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.
Activiste sociale et de l’environnement équatorienne, Gloria Chicaiza était une fervente défenseuse du droit à la terre et à l’eau. Elle s’est opposée au statu quo en luttant contre un modèle de développement fondé sur l’extraction et a oeuvré sans relâche pour la justice écologique et les droits des communautés affectées par l’exploitation minière.
Dans divers endroits de l’Équateur, Gloria a participé à des actions de résistance en faveur de la protection de l’écosystème. Avec passion et dévouement, Goria a apporté son soutien au mouvement autochtone et environnemental, à ces communautés et organisations qui s’opposent aux projets miniers et protègent leurs territoires et leurs projets de vie collectifs. Elle est intervenue au sein de forums locaux et internationaux contre la criminalisation des dissident·e·s et des résistant·e·s, contre les pressions et la violence exercées à l’encontre des activistes communautaires, en particulier des femmes défenseuses des droits humains, et pour soutenir les efforts déployés par les communautés en faveur de la souveraineté alimentaire et de la durabilité.
Elle était la coordonnatrice de la justice minière à Acción Ecológica, membre du Réseau latino-américain des femmes défenseuses des droits sociaux et environnementaux, et membre du conseil d'administration de l'Observatoire latino-américain des conflits miniers.
En octobre 2010, Gloria a été accusée par la société minière Curimining/Salazar Resources S.A. (dont le siège est à Vancouver, au Canada) d’avoir commandité un acte de terrorisme, de sabotage et d’association illégale dans le but de commettre un crime. Acción Ecológica a estimé qu’il s’agissait là de “représailles pour son travail de dénonciation concernant l’impact des activités minières dans le pays”.
En 2015, Gloria a facilité la coordination d’une délégation, composée de 25 femmes autochtones d’Amérique latine, affectée au Dialogue sur le changement climatique de la COP 20 des Nations Unies.
Gloria est décédée le 28 décembre 2019 des suites de complications liées à une transplantation pulmonaire. On se souvient d’elle pour ses actes de résistance et son travail acharné.
"Le moyen le plus rapide de parvenir à la durabilité reste encore la résistance.” - Gloria Chicaiza (2010 interview)
Hommages :
“Pour GLORIA. GLORIA Eau. GLORIA Terre. GLORIA Mère. GLORIA Révolution. GLORIA Soeur. GLORIA Ciel. GLORIAmie. GLORIAstrale. Merci de nous avoir entrelacé·e·s.” -Liliana Gutierrez
“Merci Glorita, d’avoir nourri l'espoir, d’avoir préservé la solidité de la structure, d’avoir tissé des liens avec la communauté, pour les mains unies, pour la solidarité, merci Glorita de t’être tenue à nos côtés dans les moments les plus difficiles. Merci de nous avoir appris que tout au long de la vie, personne ne se fatigue.” (Chakana News)
“Gloria Chicaiza appréciait ne pas sortir du lot et s’y épanouissait. Et aussi humble qu'elle fût, elle avait une capacité inouïe à mener et garder un rythme régulier et étourdissant, un pouls de vie qui guidait, mobilisait et inspirait les communautés et les réseaux dans la protection de la Terre Mère. Elle a dénoncé toutes les formes de violence contre les “cuerpos-territorios” (les corps comme territoires). Elle soutenait le “buen vivir" (“bien vivre”). - Gabriela Jiménez, coordonnatrice des partenariats en Amérique latine, KAIROS
“Merci Gloria Chicaiza, nous sommes sûr·e·s que depuis l’infini, tu continueras à soutenir notre combat. Toi qui as continué de te battre en dépit de ta santé défaillante. Tu continueras de vivre dans les forêts et les eaux que tu as défendues avec tant de courage. Tu vivras dans nos coeurs.” - La communauté d’Intag en Équateur
Incarnations Transnationales | Note des éditeurices
Des mots perdus
Chinelo Onwualu
Ghiwa Sayegh
« Lorsque nous avons désespérément besoin de changement, comme c’est le cas dans la maladie et l’insurrection, notre langage se vide de sa complexité et se réduit à l’essentiel... Mais à mesure que la maladie et la révolution persistent, le langage fabriqué en elles et à leur sujet s’approfondit, laisse entrer plus de nuances, absorbé par l’expérience profondément humaine qu’est de rencontrer de ses propres limites sur le site de la fin du monde. » Johanna Hedva
Lorsque nous avons commencé à imaginer un tel numéro avec Nana Darkoa, à l’approche du festival Crear | Résister | Transform : un festival dédié aux mouvements féministes ! de l’AWID, nous sommes parti·e·s d’une question qui relève davantage d’une observation de l’état du monde – un désir de déplacer le terrain : pourquoi nos sexualités et nos plaisirs continuent-ils d’être apprivoisés et criminalisés, alors même qu’on nous répète sans cesse qu’ils n’apportent ni valeur ni progrès? Nous sommes arrivé·e·s à la conclusion que lorsqu’elles sont incarnées, quelque chose dans nos sexualités va à l’encontre d’un ordre mondial qui continue à se manifester par des contrôles aux frontières, des apartheids vaccinaux, un colonialisme d’occupation, un nettoyage ethnique et un capitalisme rampant. Pouvons-nous donc parler du potentiel perturbateur de nos sexualités? Pouvons-nous encore le faire lorsque, pour être financé·e·s, nos mouvements sont cooptés et institutionnalisés?
Lorsque notre travail incarné devient un profit entre les mains de systèmes que nous cherchons à démanteler, il n’est pas étonnant que nos sexualités et nos plaisirs soient une fois de plus relégués à la marge – surtout lorsqu’ils ne sont pas assez rentables. À plusieurs reprises au cours de la production de ce numéro, nous nous sommes demandé ce qui se passerait si nous refusions de nous plier aux services essentiels du capitalisme. Mais pouvons-nous oser poser cette question, lorsque nous sommes épuisé·e·s par le monde? Peut-être que nos sexualités sont si facilement rejetées parce qu’elles ne sont pas considérées comme des formes de soins. Peut-être que ce dont nous avons besoin, c’est de réimaginer le plaisir comme une forme de soin radical – un soin qui est également anticapitaliste et anti-institutionnel.
Alors que nous entrons dans notre deuxième année complète de pandémie mondiale, notre approche des incarnations transnationales a dû se concentrer sur un seul constat politique : prendre soin est une forme d’incarnation. Et parce qu’à l’heure actuelle, une grande partie de notre travail se fait sans tenir compte des frontières entre nous et en nous-mêmes, nous sommes toustes incarné·e·s de manière transnationale – et nous échouons toustes. Nous ne parvenons pas à prendre soin de nous-mêmes et, plus important encore, à prendre soin les un·e·s des autres.
Cet échec n’est pas de notre fait.
Beaucoup de nos parents considéraient le travail comme une transaction, quelque chose à donner en échange d’une compensation et d’une garantie de soins. Et bien que cet échange n’ait pas toujours été respecté, nos parents ne s’attendaient pas à ce que leur travail les comble. Iels avaient leurs loisirs, leurs passe-temps et leurs communautés pour cela. Aujourd’hui, nous, leurs enfants, qui avons été conditionné·e·s à penser que notre travail est intimement lié à notre passion, n’avons pas de telles attentes. Nous considérons le travail et les loisirs comme une seule et même chose. Pour un trop grand nombre d’entre nous, le travail en est venu à incarner tout notre être.
Cependant, le capitalisme hétéropatriarcal ne nous valorise pas, et encore moins notre travail ou nos sexualités. C’est un système qui ne fera qu’exiger toujours plus, jusqu’à votre mort. Et quand vous mourrez, il vous remplacera par quelqu’un·e d’autre. L’attente d’être en ligne 24 heures sur 24 signifie que nous ne pouvons tout simplement pas nous échapper du travail, même lorsque nous le souhaitons. Cette commercialisation du travail, qui le dissocie de la personne, a infiltré tous les aspects de nos vies et se perpétue même dans les milieux les plus féministes, les plus radicaux et les plus révolutionnaires.
Les attentes capitalistes ont toujours été particulièrement pernicieuses pour les corps qui ne correspondent pas à leur idéal. Et celleux qui cherchent à consolider leurs pouvoirs ont utilisé la pandémie comme une occasion de cibler les femmes, les minorités sexuelles et toustes celleux qu’iels considèrent comme des moins que rien.
Ce numéro spécial existe à cause, et certainement en dépit, de cela.
Presque tous les contributeur·ice·s et membres du personnel se sont surpassé·e·s. Chaque article est le fruit d’une passion, mais aussi d’un incroyable épuisement. De manière très concrète, ce numéro est une incarnation du travail transnational – et dans le monde numérique dans lequel nous vivons, tout travail est devenu un travail transnational. Alors que nous devons faire face à de nouvelles frontières qui ne brisent pas un ordre ancien mais le réifient, nous avons fait l’expérience directe, aux côtés de nos contributeurs, de la façon dont le capitalisme épuise nos limites – comment il devient difficile de construire des arguments cohérents, en particulier lorsque ceux-ci sont soumis à une date limite. Nous avons collectivement perdu les mots – parce que nous sommes perdu·e·s pour les mondes.
Se sentir perdu et seul dans le monde du capitalisme hétéropatriarcal est exactement la raison pour laquelle nous devons réévaluer et repenser nos systèmes de soins. À bien des égards, nous avons transformé ce numéro en une mission visant à trouver du plaisir dans les soins. Parce qu’il est devenu plus difficile de construire des arguments cohérents, les moyens visuels et créatifs sont passés au premier plan. Nombreux·ses sont celleux qui, ayant l’habitude d’écrire, se sont tourné·e·s vers ces médias pour produire des connaissances et couper court au brouillard mental qui nous a toustes enveloppé·e·s. Nous avons fait intervenir d’autres voix, en plus de celles que vous avez entendues au festival, afin d’ouvrir de nouvelles conversations et d’élargir nos horizons.
Alors que nous sommes privé·e·s de nos mots, il est de notre devoir politique de continuer à trouver des moyens de nous maintenir et de prendre soin de nous-mêmes et des autres. Une grande partie de nos réalités actuelles tente de nous effacer et de nous déplacer, tout en continuant à exploiter notre travail. Notre incarnation, par conséquent, devient une forme de résistance; c’est le début de nous-mêmes trouvant notre voie en dehors et en dedans de nous.
The menstrual cycle usually lasts between 27 and 30 days. During this time, the period itself would only go on for five to seven days. During the period, fatigue, mood swings, and cramps are the result of inflammation. (...)
Lorena Borjas, a trans Latina woman and activist, lived and worked in the Jackson Heights neighborhood of Queens, New York City. In those streets, she looked after her community for years, advocating for trans and immigrant rights, supporting survivors of human trafficking and abuse, campaigning for sex workers’ rights and those of people living with HIV and AIDS.
Lorena was strong and tireless in her fight to support, defend, and have the back of those most marginalized and discriminated by transphobia, misogyny and racism.
“She pushed us to shine authentically, to become a scream of subversion that says, ‘I am here, and I deserve happiness, too.’” - Cecilia Gentili, a trans activist and Lorena’s friend
Having faced numerous traumas and hardships herself, as a trans immigrant woman and victim of human trafficking, Lorena pulled knowledge and emotional memory from the well of her experiences in order to help build and strengthen the community she was part of and which was part of her. Some of the ways she did this was to organize and mobilize support ranging from providing condoms and connecting trans women to different services, to setting up an HIV testing clinic in her own home.
"She was such a beautiful soul who helped others when her journey was difficult and painful as an immigrant, as a trans immigrant. She believed the trans community needed love, acceptance, and compassion, and she gave it all.” - Luchia Dragosh, QPTV Supervising producer of a documentary about Lorena
In more than 25 years of activism, she also founded the Lorena Borjas Community Fund together with Chase Strangio (lawyer and trans rights activist). The Fund helps the many different members of her community (and especially trans persons) dealing with immigration challenges to avoid the cycle of arrest-jail-deportation.
Lorena passed away in March 2020 of complications from COVID-19.
Her enormous and beautiful legacy will be taken forward through the streets of Queens by the network and community she co-created.
“We will pick up her work where she left it, work that is essential to the well-being of “mis pajaras” as she called the trans girls of Queens under her wing.” - Cecilia Gentili
Tributes:
"Lorena brought light to us when we were living through a very dark time here in New York. She brought us light when we were dealing with the crack epidemic, when we were dealing with the AIDS crisis, dealing with changes in immigration policies." - Cristina Herrera, founder and CEO of Translatina Network and Lorena’s friend
"Lorena has done more than anyone else I know to shine a light on the epidemic of trafficking in transgender communities and to help other trans women escape exploitation." - Lynly Egyes (represented Borjas on behalf of the Transgender Law Center)
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.
"Ashawo Work na Work": Cómo lxs jóvenes feministas de Ghana están haciendo realidad los futuros feministas
por Fatima B. Derby
En 2017, la campaña de AWID #PracticaSolidaridad destacó cómo lxs jóvenes feministas podían construir un futuro feminista apoyándose mutuamente, participando en conversaciones interregionales entre ellxs, marchando en solidaridad con otrxs activistas y abriendo canales de colaboración entre los movimientos. (...)
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.
“Si nos mantenemos en silencio, nos matan. Si hablamos (nos matan) también. Así que, hablemos” Cristina Bautista, 2019.
Cristina Bautista fue una integrante de la comunidad Indígena Nasa, cuyo hogar se sitúa en la región del norte del Cauca, en Colombia. Cristina formó parte de la resistencia Nasa como líder y defensora de los derechos de la tierra, pero también como trabajadora social y gobernadora de la reserva Indígena Nasa Tacueyó.
Incansable defensora de los derechos del pueblo Nasa, Cristina habló alto y claro sobre la violencia dirigida contra su comunidad. En un discurso ante las Naciones Unidas, Cristina reclamó la protección de las vidas de las mujeres indígenas, y su participación en las diferentes esferas de la vida. En 2017, Cristina entró en el programa de Becas Indígenas de la Oficina de Derechos Humanos de la ONU y en 2019 recibió una subvención del Fondo de Contribuciones Voluntarias de la ONU para los Pueblos Indígenas.
"Me gustaría sacar a la luz la situación actual de los pueblos indígenas en Colombia, el asesinato de líderes indígenas, la represión de las protestas sociales. El acuerdo de paz, en lugar de ayudar, lo que ha hecho es reforzar el conflicto y la explotación de territorios sagrados en Colombia... En la situación actual, en casi todas las naciones indígenas, como mujeres, estamos trabajando para encontrar un futuro mejor para nuestras familias. No quiero que más mujeres del campo vivan en estas circunstancias. Las mujeres indígenas necesitamos oportunidades para participar en la vida política, económica, en la sociedad y en la cultura. Hoy me da fuerzas ver a todas estas mujeres aquí y ver que no estoy sola". - Cristina Bautista, 2019
El 29 de octubre de 2019, Cristina fue asesinada junto a cuatro guardias indígenas desarmados en un ataque que, supuestamente, fue llevado a cabo por miembros armados del grupo disidente de las FARC "Dagoberto Ramos".
Según Global Witness, "en los últimos años el asesinato de líderes comunitarios y sociales ha aumentado dramáticamente en Colombia".
"La comunidad Nasa ha alertado repetidamente a las autoridades sobre las amenazas que reciben y que ponen en peligro su seguridad. Sin embargo, a pesar de los esfuerzos que ponen los sucesivos gobiernos colombianos, los pueblos indígenas siguen corriendo grandes riesgos, especialmente, las figuras clave religiosas o comunitarias como Cristina Bautista". - Reunión informativa de la ONU para la prensa (en inglés), 1 de noviembre de 2019.
«لمّا نكون مُستَقتِلين للتغيير، لِكوننا في حالة مرضٍ وتمرّدٍ في آنٍ واحد، تخلو لغتنا من التعقيد وتنصقل لتعكس أبسط ركائزها. (...) لكن، ومع استمرار المرض والثورة، تصبح اللغة المُصاغة في هذه الحالة وعنها أكثرَ عمقاً وأكثرَ تعبيراً عن الفوارق الدقيقة، وتكون منغمسة انغماساً شديداً في التجربة الإنسانية التي يواجه فيها المرءُ حدودَه عند نهاية العالم». - جوانا هيدفا
بدأنا التخطيط لعدد المجلّة هذا مع نانا داركوا قُبيل مهرجان «ابدعي، قاومي، غيٍّري: مهرجان للحراكات النسوية» لجمعية «حقوق المرأة في التنمية» AWID، وانطلقنا وقتها من سؤالٍ هو بالأحرى ملاحظة حول حالة العالم، ورغبة في تغيير الاعتقادات السائدة: لماذا لا تزال جنسانيّاتنا وملذّاتنا تخضع للترويض والتجريم مع أنّه يتمّ تذكيرنا مراراً وتكراراً بأنّها لا تأتي بأيّ قيمة أو تطوّر؟ واستنتجنا أنّ جنسانيّاتنا، لمّا تتجسّد، فيها ما يتعارض مع النظام العالمي الذي ما زال يتجلّى من خلال ضوابط الحدود، والتمييز العنصري في توزيع اللقاح، والاستعمار الاستيطاني، والتطهير العرقي، والرأسمالية المُستشرية. هل يمكننا إذاً القول إنّ لجنسانيّاتنا قدرةٌ تعطيليّة؟ وهل يصحّ هذا القول عندما ننظر إلى واقع حركاتنا التي يتمّ الاستيلاء عليها ومأسستها في سعيها للتزوّد بالموارد؟
عندما يصبح عملنا المتجسّد مادةً ربحية في أيدي الأنظمة التي نسعى إلى إزالتها فلا عجب أنّ جنسانيّاتنا وملذّاتنا توضَع جانباً من جديد، لا سيّما أنّها ليست مُربِحة بما فيه الكفاية. لقد تساءلنا، في مواقف عدّة خلال إنتاج هذا العدد، ما الذي سيحدث إذا رفضنا مراعاة خدمات الرأسمالية الأساسية؟ لكن هل نجرؤ على هذا التساؤل وقد أنهكنا العالم؟ ربما يتمّ تجاهل جنسانيّاتنا بهذه السهولة لأنها لا تُعتَبَر أشكالاً من أشكال الرعاية. ربما ما نحتاجه هو أن نعيد تصوّر الملذّة كشكلٍ من أشكال الرعاية الجذرية، تكون أيضاً مناهضة للرأسمالية وللمؤسساتية.
بدأنا العام الثاني على التوالي لحالة الجائحة العالمية وكان لا بدّ أن تركّز مقاربتنا للتجسيدات العابرة للحدود القومية على ملاحظة سياسيّة واحدة: أنّ الرعاية هي شكل من أشكال التجسيد. وبما أنّ جزءاً كبيراً من عملنا يتمّ حالياً من دون أيّ اعتبار للحدود بيننا وفينا فنحن جميعاً متجسّدون بشكلٍ عابرٍ للحدود القومية، ونحن جميعاً نفشل. نحن نفشل في رعاية ذاتنا، والأهمّ أننا نفشل في رعاية الآخرين.
هذا الفشل ليس من صنع أيدينا.
إنّ الكثير من أهالينا اعتبروا العملَ مقايضةً، أي أنّه شيءٌ يُعطى مقابل أجرٍ وضمانة بالحصول على الرعاية. صحيحٌ أنّه تمّ الإخلال بهذه المقايضة أحياناً، لكنّ أهالينا ما كانوا يأملون أنّ عملهم سيوفّر لهم الرِضا الذاتي، وكانوا يعتمدون لهذا الغرض على نشاطهم الترفيهي وهواياتهم ومجتمعاتهم. أمّا اليوم، فنحن، أولادهم الذين تمّت تهيأتنا لنعتبر العمل متشابكاً مع الشغف، توقّعاتنا مختلفة تماماً. نحن لا نفرّق بين العمل والترفيه ونعتبرهما عنصراً واحداً، وبالنسبة للكثيرين بيننا، العمل بات يجسّد الذات بكاملها.
إنّ الرأسمالية القائمة على الأبويّة والمغايَرة الجنسية لا ترى لنا أيّ قيمة، ناهيك عن عملنا وجنسانيّاتنا. إنّه نظامٌ سيستمر في طلب المزيد والمزيد منك إلى يوم مماتك، وبعدها سيستبدلك بشخصٍ آخر. يُنتَظَر منّا أن نكون على اتصال بالإنترنت في كلّ الأوقات، ما يعني أنّه لا يمكننا الانصراف عن العمل حتى لو شئنا ذلك. إنّ هذا التَتْجير للعمل وفصله تماماً عن الشخص قد تسلّل إلى كلّ ناحية من نواحي حياتنا، ويتمّ ترسيخ هذا التَتْجير حتى في الأوساط الأكثر نسويّة والأكثر تمرّداً وتشدّداً.
لطالما حمَلَت تطلّعات الرأسمالية ضرراً كبيراً بالأجساد التي لا تتوافق مع النموذج المثالي، وأولئك الذين يسعون إلى ترسيخ سلطتهم استغّلوا الجائحة كفرصة لاستهداف النساء والأقلّيات الجنسية وكلّ مَن يعتبرونه دون المستوى.
تمّ إعداد هذا العدد الخاص بفعل هذا الواقع، وطبعاً، رغماً عن هذا الواقع.
لقد قدّم المساهمون/ المساهمات والعاملون/ العاملات كلّهم تقريباً مجهوداً يفوق طاقاتهم، وكلٌّ من الأعمال الواردة هنا هو نتاجُ سعيٍ شغوف ولكن أيضاً نتاج حالة إنهاكٍ شديد.
يشكّل هذا العدد، بطريقة غايةً في الواقعية، تجسيداً للعمل العابر للحدود القومية، علماً أنّ أيّ عمل في عصرنا الرقمي أصبحَ عابراً لتلك الحدود. وفيما فُرِضَ علينا تقبّل حدود جديدة، وهي حدود لا تخالف النظام القائم سابقاً بل تعزّزه، اختبرنا مباشرةً، إلى جانب مساهمينا، كيف تستنزف الرأسمالية طاقاتنا القصوى – كيف يصبح من الصعب بناء الحجج المتماسكة لا سيّما حينما تكون خاضعة لموعد التسليم. إننا نعاني بشكلٍ جَماعي من فقدان الكلام لأننا أساساً نعاني من فقدان العوالم.
الشعور بالضياع والوحدة في عالم الرأسمالية القائمة على الأبوية والمغايَرة الجنسية هو بالتحديد ما يجعل من الضروري أن نعيد تقييم أنظمة الرعاية التي نتّبعها وأن نُعيد النظر فيها. لقد حوّلنا هذا العدد بوسائل عدّة إلى مهمّة لإيجاد الملذّة في الرعاية. فبما أنّه بات من الصعب بناء الحجج المتماسكة، برزت الوسائط البصرية والمبتكرة وقد لجأ كثرٌ ممن اعتادوا الكتابة إلى هذه الوسائط كطرقٍ لإنتاج المعرفة واختراق الضباب الفكريّ الذي أحاط بنا. لقد ضمّينا في هذا العدد أصواتاً أخرى، بالإضافة إلى أصواتٍ عدّة استمعتم إليها في المهرجان، كوسيلة لإطلاق حوارات جديدة وتوسيع آفاقنا.
بما أنّ كلماتنا قد سُرِقَت منّا، يقضي واجبنا السياسي بأن نستمر في إيجاد الوسائل للحفاظ على أنفسنا والآخرين والاهتمام بأنفسنا وبالآخرين. بالتالي، يصبح تجسّدنا نوعاً من المقاومة إذ هو بداية إيجادنا لسبيل الخروج من الذات ودخولها.
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.
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Paulina Cruz Ruiz, originaire de Rabinal dans la région de Baja Verapaz au Guatemala, était une défenseuse des droits humains au pouvoir ancestral Maya Achí (autochtone). Elle participait activement à la mobilisation et à la résistance communautaires, notamment via des mesures juridiques contre des projets miniers sur des territoires autochtones, aux effets sévères et néfastes pour leur tissu socioenvironnemental.
« Le modèle d’industrie extractive promu par le gouvernement guatémaltèque et la construction de projets de développement à grande échelle sur des terres autochtones, sans le consentement des communautés, est source de litiges constants avec les mouvements de résistance. » - Minority Rights Group International (groupe international pour les droits des minorités)
Paulina a également participé à la Marche pour la dignité, la vie et la justice, durant laquelle des milliers de guatémaltèques ont initié, le 1er mai 2019, une marche de huit jours contre la corruption et l’impunité face aux poursuites et aux assassinats de défenseur·e·s des droits humains, des terres ainsi que de leaders paysan·ne·s et autochtones.
Paulina a été assassinée le 14 septembre 2019 près de chez elle, dans le village de Xococ.
D’après Minority Rights Group International, « l’une des problématiques constantes qui affecte le plus les communautés mayas tient dans l’accroissement des activités de l’industrie minière. »
The space created by this festival has been so necessary. Necessary for the souls of those who are seeking comfort during these bleakest of times. Necessary for those craving community in what feels like an increasingly isolating world and above all, necessary for those fighting against the very systems that have brought many of us to our knees, especially over the past two years.
“Crisis is not new to feminist and social movements, we have a long history of surviving in the face of oppression and building our communities and our own realities.”
Advocating for alternative visions and alternative realities to the one we are currently living in is a fundamental building block of the feminist agenda. So many amazing people are doing the work of exploring different ways for us to exist in this world. These alternatives are people-centred. They are equitable and just. These worlds are filled with love, tenderness and care. The visions outlined are almost too beautiful to imagine, yet we must force ourselves to imagine because this is the only way we can continue.
Over the past 10 months, I have been incredibly fortunate to be working with a feminist collective that is not just imagining an alternative reality but actively living it. We are inspired by the work of so many other feminist movements across the globe who have not let the white supremacist, capitalist patriarchy deter their visions. This collective has held me together when all I wanted to do was fall apart. Much like the story shared by Maria Bonita on Day 4 of the festival, the liberation I have found in feminist movements is far too great to only be experienced by me. This is something we need to share, that we need to shout from the rooftops as we invite others to join.
Day 4 of the festival brought with it a captivating conversation between Felogene Anumo, Dr Dilar Dirik, Nana Akosua Hanson and Vandana Shiva who encouraged festival attendees to believe that not only is an alternative future possible - but that it is indeed urgent. Feminists have been talking about alternative worlds for so many years and hearing about these from the panellists was not just eye-opening but also comforting. Comforting in the sense that it made me feel safe to know that there are indeed strong, global feminist networks working across international and national borders, seeking to decolonise the established frameworks of our current realities.
What does an alternative reality look like?
During the session, Dr Dirik highlighted the fact that belief, sacrifice and patience are most needed to abolish the oppressive systems we currently live in. Collaboration, partnership, creativity, solidarity and autonomy. These are key pillars to building a global feminist society and they should be embraced by all feminist movements around the world.
Practical examples of these realities can be found across the globe, including the Soulaliyate Women's Land-Use Rights Movement. Referring to the tribal women in Morocco who live on collective land, the Soulalyate Women’s Movement is the first grassroots nationwide mobilisation for land rights in Morocco. Whilst initially the movement was quite small, it grew into a nationwide agenda that challenged the gendered nature of laws regulating land in the country. In 2019, the group contributed to overhauling the national framework legislation on the management of community property through the adoption of three sets of laws guaranteeing the equality of women and men.
Knowing about these feminist movements who are doing the work to make alternative futures a reality is incredibly inspiring and just what is needed, especially as I struggle to grapple with the neverending stream of bad news that seems to flow uninterrupted.
“Capitalist patriarchy is like a cancer. It doesn’t know when to stop growing” - Dr Vandana Shiva
AWID has always been a movement inspired by the feminist realities that we can live in. Through their festivals, as well as feminist realities magazine and toolkit, we have been shown a different way of doing things. We can imagine a world where care is prioritised, where feminist economies and gender justice are the norm. Creating alternative futures is how we fight back, it’s how we resist the violence that is perpetrated against our bodies every day.
The Crear | Resister | Transform Festival has allowed me to feel so connected to a global community, many of whom I will never meet. Knowing that we are all working towards and claiming another world has lit a fire in my soul and I cannot wait to see what the next festival will have in store.
If you missed it, make sure to watch the: "She is on her way: Alternatives, feminisms and another world" session from Day 4 of the festival below. And remember, as Dr Shiva said so eloquently: “Women’s energies will continue life on earth. We will not be defeated.”
