AWID es un organización feminista internacional de membresía, que brinda apoyo a los movimientos que trabajan para lograr la justicia de género y los derechos de las mujeres en todo el mundo.
En septiembre de 2016, 1800 feministas y activistas por los derechos de las mujeres de todos los rincones de nuestros movimientos se congregaron en las costas de Bahia, en el 13º Foro Internacional de AWID.
En esta sección se destacan los logros, los aprendizajes y los recursos que surgieron de las ricas conversaciones mantenidas. Te invitamos a analizar, compartir y comentar.
¿Qué ha pasado desde 2016?
Uno de los aportes más importantes del Foro fue la necesidad de ampliar y profundizar nuestro trabajo entre movimientos, frente a la confluencia de los fascismos en auge, fundamentalismos, codicia corporativa y cambio climático.
Con esto en mente, AWID, en asociación con múltiples aliadxs, ha estado trabajando para que estas semillas de resistencia:
AWID se ha comprometido, mediante su próximo plan estratégico y su proceso del Foro, a continuar y profundizar las relaciones, las lecciones y los procesos iniciados en el Foro 2016 y basándonos en el momento actual.
¿Que pasa ahora?
El mundo es un lugar muy diferente de lo que era un año atrás, y seguirá cambiando en los próximos años.
El próximo Foro de AWID se realizará en la región del Pacífico Asiático (el lugar y la fecha exactos serán anunciados en 2018). Esperamos que te unas a nosotrxs.
Sobre el Foro de AWID
Los Foros de AWID comenzaron en 1983 en Washington DC. Desde entonces, el evento ha crecido hasta convertirse en muchas cosas para muchas personas: un proceso iterativo para darle forma a nuestros análisis, objetivos y acciones; un hito crucial que fortalece los feminismos de lxs participantes e infunde energías a sus procesos de organización; un hogar político donde lxs defensoras de derechos humanos encuentran un santuario y solidaridad.
Dilma Ferreira Silva fue una destacada activista por los derechos de las comunidades del Amazonas y luchó durante décadas por los derechos de las personas afectadas por las represas.
Ella misma fue una de las 32.000 personas desplazadas por el Tucuruí, una mega central hidroeléctrica, construida en Brasil durante la dictadura militar de 1964-1985.
En 2005 Dilma fue invitada a unirse al Movimiento de los Pueblos Afectados por las Represas en Brasil (MAB), y en 2006 formó el colectivo de mujeres, y eventualmente se convirtió en coordinadora regional del movimiento.
Al hablar de su activismo, sus colegas comentaban:
"Se destacó muy rápido porque siempre fue muy intrépida en la lucha".
Dilma vivió en el asentamiento rural de Salvador Allende, a 50 kilómetros de Tucuruí, y dedicó toda su vida a proteger a las comunidades y las tierras afectadas por la construcción de mega proyectos. Dilma se preocupaba especialmente por el impacto de género que esos proyectos podrían causar, y defendía los derechos de las mujeres.
En una reunión nacional del MAB en 2011, Dilma, dirigiéndose a las mujeres afectadas por las represas, dijo:
"Somos las verdaderas Marías, guerreras, luchadoras que están allí, enfrentando el desafío de la lucha diaria".
En los años siguientes, Dilma organizó grupos de base del MAB y trabajó con la comunidad para formar cooperativas agrícolas que condujeron a una mejor redistribución de los alimentos entre la comunidad. Conjuntamente, mejoraron la comercialización de la pesca y desarrollaron un proyecto de cisternas para el agua potable. También fue defensora de la comunidad de agricultores cuyas tierras eran codiciadas por los "grileiros" (acaparadores de tierras).
El 22 de marzo de 2019, a la edad de 48 años, Dilma, su marido y su amigo fueron brutalmente asesinados. Los tres asesinatos fueron parte de una ola de violencia en la Amazonia contra el Movimento dos Trabalhadores Sem Terra (traducido como 'Movimiento de los Trabajadores Sin Tierra') y lxs activistas medioambientales e indígenas.
كلمة العدد | التجسيدات العابرة للحدود
فقدان الكلام
ترجمة رولا علاء الدين
تشينيلو أونوالو
غوى صايغ
«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».
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.
Tout au long de ses 38 années de carrière, Debbie Stothard a collaboré avec diverses communautés pour impliquer des États, des organisations intergouvernementales et autres parties prenantes en Asie, en Afrique, en Europe et dans les Amériques sur des questions de droits humains et de justice. Son travail porte essentiellement sur les thématiques des affaires et des droits humains, de la prévention des atrocités et du leadership des femmes. Elle a, de ce fait, animé ou secondé près de 300 formations au cours des 15 dernières années. La plupart de ces formations était des ateliers à destination de groupes de base et organisés sur le terrain, centrés sur le plaidoyer en faveur des droits humains, les connaissances économiques fondamentales, les affaires et les droits humains, la justice transitionnelle et la prévention des atrocités. Son travail dans le domaine de la justice transitionnelle et de la prévention des atrocités s’est principalement déroulé au Myanmar, mais elle a également été conseillère en matière d’interventions dans d’autres situations nationales dans le monde.
Entre 1981 et 1996, Debbie a été reporter spécialisée dans les affaires criminelles, organisatrice d’évènements étudiants, analyste politique, universitaire, conseillère gouvernementale et traiteure en Malaisie et en Australie, tout en étant bénévole pour des causes en lien avec les droits humains. Elle a fondé ALTSEAN-Burma en 1996, qui fut à l’initiative d’un large éventail de programmes sur les droits humains à la fois innovants et autonomisants. ALTSEAN mène notamment un programme permanent et intensif de leadership à destination de diverses jeunes femmes à Burma qui, au cours des 22 dernières années, a aidé à renforcer et élargir le leadership des femmes dans les zones touchées par un conflit. Debbie Stothard a siégé au Conseil de la fédération internationale des droits humains (FIDH) pendant neuf années en sa qualité de secrétaire générale adjointe (2010–2013) puis de secrétaire générale (2013–2019). Elle a mis cette période à profit en promouvant la mission et le profil de la FIDH lors de près de 100 réunions et conférences par année.
Add to stories
Off
FRMag - Ashawo Work na Work
« 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. (...)
« Mais quand le maître
s’est-il laissé éloigner du pouvoir?
Quand un système a-t-il jamais été brisé
par l’acceptation?
Quand le CHEF te remettra-t-il le pouvoir avec amour?
À Jobourg, à Cancun, à l’ONU? », Molara Ogundipe.
Dans un entretien à la Foire internationale du livre du Ghana en 2010, Molara Ogundipe s’est présentée avec ces mots : « ... Je suis une Nigériane. J’ai vécu absolument partout, sauf en Union soviétique et en Chine ».
À travers les continents et les pays, la professeure Ogundipe a enseigné la littérature comparée, l’écriture, le genre et les études anglaises, se servant de la littérature comme outil de transformation sociale, de même que pour revisiter les relations de genre.
Penseuse, écrivaine, rédactrice, critique sociale, poète et activiste féministe, Molara Ogundipe est parvenue à allier le travail théorique et l’action créative et la créativité. Elle est considérée comme l’une des principales voix critiques du(des) féminisme(s) africain(s), des études de genre et de la théorie littéraire.
Molara est connue pour avoir créé le concept de « stiwanisme », à partir de l’acronyme STIWA, pour Social Transformations in Africa Including Women (transformations sociales en Afrique incluant les femmes), reconnaissant la nécessité de « s’éloigner de la définition du ou des féminismes en lien avec l’Euro-Amérique ou avec toute autre région, et de la déclamation de loyautés ou déloyautés ».
Avec son ouvrage fondateur « Re-creating Ourselves » de 1994 (publié sous le nom de Molara Ogundipe-Leslie), Molara Ogundipe a laissé derrière elle un immense éventail de connaissances qui ont décolonisé le discours féministe et « recentré les femmes africaines sur leurs récits entiers et complexes... menées par une exploration de la libération économique, politique et sociale des femmes africaines et la restauration de la capacité d’agir féminine dans plusieurs cultures en Afrique ».
À propos des difficultés rencontrées en tant que jeune universitaire :
« Lorsque j’ai commencé à parler et à écrire sur le féminisme à la fin des années soixante et soixante-dix, on me considérait comme une bonne et admirable fille qui s’était égarée, une femme dont l’esprit avait été gâté par trop d’apprentissages ».
Molara Ogundipe s’est démarquée grâce à son leadership alliant activisme et université. En 1977, elle comptait parmi les fondatrices de l’AAWORD (Association of African Women for Research and Development). En 1982, elle fonde WIN (Women in Nigeria) pour défendre des « droits économiques, sociaux et politiques » entiers pour les Nigérianes. Elle crée et dirige ensuite la Foundation for International Education and Monitoring, et passe plusieurs années à oeuvrer au comité de rédaction de The Guardian.
Ayant grandi avec les Yoruba, leurs traditions, leur culture et leur langue, elle a un jour déclaré :
« Je pense que célébrer la vie, célébrer les personnes qui décèdent après une vie bien remplie est l’un des plus beaux aspects de la culture yoruba ».
Le nom de fête « oiki » de Molara en yoruba était Ayike. Née le 27 décembre 1940, Molara est décédée à l’âge de 78 ans, le 18 juin 2019 à Ijebu Igbo, dans l’État d’Ogun au Nigeria.
Tshegofatso Senne is a Black, chronically-ill, genderqueer feminist who does the most. Much of their work is rooted in pleasure, community, and dreaming, while being informed by somatic abolitionism and disability, healing, and transformative justices. Writing, researching, and speaking on issues concerning feminism, community, sexual and reproductive justice, consent, rape culture, and justice, Tshegofatso has 8 years of experience theorising on the ways in which these topics intersect with pleasure. They run their own business, Thembekile Stationery, and their community platform Hedone brings people together to explore and understand the power of trauma-awareness and pleasure in their daily lives. Tshegofatso believes deeply in the individual and collective potential of regenerative and sustainable change, pleasure, and care work.
The body. The most permanent home we have.
The body, not the thinking brain, is where we experience most of our pain, pleasure, and joy, and where we process most of what happens to us. It is also where we do most of our healing, including our emotional and psychological healing. And it is where we experience resilience and a sense of flow.
These words, said by Resmaa Menakem in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, have stayed with me.
The body; it holds our experiences. Our memories. Our resilience. And as Menakem has written, the body also holds our traumas. It responds with spontaneous protective mechanisms to stop or prevent more damage. That is the power of the body. Trauma is not the event; it is how our bodies respond to events that feel dangerous to us. It is often left stuck in the body, until we address it. There’s no talking our body out of this response – it just is.
Using Ling Tan’s Digital Superpower app, I tracked how my body felt as I travelled around different parts of my city, Johannesburg, South Africa. The app is a gesture-driven online platform that allows you to trace your perceptions as you move through locations by logging and recording the data. I used it to track my psychosomatic symptoms – physical reactions connected to a mental cause. Whether that be flashbacks. Panic attacks. Tightness in the chest. A fast heartbeat. Tension headaches. Muscle pain. Insomnia. Struggling to breathe. I tracked these symptoms as I walked and travelled to different areas in Johannesburg. And I asked myself.
Where can we be safe? Can we be safe?
Psychosomatic responses can be caused by a number of things, and some are not as severe as others. After experiencing any kind of trauma you may feel intense distress in similar events or situations. I tracked my sensations, ranked on a scale of 1-5, where 1 were the instances I barely felt any of these symptoms – I felt at ease rather than on-guard and jumpy, my breath and heart rate were stable, I was not looking over my shoulder – and number 5 being the opposite – symptoms that had me close to a panic attack.
As a Black person. As a queer person. As a genderqueer person who could be perceived as a woman, depending on what my gender expression is that day.
I asked myself.
Where can we be safe?
Even in neighbourhoods one might consider “safe,” I felt constantly panicked. Looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, adjusting the way my T-shirt sat so my breasts wouldn’t show up as much, looking around to make sure I knew multiple routes to get out of the place I was should I sense danger. An empty road brings anxiety. A packed one does too. Being in an Uber does. Walking on a public road does. Being in my apartment does. So does picking up a delivery from the front of the building.
Can we be safe?
Pumla Dineo Gqola speaks of the Female Fear Factory. It may or may not be familiar, but if you’re someone socialised as a woman, you’ll know this feeling well. The feeling that has you planning every step you take, whether you’re going to work, school, or just running an errand. The feeling that you have to watch how you dress, act, speak in public and private spaces. The feeling in the pit of your stomach if you have to travel at night, get a delivery, or deal with any person who continues to socialise as a cis man. Harassed on the street, always with the threat of violence. Us existing in any space comes with an innate fear.
Fear is both an individual and a socio-political phenomenon. At an individual level, fear can be present as part of a healthy well developing warning system […] When we think about fear, it is important to hold both notions of individual emotional experience and the political ways in which fear has been used in different epochs for control. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
South African women, femmes, and queers know that every step we take outside – steps to do ordinary things: a walk to the shops, a taxi to work, an Uber from a party – all of these acts are a negotiation with violence. This fear, is part of the trauma. To cope with the trauma we carry in our bodies, we develop responses to detect danger – watching the emotional responses of those around us, reading for “friendliness.” We’re constantly on guard.
Day after day. Year after year. Life after life. Generation after generation.
On the additional challenge of this learned defence system, author of The Body Keeps Score, Bessel Van Der Kolk, has said
It disrupts this ability to accurately read others, rendering the trauma survivor either less able to detect danger or more likely to misperceive danger where there is none. It takes tremendous energy to keep functioning while carrying the memory of terror, and the shame of utter weakness and vulnerability.
As Resmaa Menakem has said, trauma is in everything; it infiltrates the air we breathe, the water we drink, the foods we eat. It is in the systems that govern us, the institutions that teach and also traumatise us, and within the social contracts we enter into with each other. Most importantly, we take it with us everywhere we go, in our bodies, exhausting us and eroding our health and happiness. We carry that truth in our bodies. Generations of us have.
So, as I walk around my city, whether an area is considered “safe” or not, I carry the traumas of generations whose responses are embedded in my body. My heart palpitates, it becomes difficult to breathe, my chest tightens – because my body feels as though the trauma is happening in that very moment. I live hyper vigilant. To the point where one is either too on-guard to mindfully enjoy their life, or too numb to absorb new experiences.
For us to begin to heal, we need to acknowledge these truths.
These truths that live in our bodies.
This trauma is what keeps many of us from living the lives we want. Ask any femme or queer person what safety looks like to them and they’ll mostly share examples that are simple tasks – being able to simply live joyful lives, without the constant threat of violence.
Feelings of safety, of comfort and ease, are spatial. When we embody our trauma, it affects the ways we perceive our own safety, affects the ways we interact with the world, and alters the ways we are able to experience and embody anything pleasurable and joyful.
We have to refuse this burdensome responsibility and fight for a safe world for all of us. Walking wounded as many of us are, we are fighters. Patriarchy may terrorise and brutalise us, but we will not give up the fight. As we repeatedly take to the streets, defying the fear in spectacular and seemingly insignificant ways, we defend ourselves and speak in our own name. - Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
Where can we be safe? How do we begin to defend ourselves, not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional, psychological, and spiritual senses?
“Trauma makes weapons out of us all,” adrienne maree brown has said in an interview conducted by Justin Scott Campbell. And her work, Pleasure Activism, offers us multiple methodologies to heal that trauma and ground ourselves in the understanding that healing, justice, and liberation can also be pleasurable experiences. Especially those of us who are the most marginalised, who may have been raised to equate suffering with “The Work.” The Work that so many of us have gone into as activists, community builders and workers, those serving the most marginalised, The Work that we struggle in order to do, burning ourselves out and rarely caring for our minds and bodies. The alternative is becoming more informed about our trauma, able to identify our own needs, and becoming deeply embodied. That embodiment means we are simply more able to experience the world through the senses and sensations in our bodies, acknowledging what they tell us rather than suppressing and ignoring the information it is communicating with us.
Being constantly in conversation with our living body and intentionally practising those conversations connects us to embodiment more deeply; it allows us to make tangible the emotions we feel as we interact with the world, befriend our bodies, and understand all that they try to teach us. When understanding trauma and embodiment paired, we can begin to start the healing and access pleasure more holistically, healthily, and in our daily lives without shame and guilt. We can begin to access pleasure as a tool for individual and social change, tapping into the power of the erotic as Audre Lorde described it. A power that allows us to share the joy we access and experience, expanding our capacity for happiness and understanding that we are deserving of it, even with our trauma.
Tapping into pleasure and embodying the erotic gives us the expansion of being deliberately alive, feeling grounded and stable and understanding our nervous systems. It allows us to understand and shed the generational baggage we’ve been carrying without realising; we can be empowered with the knowledge that even as traumatised as we are, as traumatised as we potentially could be in the future, we are still deserving of pleasurable and joyful lives, that we can share that power with our people. It is the community aspect that is missing from the ways we care for ourselves; self-care cannot exist without community care. We are able to feel a deeper internal trust, safety, and power of ourselves, especially in the face of future traumas that will trigger us, knowing how to soothe and stabilise ourselves. All this understanding leads us to a deep internal power that is resourced to meet any challenges that come your way.
As those living with deep generational traumas, we have come to distrust and perhaps think we are incapable of containing and accessing the power we have. In “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” Lorde teaches us that the erotic offers a source of replenishment, a way to demand better for ourselves and our lives.
For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavours brings us closest to that fullness.
I don’t say any of this lightly – I know that this is easier said than done. I know that many of us are prevented from understanding these truths, from internalising or even healing them. Resistance comes with acts of feeling unsafe, but is not impossible. Resisting power structures that keep the most powerful safe will always endanger those of us shoved to the margins. Acknowledging the traumas you’ve faced is a reclamation of your lived experiences, those that have passed and those that will follow; it is resistance that embodies that knowledge that we are deserving of more than the breadcrumbs these systems have forced us to lap up. It is a resistance that understands that pleasure is complicated by trauma, but it can be accessed in arbitrary and powerful ways. It is a resistance that acknowledges that our trauma is a resource that connects us to each other, and can allow us to keep each other safe. It is a resistance that understands that even with pleasure and joy, this is not a utopia; we will still harm and be harmed, but we will be better equipped for survival and thrive in a community of diverse care and kindness. A resistance that makes way for healing and connecting to our full human selves.
Healing will never be an easy and rosy journey, but it begins with the acknowledgment of the possibility. When oppression makes us believe that pleasure is not something that we all have equal access to, one of the ways that we start doing the work of reclaiming our full selves — our whole liberated, free selves — is by reclaiming our access to pleasure.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha has said in her article in Pleasure Activism (to which she contributed),
I know that for most people, the words “care” and “pleasure” can’t even be in the same sentence. We’re all soaking in ableism’s hatred of bodies that have needs, and we’re given a really shitty choice: either have no needs and get to have autonomy, dignity, and control over your life or admit you need care and lose all of the above.
The power that this has? We understand our traumas, so we understand those of others; we embody the sensations we experience and tend to them rather than distract and avoid. We access pleasure in ways that make us want to share that joy with those in our communities. When we are trauma-informed, we give ourselves more room to experience all this and give ourselves, and others, permission to heal. Imagine, a community in which everyone has access, resources, and time to live pleasurable lives, in whichever way they want and deserve. In which spatial traumas are lessened because the people that occupy them are trauma-aware, are filled with a tender care. Isn’t that healing? Is that not working through generational traumas? Does that not build and sustain healthier futures for us all?
It is time we reconnected with the ancestral knowledge that we deserve to live full lives. We need to get back in touch with our natural right to joy and existing for ourselves. To feel pleasure simply for the sake of it. To not live lives of terror. It sounds radical; it feels radical. In a world where we have been socialised and traumatised to numb, to fear, to feel and remain powerless, to be greedy and live with structural issues that lead to mental illness, what a gift and wonder it is to begin to feel, to be in community with those who feel, to be healthily interdependent in, to love each other boldly. Feeling is radical. Pleasure is radical. Healing is radical.
You have permission to feel pleasure. You have permission to dance, create, make love to yourself and others, celebrate and cultivate joy. You are encouraged to do so. You have permission to heal. Don’t bottle it up inside, don’t try to move through this time alone. You have permission to grieve. And you have permission to live. - adrienne maree brown, “You Have Permission”
Somatic embodiment allows us to explore our trauma, work through it and make meaningful connections to ourselves and the collective. Doing this over time sustains our healing; just like trauma, healing is not a one-time only event. This healing helps move us toward individual and collective liberation.
In “A Queer Politics of Pleasure,” Andy Johnson speaks about the ways in which the queering of pleasure offers us sources of healing, acceptance, release, playfulness, wholeness, defiance, subversion, and freedom. How expansive! When we embody pleasure in ways that are this holistic, this queer, we are able to acknowledge the limitation.
Queering pleasure also asks us the questions that intersect our dreaming with our lived realities.
Who is free or deemed worthy enough to feel pleasure? When is one allowed to feel pleasure or pleased? With whom can one experience pleasure? What kind of pleasure is accessible? What limits one from accessing their full erotic and pleased potential? - Andy Johnson, “A Queer Politics
of Pleasure”
When our trauma-informed pleasure practices are grounded in community care, we begin to answer some of these questions. We begin to understand the liberating potential. As pleasure activists, this is the reality we ground ourselves within. The reality that says, my pleasure may be fractal, but it has the potential to heal not only me and my community, but future bloodlines.
I am a whole system; we are whole systems. We are not just our pains, not just our fears, and not just our thoughts. We are entire systems wired for pleasure, and we can learn how to say yes from the inside out. - Prentis Hemphill, interviewed by Shar Jossell
There’s a world of pleasure that allows us to begin to understand ourselves holistically, in ways that give us room to rebuild the realities that affirm that we are capable and deserving of daily pleasure. BDSM, one of my deepest pleasures, allows me a glimpse into these realities where I can both feel and heal my trauma, as well as feel immeasurable opportunities to say yes from the inside out. While trauma keeps me stuck in a cycle of fight or flight, bondage, kneeling, impact, and breath play encourage me to stay grounded and connected, reconnecting to restoration. Pleasure that is playful allows me to heal, to identify where traumatic energy is stored in my body and focus my energy there. It allows me to express the sensations my body feels through screams of pain and delight, to express my no with no fear and revel in the fuck yes. With a safety plan, aftercare, and a deeper understanding of trauma, kink offers a place of pleasure and healing that is invaluable.
So whether your pleasure looks like cooking a meal at your leisure, engaging in sex, having bed days with your people, participating in disability care collectives, having someone spit in your mouth, going on accessible outings, having cuddle dates, attending an online dance party, spending time in your garden, being choked out in a dungeon,
I hope you take pleasure with you wherever you go. I hope it heals you and your people.
Recognising the power of the erotic within our lives can give us the energy to pursue genuine change within our world. - Audre Lorde, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power”
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.
Case study 1 - Three Boats, a Horse and a Taxi: Pacific Feminists at the AWID Forums
This story is about how an increasingly diverse group of feminists from the Pacific organized through the years to attend the AWID Forums and how that process changed them personally, as organizations, and as a movement through what they learned, discovered and experienced. It illustrates the importance of the Forums as a space through which a region that tends to be marginalized or ignored at the global level can build a strong presence in the feminist movement that is then replicated at other international women’s rights spaces.
Simone posee 20 años de experiencia de trabajo en apoyo a la gestión y la administración en organizaciones sin fines de lucro, en particular, formación médica de posgrado y capacitación en Tecnologías de la Información y las Comunicaciones. Tiene formación en Apoyo a la Gestión y en Estudios Parajudiciales. Reside en Sudáfrica, disfruta de viajar y es aficionada a la Genealogía.
Position
Asistente Ejecutiva
Add to stories
Off
FRMag - Between Two Worlds
Between Two Worlds: The Double Consciousness of Women in The Gambia
by Haddy Jatou Gassama
The Mandinka tribe of The Gambia has a custom of measuring the first wrapa used to carry a newborn baby on its mother's back. (...)
GenderJobs.org:This is a platform with a comprehensive list of job opportunities to work on gender equality and LGBTQI+ rights, curated by gender professionals and intersectional feminists who intimately know the sector and are extremely passionate about supporting other gender professionals and anyone who is aspiring to become one! (source: https://genderjobs.org/about)
Mereani Naisua Senibici, also called ‘Sua’, was a longstanding member of the Fiji Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) movement.
She worked with diverse groups of women in multi-racial, rural and urban settings and was committed to supporting and promoting women’s and young women’s rights.
In the Lautoka YWCA, she worked with women of Indian descent, and was a leading figure in the sports development and participation of women and of trans athletes in Lautoka.
“Sua is greatly loved by Fiji YWCA members for her dedication and long-time support towards all that the organisation endeavoured to do.” - Tupou Vere
Mereani was part of the House of Sarah (HoS), an initiative of the Association of Anglican Women (AAW), launched in 2009 and aimed at raising awareness of the issues around gender-based violence, as well as providing support to women who face violence. She started as a dedicated volunteer and offered support to women throughout the Pacific.
“A people’s person and an all-rounder in women's empowerment and movement work at community level. Rest in Peace, Sua.” - Tupou Vere
40 Years of AWID: The Scrapbook
Gather, Seed, and Disrupt.
In 2022, AWID celebrates 40 years since our founding. We’re using this moment to reflect on our past and learn from the road traveled as we prepare to look forward, and to forge the journey ahead. As we move through cycles of progress and pushback, we know that struggles for women’s rights and gender justice are iterative and non-linear. In collaboration with artist Naadira Patel, we created a scrapbook that highlights a handful of snapshots from AWID’s last four decades of feminist movement support.
We have not done all this on our own. We share this with deep appreciation for the constellation of feminist activists and groups that have made this work possible. In this context of so many converging crises, we embrace the opportunity to celebrate the power and resilience of feminist movements around the world.
The AWID Forum is the world’s largest event that wholeheartedly centers feminist and gender justice movements in all their diversity. It is a transformative space created by and for the movements - where Global South feminists and historically marginalized communities take centerstage, strategize to shift power, and connect with allied movements, funders and policy-makers. And so it is with full and fiery hearts that we share…
The 15th AWID International Forum will take place from December 2-5, 2024 in Bangkok, Thailand!
We hope to gather 2,500 in-person and 3,000 online/hybrid participants. When thousands of feminists come together, we create a sweeping force of solidarity that has the power to change the world! We’re excited, and we know you’re excited too - so stay tuned for more
Khaoula Ksiksi est une fervente défenseuse de la justice, de l’équité et de la libération. Dans son rôle de conseillère en matière de genre, d’égalité, de diversité et d’inclusion (GEDI), elle œuvre à faire de l’inclusion une réalité concrète, pas simplement un concept politique, au sein des programmes humanitaires et des interventions en situation de crise. Elle collabore avec diverses équipes pour combattre l’oppression structurelle en déployant des approches audacieuses et transformatrices qui s’appuient sur les expériences vécues.
Son activisme a débuté au cœur du mouvement antiraciste tunisien. Au sein de l’organisation Mnemty, elle a contribué à l’adoption de la première législation anti-discrimination du pays, obligeant la société tunisienne à reconnaître l’existence de l’injustice raciale. Par la suite, elle a co-fondé le collectif Voix des Femmes Tunisiennes Noires, une initiative visant à valoriser le leadership des femmes noires, à développer des réseaux de solidarité et à revendiquer une visibilité dans une société qui tend à les réduire au silence.
Khaoula est également l’une des fondatrices de Falgatna, un mouvement queer-féministe radical qui œuvre pour la défense des droits OSIGEGCS, tout en apportant son soutien aux communautés LGBTQI+ par des actions directes, des stratégies de cyberrésistance et un plaidoyer centré sur les survivant·es.
Auparavant, elle a dirigé des projets régionaux féministes et de justice climatique à la Fondation Rosa Luxemburg en Afrique du Nord et de l’Ouest.
Son travail est guidé par une conviction profonde : personne n’est libre tant que nous ne le sommes pas toustes. Son activisme est à la fois un combat et une lettre d’amour à son peuple, à ses communautés et au monde que nous méritons.
Add to stories
Off
Film club - swana
Ya puedes mirar el programa «Feminist Embodiments of Hope and Power» [«Corporizaciones feministas de esperanza y poder»] del Club de Cine Feminista de AWID, una serie de películas sobre realidades feministas de la región del Sudoeste Asiático y África del Norte, curada por Esra Ozban.
