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.
Sylvia Rivera était une militante pour les droits civiques, travestie et travailleuse du sexe.
Connue comme la drag queen de couleur de New York, Sylvia était une infatigable et féroce défenseure des marginalisé·e·s et exclu·e·s au début des années 1970, alors que le mouvement pour les « droits des gays » prenait de l’ampleur aux États-Unis.
Dans un discours bien connu prononcé pour Chistopher Street Day en 1973, Sylvia s’est exclamée, parmi une foule de membres de la communauté LGBT :
« Vous me dites tous d’aller me cacher, la queue entre les jambes.
Je ne supporterai plus ces conneries.
On m’a battue.
On m’a cassé le nez.
On m’a jetée en prison.
J’ai perdu mon travail.
J’ai perdu mon appartement.
Tout ça pour la libération gay, et vous me traitez de la sorte?
C’est quoi votre putain de problème à tous?
Réfléchissez à ça! »
En 1969, à l’âge de 17 ans, Sylvia a participé aux célèbres émeutes de Stonewall en jetant, paraît-il, le deuxième cocktail molotov en signe de protestation contre la descente de la police dans le bar gay de Manhattan. Elle a continué à être une figure centrale des soulèvements qui ont suivi, organisant des rassemblements et ripostant aux brutalités policières.
En 1970, Sylvia a collaboré avec Marsha P. Johnson à la création de Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (S.T.A.R.), collectif et organisation politique qui mettait sur pied des projets de soutien mutuel pour les personnes trans vivant dans la rue, celles et ceux aux prises avec la toxicomanie ou en détention, et spécialement pour les personnes trans de couleur et celles et ceux vivant dans la pauvreté.
Refusant les étiquettes, Sylvia a incité les personnes du mouvement de libération gay à penser différemment, et ce, tout au long de sa vie. Elle a déclaré :
« J’ai quitté ma maison en 1961, à l’âge de 10 ans. Je me suis démenée sur la 42e rue. Le début des années 1960 n’était pas génial pour les drag queens, les garçons efféminés ou les garçons qui se maquillaient comme on le faisait. À l’époque, on se faisait battre par la police, par tout le monde. Je n’ai pas vraiment fait mon coming out en tant que drag queen avant la fin des années 1960. C’était vraiment la débandade lorsque des drag queens se faisaient arrêter. Je me rappelle la première fois où je me suis fait arrêter, je n’étais même pas habillée entièrement en drag. Je marchais dans la rue et les flics m’ont tout simplement attrapée. Les gens maintenant prétendent que je suis une lesbienne, parce que je suis avec Julia, ce à quoi je leur je réponds : « Non, je suis juste moi. Je ne suis pas une lesbienne. » J’en ai marre d’être étiquetée. Je ne suis même pas en faveur de l’étiquette de transgenre. J’en ai marre de vivre avec des étiquettes. Je veux juste être qui je suis. Je suis Sylvia Rivera »
Par son activisme et son courage, Sylvia Rivera a présenté un miroir où se reflétait tout ce qui n’allait pas dans la société, mais aussi la possibilité d’une transformation. Sylvia est née en 1951 et décédée en 2002.
Tendencias anti-derechos en los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos
Chapter 6
En la Comisión Africana y en el Sistema Interamericano, los actores antiderechos impulsan nociones esencialistas de cultura y género para impedir el avance de los derechos y socavar las responsabilidades. Como vemos, los actores anti-derechos están ejerciendo su influencia sobre los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos, así como en los espacios internacionales.
La Comisión Africana de Derechos Humanos y de los Pueblos ha comenzado a definir a los derechos sexuales y de las mujeres como un menoscabo a su capacidad de ocuparse de los «derechos reales» y como contrarios a los «valores africanos», con lo cual se establece un precedente anti-derechos preocupante. La anulación del estatus de observador de la Coalición de Lesbianas Africanas es un ejemplo de esta tendencia y muestra la forma en que el espacio para el involucramiento feminista panafricanista está siendo restringido.
En la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y en el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos, las estrategias anti-derechos incluyen la oenegización de grupos religiosos, la utilización de discursos seculares, y la cooptación de marcos de discriminación. La influencia antiderechos se ha materializado de diversas maneras, que incluyen la intimidación de activistas trans y la obstrucción de la introducción de lenguaje progresista en las resoluciones.
Índice de contenidos
Silenciamiento de feministas en el Sistema Africano de Derechos Humanos
Grupos anti-derechos en América Latina: Asamblea General de la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos
Мы проанализируем ответы, чтобы получить представление о тенденциях, и представим результаты на 15-м Международном форуме AWID в Бангкоке, а также в режиме онлайн, в декабре 2024 года. Зарегистрируйтесь для участия в Форуме здесь!
Yamile Guerra was a well-known lawyer, community leader and political activist in the Santander region of Colombia.
She was actively working to resolve disputes between local communities and developers, advocating against illegal land appropriation. Yamile had occupied various political posts, including as the Secretary General for the Santander government in Bogota and also aspired for the Mayor’s Office of Bucaramanga. In the last few years of her life, Yamile became increasingly active in environmental causes, particularly in the defense of the biodiverse wetlands of Santurbán against development, a region which supplies nearly 2 million people with freshwater.
According to her family and friends, Yamile received daily threats against her life and had asked the authorities for protection.
“She was very very aware of this issue [land litigation] and she said many times that she felt insecure.” - Alixon Navarro Munoz, journalist and friend of Guerra family
On July 20, 2019 Yamile was shot to death by two men in Floridablanca, Santander. She had just finished discussing a land dispute with them. A suspect was later arrested for her murder and admitted to being paid to carry out her assassination. According to reports, Yamile was the third member of her family to have been killed in relation to land disputes. Her father, Hernando Guerra was murdered several years previously.
Yamile’s assassination is part of a wave of violence and systematic killing of hundreds of social activists and human rights defenders in Colombia. According to the Institute for Development and Peace Studies (INDEPAZ), at the time of Yamile’s death, over 700 community leaders and human rights activists had been killed since the country signed a peace agreement in August 2016. Most were murdered for confronting illegal drug trafficking and mining operations, with indigenous people, Afro-Colombians and women human rights defenders being most at risk.
Less than a week after Yamile’s death, thousands of Colombians marched all over towns and cities, holding up black and white photos of activists who had been killed, with signs that read: "Without leaders there can be no peace" and "No more bloodshed”.
Yamile Guerra was only 42 years old at the time of her assassination.
"This community is a place for connections, to understand our individual fights as part of global struggles, and sometimes even dance! There aren’t places like this online where you can meet real grassroots activists from all over the world and build solidarity and sisterhood."
- Paz Romero, Argentina
Snippet FEA Title Main (FR)
Les Économies Féministes
QUE NOUS ADORONS
FRMag - Freeing the Church
Libérer l’église et décoloniser la bible pour les femmes de Papouasie occidentale
par Rode Wanimbo
Seigneur, nous sommes indignes. C’est nous qui avons péché car Ève a mangé le fruit dans le jardin d’Eden. (...)
Binta Sarr fue una activista por la justicia social, económica, cultural y política, y una ingeniera hidráulica en Senegal. Después de 13 años en la administración pública, Binta dejó ese camino para trabajar con mujeres rurales y marginadas.
Fue de este compromiso que surgió la Association for the Advancement of Senegalese Women [Asociación para el Avance de las Mujeres Senegalesas] (APROFES, por sus siglas en inglés), un movimiento y organización de base que Binta fundó en 1987. Uno de sus principales enfoques fue la formación de dirigentes, en relación no solo con las actividades económicas, sino también con los derechos de las mujeres y el acceso a los puestos de toma de decisiones.
"Las poblaciones de base deben organizarse, movilizarse, asumir el control ciudadano y exigir la gobernabilidad democrática en todos los sectores del espacio público. La prioridad de los movimientos sociales debe ir más allá de la lucha contra la pobreza y debe centrarse en programas de desarrollo articulados y coherentes en consonancia con los principios de los derechos humanos, teniendo en cuenta al mismo tiempo sus necesidades y preocupaciones tanto a nivel nacional como subregional y desde una perspectiva de integración africana y mundial". - Binta Sarr
Partiendo de la convicción de Binta de que el cambio fundamental de la condición de la mujer requiere una transformación de las actitudes masculinas, APROFES adoptó un enfoque interdisciplinario, al utilizar la radio, los seminarios y el teatro popular, además de proporcionar una educación pública innovadora y brindar apoyo cultural a las acciones de sensibilización. Su compañía de teatro popular representó piezas originales sobre el sistema de castas en el Senegal, el alcoholismo y la violencia conyugal. Binta y su equipo también analizaron la conexión crucial entre la comunidad y el mundo en general.
"Para APROFES, se trata de estudiar y tener en cuenta las interacciones entre lo micro y lo macro, lo local y lo global y también, las diferentes facetas del desarrollo. Desde la esclavitud hasta la colonización, el neocolonialismo y la mercantilización del desarrollo humano, la mayor parte de los recursos de África y del Tercer Mundo (petróleo, oro, minerales y otros recursos naturales) están todavía bajo el control de carteles financieros y las otras multinacionales que dominan este mundo globalizado". - Binta Sarr
Binta fue una de las integrantes fundadoras de la sección femenina de la Asociación Cultural y Deportiva Magg Daan. Recibió distinciones del Gobernador Regional y del Ministro de Hidrología por su "devoción por la población rural".
Nacida en 1954 en Guiguineo, un pequeño pueblo rural, Binta falleció en septiembre de 2019.
Tributos:
"La pérdida es inconmensurable, el dolor es pesado y profundo, pero resistiremos para no llorar a Binta; no lloraremos a Binta, mantendremos la imagen de su amplia sonrisa en todas las circunstancias, para resistir e inspirarnos en ella, para mantener, consolidar y desarrollar su obra..." - Página de Facebook de Aprofes, 24 de septiembre de 2019.
"¡Adiós Binta! Creemos que tu inmenso legado será preservado." - Elimane FALL , presidente de ACS Magg-Daan
A Joy to the World: Six Questions with Naike Ledan
Interviewed by Chinelo Onwualu
Naike Ledan is a social justice defendant, a committed feminist that brings forward 20 years of experience in human rights and health justice advocacy, women’s empowerment, the fight for universal access to basic services and social inclusion, as well as civil society capacity building. She has built extensive work in Canada, West and southern Africa, as well as in Haiti, in civil rights advocacy, capacity building for CSOs, while emphasising the social determinants of structural exclusion. She values the principles of shared leadership, anticolonial, anti-oppressive, and anti-patriarchal spaces.
Chinelo You’re billed as a trans rights activist; I’m curious about how you made that journey.
Naike So, I grew up in Haiti until I was 18, then I lived in Montreal for 19 years. Coming back to Haiti in 2016, I thought I would be coming back home, but the place had changed and I had to readjust. I did not necessarily reconnect in the way that I’d expected to with childhood family and friends. I came back as an expat with a comfortable work situation, and I felt very much like a foreigner for a very long time. And at the same time, I felt very much at home because of the language, the understood silence, the not having to explain when we start singing a commercial – you know, that thing we share, that energy, that space, that spirit.
My return to self-love – I would call “rebirth” – coinciding with giving birth to my first child, giving birth to myself, and falling in love with my queerness or same-gender lovingness. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
What helped me was, I loved the work of going into the country and documenting people’s knowledge. So I left the comfort. I became a country director of a regional organisation that was queer as fuck! Most of my work was to find resources and build the capacity of civil society. My strategy was to go into the countryside, look for all these little organizations, help build their capacity, and fund them. I was not interested in politicians and shaking hands and taking pictures . I had a very good ally, Charlot Jeudy – the [queer] activist that got killed three years ago in his house. We got very close after an Afro-queer film festival we were planning got banned in Haiti. But it made a lot of noise and sparked conversations about queerness everywhere, so Charlot introduced me to every little CSO in every little corner of the country. And I would just be there to help organisation[s] with registering legally or building their strategic plan. So it’s been a lot of these kinds of work that made me a queer activist and by extension, a trans activist. Although I don’t call myself that – an activist. It’s such a loaded word, you know? And it’s something people call you. I think I’m just a lover and a fighter .
Chinelo Tell me about the workshop you conducted with AWID for the festival. What was it about and what was the context?
My deep self awareness during my childhood years and my engagement in questioning inequalities and injustice at a very very young age (+/- 4 years old). (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike International media doesn’t really talk about Haiti, but with a political environment that is as bad as ours, the economic environment is even more catastrophic. Being a more middle class Haitian, speaking different languages, having different passports, I was initially hesitant to take the space. But I often see myself as a bridge more than someone that would talk about themself. That is how I came to invite Semi, who is a brilliant young trans woman from outside Port-au-Prince, to take the space to talk for herself and walk us through the ecosystem of the realities for trans women in Haiti. We ended up building a session about uninclusive feminism – or, I would say, formal feminist spaces – and how trans girls in Haiti do not have spaces where they can contribute to women’s knowledge and sharing of women’s realities. So the AWID festival was the opportunity for me to give the space to the women who should have it. We had a wonderful time; we had wine online while hosting the conversation. My co-facilitator, Semi, shared what it is like to be a trans child/girl/woman at different stages of her life. She also shared the dangers of the street, of poverty, of exclusion, of “not passing,” and her victories as well.
Chinelo What is the relationship of trans women to feminist organizations in Haiti? What has been your experience with that?
Naike It’s been really hard – heartbreaking, actually – the experience of trans women in Haiti. From not existing at all to just being extremely sexualized. The other thing that’s been happening is how they’re being killed, and how those killings have gone unreported in the media. This is how non-existent, how erased trans women are. They’re everywhere but not in job settings, not in feminist settings, not in organizational settings. Not even in LGBT organizations. It’s only recently, and because of a lot of advocacy push, that some of these organization are kind of readjusting, but in feminist spaces, this is still out of the question. We are still having to deal with the old exclusionary discourse of “They’re not women. Of course, if they can pass…” The culture of passing, it’s a risk management conversation – how much you pass and how much you don’t pass and what it means for your body and the violence it inflicts. In the trans-exclusionary realities we live in, which are reproduced in a lot of feminist spaces, those that pass completely may be considered girls, but only to a certain extent. But how about falling in love, how about having a conversation, how about being in the closet, how about wanting a certain aesthetic, or a career? So really, the conversation about hormone therapy becomes about risk reduction, as Semi herself shared at the workshop. But we don’t have the option of hormone therapy, we don’t have the medical framework nor the system to support those who would like to pursue that option.
Chinelo When you talk about the way that trans people and queer people are thought of in society, it sounds like it might be similar to Nigeria, which can be a deeply homophobic environment.
Naike Haiti is a very complex country in a very beautiful way. Nothing is simple, you know, nothing is ever one way. Haitians are very tolerant – and they’re also very homophobic. You’re going to find regions in the countryside where people aren’t that homophobic at all because all the Vodou temples there, and this is a religion that respects life. One basic principle of the Vodou religion is that all children are children. So, there is no right or wrong in the religion. For the longest time, people thought of Haiti as a haven, a place where people are tolerant – we’re talking 70s, 80s, pre-HIV, 90s even. Then you had the earthquake [in 2010] where around 300,000 people died. And then all this money came from the south of the US through the Evangelicals to rebuild the country and find Jesus. So, the homophobia in Haiti is very recent. In the depth, in the heart of the soul of the culture, I cannot really say that it is homophobic. But in the everyday life, it surely lands on the skin of queer people, that violence. And that of women, of poor women, of dark women as well, because colorism runs deep in the Caribbean.
Chinelo How have you managed this? What’s been your strategy for survival?
My return to Haiti as part of my decolonizing process, and choosing to physically position my senses and my family’s senses to magic and blackness uncompromisingly. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike I’m really in love with my work. I love working. When I first arrived, I was working with this horrible NGO but I was doing amazing work. I was always in the countryside, conversing and learning from people, from women. And that filled my heart for so long because I’m very much in love with my culture, with black people, with black women – old black women, black babies. It just fills me up in a spiritual way. When we were in Canada my kids were in these all-white schools and tokenized. They did not speak Creole nor French. And now, they’re running free in the yard and starting to fight in Creole. I also found hubs of survival with the people I met. I created bonds with the queers and others who were weirdos like me and it’s been really wonderful. But now I’m struggling because I don’t feel safe in Haiti anymore. We have about 40 kidnappings per week in Port-Au-Prince – and it’s been like that since 2018. I’ve developed anxiety and panic attacks. So It’s time to go, and I’ve been asking myself, “where is home?” I spent 19 years in Montreal but I never felt at home there. When I left, I never missed it so I don’t want to go back. I’ve been crying a lot lately because it feels like entering a second exile.
Chinelo What’s your relationship to pleasure, leisure, and rest?
Naike My relationship with pleasure, leisure, and rest are for me one and the same. It is the lived moment when I indulge in the heat of the sun on my face for example. It is pleasure, leisure, and rest at the same time.
Pleasure: My go-to space, most solely a haven of celebration of myself. I reserve myself the power and the right to be loud or quiet in the enjoyment of the pleasure I experience. All the pleasure I viciously and abundantly indulge in, including and not limited to the pleasure of solitude and silence.
Leisure: biking, music festivals, eating, wine discoveries, dancing in Haitian traditional Vodou dances are amongst many that occur at the moment.
Rest: is what I live for. As an overachiever and a person that is literally in love with work, it is a paradox how lazy I am. No one knows that because all of what the world sees is this: an accomplished overworker. They do not know how I can just, uncompromisingly and profoundly indulge in idleness.
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.
Se rassembler à l’échelle mondiale, en tant qu’individus et mouvements, nous permet de générer une force considérable. Rejoignez-nous à Bangkok, en Thaïlande et en ligne en décembre 2024.
“Ashawo Work na Work”: How Young Ghanaian Feminists Are Making Feminist Futures A Reality
by Fatima B. Derby
In 2017, the AWID #PracticeSolidarity campaign highlighted how young feminists could build feminist futures by showing up for one another, being in cross-regional conversations with one another, marching in solidarity with other activists and collaborating between movements. (...)
Laurie Carlos était une comédienne, réalisatrice, danseuse, dramaturge et poétesse aux États-Unis. Artiste hors pair et visionnaire, c’est avec de puissants modes de communication qu’elle a su transmettre son art.
« Laurie entrait dans la pièce (n’importe quelle pièce/toutes les pièces) avec une perspicacité déroutante, un génie artistique, une rigueur incarnée, une féroce réalité – et une détermination à être libre... et à libérer les autres. Une faiseuse de magie. Une devineresse. Une métamorphe. Laurie m’a dit un jour qu’elle entrait dans le corps des gens pour trouver ce dont ils et elles avaient besoin. » - Sharon Bridgforth
Elle a employé plusieurs styles de performance alliant les gestes rythmiques au texte. Laurie encadrait les nouveaux·elles comédien·ne·s, performeur·euse·s et dramaturges, et a contribué à développer leur travail dans le cadre de la bourse Naked Stages pour les artistes émergent·e·s. Associée artistique au Penumbra Theatre, elle a participé à la sélection de scripts à produire, dans l’objectif « d’intégrer des voix plus féminines dans le théâtre ». Laurie faisait également partie des Urban Bush Women, une compagnie de danse contemporaine reconnue qui contait les histoires de femmes de la diaspora africaine.
Elle fit ses débuts à Broadway dans le rôle de Lady in Blue, en 1976, dans la production originale et primée du drame poétique For colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf de Ntozake Shange. L’oeuvre de Laurie inclut White Chocolate, The Cooking Show et Organdy Falsetto.
« Je raconte les histoires à travers le mouvement – les danses intérieures qui se produisent spontanément, comme dans la vie – la musique et le texte. Si j’écris une ligne, ce n’est pas forcément une ligne qui sera dite ; ce peut être une ligne qui sera bougée. Une ligne à partir de laquelle de la musique est créée. Le geste devient phrase. Tant de ce que nous sommes en tant que femmes, en tant qu’êtres, tient aux gestes que nous exprimons les un·e·s par rapport aux autres, tout le temps, et particulièrement dans les moments d’émotion. Le geste devient une phrase, ou un état de fait. Si j’écris “quatre gestes” dans un script, cela ne signifie pas que je ne dis rien;cela veut dire que j’ai ouvert la voie à ce que quelque chose soit dit physiquement. » Laurie Carlos
Laurie est née et a grandi à New York, a travaillé et vécu à Minneapolis-Saint-Paul. Elle est décédée le 29 décembre 2016, à l’âge de 67 ans, après un combat contre le cancer du côlon.
Hommages :
« Je pense que c’était exactement l’intention de Laurie. De nous sauver. De la médiocrité. De l’ego. De la paresse. De la création artistique inaboutie. De la paralysie par la peur.
Laurie voulait nous aider à briller pleinement.
Dans notre expression artistique.
Dans nos vies. » - Sharon Bridgforth pour le Pillsbury House Theatre
« Quiconque connaissait Laurie aurait dit que c’était une personne singulière. Elle était sa propre personne. Elle était sa propre personne, sa propre artiste ; elle mettait en scène le monde tel qu’elle le connaissait avec un vrai style et une compréhension fine, et elle habitait son art. » – Lou Bellamy, Fondatrice de la Penumbra Theatre Company, pour le Star Tribune
