más mujeres del campo vivan en estas circunstancias. Las mujeres indígenas necesitamos oportunidades para participar en la vida política, económica, en la sociedad y en la cultura. Hoy me da fuerzas ver a todas estas mujeres aquí y ver que no estoy sola". - Cristina Bautista, 2019
El 29 de octubre de 2019, Cristina fue asesinada junto a cuatro guardias indígenas desarmados en un ataque que, supuestamente, fue llevado a cabo por miembros armados del grupo disidente de las FARC "Dagoberto Ramos".
Según Global Witness, "en los últimos años el asesinato de líderes comunitarios y sociales ha aumentado dramáticamente en Colombia".
"La comunidad Nasa ha alertado repetidamente a las autoridades sobre las amenazas que reciben y que ponen en peligro su seguridad. Sin embargo, a pesar de los esfuerzos que ponen los sucesivos gobiernos colombianos, los pueblos indígenas siguen corriendo grandes riesgos, especialmente, las figuras clave religiosas o comunitarias como Cristina Bautista". - Reunión informativa de la ONU para la prensa (en inglés), 1 de noviembre de 2019.
Notre présence collective perturbe les mécanismes d’exclusion des institutions dans ces espaces tout en soutenant les mouvements qui s’organisent autour d’alternatives féministes aux systèmes d’oppression.
Participez aux conversations du 10 au 21 mars 2025 pour, collectivement, faire de la CSW69 un espace de résistance et de solidarité.
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.
Paulina Cruz Ruiz, originaire de Rabinal dans la région de Baja Verapaz au Guatemala, était une défenseuse des droits humains au pouvoir ancestral Maya Achí (autochtone). Elle participait activement à la mobilisation et à la résistance communautaires, notamment via des mesures juridiques contre des projets miniers sur des territoires autochtones, aux effets sévères et néfastes pour leur tissu socioenvironnemental.
« Le modèle d’industrie extractive promu par le gouvernement guatémaltèque et la construction de projets de développement à grande échelle sur des terres autochtones, sans le consentement des communautés, est source de litiges constants avec les mouvements de résistance. » - Minority Rights Group International (groupe international pour les droits des minorités)
Paulina a également participé à la Marche pour la dignité, la vie et la justice, durant laquelle des milliers de guatémaltèques ont initié, le 1er mai 2019, une marche de huit jours contre la corruption et l’impunité face aux poursuites et aux assassinats de défenseur·e·s des droits humains, des terres ainsi que de leaders paysan·ne·s et autochtones.
Paulina a été assassinée le 14 septembre 2019 près de chez elle, dans le village de Xococ.
D’après Minority Rights Group International, « l’une des problématiques constantes qui affecte le plus les communautés mayas tient dans l’accroissement des activités de l’industrie minière. »
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