WHRDs are self-identified women and lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex (LBTQI) people and others who defend rights and are subject to gender-specific risks and threats due to their human rights work and/or as a direct consequence of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
WHRDs are subject to systematic violence and discrimination due to their identities and unyielding struggles for rights, equality and justice.
The WHRD Program collaborates with international and regional partners as well as the AWID membership to raise awareness about these risks and threats, advocate for feminist and holistic measures of protection and safety, and actively promote a culture of self-care and collective well being in our movements.
Risks and threats targeting WHRDs
WHRDs are exposed to the same types of risks that all other defenders who defend human rights, communities, and the environment face. However, they are also exposed to gender-based violence and gender-specific risks because they challenge existing gender norms within their communities and societies.
By defending rights, WHRDs are at risk of:
Physical assault and death
Intimidation and harassment, including in online spaces
Judicial harassment and criminalization
Burnout
A collaborative, holistic approach to safety
We work collaboratively with international and regional networks and our membership
to raise awareness about human rights abuses and violations against WHRDs and the systemic violence and discrimination they experience
to strengthen protection mechanisms and ensure more effective and timely responses to WHRDs at risk
We work to promote a holistic approach to protection which includes:
emphasizing the importance of self-care and collective well being, and recognizing that what care and wellbeing mean may differ across cultures
documenting the violations targeting WHRDs using a feminist intersectional perspective;
promoting the social recognition and celebration of the work and resilience of WHRDs ; and
building civic spaces that are conducive to dismantling structural inequalities without restrictions or obstacles
Our Actions
We aim to contribute to a safer world for WHRDs, their families and communities. We believe that action for rights and justice should not put WHRDs at risk; it should be appreciated and celebrated.
Promoting collaboration and coordination among human rights and women’s rights organizations at the international level to strengthen responses concerning safety and wellbeing of WHRDs.
Supporting regional networks of WHRDs and their organizations, such as the Mesoamerican Initiative for WHRDs and the WHRD Middle East and North Africa Coalition, in promoting and strengthening collective action for protection - emphasizing the establishment of solidarity and protection networks, the promotion of self-care, and advocacy and mobilization for the safety of WHRDs;
Increasing the visibility and recognition of WHRDs and their struggles, as well as the risks that they encounter by documenting the attacks that they face, and researching, producing, and disseminating information on their struggles, strategies, and challenges:
Mobilizing urgent responses of international solidarity for WHRDs at risk through our international and regional networks, and our active membership.
Related Content
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"We believe that this is the time for us to continue to organize from a place of solidarity, hope and radical imaginations."
- Beijing+30 & CSW: Feminist meaning-making at a time of polycrisis
Jaitun, souvent appelée « Amma », œuvrait à la protection des droits reproductifs des femmes et des filles en Inde. Son travail s’est particulièrement centré sur la défense des personnes pauvres et marginalisées, dont les filles et femmes dalits et musulmanes.
Jaitun était la force vitale derrière l’affaire Jaitun contre Janpura Maternity Home & Ors. Sa persévérance à obtenir justice a permis d’aboutir à un jugement sans précédent rendu par la Cour Suprême de Delhi. Le gouvernement indien a ainsi été tenu responsable de n’avoir pas rempli plusieurs de ses obligations juridiques, telles que les soins de santé reproductive et le droit à l’alimentation.
Sa fille Fatema, qui vivait sous le seuil de pauvreté, s’était vu refuser l’accès à des services de santé reproductive et avait dû accoucher en public, sous un arbre. Jaitun et Fatema étaient à cette époque sans domicile, car le gouvernement avait démoli leur maison dans le cadre d’un projet de réaménagement et de gentrification à New Delhi.
« Depuis, le jugement a fait jurisprudence pour de nombreux·euses avocat·e·s et activistes du monde entier, et notamment l’ancien Rapporteur spécial des Nations Unies sur le droit à la santé, non seulement comme source d’inspiration, mais comme solide tremplin pour obtenir la justice. » - Jameen Kaur
Jaitun a inspiré de très nombreuses autres femmes vivant dans la pauvreté à réclamer leurs droits. Elle s’est éteinte en 2017.
« Avec le décès de Jaitun, nous venons de perdre une inimitable guerrière pour la justice, mais son esprit de résistance perdure. » - Jameen Kaur
« Je n’ai, au cours de mes 18 années de plaidoyer pour les droits humains, jamais rencontré de femme qui m’ait tant inspirée et émue qu’Amma. Son courage féroce, son humour inimitable - nous la comparions à l’actrice de Bollywood Hema Malini -, ses colères lorsque l’on passait trop de temps sans venir la voir : elle nous disait, une étincelle dans le regard, « Tu as oublié Amma, Amma ne te parle plus », puis faisait volte-face de manière mélodramatique, pour se retourner en riant et tendre les bras pour une embrassade. Sa gentillesse, et en fin de compte son amour, sa joie d’aimer et sa volonté que chacun·e ait le droit de vivre dignement en faisaient un être à part . Elle me manque terriblement. » - Jameen Kaur
We take a position in solidarity with each other and diverse struggles for justice and freedoms. We strive to mobilize and strengthen collective action and practice meaningful ways of working with each other.
Our arepa: Resistance from the Kitchen
by Alejandra Laprea, Caracas, Venezuela (@alejalaprea)
I live in a country of the impossible, where there are no bombs yet we are living in a war.
A war that exists only for those of us living in this territory.
I live in a country no one understands, which few can really see, where various realities co-exist, and where the truth is murdered time and again.
I live in a country where one has to pay for the audacity of thinking for oneself, for taking on the challenge of seeing life another way.
I live in a country of women who have had to invent and reinvent, time and again, how they live and how to get by.
I live in Venezuela, in a time of an unusual and extraordinary threat.
Since 2012 my country has been subjected to an unconventional war. There are no defined armies or fire power. Their objective is to dislocate and distort the economy, affecting all households, daily life, the capacity of a people to dream and build a different kind of politics, an alternative to the patriarchal, bourgeois, capitalist democracy.
Venezuelan women are the primary victims of this economic war. Women who historically and culturally are responsible for providing care, are the most affected and in demand. However, in these years of economic and financial embargo, Venezuelan women have gone from being victims to the protagonists on the front lines defending our territory.
Battles are fought from the barrios, kitchens, and small gardens. We defend the right of girls and boys to go to school, and to be given something so simple as some arepas for breakfast.
Arepas are a kind of corn cake that can be fried, roasted or baked and served sweet or savoury as a side or main dish. It is a staple in the diet of all Venezuelans.
In Venezuela, arepas mean culture, family, food sovereignty, childhood nostalgia, the expert hands of grandmothers molding little balls, the warmth that comforts you when recovering from illness.
Arepas connect us as a people with the pre-Colombian cultures of corn, a resistance that has endured for more than five centuries. They are the Caribbean expressed differently on firm ground.
They are an act of resistance.
When my mother was a girl, they would start grinding the dry corn early in the morning to make arepas. The women would get up and put the kernels of corn in wooden mortars and pound it with heavy mallets to separate the shells. Then they would boil, soak, and grind the corn to make dough, and finally they would mold it into round arepas. The process would take hours and demand a lot of physical effort.
In the mid-20th century a Venezuelan company industrialized the production of corn meal. For an entire generation that seemed like an act of liberation, since there was now a flour that you could simply add water to and have hot arepas in 45 minutes time.
But that also meant that the same generation would lose the traditional knowledge on how to make them from scratch. My grandmother was an expert arepa maker, my mother saw it as a girl, and for me the corn meal came pre-packaged.
In the war with no military, the pre-cooked corn meal came to be wielded as an instrument of war by the same company that invented it, which was not so Venezuelan anymore: today the Polar group of companies is transnational.
We women began to recuperate our knowledge by talking with the eldest among us. We searched in the back of the closets for our grandmothers’ grinders, the ones we hadn’t thrown away out of affection. Some families still prepared the corn in the traditional way for important occasions. In some towns there were still communal grinding stations which had been preserved as part of local history or because small family businesses refused to die. All of these forms of cultural resistance were activated, and we even went so far as to invent new arepas.
Today we know that in order to resist we cannot depend on one food staple. Although corn arepas continue to be everyone’s favourite, we have invented recipes for arepas made of sweet potato, cassava, squash, and celery root.
We have learned that we can use almost any root vegetable to make arepas. Cooperative businesses have developed semi-industrial processes to make pre-cooked corn meal. In other words, we have recuperated our arepas and their preparation as a cultural good that belongs to all.
My artivism aims to decolonize our senses in everyday life. I like to create spaces that communicate how we weave together our different struggles, and that render visible dissident (re)existences, other possible worlds, and living bodies here in the SOUTH.
As we continue to fight in our struggles, let us remember how essential it is that we support each other, believe each other, and love ourselves and our sisters. When this system fucks us over, we must take time to look after our (physical and mental) health, that of our sisters, and to understand that each one of us carries unique stories, making us fighters in resist
Marga RH (@Marga.RH)
Until dignity becomes a habit
These portraits are inspired by the voices of resistance and protest movements in Latin America, especially by the key role that feminised bodies play in these struggles. It is a tribute to the grassroots feminist movements in resistance.
Rosa Candida Mayorga Muñoz was a Guatemalan social worker, union leader and labor rights defender. She was affectionately called Rosita and she inspired change.
In the 1980’s, Rosa became the first female member of the Executive Committee of the Union of Workers of the Institute of National Electrification (STINDE), a union she first joined to advocate for women’s labor rights. For her, this meant fighting for equal opportunities in a company where many women faced a discriminatory and violent system created by company authorities. Rosa had also suffered sexual harassment in her workplace, both by co-workers and managers. She was not to be kept quiet though.
Rosa continued fighting and was part of the effort to mould the struggle into a more specific form, that of the INDE-STINDE Collective Pact of Working conditions. This pact was a pioneer, the first in Guatemala to typify the concept of (sexual) harassment. It serves as a reference for the Guatemalan legislation on labor matters and is an encouragement for other unions.
“She had no fighting tools other than her own ideals... Many times she was intimidated, harassed to put the fight aside, but her courage generated the image of hope for grassroots unionists. Rosita created an image of respect, not only within her union, but before the authorities of the institution, before the women's movement; she was recognized as a pioneer of the trade union women's movement, in a space that had been more dominated by men.” - Maritza Velasquez, ATRAHDOM
Rosa passed away on 4 April 2018 at the age of 77.
Trabajamos por un mundo basado en la justicia social, ambiental y económica; y por la interdependencia, la solidaridad y el respeto. Trabajamos para desmantelar los sistemas de poder opresivo y contra todas sus manifestaciones, incluidos el patriarcado, los fundamentalismos, los militarismos, los fascismos y el poder corporativo que amenazan nuestras vidas y nuestro mundo. Queremos un mundo justo en el que los recursos y el poder sean compartidos en formas que permitan que todas las personas prosperen.
Aïssata Kane, también conocida afectuosamente como «Yaye Kadia»” [«Madre Kadia»], fue una feminista comprometida, durante toda su vida, con la defensa de los derechos de las mujeres africanas y, en especial, mauritanas.
En 1975 fue la primera mujer en ocupar el cargo de Ministra de Protección Familiar y Asuntos Sociales, puesto desde el cual Aïssata trabajó fervientemente para mejorar el estatus de las mujeres de su país.
Este trabajo incluyó el fomento de la educación de niñas y mujeres, la lucha contra la práctica de alimentación forzada de mujeres jóvenes, la incidencia para la inclusión de una legislación sobre derechos maritales, y la promoción de la creación de un cupo de representación femenino en el Parlamento.
«[Aïssata] materializaba todas sus pasiones con humildad, valentía y determinación. No quería molestar a nadie con su lucha en todos estos frentes simultáneos.» - Ball Halimata Dem, sobrina de Aïssata
Fundó la Unión Nacional de Mujeres de Mauritania (UNFM), creando y publicando con otras activistas Marienou, una revista dedicada a la emancipación de las mujeres mauritanas. Aïssata también dirigió varias organizaciones subregionales y locales, por ejemplo, como Presidenta de la Asociación Internacional de Mujeres Francófonas (AIFF) y, como firme ecologista, fue Presidenta de la Asociación para la Protección del Medio Ambiente de Mauritania (APEM).
En 2018, recibió el Premio a la Mujer Pionera, en honor a su trabajo para la promoción del estatus de las mujeres de Mauritania y como reconocimiento de su fuerte liderazgo y su sentido de la innovación.
Aïssata falleció el 10 de agosto de 2019.
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo 5 (FR)
14th AWID international Forum is cancelled (forum page)
Le Forum international de l’AWID est annulé
Étant donnée la situation mondiale, notre Conseil d’administration a pris la décision difficile d’annuler le Forum, qui devait avoir lieu en 2021 à Taipei.
Forgotten Song (Chanson Oubliée)Ode to the Moon (Ode à la Lune)Vapour and Fire (Vapeur et Feu)
À propos d’Upasana Agarwal
Upasana est un·e illustrateurice et artiste non binaire basé·e à Kolkata, en Inde. Son travail explore l'identité et les récits personnels en partant d’un vestige visuel ou d’une preuve des contextes avec lesquels iel travaille. Iel est particulièrement attiré·e par les motifs qui, selon Upasana, communiquent des vérités complexes sur le passé, le présent et l'avenir. Quand Upasana n'est pas en train de dessiner, iel organise et dirige un centre d'art communautaire queer et trans dans la ville.
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.
