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.”
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Nadine was a role model to many for her work supporting women and the most vulnerable in her community. She was committed to helping the poor and homeless in particular.
Though her death was reported as an accident, the Ramaroson family, led by her father, André Ramaroson led an investigation that pointed to evidence that she had been murdered. She is reported to have died in a fatal accident occurred between Soanierano - Ivongo and Ste Marie - a story that has been refuted by her family.
She received numerous death threats for her bold political positions. Her case remains in court in Antananarivo (the capital of Madagascar).
Snippet FEA Sopo Japaridze Quote (EN)
"We know everything is against us and there is very little chance to change that. But we believe in intervention and I do think we have a chance and should use it. That’s why we're doing everything we're doing. We're willing to push for things that are unheard of."
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.
Reason to join 6
Engage with the AWID International Forum - a major global feminist gathering - and have access to special AWID member discounts and enty points for virtual dialogue. Co-created by feminist movements, the Forum is a unique space for deep discussion and imagination where we challenge and strengthen our organizing, where we connect our struggles and feminist realities together.
Como é que os dados recolhidos através do questionário serão divulgados e processados?
Os dados serão processados para fins estatísticos para esclarecer o estado de financiamento dos movimentos feministas globalmente e serão divulgados apenas em forma agregada. A AWID não divulgará informações sobre uma organização específica ou informações que permitam identificar uma organização através da respetiva localização ou características sem o respetivo consentimento comprovado.
“I’ve witnessed discrimination on the streets, being teased on the streets and verbally abused on the streets. I have also made numerous friends and have met a lot of people. There may be dangers out there but I am a survivor and this is where I will be for now.” - Sainimili Naivalu
Sainimili Naivalu was a feminist and disability rights activist from the village of Dakuibeqa on Beqa Island, Fiji.
She demanded policy makers and stakeholders provide disability friendly policies and services such as the construction of ramps in towns and cities to increase accessibility. Physical barriers were not the only ones she strived to change. From her own experience, she knew that more difficult changes need to take place in social and economic spheres. Many of the challenges disabled people face are rooted in attitudes that carry discrimination and stigma.
A survivor and a fighter, Sainimili contributed to co-creating feminist realities that foster inclusion and shift attitudes towards disabled people. As a member of the Spinal Injury Association of Fiji (SIA) and through Pacific Disability Forum’s Pacific Enable project she attended the International Labour Organisation “Start Your Business” training in Suva, enabling her to transform her ideas into her own business. She was an entrepreneur at the Suva Market Stall 7, offering manicure services, as well as running SIA’s women’s market stall selling handicrafts, sulus and artifacts. Sainimili’s plan was to expand her business and become a major employer of disabled people.
In addition to her activism, she was also a table tennis medalist and youth champion.
A vivacious personality, Sainimili was one of a kind. You would always know that Sainimili is in a room because her laughter and her stories would be the first thing that you would notice. - Michelle Reddy
Sainmili passed away in 2019.
Snippet FEA Otras Union meetings and demonstrations (ES)
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.
Our values - esponsibility, Accountability, and Integrity
Responsabilidad, rendición de cuentas e integridad
Nos esforzamos por ser transparentes, por utilizar nuestros recursos en forma responsable, por ser equitativxs en nuestras colaboraciones, y por ser responsables e íntegrxs con nuestrxs afiliadxs, contrapartes y donantes, y con los movimientos con los que trabajamos y en los que participamos. Estamos comprometidxs a reflejar nuestras experiencias, a compartir abiertamente nuestrxs aprendizajes, y a esforzarnos por cambiar nuestras prácticas en consecuencia.
حالة التمويل للحركات النسوية ووقائعها تتغير بسرعة. هل هذا الاستطلاع لمرة واحدة؟
كلا. يبني هذا الاستطلاع على المعلومات التي حشدتها جمعية حقوق المرأة في التنمية حول كيفية الحصول على تمويل أكبر وأفضل للحركات النسوية وحركات التغيير الاجتماعي وهذه الدورة الثالثة لاستطلاع "أين التمويل للتنظيمات النسوية". نهدف للقيام بالاستطلاع مرة كل ثلاثة أعوام.
Sylvia Rivera fue activista por los derechos civiles, travesti y trabajadora sexual.
Conocida como la Drag Queen de color de Nueva York, Sylvia fue feroz e incansable en su voluntad por cambiar las cosas, y en su defensa de quienes quedaron marginadxs y excluidxs cuando el movimiento por los "derechos de la comunidad gay" se volvió predominante en los Estados Unidos, a principios de los 70.
En 1973, durante un conocido discurso por el día de Christopher Street, Sylvia gritó en medio de la multitud de integrantes de la comunidad LGBT:
"Todos ustedes me dicen, anda y esconde la cola entre las patas.
No voy a seguir aguantando esta mierda.
Me han golpeado.
Me han roto la nariz.
Me han metido en la cárcel.
He perdido mi trabajo.
He perdido mi departamento
por la liberación gay, ¿y todos ustedes me tratan así?
¿Qué carajo les pasa a todos ustedes?
¡Piensen en eso!"
En 1969, a la edad de 17 años, Sylvia participó en los emblemáticos disturbios de Stonewall, al lanzar, presuntamente, el segundo cóctel molotov para protestar por la redada policial en este bar gay de Manhattan. Siguió siendo una figura central en los levantamientos posteriores, organizando mítines y luchando contra la brutalidad policial.
En 1970, Sylvia trabajó junto con Marsha P. Johnson para establecer Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries [Acción Travesti Callejera Revolucionaria] (S.T.A.R., por sus siglas en inglés), un colectivo político y una organización que establecería proyectos de apoyo mutuo para las personas trans que vivían en la calle, aquellxs que luchaban contra la drogadicción, las que estaban encarceladas y, en particular, para las personas trans de color que vivían en la pobreza.
Desafiante de las etiquetas, Silvia vivió la vida de una manera que retaba a las personas del movimiento de liberación gay a pensar de manera diferente. Ella dijo:
"Me fui de casa a los 10 años, en 1961. Hice la calle en la 42. El inicio de los años 60 no era un buen momento para lxs drag queens, los chicos afeminados o los chicos que usaban maquillaje como nosotrxs. En ese entonces nos golpeaba la policía, y todo el mundo. Yo no salí realmente como drag queen hasta finales de los 60, cuando se arrestaba a lxs drag queens, qué degradación había. Recuerdo que la primera vez que me arrestaron, ni siquiera estaba vestida totalmente en drag. Estaba caminando y los policías me arrebataron de la calle. La gente ahora quiere llamarme lesbiana porque estoy con Julia, y yo digo: "No. Soy sólo yo. No soy lesbiana". Estoy cansada de que me etiqueten. Ni siquiera me gusta la etiqueta transgénero. Estoy cansada de vivir con etiquetas. Sólo quiero ser quien soy. Soy Sylvia Rivera.
A través de su activismo y su coraje, Sylvia ofreció un espejo que reflejaba todo lo que estaba mal en la sociedad, pero también la posibilidad de transformación. Sylvia nació en 1951 y falleció en 2002.
