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.”
Related Content
Snippet - WITM Our objectives - PT
Os nossos objetivos da pesquisa WITM:
1
Fornecer a membres da AWID, parceires do movimento e financiadores uma análise atualizada, robusta, baseada em fatos e orientada para a ação das realidades do financiamento de movimentos feministas e do estado atual do ecossistema do financiamento feminista.
2
Identificar e demonstrar oportunidades para transferir mais recursos de maior qualidade para a organização feminista, expor soluções falsas e interromper tendências que fazem com que o financiamento não seja bem-sucedido e/ou se mova contra a justiça de género e objetivos feministas interseccionais.
3
Articular visões, propostas e objetivos feministas para a justiça no financiamento.
Carol Thomas était une pionnière de la défense des droits sexuels et reproductifs des femmes en Afrique du Sud. Gynécologue aguerrie et fondatrice du WomenSpace, elle pratiquait et promouvait des modes de prestation de soins aux femmes non traditionnels, en proposant des soins à la fois de haute qualité, empathiques et accessibles.
« Elle inscrivait cela non seulement dans la joie de la grossesse et des nouveaux bébés, mais également dans les angoisses de la stérilité, des accouchements prématurés et des cancers féminins et dans le déchirement des fausses couches et des mortinaissances. » -Helen Moffett
Carol fonctionnait selon de nouveaux paradigmes, mettant au centre de sa pratique les besoins des femmes ayant le moins d’accès aux services et aux droits dans la société :
« L’environnement socioéconomique dans lequel nous nous trouvons majoritairement implique que les femmes supportent un fardeau disproportionné de maladies et du chômage... En tant que femme noire précédemment désavantagée, je comprends très bien ce qui se passe dans nos communautés. » - Carol Thomas
Son entreprise sociale innovante «iMobiMaMa», s’étant mérité de nombreux prix, prend appui sur les kiosques de téléphonie mobile et la technologie interactive pour connecter directement les femmes avec les services, l’information et le soutien en soins prénataux et de santé sexuelle dans les communautés de toute l’Afrique du Sud.
Carol soutenait les femmes à la fois lors des grossesses désirées et non désirées, et a encadré de nombreux·ses infirmier·ère·s et médecins au cours de sa vie.
On la décrivait également comme la gynécologue chez qui se rendre « pour les trans qui souhaitaient des soins trans affirmatifs. Elle savait y faire lorsque tant d’autres butaient sur les pronoms ou les mots à employer. Ses couvertures chaudes, son écoute attentive et ses mots qui tombaient toujours justes étaient vraiment réconfortants. » - Marion Lynn Stevens
On disait de Carol Thomas qu’elle était au point culminant de sa carrière lorsqu’elle est décédée, le 12 avril 2019, des complications d’une double transplantation pulmonaire.
Les très nombreux hommages qui lui ont été rendus suite à son décès inattendu faisaient mention qu’elle était, entre autres :
« un modèle à suivre, une guerrière, une innovatrice, une leader dynamique, une rebelle, une boule d’énergie, une brillante scientifique, une doctoresse bienveillante ».
Nul doute que Carol Thomas restera dans nos mémoires et que nous lui rendrons hommage pour avoir été tout cela, et bien plus.
A Collective Love Print
The Circle’s Conspiracy of Writers | Wazina Zondon
Also known as the Teta Research Network, The Conspiracy of Writers was founded in 2021 in the context of Kohl’s weekly writing circles. The Network is a transnational group of queer and feminist writers who engage in collective writing, thinking, and world-making.
Wazina Zondon is an Afghan raised in New York City. Her storycollecting and storytelling work centers collective memories and rites of passage in the diaspora. Currently, she is working on Faith: in Love/faith in love which (re)traces her parent’s love story and family’s inherited love print.
Love is a contraband in Hell,
cause love is acid
that eats away bars.
But you, me, and tomorrow
hold hands and make vows
that struggle will multiply.
The hacksaw has two blades.
The shotgun has two barrels.
We are pregnant with freedom.
We are a conspiracy.
It is our duty to fight for freedom.
It is our duty to win.
We must love each other and support each other.
We have nothing to lose but our chains.
- “Love” by Assata Shakur
“If we can inherit trauma, can we inherit an imprint related to love?”
That is the question Wazina Zondon asks in her collective memoir Loveprint. Loveprint is a wandering, an overlap, a deviation that (re)creates, at the intersection of interviews and personal essays, our family’s stories and insights on love, partnership and romance. Under Wazina’s guidance, the circle’s conspiracy of writers came together and attempted to reproduce this literal blueprint in the form of collective writing, where our different stories, our genders and sexual identities complement and contradict each other. With our voices overlapping, we complete each other’s sentences to create a conversation, a memorial, pieces of ourselves that speak to a “we.”
What are the origins of your love print?
I am a so-called “happy accident.” There is much narration about this – an accidental life, one that is entirely wanted at the same time. I feel this shaped my way of loving, I don’t just fall in love; I risk the slips that lead to the fall. Perhaps it made me an amor fati kind of person.
I was told that I was an unwanted child. So I grew up to become an unwanted adult. The origins of my love print are based on being eternally unwelcomed. I am not a fruit of love or any happy feelings but rather one pain and burden. I don’t have a love print – at least not in this sense.
I know for a fact that both my parents were in love at some point, but mental health is such a demon, and until one confronts their demons, there is no winning.
I will never associate “love” with my parents or normative family. Love growing up was full of violence and responsibilities I didn’t sign up for or was even ready for. For the longest time, it felt like life and love were about carrying a big rock uphill. While my parents “loved each other,” it was a toxic ethos of violence, jealousy, and insecurity to grow up in. I grew up wanting to crave stability, and this is what is me now. I am a risk taker, but never in my “love space.”
I don’t know why my mother chose to host a child (me) within her. She does not love in this form.
My mother tells me that if I have to think about “finding” love, I should never look at her marriage as a template. My love print comes instead from my raising dogs for the last two decades (18 years to be precise). The other way around is true as well – they raised me. I understand more and more about love and its many layers in their company.
I haven’t known love from a “print.” In our household we don’t talk about love. I had to teach myself how to love. It was hard work. Still, I fail and still, I keep on trying and I fail everyday. Perhaps failure is my love print.
My love print is the care, warmth, and understanding I give to others
surrounding me, whether a stranger, a friend, a relative, a lover. My love print is political – uncalculated and unthought of.
I was born under heavy shelling.
My love print is the negative
print of that.
Lessons learned about love
I know more about what love is not than I know about what love is.
Love is neither anxiety nor panic.
Love is not asking permission to live or breathe. It is always about love and there is no love without freedom.
Everything you do is about using your heart except love. Love is about using your mind.
Sometimes I fear that my love language is lost in translation.
--- There are many ways
to map the origins
of how to
how not to
love
not love
love just enough
love far too much
some love
some loss
to love
to love lost ---
I cannot stand the idea of the couple. I cannot stand the idea of living alone while aging either. I am tired of doing the chores alone, moving houses alone, paying rent and bills alone... I imagine getting a stroke alone, and it scares me. I have no plan of “partnering up.” I want a world where I can get married to a friend, buy a house with a friend, not have sex.
Loving many does not corrupt a love shared between two, and whether love is romantic or not is really not that important.
When I reflect on the shoddy state of my relationships, I realize that I am in the relationship I was trained to be in. With all my “radicalness” I have not yet unlearned shitty gendered norms.
My need for stability feels “not radical” enough. I want to get out of this labeling. I want something I never had. I want to make it beautiful. I want to feel beautiful and safe – and only stability makes me feel that. Safe, sound, knowing home is neither about violence nor strife.
--- Love print – love to smell the books to see
where they were printed
I try to think of the origin of my
understanding and practice of love
Do we need origin, it is not the same as purity?
No purity or origin of love.
Why is it understanding and practice,
and not “emotion” that comes to mind? ---
When I call my parents, I don’t hang up the phone after we’ve said
goodbye, so I can hear the sounds of home.
What do we need to be/feel loved in death?
During my Sunni burial, I want all the women and men to come together for my burial. What’s with not being able to go say goodbye to dead people from a different sex? It will be Sunni because my mother would want it to be. It will be eco-friendly; no need for the headstone. I love all burial rituals. Quran is good, but I also want music. I really like Asmahan, Um Kulthum, and The Stone Roses.
I have a Monday-Friday playlist and two different ones for the weekend: one for Saturday and one for Sunday playlist. I would like those who loved me to play the music that I used to listen to, respecting the days – with some margin of tolerance as long as they stick to the playlists.
I want to be surrounded by the one(s) who have loved me, even for a moment. And in music and embowered in fresh cut flowers. I don’t want to be discovered dead; I want to pass away mid-laugh with loved ones.
I want to be remembered as someone who loved.
I don’t need to feel loved in death. I need the people around me to feel I loved them, even after I die. Being loved in death is about those who are alive. So I think more about how we come together as a living and loving community in the death of those we love and live with. How we take their memories with us. How we become archives of their lives.
--- Sometimes, you can only love people in their death. ---
I have to think back to the body being connected to a space. My family is very tiny and although we come from different places, it is as if every generation moved somewhere new. Perhaps this is the reason why death is not connected to a special place, a cemetery. It is common in our family to bury the dead without names or gravestones, or to distribute the ashes in the wind. I feel at peace with this kind of spaceless remembrance. The idea that my ashes fertilize new life gives me the sense of being loved, being remembered through recreation. My grandmother died earlier this year due to complications after the vaccination. Two hours after she died, my family sat laughing tears about her jokes, her hilarious way to tell stories. We laughed and loved, and it was as though she sat with us again. This is what would make me feel at peace – fertilizing soil, fertilizing conversations, and collective remembrance.
--- There were
Two streets that I used
To walk
To run
To play
To stay
There were
Five hours when the sun
Was hot
The sky was blue
The earth was green
There was
A flower I could
Smell
Touch
Squeeze
Crush
There were
The friends I could
Caress
The food
I could
inhale
The language
That would roll off my
lips
There might still be
Those many places
And things
And people
After me ---
Perhaps a promise that I will be “spatially commemorated” as a plant and taken care of in turns until it becomes a tree is enough. No name, no plaques – just the plant/tree, and knowing that it will be cared for. As for my body, I want to be cremated without any rituals and my bone ashes set free in the Arabian sea.
I need my body to be treated as subversively as it’s lived.
I do not want to be buried next to my family. In this tiny drawer next to all of the people who never knew me. Trapped in death as I was in life. I want to be cremated, and my ashes finally set free.
I want to be allowed to pass, not hang in the in-between, so it is a presence, an active process, a trespassing.
I will ask of you:
To release me and let me pass
To not let nostalgia muddy this moment because I will ask only for the normalcy of your expressions
I have snuck the gentle glimpses and hoarded away the already small and large ways you loved me in order to be sustained. I kept myself alive on these
To set a finite amount of time to grieve
To be be reminded there is no separation in the beauty of loving; it is infinite and it regenerates without the body
I want to be remembered for the love I put into the world.
I want my body to be given away, and my organs
to further fuel love in (an)other live(s).
--- The smell of jasmine ---
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.
We would like to thank the Amar.ela collective of women feminists activists and creatives who made this series possible, and especially Natalia Mallo (the team’s octopus) for her support and accompaniment throughout this journey.
We also extend our deepest gratitude and admiration to all the collectives and people who participated in this project, and we thank them for sharing their time, wisdom, dreams and hopes with us. We thank you for making this world a more just, feminist and sustainable one.
We hope the rest of the world will be as inspired by their stories as we are.
Esmeralda takes over the Internet : How social media has helped Romani women to reclaim visibility
by Émilie Herbert-Pontonnier
Remember Esmeralda? The exotic "Gypsy" heroine born under the pen of the French literary giant Victor Hugo and popularized by Disney studios with their Hunchback of Notre Dame. (...)
< artwork: “Si las marronas lo permiten” by Nayare Soledad Otorongx Montes Gavilan
AWID Community Jobs board - FR
Bourse d'emploi communautaire
Êtes-vous à la recherche d'un emploi? L'un des avantages de rejoindre la Communauté de l'AWID est d'avoir accès à notre tableau d'offres d'emploi organisé par la communauté. Vous aurez l'occasion d'explorer de nouvelles opportunités et vous aurez également la possibilité de partager des postes vacants et des appels à propositions avec tous les membres.
Janet Benshoof was a human rights lawyer from the United States and an advocate for women’s equality, sexual and reproductive rights.
She campaigned to broaden access to contraceptives and abortions across the world, and battled anti-abortion rulings and in the American territory of Guam. She was arrested in 1990 for opposing her country’s most restrictive abortion law, but won an injunction at the local court in Guam that blocked the law and eventually won at the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, striking down the law for good.
“The women in Guam are in a very tragic situation. I never intend to be quiet about that.” - Janet Benshoof for People Magazine
Janet established landmark legal precedents including the US Food and Drug Administrations’ approval of emergency contraception, as well as the application of international law to ensure the rights of rape victims in the Iraqi High Tribunal’s prosecution of Saddam-era war crimes.
Janet was President and founder of the Global Justice Center, as well as founder of the Center for Reproductive Rights, the world’s first international human rights organization focused on reproductive choice and equality. She served 15 years as Director of the American Civil Liberties Union’s Reproductive Rights Project, where she spearheaded litigation shaping US constitutional law on gender equality, free speech, and reproductive rights.
“Janet was known for her brilliant legal mind, her sharp sense of humor, and for her courage in the face of injustice.” - Anthony D. Romero
Named one of the “100 Most Influential Lawyers in America” by the National Law Journal, Janet was the recipient of numerous awards and honors.
She was born in May 1947 and passed away in December 2017.
Chers mouvements féministes : Une lettre du conseil d'administration
Chers mouvements féministes,
Au nom du Conseil d’administration, je souhaite exprimer notre plus profonde gratitude, notre appréciation et tout notre respect pour Hakima Abbas et Cindy Clark, nos deux extraordinaires codirectrices exécutives ces cinq dernières années, qui quittent leurs fonctions pour laisser place à un nouveau leadership de l’AWID, alors que nous entrons dans une nouvelle phase de la vie de notre organisation avec un nouveau plan stratégique. Elles ont systématiquement mis en application les meilleurs principes de leadership organisationnel féministe et d’éthique du soin lorsqu’elles nous guidaient, lors des temps bien troubles et imprévisibles de la récente histoire du monde, cette syndémie de COVID-19 et la spirale politique mondiale descendante qui s’en est suivie. Elles ont tenu l’AWID, notre personnel et notre CA fermement, doucement et avec amour alors que nous éprouvions toutes et tous ces situations inconnues. Elles se sont également accrochées à la vision et à la mission de l’AWID lorsqu’elles ont dû, avec respect et stratégie, réagir aux différents changements, dont la difficile annulation du forum de l’AWID.
La nature, la portée et le poids des responsabilités de la direction de l’AWID nous incitent à choisir de conserver, à l’avenir, ce modèle de codirection. Notre première expérience de cette codirection a été une véritable réussite, comme tout le monde a pu le constater.
Reconnaissant tout à fait le potentiel immense qui existe au sein de l’équipe actuelle, le CA a décidé de privilégier un processus de recrutement en interne dans un premier temps. Nous pensons terminer cette transition d’ici la fin de l’année 2022. Hakima et Cindy décaleront leur départ, pour permettre une transition en douceur vers le nouveau leadership.
Il est difficile pour le Conseil d’administration et d’autres, qui ont travaillé étroitement avec elles et qui les aiment, de voir Cindy et Hakima quitter l’AWID. Rassurez-vous, le CA de l’AWID mène ce processus de transition de manière à ce que les belles marques indélébiles et inspirantes que laissent Hakima et Cindy soient inscrites dans les quatre décennies de notre histoire. Nous assurerons l’arrivée et le soutien de la nouvelle direction et veillerons à ce que ce processus nous inspire à faire mieux encore à cette étape de la vie de l’AWID.
Les grandes transformations dans les organisations ne sont jamais simples ni faciles. Elles sont parfois contraintes, hors du contrôle de quiconque, tendues, voire destructrices. J’ai vu, mais vous aussi, des exemples de telles transitions. Il arrive également que les besoins et les aspirations du personnel soient alignés avec ceux de l’organisation. Bien que nous n’ayons ni choisi ni souhaité le départ de Cindy et Hakima, leur décision et l’entrée de l’AWID dans un nouveau plan stratégique et une nouvelle décennie d’existence sont alignées. Et mieux que tout encore, nous sommes entre les mains merveilleuses, super compétentes, créatives et féministes du personnel et du CA de l’AWID.
Nous vous remercions, chers mouvements féministes, pour votre confiance dans l’AWID. Nous vous demandons également de soutenir notre transition de leadership au cours des mois à venir. Continuons à construire, approfondir et renforcer nos connexions, comme nous le faisons depuis 40 ans.
Nous reviendrons vers vous dans les prochaines semaines pour vous tenir au courant de nos mises à jour et des évolutions concrètes.
Avec solidarité et amour féministes, Margo Okazawa-Rey,
Présidente, Conseil d’administration de l’AWID
Investissement à impact de genre et émergence de fausses solutions :
une analyse pour les mouvements féministes
L'investissement à impact de genre est désormais considéré comme une solution contre les inégalités de genre. Et pourtant, comme le montre notre rapport, il fait partie du problème. Les institutions publiques et privées en font la promotion en tant que moyen pour parvenir à l'égalité de genre et pour accroître les ressources des femmes et des filles.
Mais en aucun cas, ces affirmations ne sont étayées par des preuves.
Au contraire, l’investissement à impact de genre constitue plutôt une nouvelle version de vies et de sociétés soumises à une même logique financière, qui continue de façonner les profondes inégalités de notre monde.
Avec ce rapport, l'AWID offre aux lecteurs·rices - féministes, défenseur·euse·s de la justice de genre et autres parties prenantes de l'investissement à impact de genre - une analyse critique et des preuves étayées pour comprendre l’investissement à impact de genre, ses récits et les implications économiques et politiques qu’il a pour les mouvements féministes.
Hagamos que lo invisible sea visible: manifiesto de unx fisicoculturista de género fluido en Hong Kong
por Siufung Law
«¡97…! 98… ¿dónde está 98? ¡98! ¡Por favor, vuelve a la formación!... ¡99! ¡100!...» La dama detrás del escenario le pedía incesantemente a cada atleta que formara una fila en el espacio húmedo, transpirado y abarrotado detrás de escena. (...)
Juli Dugdale fue una feminista australiana que practicaba un liderazgo intergeneracional arraigado en los principios del feminismo, la inclusión y la igualdad. Fue líder, colega y mentora para muchas mujeres, especialmente, para las mujeres jóvenes de todo el mundo.
Juli fue una integrante comprometida del equipo del movimiento Young Women's Christian Association [Asociación Cristiana de Mujeres Jóvenes] (YWCA, por su siglas en inglés), una voluntaria y una ferviente defensora del liderazgo de las mujeres jóvenes por más de 30 años.
Se convirtió en un vínculo fuerte entre el movimiento australiano y la Oficina de la YWCA Mundial. Su confianza en la capacidad de liderazgo de las mujeres jóvenes llevó a establecer una asociación de varios años con el Departamento de Asuntos Exteriores y Comercio de Australia y a la creación del manual Rise Up (Rebélate), una guía global para el liderazgo transformador de las mujeres jóvenes, lanzada en 2018.
Juli falleció en Ginebra el 12 de agosto de 2019.
Tributos:
"Para quienes llegaron a trabajar con Juli, fue un privilegio. Quienes no lo hicieron, pueden tener la certeza de que su legado continúa en el trabajo que hacemos cada día y en la misión del movimiento de la YWCA". - YWCA Australia
"Juli Dugdale siempre ocupará un lugar profundo en el corazón de muchas personas en el movimiento de la YWCA, especialmente aquí, en Aotearoa, y a través del Pacífico. Juli tenía una relación especial con el Pacífico y fue un apoyo increíble para las mujeres jóvenes de allí. Ella era humilde, amable, cariñosa, dedicada, apasionada y tenía un corazón generoso. Ella encarnó la visión de la YWCA de "liderazgo transformador" con una extraordinaria visión y previsión de futuro, y ayudó a empoderar a generaciones de mujeres jóvenes líderes de todo el mundo". - YWCA Nueva Zelanda
Love letter to Feminist Movements #3
Love Letter to Feminism
By: Marianne Mesfin Asfaw
I have many fond memories in my journey with feminism, but one in particular that stands out. It was during my time at graduate school, at a lecture I attended as part of a Feminist Theory course. This lecture was on African feminism and in it the professor talked about the history of Pan Africanism and the ways in which it was patriarchal, male-centric, and how Pan Africanist scholars perpetuated the erasure of African women. She talked about how African women’s contributions to the anti-colonial and decolonial struggles on the continent are rarely, if ever, discussed and given their due credit. We read about the African feminist scholars challenging this erasure and actively unearthing these stories of African women led movements and resistance efforts. It seems so simple but what stood out to me the most was that somebody put the words African and feminist together. Better yet, that there were many more of us out there wrestling with the complicated history, politics and societal norms in the various corners of the continent and we were all using a feminist lens to do this. I came out of that lecture feeling moved and completely mind-blown. After the lecture three of my friends (all African feminists) and I spent some time debriefing outside the classroom. We were all so struck by the brilliance of the lecture and the content but, more than anything, we all felt so seen. That feeling stood out to me.
Falling in love feminism was thrilling. It felt like finally getting to talk to your longtime crush and finding out that they like you back. I call it my crush because in high school I referred to myself as a feminist but I didn’t feel like I knew enough about it. Was there a right way to be feminist? What if I wasn’t doing it right? Attending my first Women’s Studies lecture answered some of these questions for me. It was thrilling to learn about stories of feminist resistance and dismantling the patriarchy. I felt so affirmed and validated, but I also felt like something was missing.
Deepening my relationship with feminism through academia, at an institution where the students and teaching staff were mostly white meant that, for those first few years, I noticed that we rarely had discussions about how race and anti-blackness show up in mainstream feminist movements. In most courses we had maybe 1 week, or worse 1 lecture, dedicated to race and we would usually read something by bell hooks, Kimberly Crenshaw’s work on intersectionality, and maybe Patricia Hill Collins. The following week we were back to sidelining the topic. I dealt with this by centring race and black feminism in almost all my assignments, by writing about black hair and respectability politics, the hypersexualization of black women’s bodies, and so much more. Over time I realized that I was trying to fill a gap but didn’t quite know what it was.
Encountering and learning about African feminism was a full circle moment. I realized that there was so much more I had to learn.
Mainly that my Africanness and my feminist politics did not have to be separate. In fact, there was so much that they could learn from each other and there were African feminists out there already doing this work. It was the missing piece that felt so elusive during my exploration of feminism throughout my academic journey.
Feminism to me is the antithesis to social and political apathy. It also means once you adopt a feminist lens, nothing can ever be the same. My friends and I used to talk about how it was like putting on glasses that you can never take off because you now see the world for what it is, mess and all. A mess you can’t simply ignore or walk away from. Therefore my vow to the feminist movement is to never stop learning, to keep stretching the bounds of my empathy and to never live passively. To dedicate more time and space in my life to feminist movements and to continue to amplify, celebrate, document and cite the work of African feminists. I also commit to centring care and prioritizing pleasure in this feminist journey because we can’t sustain our movements without this.
J’ai une vieille photo, floue, devant les yeux. J’y suis vêtue tout de blanc, des perles nacrées attachées à mes cheveux, collés contre mes oreilles, à celles qui pendent de mes poignets. (...)
“Je n’adhère pas au concept de ‘tiers-monde’. Je fais des films pour que les gens puissent les comprendre indépendamment de leur race ou de leur couleur. Pour moi, il n’y a que des exploiteurs et des exploités, c’est tout. Faire un film, c’est prendre position.” - Sarah Maldoror
Sarah Maldoror, cinéaste française d’origine antillaise, fut une pionnière du cinéma panafricain. Elle plaça ses préoccupations politiques et son engagement de longue date dans les mouvements de décolonisation au coeur de son oeuvre.
Son film révolutionnaire Sambizanga (1972), avec son “image révolutionnaire”, retrace la lutte de libération anticoloniale des activistes angolais et retranscrit le point de vue d’une femme qui se trouve dans ce moment historique.
“Pour beaucoup de cinéastes africains, le cinéma est un outil de la révolution, une éducation politique pour transformer les consciences. Il s’inscrivait dans l’émergence d’un cinéma du Tiers-Monde cherchant à décoloniser la pensée pour favoriser des changements radicaux dans la société.” - Sarah Maldoror
Au cours de sa carrière, Sarah a fondé, aux côtés d’un certain nombre d’artistes africain·e·s et caribéen·ne·s, la première compagnie de théâtre noire en France (1956). Elle a réalisé une quarantaine de films, y compris d’importants documentaires qui mettent en valeur les vies et l’oeuvre d’artistes noir·e·s, notamment celles de son ami et poète Aimé Césaire qui lui écrivit ceci:
“À Sarah Maldoror qui, caméra au poing,
combat l’oppression, l’aliénation
et défie la connerie humaine”.
Sarah a également voulu permettre aux femmes africaines de s'approprier davantage le processus de réalisation des films. Dans une interview, elle faisait remarquer :
"La femme africaine doit être partout. Elle doit être à l'image, derrière la caméra, au montage, à toutes les étapes de la fabrication d'un film. C'est elle qui doit parler de ses problèmes…”
Sarah a laissé un héritage incroyablement puissant qui doit être transmis.
Née le 19 juillet 1929, Sarah est décédée le 13 avril 2020 des suites de complications liées au coronavirus.
