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.
Su’ad was a strong advocate of women’s and children’s rights, and was the head of Al-Weed Al-Alaiami - an Iraqi human rights organisation.
She participated in the July 2018 demonstrations that took place in Basra and several other Iraqi cities protesting unemployment and demanding jobs and proper public services for citizens, as well as calling for the elimination of rampant corruption.
On 25 September 2018, Su’ad was assassinated in the Al-Abbasiyah district in downtown Basra. A video of the incident showed a person approaching her as she was getting into her car, firing a bullet at the back of her head and pointing another bullet at her driver Hussain Hassan, who was injured in the shoulder. Al-Ali was 46 and the mother of four children.
Snippet FEA Sabrina Sanchez Bio (ES)
Te presentamos a Sabrina Sanchez, increíble mujer trans, migrante, trabajadora sexual, organizadora, transfeminista y una de las fundadoras del sindicato OTRAS.
Originaria de la Ciudad de México, emigró a España hace 17 años después de graduarse en comunicaciones y comenzó a trabajar como trabajadora sexual.
No pasó mucho tiempo antes de que se involucrara con el activismo trans y el activismo de trabajadoras sexuales en Barcelona. Después de unirse al colectivo Asociación de Profesionales del Sexo (Aprosex), comenzó a trabajar en su secretaría y fundó el sindicato español de trabajadoras sexuales OTRAS.
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
إن رغبتم/ن في سحب استطلاعكم/ن ومحيه لأي سبب كان، لديكم/ن الحق الكامل بالقيام بذلك. الرجاء التواصل معنا عن طريق هذا النموذج وكتابة "استطلاع المال" في عنوان رسالتكم/ن وسنقوم بسحب ومحي أجوبتكم/ن.
“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:
If, indeed, I am forced to stand before this maqtal today and face the gallows, I should face them with my head held high. My poems are the trace of a mangled head: emanating sounds even as it is suspended from ropes... A Body Torn has taken the form of a razmia, or the sound of rupture. And if such rupture indeed shocks a people, then consider the poet as having achieved her purpose: she has managed to disturb them. (translation from Urdu by Asad Alvi)
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.
Snippet FEA Principles of Work Antiracism (FR)
ANTI-RACISME
Publications - Homepage - fr
Publications
Lisez nos recherches sur le financement, sur les défenseuses des droits humains, sur la création de mouvements, sur les fondamentalismes, la justice économique et beaucoup plus
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"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.
Snippet FEA Title Main (EN)
The Feminist Economies
WE LOVE
FRMag - Freeing the Church
Freeing the Church, Decolonizing the Bible for West Papuan Women
by Rode Wanimbo
I was born and grew up in Agamua, the Central Highlands of West Papua. My father belongs to the Lani tribe and my mother comes from Walak. (...)
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.
The AWID Community is an online social networking platform specifically for AWID. It is a feminist space for connection, resistance and celebration. A space for critical feminist conversations, collective power and solidarity. It is also a space for post-event dialogues, navigating difficult political learnings and community care.
Join AWID membership to be part of the AWID Community today.
« 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.
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.
Snippet - Podcast Intro (ES)
Estamos encantadxs de anunciar el lanzamiento del nuevo podcast de AWID: ESE FUEGO FEMINISTA. Esta serie narrativa revela más de 40 años de movimientos feministas e imagina nuevos caminos a seguir.
En nuestra temporada piloto, escucharán cinco historias cautivadoras que forman parte de la actual constelación de activismo feminista. Presentado por nuestra Gopika Bashi, subdirectora de programas de AWID, cada episodio explora realidades feministas únicas pero interconectadas que están logrando una mayor justicia de género y asegurando derechos humanos.
ESE FUEGO FEMINISTA es producido en asociación con lxs ganadorxs de Webby, Hueman Group Media. Puedes suscribirte al podcast y escuchar nuestro primer episodio aquí.
Encuéntranos en Apple Podcasts, Spotify o donde sea que obtengas tus podcasts. ¡Comparte con tu red! Ayúdanos a difundir historias que enciendan nuestro fuego feminista y nos muevan a la acción.
