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.
Née dans l'État de Benue, au Nigeria, Dora était une pharmacienne experte et érudite ainsi qu’une dirigeante communautaire de renommée mondiale.
Lorsqu'elle est devenue directrice générale de l'Agence nationale pour la gestion et le contrôle des aliments et drogues (NAFDAC) entre 2001 et 2008, son travail d’envergure révolutionnaire a initié un changement de paradigme au sein de la fonction publique nigériane. Au cours de son mandat, elle a mené des réformes dans l'application des politiques et des réglementations qui ont permis de réduire de manière radicale le nombre de faux médicaments qui ont affecté le secteur pharmaceutique nigérian.
Après avoir incarné la réalité d’une femme courageuse et compétente qui a défié les maux d’une société à dominante patriarcale et qui a conduit au changement, elle est devenue une icône de l’émancipation des femmes. Entre 2008 et 2010 elle a été nommée ministre de l'Information et de la Communication.
Elle est décédée des suites d'un cancer et laisse dans le deuil son mari, ses six enfants et ses trois petits-enfants.
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
Snippet FEA Principles of work Education and Learning (EN)
EDUCATION AND CONTINUOUS LEARNING
FR Editor's note
Editor's note
Feminist Realities is a warm and caring invitation, a kind of en masse-care (versus self-care) act of preservation, an invitation to archive, to take stock of all the work lest it disappear. (...)
O questionário está disponível durante quanto tempo?
O questionário está disponível até o final de julho de 2024. Queira preencher o mesmo dentro deste prazo para garantir que as suas respostas são incluídas na análise.
Nadine was a role model to many for her work supporting women and the most vulnerable in her community. She was committed to helping the poor and homeless in particular.
Though her death was reported as an accident, the Ramaroson family, led by her father, André Ramaroson led an investigation that pointed to evidence that she had been murdered. She is reported to have died in a fatal accident occurred between Soanierano - Ivongo and Ste Marie - a story that has been refuted by her family.
She received numerous death threats for her bold political positions. Her case remains in court in Antananarivo (the capital of Madagascar).
S'inscrire à la liste de diffusion
Snippet FEA Story 1 Maps Economies of Care (ES)
FRMag - My queer Ramadan
Mi ramadán queer
por Amal Amer
Rezo con mi familia por primera vez en seis años envueltx en un keffiyah que recogí de un contenedor de basura. (...)
«¿Dónde está el dinero para las organizaciones feministas?»
Sobre la base de nuestros 20 años de historia movilizando más y mejor financiamiento para el cambio social encabezado por los feminismos, AWID te invita a responder la nueva edición de nuestra encuesta insignia, WITM
“I’ve witnessed discrimination on the streets, being teased on the streets and verbally abused on the streets. I have also made numerous friends and have met a lot of people. There may be dangers out there but I am a survivor and this is where I will be for now.” - Sainimili Naivalu
Sainimili Naivalu was a feminist and disability rights activist from the village of Dakuibeqa on Beqa Island, Fiji.
She demanded policy makers and stakeholders provide disability friendly policies and services such as the construction of ramps in towns and cities to increase accessibility. Physical barriers were not the only ones she strived to change. From her own experience, she knew that more difficult changes need to take place in social and economic spheres. Many of the challenges disabled people face are rooted in attitudes that carry discrimination and stigma.
A survivor and a fighter, Sainimili contributed to co-creating feminist realities that foster inclusion and shift attitudes towards disabled people. As a member of the Spinal Injury Association of Fiji (SIA) and through Pacific Disability Forum’s Pacific Enable project she attended the International Labour Organisation “Start Your Business” training in Suva, enabling her to transform her ideas into her own business. She was an entrepreneur at the Suva Market Stall 7, offering manicure services, as well as running SIA’s women’s market stall selling handicrafts, sulus and artifacts. Sainimili’s plan was to expand her business and become a major employer of disabled people.
In addition to her activism, she was also a table tennis medalist and youth champion.
A vivacious personality, Sainimili was one of a kind. You would always know that Sainimili is in a room because her laughter and her stories would be the first thing that you would notice. - Michelle Reddy
Sainmili passed away in 2019.
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 » : Comment les jeunes féministes ghanéennes transforment des horizons féministes en réalité
par Fatima B. Derby
En 2017, la campagne #ManifestezVotreSolidarité a mis en évidence la manière dont les jeunes féministes pouvaient construire un avenir féministe en étant là les unes pour les autres, en participant à des conversations transrégionales, en marchant en solidarité avec d'autres activistes et en collaborant entre les mouvements. (...)
When people come together on a global scale, as individuals and movements, we generate a sweeping force. Join us in Bangkok, Thailand and online in December 2024.
Sylvia Rivera fue activista por los derechos civiles, travesti y trabajadora sexual.
Conocida como la Drag Queen de color de Nueva York, Sylvia fue feroz e incansable en su voluntad por cambiar las cosas, y en su defensa de quienes quedaron marginadxs y excluidxs cuando el movimiento por los "derechos de la comunidad gay" se volvió predominante en los Estados Unidos, a principios de los 70.
En 1973, durante un conocido discurso por el día de Christopher Street, Sylvia gritó en medio de la multitud de integrantes de la comunidad LGBT:
"Todos ustedes me dicen, anda y esconde la cola entre las patas.
No voy a seguir aguantando esta mierda.
Me han golpeado.
Me han roto la nariz.
Me han metido en la cárcel.
He perdido mi trabajo.
He perdido mi departamento
por la liberación gay, ¿y todos ustedes me tratan así?
¿Qué carajo les pasa a todos ustedes?
¡Piensen en eso!"
En 1969, a la edad de 17 años, Sylvia participó en los emblemáticos disturbios de Stonewall, al lanzar, presuntamente, el segundo cóctel molotov para protestar por la redada policial en este bar gay de Manhattan. Siguió siendo una figura central en los levantamientos posteriores, organizando mítines y luchando contra la brutalidad policial.
En 1970, Sylvia trabajó junto con Marsha P. Johnson para establecer Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries [Acción Travesti Callejera Revolucionaria] (S.T.A.R., por sus siglas en inglés), un colectivo político y una organización que establecería proyectos de apoyo mutuo para las personas trans que vivían en la calle, aquellxs que luchaban contra la drogadicción, las que estaban encarceladas y, en particular, para las personas trans de color que vivían en la pobreza.
Desafiante de las etiquetas, Silvia vivió la vida de una manera que retaba a las personas del movimiento de liberación gay a pensar de manera diferente. Ella dijo:
"Me fui de casa a los 10 años, en 1961. Hice la calle en la 42. El inicio de los años 60 no era un buen momento para lxs drag queens, los chicos afeminados o los chicos que usaban maquillaje como nosotrxs. En ese entonces nos golpeaba la policía, y todo el mundo. Yo no salí realmente como drag queen hasta finales de los 60, cuando se arrestaba a lxs drag queens, qué degradación había. Recuerdo que la primera vez que me arrestaron, ni siquiera estaba vestida totalmente en drag. Estaba caminando y los policías me arrebataron de la calle. La gente ahora quiere llamarme lesbiana porque estoy con Julia, y yo digo: "No. Soy sólo yo. No soy lesbiana". Estoy cansada de que me etiqueten. Ni siquiera me gusta la etiqueta transgénero. Estoy cansada de vivir con etiquetas. Sólo quiero ser quien soy. Soy Sylvia Rivera.
A través de su activismo y su coraje, Sylvia ofreció un espejo que reflejaba todo lo que estaba mal en la sociedad, pero también la posibilidad de transformación. Sylvia nació en 1951 y falleció en 2002.
