Over the past few years, a troubling new trend at the international human rights level is being observed, where discourses on ‘protecting the family’ are being employed to defend violations committed against family members, to bolster and justify impunity, and to restrict equal rights within and to family life.
The campaign to "Protect the Family" is driven by ultra-conservative efforts to impose "traditional" and patriarchal interpretations of the family, and to move rights out of the hands of family members and into the institution of ‘the family’.
“Protection of the Family” efforts stem from:
rising traditionalism,
rising cultural, social and religious conservatism and
sentiment hostile to women’s human rights, sexual rights, child rights and the rights of persons with non-normative gender identities and sexual orientations.
Since 2014, a group of states have been operating as a bloc in human rights spaces under the name “Group of Friends of the Family”, and resolutions on “Protection of the Family” have been successfully passed every year since 2014.
This agenda has spread beyond the Human Rights Council. We have seen regressive language on “the family” being introduced at the Commission on the Status of Women, and attempts made to introduce it in negotiations on the Sustainable Development Goals.
Our Approach
AWID works with partners and allies to jointly resist “Protection of the Family” and other regressive agendas, and to uphold the universality of human rights.
In response to the increased influence of regressive actors in human rights spaces, AWID joined allies to form the Observatory on the Universality of Rights (OURs). OURs is a collaborative project that monitors, analyzes, and shares information on anti-rights initiatives like “Protection of the Family”.
Rights at Risk, the first OURs report, charts a map of the actors making up the global anti-rights lobby, identifies their key discourses and strategies, and the effect they are having on our human rights.
The report outlines “Protection of the Family” as an agenda that has fostered collaboration across a broad range of regressive actors at the UN. It describes it as: “a strategic framework that houses “multiple patriarchal and anti-rights positions, where the framework, in turn, aims to justify and institutionalize these positions.”
Activiste sociale et de l’environnement équatorienne, Gloria Chicaiza était une fervente défenseuse du droit à la terre et à l’eau. Elle s’est opposée au statu quo en luttant contre un modèle de développement fondé sur l’extraction et a oeuvré sans relâche pour la justice écologique et les droits des communautés affectées par l’exploitation minière.
Dans divers endroits de l’Équateur, Gloria a participé à des actions de résistance en faveur de la protection de l’écosystème. Avec passion et dévouement, Goria a apporté son soutien au mouvement autochtone et environnemental, à ces communautés et organisations qui s’opposent aux projets miniers et protègent leurs territoires et leurs projets de vie collectifs. Elle est intervenue au sein de forums locaux et internationaux contre la criminalisation des dissident·e·s et des résistant·e·s, contre les pressions et la violence exercées à l’encontre des activistes communautaires, en particulier des femmes défenseuses des droits humains, et pour soutenir les efforts déployés par les communautés en faveur de la souveraineté alimentaire et de la durabilité.
Elle était la coordonnatrice de la justice minière à Acción Ecológica, membre du Réseau latino-américain des femmes défenseuses des droits sociaux et environnementaux, et membre du conseil d'administration de l'Observatoire latino-américain des conflits miniers.
En octobre 2010, Gloria a été accusée par la société minière Curimining/Salazar Resources S.A. (dont le siège est à Vancouver, au Canada) d’avoir commandité un acte de terrorisme, de sabotage et d’association illégale dans le but de commettre un crime. Acción Ecológica a estimé qu’il s’agissait là de “représailles pour son travail de dénonciation concernant l’impact des activités minières dans le pays”.
En 2015, Gloria a facilité la coordination d’une délégation, composée de 25 femmes autochtones d’Amérique latine, affectée au Dialogue sur le changement climatique de la COP 20 des Nations Unies.
Gloria est décédée le 28 décembre 2019 des suites de complications liées à une transplantation pulmonaire. On se souvient d’elle pour ses actes de résistance et son travail acharné.
"Le moyen le plus rapide de parvenir à la durabilité reste encore la résistance.” - Gloria Chicaiza (2010 interview)
Hommages :
“Pour GLORIA. GLORIA Eau. GLORIA Terre. GLORIA Mère. GLORIA Révolution. GLORIA Soeur. GLORIA Ciel. GLORIAmie. GLORIAstrale. Merci de nous avoir entrelacé·e·s.” -Liliana Gutierrez
“Merci Glorita, d’avoir nourri l'espoir, d’avoir préservé la solidité de la structure, d’avoir tissé des liens avec la communauté, pour les mains unies, pour la solidarité, merci Glorita de t’être tenue à nos côtés dans les moments les plus difficiles. Merci de nous avoir appris que tout au long de la vie, personne ne se fatigue.” (Chakana News)
“Gloria Chicaiza appréciait ne pas sortir du lot et s’y épanouissait. Et aussi humble qu'elle fût, elle avait une capacité inouïe à mener et garder un rythme régulier et étourdissant, un pouls de vie qui guidait, mobilisait et inspirait les communautés et les réseaux dans la protection de la Terre Mère. Elle a dénoncé toutes les formes de violence contre les “cuerpos-territorios” (les corps comme territoires). Elle soutenait le “buen vivir" (“bien vivre”). - Gabriela Jiménez, coordonnatrice des partenariats en Amérique latine, KAIROS
“Merci Gloria Chicaiza, nous sommes sûr·e·s que depuis l’infini, tu continueras à soutenir notre combat. Toi qui as continué de te battre en dépit de ta santé défaillante. Tu continueras de vivre dans les forêts et les eaux que tu as défendues avec tant de courage. Tu vivras dans nos coeurs.” - La communauté d’Intag en Équateur
Are you job hunting? One of the perks of joining the AWID Community, is getting access to our community curated jobs board. You'll get to explore new opportunities, and you will also have the chance to share vacancies and call for proposals with all members.
How can I fund my participation in the AWID Forum? Many activists will not be able to afford the cost of the Forum – is AWID doing anything to provide assistance?
Please visit the "Funding ideas" page to get some ideas and inspiration for how you can fund your participation at the next Forum, including the limited support AWID will be able to provide.
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.
There is an old, hazy picture laying in front of me. In it I am dressed in all white, from the pearl beads fastened into my hair and tucked against my ears, to the ones that trail loosely around my tiny wrists. (...)
Aïssata Kane, also fondly known as “Yaye Kadia” (Mother Kadia), was a feminist with a lifelong committment in advocating for African and especially Mauritanian women’s rights.
In her career as a politician, she was appointed Minister of Family Protection and Social Affairs in 1975, the first time a woman held such a position and in which Aïssata fervently worked to improve the status of women in her country.
This work included advancing girls’ and women’s education, fighting against the practice of force-feeding of young women, lobbying for an inclusion of a marital rights provision, and advocating for a female representation quota to be created in the Parliament.
“[Aïssata] realized all her passions with humility, courage and determination. She didn’t want to disturb anyone by her fight on all these fronts at the same time.” Ball Halimata Dem, Aïssata’s niece
She founded the National Union of Women of Mauritania (UNFM), co-creating and publishing Marienou for them, a magazine dedicated to the emancipation of Mauritanian women. Aïssata also directed several sub-regional and local organizations, including as the President of the International Association of Francophone Women (AIFF) and as a resolute ecologist, she was President of the Association for the Protection of the Environment in Mauritania (APEM).
In 2018 she received the Pioneer Woman Award. It honors her work in advancing Mauritania’s women’s status and recognizes her strong leadership and sense of innovation.
Súmate a través de nuestras conversaciones #CongelarFascismos
Mientras atravesamos las múltiples crisis globales, los movimientos infatigablemente construimos el poder más allá de las estructuras de poder tradicionales. La ola de órdenes ejecutivas que ha emitido la presidencia de los EE.UU. tiene la intención de amedrentarnos, pero no hay ideología fascista capaz de borrar nuestra existencia y resistencia.
Te invitamos a formar parte de la campaña de construcción de solidaridad para poner al descubierto y resistir a las fuerzas fascistas que socavan los movimientos feministas y por la justicia de género en tu contexto.
Provoca conversaciones en espacios valientes: Comparte historias de lucha y resistencia a los fascismos en tu contexto en la plataforma de la Comunidad de AWID. ¿No te has afiliado aún? Únete aquí.
Apoya a los movimientos que se han visto afectados: Amplifica las iniciativas de recaudación de fondos, las oportunidades de dotación de recursos y los esfuerzos de ayuda mutua mediante la etiqueta #CongelarFascismos (estamos en X, Instagram, LinkedIN, y también enBluesky)
Organízate alrededor de distintas alternativas: Hemos construido nuestra comunidad de práctica sobre alternativas económicas feministas y recursos autónomos. Inscríbete para participar aquí. (en inglés)
Will there be pre-Forum convenings this time around?
We have been contacted by global and regional partners about some ideas for pre-Forum convenings and we will share more information about these ideas soon.
If you plan to organize a meeting before the Forum please let us know!
Many beautiful things emerged from the 2016 Black Feminisms Forum (BFF) that was organized by an Advisory Group and funded by AWID. Some of the independent organizing that arose from the BFF include Black feminist organizing in Brazil. While we won’t have another BFF this year, we remain committed to sharing some key learnings with anyone interested in continuing work around Black feminist organizing.
Snippet Forum Quoate Jac s m Kee, Malaysia (EN)
There is nothing like being in a shared space, exchanging body energies,... seeing the world and doing something together. Events like the Forum are among the strongest of the global feminist movement. - Jac s m Kee, Malaysia
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.
Film club - outrun
Out Run (2016) Inglés | Tagalo con subtítulos en inglés
Mediante la movilización de peluquerxs y reinas de belleza transgénero de clase trabajadora, lxs dinámicxs líderes del único partido político LGBT del mundo libran una cruzada histórica para elegir a una mujer trans al Congreso filipino.
Rosane Santiago Silveira era conocida afectuosamente como «Rô Conceição». Fue una activista ambiental y por los derechos humanos que luchó fervientemente para proteger el medio ambiente en las zonas más amenazadas.
Esta lucha incluyó la defensa así como también la protección ambiental en la isla de Barra Velha, cuando estuvo amenazada por la exploración petrolera, mediante campañas contra la apropiación de tierras y la expansión de las plantaciones de eucaliptus en el Estado de Bahía, donde Rosane integraba el Consejo de la Reserva Extractivista de Cassurubá.
«La Reserva Extractiva es un área protegida donde las familias residentes se ganan la vida con productos naturales extraídos del bosque. Estas actividades ayudan a mantener la integridad del bosque.» - Global Justice Ecology Project (fuente original: Rede Brasil Atual)
Rosane participó en actividades sindicales, y en movimientos culturales y por los derechos humanos. Dedicó gran parte de sí misma, no solamente a las causas que la afectaban directamente, sino a problemas de la tierra, los bosques, los ríos y las comunidades cuyos derechos y vidas están continuamente en riesgo.
Fue torturada y asesinada el 29 de enero de 2019 en Nova Viçosa, una ciudad del sur de Bahía.
«Lamentablemente, hoy existe un sentimiento de inseguridad total, por la ausencia del Estado en la investigación de estos delitos. Estuvimos con ella en Navidad, todos se dieron cuenta de que estaba preocupada, y ahora sabemos que había recibido tres amenazas de muerte.» - Tuian, hijo de Rosane, en una entrevista con Rádio Brasil Atual (fuente original: Rede Brasil Atual)
¡Del 2 al 5 de diciembre de 2024 en Bangkok, Tailandia! Nos reuniremos en el Centro Nacional de Convenciones Queen Sirikit (QSNCC) y también de forma virtual en línea.
Upasana Agarwal
“Forgotten Song” [«Canción Olvidada»]“Ode to the Moon” [Oda a la Luna»]“Vapour and Fire” [«Vapor y Fuego»]
Sobre Upasana Agarwal
Upasana es unx ilustradorx y artista no binarie de Calcuta, India. Su obra explora narrativas identitarias y personales, que empean restos o evidencias visuales de los contextos con los que trabaja. Le atraen especialmente los diseños en patrones que, para ellx, comunican verdades complejas sobre el pasado, el presente y el futuro. Cuando Upasana no está ilustrando, organiza y dirige un centro de arte comunitario queer y trans de la ciudad.
