Over the past few years, a troubling new trend at the international human rights level is being observed, where discourses on ‘protecting the family’ are being employed to defend violations committed against family members, to bolster and justify impunity, and to restrict equal rights within and to family life.
The campaign to "Protect the Family" is driven by ultra-conservative efforts to impose "traditional" and patriarchal interpretations of the family, and to move rights out of the hands of family members and into the institution of ‘the family’.
“Protection of the Family” efforts stem from:
rising traditionalism,
rising cultural, social and religious conservatism and
sentiment hostile to women’s human rights, sexual rights, child rights and the rights of persons with non-normative gender identities and sexual orientations.
Since 2014, a group of states have been operating as a bloc in human rights spaces under the name “Group of Friends of the Family”, and resolutions on “Protection of the Family” have been successfully passed every year since 2014.
This agenda has spread beyond the Human Rights Council. We have seen regressive language on “the family” being introduced at the Commission on the Status of Women, and attempts made to introduce it in negotiations on the Sustainable Development Goals.
Our Approach
AWID works with partners and allies to jointly resist “Protection of the Family” and other regressive agendas, and to uphold the universality of human rights.
In response to the increased influence of regressive actors in human rights spaces, AWID joined allies to form the Observatory on the Universality of Rights (OURs). OURs is a collaborative project that monitors, analyzes, and shares information on anti-rights initiatives like “Protection of the Family”.
Rights at Risk, the first OURs report, charts a map of the actors making up the global anti-rights lobby, identifies their key discourses and strategies, and the effect they are having on our human rights.
The report outlines “Protection of the Family” as an agenda that has fostered collaboration across a broad range of regressive actors at the UN. It describes it as: “a strategic framework that houses “multiple patriarchal and anti-rights positions, where the framework, in turn, aims to justify and institutionalize these positions.”
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Our values - bodily autonomy
Bodily autonomy, integrity and freedoms<
We celebrate everyone's right to choose their identities, relationships, goals, work, dreams and pleasures, and what they do with their mind, body and spirit. We believe in working towards access to resources, information and safe and enabling environments that allow this to happen.
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На данный момент опрос в KOBO доступен на арабском, английском, французском, португальском, русском и испанском языках. В начале опроса у вас будет возможность выбрать нужный вам язык.
« Ce n’était pas une personne. C’était une puissance », compagnes et compagnons de lutte se souvenant de Navleen Kumar
Née le 15 octobre 1948, Navleen Kumar était une fervente militante pour la défense des droits fonciers et de la justice sociale en Inde.
Avec implication et intégrité, elle a œuvré pendant plus d’une décennie à la protection et la restitution des terres aux populations autochtones (les adivasi) dans le district de Thane, une région confisquée sous le régime de la force et de l’intimidation par les promoteurs immobiliers et fonciers. Elle a combattu cette injustice et ces crimes en menant des procédures juridiques au niveau de différents tribunaux, réalisant que la manipulation des registres fonciers était une opération courante dans la plupart des acquisitions de terres. Dans l’un de ces cas, celui des Wartha (une famille tribale), Navleen a entre autres découvert que la famille avait été dupée avec la complicité de fonctionnaires du gouvernement.
Grâce à son travail, elle a aidé les Wartha à récupérer leurs terres, de même que continué à défendre plusieurs affaires de transferts de terres d’adivasi.
« Son rapport sur l’impact de l’aliénation des terres sur les femmes et les enfants adivasi retrace l’histoire et les complexités de l’aliénation tribale depuis les années 1970, alors que les familles de la classe moyenne ont commencé à venir vivre dans les banlieues éloignées de Mumbai, suite à la hausse des prix de l’immobilier dans la ville.
Les complexes immobiliers se sont multipliés dans ces banlieues, et les tribus analphabètes en ont payé le prix. Les meilleures terres le long de la voie de chemin de fer valaient cher et les constructeurs se sont jetés dessus comme des vautours, pour arracher les terres des tribus et autres résidents locaux par des moyens illégaux », Jaya Menon, Justice and Peace Commission.
Au cours de ses actions militantes, Navleen a reçu de nombreuses menaces et survécu à plusieurs tentatives d’assassinat. Malgré tout, elle a continué son travail sur ce qui était non seulement important à ses yeux mais qui contribuait à transformer les vies et les réalités de tant de personnes qu’elle soutenait dans sa lutte pour la justice sociale.
Navleen a été poignardée à mort dans son immeuble le 19 juin 2002. Deux gangsters locaux ont été arrêtés pour son meurtre.
Al unirme a AWID, espero poder ayudar a la movilización del movimiento feminista. No solo para las mujeres privilegiadas, sino para TODAS las mujeres y activistas feministas.- Angelina Mootoo, feminista interseccional y caribeña, Guyana/EEUU
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Cynthia Cockburn was a feminist sociologist, writer, academic, photographer and peace activist.
She explored the gendered aspects of violence and conflict and made significant contributions to the peace movement through her exploration of the themes of masculinity and violence as well as her local and international activism.
Cynthia brought a feminist power analysis to militarisation and war, and was among the academics whose writings and analysis clearly demonstrated how gender-based violence played a key part in perpetuating war. Working closely with peace activists in countries experiencing conflict, her findings covered diverse contexts including Northern Ireland, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Israel/Palestine, South Korea, Japan, Spain and the UK. She helped bring in her research and academic writings, an understanding that violence was experienced as a continuum of time and scale and perceived very differently when seen from a gendered lens.
In her words, “Gender helps us to see the continuity, the connection between instances of violence.”
Cynthia bridged her research with the activism she did locally and internationally with movements for demilitarisation, disarmament and peace. She helped start the Greenham Common women’s peace camp, which advocated for universal nuclear disarmament in Britain and was part of establishing the London chapter of Women in Black.
Over the decades, Cynthia organized and participated in local weekly vigils and the political choir Raised Voices, singing in the choir, and writing several of the lyrics to the songs that have made up its repertoire. She was also active in the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF), the European Forum of Socialist Feminists as well as in Women Against Fundamentalism.
“Cynthia shed feminist light, wove together feminist communities, sang songs of peace, listened, listened, listened, watched the birds – and stopped traffic. I’ll be forever and gratefully in her debt, the other ‘Cynthia’” – Cynthia Enloe
Cynthia was born in July 1934 and passed away in September 2019 at the age of 85.
I pray with my family for the first time in six years while wrapped in a keffiyah I scavenged from a dumpster.
Since coming into myself, I have refused to pray in jamaat with my family. Joining in the ranks of hierarchy, “women” behind “men” irks me. It grates my skin and teeth to the degree where I can’t focus, and the standing, bowing, and kneeling feels like a battle against my true being. Each second listening, a betrayal of my nature. Instead, I pray by myself in my own way.
Yet this Ramadan, I feel different. Back in my childhood home after many years, I am choosing to fast. I choose suhoor with my family, and praying together feels like a natural extension of eating together. After eating, my mother, father, brother and I line up for fajr.
I pray behind Baba, but my prayer is my own. I close my eyes, staying with my breath and my body.
My eyes closed, I open my inner sight to a wide open window on a vista of mountains, bright sun spreading over a light mist of clouds. This was the view I had while praying in jamaat at a queer Muslim wedding I attended in the mountains of the South of France last September.
I lined up with the wedding guests, queer and trans folks of North and West African, Arab, and European descent. Folks of all faiths joined while some chose to stand in respect at the sides or behind. The groups did not fall along fault lines of “Muslim” or “non-Muslim,” “religious” or “non religious.” The two lovers marrying each led us in prayer, and so did the Muslim woman officiating the nikkah. Each of the three led us in two rounds of prayers, two raqat.
I showed up as I was, my body uncovered. I had not washed. I only passed my camera to a friend who chose to stand at the side.
In the first sujood, I broke down crying. I wore a jean dress that loves my body, one found at a thrift store my ex-girlfriend pointed me to.
The sobs come through my whole body during the prayer, and I put my head to the earth with my community like a homecoming. A return to the embrace of love both intensely personal and communal, and I am held.
It feels like swimming in the sea with multiple people: joyful togetherness. But when you go beneath the water, it’s just you and the current.
Like a dozen people buried in the same graveyard. Separate, but sharing the same soil. Becoming one with the growing earth.
That was how it felt to pray in communion at a queer Muslim wedding.
I welcomed the light of acceptance while showing up as myself that day, with a group of people who had also chosen to claim all the parts of themselves in love. That light made a home in me, and it illuminates my heart in the dark living room at fajr this Ramadan morning. Though I pray with my birth family who do not accept all of me, I see myself praying in jamaat at that glorious wedding with all of my queer Muslim ancestors, my queer angels, my lineage, my soul family, my queer Muslim family, all standing in prayer. Bowing as one.
My family’s home does not always feel like my own, though I am here now. I take the bukhoor from room to room, barefoot. Smolder from the censer, an incense that says, “Here I am.” Baraka, blessings from the source of all, Allah and the Goddess to each room in the house, bidding good and dispersing the unbidden.
As I write this the sky turns the same royal blue I am familiar with from exiting the club and pulling all-nighters. It is the gradient of morning I step into as I go to sleep.
Word meanings:
Ramadan: the Muslim holy month, traditionally observed with 29 days of fasting without food or water during daylight hours
Keffiyah: a patterned scarf common in the SWANA region. The black and white version referred to here is associated with the Palestinian liberation movement
Pray in jamaat: Islamic ritual prayer in a group. Participants follow one person, traditionally male, who calls the prayer aloud.
Suhoor: the meal before the fast starts at dawn
Fajr: the dawn prayer
Baba: father
Raqat: one round of prayer consisting of standing, bowing, kneeling, and pressing the head to the ground
Sujood:the prayer position when one presses one’s head to the earth
Nikkah: the religious marriage ceremony
Bukhoor: an Arabic incense, woodchips soaked in resin
Pictures of angels in my life, just some women and non-binary people of color hanging out, taking care of themselves and expressing love to each other. It's these simplest moments that are the most empowering.
أكيد. سيتم محي اجوبتك بعد عملية معالجة المعطيات وتحليلها وسيتم استعمالها لأهداف بحثية فقط. لن تتم أبداً مشاركة المعطيات خارج AWID وسيتم معالجتها فقط عن طريق طاقم AWID والمستشارات/ين اللواتي/ اللذين يعملن/وا في مشروع "أين المال" معنا. خصوصيتكم/ن وسرّيتكم/ن هي في أعلى سلم أولوياتنا. سياسة الخصوصية متواجدة هنا.
Hevrin Khalaf fue una destacada líder política siria-kurda de la región autónoma de Rojava, donde las mujeres kurdas están arriesgando sus vidas para resistir la ofensiva turca y construir un sistema feminista.
Hevrin fue Secretaria General del Future Syria Party [Partido de la Futura Siria] (FSP, por sus siglas en inglés), un grupo que tenía como objetivo la construcción de puentes, la reconciliación entre diferentes grupos étnicos y el trabajo hacia una "Siria democrática, pluralista y descentralizada".
Hevrin fue un símbolo de este esfuerzo de reconciliación. También trabajó para promover la igualdad entre mujeres y hombres y fue una representante para periodistas, trabajadorxs de ayuda humanitaria y diplomáticxs que visitaban la región.
Hevrin era también una ingeniera civil de Derik, y fue una de las fundadoras de Foundation for Science and Free Though [(Fundación para la Ciencia y el Libre Pensamiento] en 2012.
El 12 de octubre de 2019 fue torturada y asesinada por la milicia Ahrar al-Sharqiya, sustentada por Turquía, durante una operación militar contra las Fuerzas Democráticas Sirias en Rojava.
"El asesinato de Khalaf es un punto de inflexión en la historia moderna de Siria. Demuestra una vez más el viejo proverbio kurdo "no hay amigxs sino montañas". Siempre seré amigo[NC1] de Khalaf y su visión de un mundo mejor." - Ahed Al Hendi
Snippet FEA No feminist economies without feminist unions (EN)
No feminist economies without feminist unions!
Through labor and union organizing, Sopo, Sabrina and Linda are not only fighting for the rights of essential workers, women workers, migrant workers and sex workers, but the rights of all workers.
The fight to end workers’ exploitation is a feminist struggle, and shows us that there are no feminist economies without feminist unions.
