Women Human Rights Defenders
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.
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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.
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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;
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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:
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Mobilizing urgent responses of international solidarity for WHRDs at risk through our international and regional networks, and our active membership.
Related Content
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo 1 (ES)

2011: le cinquième Dialogue de haut niveau lance les discussions sur l´agenda de développement de l´après-2015
Le cinquième Dialogue de haut niveau sur le financement du développement, organisé les 7 et 8 décembre 2011, a marqué le début des discussions relatives au programme de développement de l’après-2015 et aux liens entre ce programme et le financement du développement. La conférence a accordé une attention particulière à la question de l’accroissement de l’aide au financement des OMD. Dans ses observations finales, le Secrétaire général a appelé les membres à commencer à réfléchir sur le cadre de développement de l’après-2015.
Our values - Justice and systemic change
Justicia y cambio sistémico
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.
O nosso grupo não recebeu qualquer financiamento nos três anos entre 2021 e 2023. Devemos preencher o questionário mesmo assim?
Sim, ainda queremos a sua resposta, independentemente de terem recebido financiamento em três, dois, um, ou qualquer um dos anos entre 2021 e 2023.
Fahmida Riaz
“Afterwards
After love the first time,
Our naked bodies and minds
A hall of mirrors,
Wholly unarmed, utterly fragile,
We lie in one another's arms
Breathing with care,
Afraid to break
These crystal figurines.” - Fahmida Riaz
Fahmida Riaz broke social taboos by writing about female desire in her poetry, creating alternative narratives about women’s bodies and sexuality, and setting new standards in Urdu literature.
Her work faced harsh criticism from conservatives, who accused her of using erotic and “pornographic” expressions in her poetic language.
Fahimida was eventually blacklisted and charged with sedition under Section 124A of the Pakistan Penal Code) during the dictatorship of Zia Ul Haq. Forced into exile in 1981, she spent almost seven years in India before returning to Pakistan.
As part of the preface to “Badan Dareeda” ('The Torn-Bodied'), a collection of poetry published in 1974, she wrote:
The brilliance of Fahmida was in defying any singular logic or categories of gender, nation, religion or culture. She refused to be put in the role of a ‘woman poet’, breaking with traditional definitions of feminine poetry and concepts and themes (ranging from political consciousness, body, culture, desire, religion, home) and knocking down inhibitions put on her gender.
“You have to understand that culture can have no essence. Cultures move, flowing into one another, forming new cultures. Culture is born this way. There is no clash of cultures.”
Fahmida authored more than 15 books on poetry and fiction including her poem ‘Taaziyati Qaraardaaden’ (‘Condolence Resolutions’) that might serve as an appropriate tribute to her life and legacy and a collection of poems (Apna Jurm To Saabit He ‘My Crime Stands Proven’) published in 1988 during her time in exile.
Fahmida Riaz was born in Meerut, India on 28 July 1946 and passed away on 21 November 2018 in Lahore, Pakistan.
Anatomy of a Survivor's Story
Maryum Saifee (@msaifee), New York, USA
When you do a search for “Female Genital Mutilation” or “FGM” online, an image of four line-drawings of the female anatomy pop up next to its Wikipedia entry. It illustrates four types of violence. The first being a partial cut to the clitoris. The second, a more invasive cut with the entire clitoris removed. The third is progressively worse with the removal of the clitoris, labia majora and minora. And the fourth box illustrates a series of hash marks to symbolize stitches over the vaginal opening to allow only for urination and menstruation.
As a survivor of FGM, most questions about my story fixate on the physical. The first question I usually get asked is what type of FGM I underwent. When I told a journalist once that I went through Type 1, she said “oh, that’s not so bad. It’s not like type three which is far worse.” She was technically right. I had the least invasive form. And for many years, I gaslighted myself into feeling a sense of relief that I was one of the lucky ones. I comforted myself noting that I could have been less fortunate with all of my genitalia gouged out, not just the clitoral tip. Or worse I could have been one of the ones who didn’t survive at all. Like Nada Hassan Abdel-Maqsoud, a twelve year old, who bled to death on a doctor’s operating table earlier this year in Upper Egypt. Nada is a reminder to me that for every data point -- 200 million women and girls who live with the consequences of FGM globally -- there is a story. Nada will never be able to tell hers.
As much as I find the label “survivor” suffocating at times -- I also realize there is privilege embedded in the word. By surviving, you are alive. You have the ability to tell your story, process the trauma, activate others in your community and gain insights and a new language and lens to see yourself through.
The act of storytelling can be cathartic and liberating, but it can also shatter the storyteller in the process.
Without integrating the psychosocial support of trained clinicians into storytelling and healing retreats, well-intentioned interventions can result in more trauma. This is all the more important as FGM survivors navigate the double pandemic of their own PTSD from childhood trauma, and the indefinite COVID-19 global shutdown.
In many anti-FGM advocacy spaces, I have seen this insatiable hunger to unearth stories -- whatever the cost to the storyteller. The stories help activate funding and serve as a data point
for measuring impact.
Survivor stories then become commodities fueling a storytelling industrial complex. Storytellers, if not provided proper mental health support in the process, can become collateral damage.
My motivation in writing this piece is to flip the script on how we view FGM survivors, prioritizing the storyteller over the story itself.
FGM survivors are more than the four boxes describing how the pieces of our anatomy were cut, pricked, carved, or gouged out. In this essay, I’ll break down the anatomy of an FGM survivor’s story into four parts: stories that break, stories that remake, stories that heal, and stories that reveal.
Type 1: Stories that break
I was sitting in the heart of Appalachia with a group of FGM survivors, meeting many for the first time. As they shared their traumas, I realized we all belonged in some way or another to the same unenviable club. A white Christian survivor from Kentucky - who I don’t think I would have ever met if we didn’t have FGM survivorship connecting us - told the contours of her story.
There were so many parallels. We were both cut at seven. She was bribed with cake after her cut. I was bribed with a jumbo-sized Toblerone chocolate bar when mine was over. Absorbing her trauma overwhelmed me. And I imagine when I shared my story, others in the circle may also have been silently unraveling. We didn’t have a clinician or mental health professional in a facilitation role and that absence was felt. The first night, I was sharing a room with six other survivors and tried hard to keep the sounds of my own tears muffled. By the last day, I reached breaking point. Before leaving for the airport, my stomach contracted and I convulsively vomited. I felt like I was purging not only my pain, but the pain of the others I’d absorbed that week. We all dutifully produced our stories into 90 second social media friendly soundbites with narration and photos. But at what cost?
Type 2: Stories that remake
On February 6, 2016, the Guardian published my story as a survivor. The second it was released, I was remade. My identity transformed from nondescript, relatively invisible mid-level Foreign Service Officer to FGM survivor under a public microscope. That same day, then-U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power tweeted my story with the introduction: “I was seven years old” before linking to the article. The tweet symbolized a moment for me where my personal and professional worlds collided. Since then, they have been forever intertwined.
Even though I spent ten years of my career as a diplomat focused on other issues -- I lived in Cairo during the early days of the Arab Spring in 2011 and served in Baghdad and Erbil when the Syrian revolution turned from an uprising to civil war -- all of those past experiences that began to make mefeel erased. When I spoke on panels, my identity would be reduced to “survivor.” Like other survivors, I have worked hard to rewrite the script on how others see me.
I reinsert pieces of my other identities when speaking to underscore to the broader public that while yes, I am a survivor of childhood trauma and while my FGM story may have remade a part of my identity, it doesn’t define me.
Type 3: Stories that heal
With the guidance of a mental health expert, I have spent the last few months doing a deep dive into my FGM survivor story. I have told and retold my story over dozens of times in public venues. My goal is to break the culture of silence and inspire action. At this point, the telling of my story has almost become mechanized, as though I am reciting a verse from the Quran I memorized as a kid. I would always start with: “I was sitting an anthropology class when a fellow student described her research project on Female Genital Mutilation. And that’s when I had the memory jolt. A memory I had suppressed since childhood came flooding to the foreground.” I go into the details of what happened in granular detail -- the color of the floor, the feelings of confusion and betrayal in the hazy aftermath. And then I go on to talk about the afternoon I confronted my mother about the summer she and my father shipped my brother and off to India to stay with my aunt. The summer it happened. I later found out my aunt cut me without my parents’ consent. In my years of telling and retelling this story, I would have moments I felt nothing, moments I would break down, and moments of relief. It was a mixed bag, often contradictory emotions happening all at once.
When I began to take apart the story, I discovered the core moment where I felt most gutted. It wasn’t the cut itself. It was the aftermath. I remember sitting in a corner alone, feeling confused and ashamed. When I looked at my aunt on the other side of the room, she was whispering to my cousin and they both pointed and laughed at me. Unearthing the moment of shame - the laughter - has haunted me since childhood. The piece that was carved out of me is called “haram ki boti” which translates into sinful flesh. Over time, the physical scar healed. But for many FGM survivors, the psychological wounds remain
Type 4: Stories that reveal
Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical from the Foreign Service. I was burning out on both ends -- I had just completed a really tough assignment in Pakistan and was also doing anti-FGM
advocacy in my personal capacity. When I came home, an acquaintance from graduate school approached me to capture my story on film. As part of the process, she would send a camera
crew to shadow me. Sometimes while giving speeches, other times filming mundane interactions with friends and family. On a visit to my home in Texas, I’ll never forget the moment where my mom told me her story of survival. As part of the film, we went on a roadtrip to Austin to visit the university where I first had the memory jolt. My mom is patiently waiting for the cameraman to set up his tripod. My father is standing next to her.
In the end, we eventually had the conversation I never had the courage to have with either of my parents face to face. Looking them both in the eye, retelling my story with a camera as witness, we discussed how FGM ripped our family apart (specifically my dad’s relationship with his sister). For the first time, I heard my mom talking about her own experience and the feeling of betrayal when she discovered my aunt cut me without her consent. When I later told her that FGM was actually indigenous to the U.S. and Europe and that it was a cure for hysteria (prescribed by doctors) up until the 19th century, my mother exclaimed “that’s crazy to me, this was a cure for hysteria. I’m going to educate other doctors to speak out.” And in that moment, my mother, a survivor who had never shared her story before, became an activist.
My story, intertwined with her story, revealed a tightly woven fabric of resistance. With our voices, we were able to break the cycle of intergenerational structural violence. We were able to rewrite the stories of future generations of girls in our own family and hopefully one day, the world.
“Dreams”
by Neesa Sunar (@neesasunar), Queens, USA
This is a woman breaking free from her mundane reality, devoid of color. She dreams in a colorful, "nonsensical" way that people in her life would not understand. She could be considered insane, yet her dreams are more vivid and imaginative than actual life. This is frequently how schizophrenia occurs to me, more engaging and exciting than real life.

< United against the violence, by Karina Ocampo
Freeing the Church, Decolonizing the Bible for West Papuan Women, by Rode Wanimbo >
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo Panel (FR)

Membres du syndicat OTRAS
Sandra Cabrera
May 2015: Consultations on the Draft Outcome document are held
Additional consultation sessions on the Draft Outcome Document
- On 7 May, the revised outcome document for the 3rd FfD conference in Addis was released by the co-facilitators
- In support of continued progress on the Outcome Document, ad hoc additional sessions for consultations on the Draft Outcome Document took place from 12-15 May 2015 and 26-29 May 2015 at UN headquarters in New York
Join the Feminist Realities journey (Forum page)
Rejoignez l'aventure des réalités féministes
Le Forum de l’AWID n’est qu’une étape dans l’aventure des Réalités féministes. Parcourons ce chemin ensemble et explorons notre pouvoir en action !
لماذا تسألون عن اسم المجموعة، المنظمة و\ أو الحركة التي تعبئ الاستطلاع؟
نسأل عن هذه المعلومات كي نسهّل عملية المعالجة وكي نستطيع أن نتواصل مع مجموعتكم/ن في حالة لم تستطيعون تكملة الاستطلاع و\ أو في حالة كانت لديكم/ن شكوك أو أسئلة إضافية. يمكنكم/ن قراءة المزيد عن كيف نستعمل المعلومات التي نجمعها خلال عملنا هنا.
Navleen Kumar
"No era una persona. Era una potencia". - Así recuerda unx compañerx activista a Navleen Kumar.
Nacida el 15 de octubre de 1994, Navleen Kumar fue una ferviente activista por el derecho a la tierra y la justicia social de la India.
Con integridad y compromiso, trabajó durante más de una década para proteger y restaurar las tierras de los pueblos indígenas (adivasi) en el distrito de Thane, un área arrebatada por los propietarios y promotores inmobiliarios a través de medios como la coerción y la intimidación. Luchó contra esta injusticia y estos crímenes a través de intervenciones legales en diferentes tribunales, y descubrió que la manipulación de los registros de las tierras era una característica recurrente en la mayoría de los casos de adquisición de terrenos. En uno de los casos, el de los Wartha (una familia tribal), Navleen descubrió que la familia había sido engañada con la complicidad de funcionarixs gubernamentales.
Así, a través de su trabajo, ayudó a restituir la tierra a la familia Wartha, y siguió dedicándose a otros casos de transferencias de tierras adivasi.
"Su artículo sobre el impacto de la alienación de la tierra en las mujeres y las niñas y niños adivasi traza la historia y las complejidades de la alienación tribal desde la década de los 70, cuando las familias de clase media comenzaron a trasladarse a los suburbios de Mumbai, que se extendían mientras el valor de la propiedad en la ciudad aumentaba de forma exponencial.Los complejos de viviendas proliferaron en estos suburbios, y lxs integrantes de las comunidades tribales, que eran analfabetxs, pagaron el precio por ello. El costo de las tierras de primera, cerca de las líneas de ferrocarril, alcanzó un precio elevado y los constructores se abalanzaron sobre este cinturón como buitres, arrebatando de forma ilegal las tierras a las comunidades tribales y otrxs residentes locales ". - Jaya Menon, Comisión de Justicia y Paz.
Durante el curso de su activismo, Navleen recibió numerosas amenazas y sobrevivió a varios atentados contra su vida. A pesar de ello, siguió trabajando no sólo en lo que era importante para ella, sino que además contribuyó a cambiar la vida y la realidad de las muchas personas a las que apoyó en su lucha por la justicia social.
Navleen murió apuñalada el 19 de junio de 2002 en su edificio de departamentos. Dos gánsteres locales fueron arrestados por su asesinato.
Principles of Engagement
Welcome to Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!
Principles of Engagement
AWID is committed to creating an online space that invites and challenges us all to operate from a place of courage, curiosity, generosity and shared responsibility.
We invite you to co-create spaces with us that are free of harassment and violence, where everyone is respected in their gender identity and expression, race, ability, class, religion, language, ethnicity, age, occupation, type of education, sexuality, body size, and physical appearance. Spaces where we recognize inequalities in our world and strive to transform them in our own interactions with each other.
We want to create a space where ...
- we can all be present
This means that we are able to listen, understand and relate to each other. To feel close, in spite of it all being virtual. For this, we will make interpretation available and open channels (like chat and other tools) for you to react and share. To hear each other better, we invite you to wear headphones during the conversation. If it is possible for you , we suggest that you close your email and any other likely source of distraction while you are in the conversation.
- all forms of knowledge are valued
Let us celebrate the multiple ways in which knowledge shows up in our lives. We invite you to approach the conversation with curiosity and openness to learn from others, allowing ourselves to unlearn and relearn through the exchange, as a way to start collectively building knowledge.
- all of us feel welcome
We are committed to holistically approaching accessibility by being mindful of different physical, language, mental and safety needs. We want a space that is welcoming of folks from various backgrounds, beliefs, abilities and experiences. We will be proactive but we also ask that you communicate your needs with us, and we will do our best within our capacity to address these needs.
- all of us feel safe and respected:
We all commit individually and collectively to respect each other’s privacy and to seek people’s consent before sharing any images or content generated during the conversation that involves them.
Creating a safer, respectful and enjoyable environment for the conversations, is everybody's responsibility.
Reporting
If you notice that someone is behaving in a discriminatory or offensive manner, please contact the reference person who will be indicated at the beginning of the session.
Any participants that express oppressive language or images, will be removed from the call and will not be readmitted. We will not engage with them in any way.
Snippet FEA Principles of Work Antiracism (EN)

ANTIRACISM
Joan Kagezi
¿Cómo involucrarse?
- Visita el sitio oficial de la tercera Conferencia Internacional sobre la FpD (en inglés) para conocer más detalles y actualizaciones.
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Súmate al Women’s Working Group on Financing for Development [Grupo de Trabajo de Mujeres sobre Financiación para el Desarrollo, WWG on FfD en inglés] y entérate de cuáles son sus aportes al proceso de la FpD (también puedes enviar un mensaje electrónico a: wwgonffd@gmail.com).
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Únete al Grupo de las OSC en la Conferencia Internacional sobre la FpD (en inglés) o envía un mensaje electrónico a addiscoordinatinggroup@gmail.com pidiendo sumarte: https://groups.google.com/forum/#!forum/global-social-economy).
Otros enlaces importantes para mantenerse informada/o:
- Sección especial de AWID con contenidos sobre la FpD
- Women’s Major Group [Grupo Principal de Mujeres, en inglés]
- Post-2015 Women’s Coalition [Coalición de Mujeres por el Post-2015, en inglés]
- WWG on FfD
- Sección especial de AWID sobre la Agenda de Desarrollo Post-2015
- OSC en la tercera Conferencia Internacional sobre la FpD (en inglés)
- RightingFinance (en inglés)
- Sitio oficial de la Conferencia (en inglés)
Publications - Homepage - eng
Publications
Kindle for your feminist fire! Browse AWID’s research on funding, WHRDs, movement building, fundamentalisms, economic justice, feminist monitoring & evaluation and more
Когда будут доступны результаты опроса?
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!
Nadyn Jouny
« Le privé est politique » - tel est le mantra féministe que personnifiait la fougueuse et courageuse Nadyn Jouny. Nadyn avait personnellement vécu la douleur de la violence structurelle des systèmes juridiques qui refusent aux femmes de jouir de leurs droits.
Lorsqu’elle décide de demander le divorce, les tribunaux religieux chiites – conformément aux lois relatives au statut personnel du Liban – lui refusent la garde de son jeune fils Karam. Comme tant d’autres femmes au Liban et d’autres pays, Nadyn s’est retrouvée dans la situation douloureuse et insoutenable de devoir abandonner ses droits sur son enfant pour pouvoir quitter une relation abusive et non voulue. Mais Nadyn s’est battue, jusqu’au dernier jour.
Elle s’est servie de ses compétences médiatiques pour devenir la voix de celles qui n’en ont pas dans leur combat contre un droit de la famille discriminant, tant au Liban qu’à l’étranger. Nadyn a cofondé le groupe autofinancé « Protecting Lebanese Women » (PLW) et s’est alliée à d’autres mères libanaises vivant des situations similaires. Ensemble, elles ont cherché à sensibiliser la société en manifestant pour leurs droits devant les tribunaux religieux et attirant l’attention des médias sur les très grandes injustices qu’elles subissaient.
Nadyn a également collaboré avec ABAAD – Resource Center for Gender Equality, une autre organisation libanaise pour les droits des femmes, à l’occasion de campagnes pour la défense des droits des femmes, l’égalité dans le droit de la famille et la garde des enfants, et contre le mariage forcé et précoce.
Pour nombre de ses collègues, elle « symbolisait le combat d’une mère libanaise contre toutes les formes de répression et de misogynie » (en anglais), utilisant « son expérience personnelle et sa propre trajectoire d’autonomisation pour donner aux autres l’espoir qu’elles peuvent être des catalyseuses de changement positif ». - ABAAD – Resource Center for Gender Equality, Liban
Nadyn a tragiquement perdu la vie dans un accident de voiture le 6 octobre 2019, alors qu’elle se rendait à une manifestation contre les augmentations de taxes injustifiées, dans un pays qui connaît déjà une crise financière croissante. Nadyn Jouny n’avait que 29 ans au moment de son décès.