يمكنكم/ن حفظ اجوبتكم/ن والعودة للاستطلاع متى أردتم/ن ذلك. KOBO بحفظ مسودات إجاباتك في الزاوية العلوية اليسرى من صفحة الاستطلاع وإعادة تحميل سجلك عند العودة إلى الاستطلاع.

Forma parte de una organización feminista de membresía internacional y de una comunidad. Nuestrxs afiliadxs residen en todas las regiones del mundo. Aprenden entre sí y se brindan apoyo mutuo en una red global fundada en la solidaridad.

AWID花了近兩年的時間尋找亞太區的論壇舉辦地點（每次論壇輪流在不同區域舉辦）。

我們先初步做了二手資料研究，徵詢盟友意見後，排除了這個區域的許多選擇，我們接著安排了一輪透徹的實地訪查，拜訪了尼泊爾、馬來西亞、斯里蘭卡、泰國、印尼及（之後的）台灣等地，我們每到一處，不只視察當地勤務基礎設施，還並與當地女性主義團體與運動者會面，深入了解當地環境以及運動者對於AWID國際論壇在當地舉行的潛在機會與風險。 

實地訪問期間，我們見識了在地精彩蓬勃，多元的女性主義運動。

AWID國際論壇這樣能帶來能見度，對於這類活動能帶來的機會與風險，他們常常表達矛盾的感受。有場會議開始後半小時，我們聽到與會的運動者一致認為AWID國際論壇會遇上大力反彈，同志人權議題是政治上的燙手山芋，基本教義派的保守團體會傾巢出動阻撓活動。當我們回應：「好，所以你們認為這提議不好。」運動者卻也都口徑一致：「當然該在這，我們要改變社會論調！」不是每個地方都可以聽到或看到這麼多女性主義運動者想把握有能見度的大型論壇，還準備好要面對當地的風險。不過，作為主辦方，要舉辦近2000位來自世界各地參與者的論壇，就我們的考量來說，風險與可行性有不同的計算方法。

我們也在斟酌這些問題：按照包容、互利、自決原則所組織的女性主義論壇代表著什麼？同時政府政策與實務通常都與這些原則牴觸（雖然觀光當局的官員很努力地排除障礙）。

在基礎建設外，我們也考量是否有機會能在國家政治環境下，推動某些國家級女性主義議題規劃

在許多地方，要掌握當地脈絡感覺像在鐘擺上，前一刻女性主義辯論還是開放安全的，下一刻就擺向赤裸裸的壓迫與排外；把女性主義要事當成政治討價還價籌碼犧牲，安撫右翼和反人權勢力。

這是一個令人清醒的反思過程，我們發現在全球各地，女性人權與性別正義運動所處的環境艱難到難以置信。

我們在亞太區面臨的挑戰讓我們思考：是否將論壇轉移到一個不同的區域來舉辦會輕鬆一點？可是今時今日，我們無法已無法像2012年一樣，在伊斯坦堡舉行AWID論壇，也無法像2016年一樣，移師到巴西。

考量到這些複雜因素，AWID選擇台北作為論壇舉辦地點的原因如下：

• 台北可提供我們多元的論壇與會者一個相對穩定與保障人身安全的環境。
• 台北同時也具備穩健的勤務服務能力，方便許多旅客來往（提供國際論壇與會者便利的電子簽證流程）
• 在地的女性主義運動社群非常歡迎論壇到來，並熱切想與全球的女權主義者串連。
  

在籌備AWID論壇時，我們盡全力建立並維持一個空間，能讓我們多元表現團結、憤怒、希望、靈感，這是女性主義運動的核心。

此刻，我們認為在亞太區，台北是最適合的地方，能讓我們為全球女性主義社群打造那個安全造反的空間。

實際上，要舉行一個以女性主義理念實現為中心的論壇，現今的世界是找不到一個理想地點的。無論去哪，我們必須一起打造那個空間！

"Nous savons que tout est contre nous et il y a très peu de chances de changer cela. Mais nous croyons en l'intervention et je pense que nous avons une opportunité et nous devrions l'utiliser. C'est pourquoi nous faisons tout ce que nous faisons. Nous sommes prêt·e·s à pousser pour des choses inouïes."

Sopo Japaridze dans OpenDemocracy

Photo @სოლიდარობის ქსელი / Solidarity Network

Нет, не является. Он основан на 20-летней истории AWID по мобилизации более объемного и качественного финансирования для социальных изменений под руководством феминисток(-ов) и является третьим этапом исследования «Где деньги для феминистских организаций?». Наша цель – проводить опрос «Где деньги?» каждые 3 года.

Participez au Forum international de l'AWID - un rassemblement féministe mondial majeur - et bénéficiez de réductions spéciales et de points d'entrée pour le dialogue virtuel réservés aux membres de l'AWID. Co-créé par des mouvements féministes, le Forum est un espace unique de discussion profonde et d'imagination où nous remettons en question et renforçons notre organisation, et joignons nos luttes et nos réalités féministes.

by Amal Amer, California, US

I pray with my family for the first time in six years while wrapped in a keffiyah I scavenged from a dumpster.

Since coming into myself, I have refused to pray in jamaat with my family. Joining in the ranks of hierarchy, “women” behind “men” irks me. It grates my skin and teeth to the degree where I can’t focus, and the standing, bowing, and kneeling feels like a battle against my true being. Each second listening, a betrayal of my nature. Instead, I pray by myself in my own way. 

Yet this Ramadan, I feel different. Back in my childhood home after many years, I am choosing to fast. I choose suhoor with my family, and praying together feels like a natural extension of eating together. After eating, my mother, father, brother and I line up for fajr. 

I pray behind Baba, but my prayer is my own. I close my eyes, staying with my breath and my body. 

My eyes closed, I open my inner sight to a wide open window on a vista of mountains, bright sun spreading over a light mist of clouds. This was the view I had while praying in jamaat at a queer Muslim wedding I attended in the mountains of the South of France last September. 

I lined up with the wedding guests, queer and trans folks of North and West African, Arab, and European descent. Folks of all faiths joined while some chose to stand in respect at the sides or behind. The groups did not fall along fault lines of “Muslim” or “non-Muslim,”  “religious” or “non religious.” The two lovers marrying each led us in prayer, and so did the Muslim woman officiating the nikkah. Each of the three led us in two rounds of prayers, two raqat.

I showed up as I was, my body uncovered. I had not washed. I only passed my camera to a friend who chose to stand at the side. 

In the first sujood, I broke down crying. I wore a jean dress that loves my body, one found at a thrift store my ex-girlfriend pointed me to.

The sobs come through my whole body during the prayer, and I put my head to the earth with my community like a homecoming. A return to the embrace of love both intensely personal and communal, and I am held.

It feels like swimming in the sea with multiple people:  joyful togetherness. But when you go beneath the water, it’s just you and the current. 

Like a dozen people buried in the same graveyard. Separate, but sharing the same soil. Becoming one with the growing earth. 

That was how it felt to pray in communion at a queer Muslim wedding.

I welcomed the light of acceptance while showing up as myself that day, with a group of people who had also chosen to claim all the parts of themselves in love. That light made a home in me, and it illuminates my heart in the dark living room at fajr this Ramadan morning. Though I pray with my birth family who do not accept all of me, I see myself praying in jamaat at that glorious wedding with all of my queer Muslim ancestors, my queer angels, my lineage, my soul family, my queer Muslim family, all standing in prayer. Bowing as one. 

My family’s home does not always feel like my own, though I am here now. I take the bukhoor from room to room, barefoot. Smolder from the censer, an incense that says, “Here I am.” Baraka, blessings from the source of all, Allah and the Goddess to each room in the house, bidding good and dispersing the unbidden. 

As I write this the sky turns the same royal blue I am familiar with from exiting the club and pulling all-nighters. It is the gradient of morning I step into as I go to sleep. 

Word meanings:

• Ramadan: the Muslim holy month, traditionally observed with 29 days of fasting without food or water during daylight hours

• Keffiyah: a patterned scarf common in the SWANA region. The black and white version referred to here is associated with the Palestinian liberation movement 

• Pray in jamaat: Islamic ritual prayer in a group. Participants follow one person, traditionally male, who calls the prayer aloud.

• Suhoor: the meal before the fast starts at dawn

• Fajr: the dawn prayer

• Baba: father

• Raqat: one round of prayer consisting of standing, bowing, kneeling, and pressing the head to the ground

• Sujood:the prayer position when one presses one’s head to the earth

• Nikkah: the religious marriage ceremony 

• Bukhoor: an Arabic incense, woodchips soaked in resin

• Baraka: blessing

“Angels go out at night too”

by Chloé Luu (@Electrichildren), France

Pictures of angels in my life, just some women and non-binary people of color hanging out, taking care of themselves and expressing love to each other. It's these simplest moments that are the most empowering.

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