L´AWID est une organisation féministe mondiale qui consacre ses efforts à la justice de genre, au développement durable et aux droits humains des femmes
Les défenseuses des droits humains s’auto-identifient comme des femmes ou des personnes lesbiennes, bisexuelles, transgenres, queer, intersexes (LBT*QI) ou autres qui défendent les droits. Elles sont exposées à des risques et à des menaces de nature genrée à cause du travail qu’elles accomplissent en faveur des droits humains et/ou en conséquence directe de leur identité de genre ou de leur orientation sexuelle.
Les défenseuses des droits humains subissent une violence et une discrimination systématique du fait de leur identité, mais aussi à cause de la lutte indéfectible qu’elles mènent en faveur des droits, de l’égalité et de la justice.
Le programme Défenseuses des droits humains collabore avec des partenaires internationaux et régionaux ainsi qu’avec les membres de l’AWID pour éveiller les consciences à propos de ces risques et menaces, pour plaider en faveur de mesures féministes et holistiques de protection et de sécurité et enfin pour promouvoir activement une culture du souci de soi et du bien-être collectif au sein de nos mouvements.
Les risques et menaces qui planent sur les défenseuses
Les défenseuses des droits humains sont exposées aux mêmes types de risques que toutes les autres personnes qui défendent les droits humains, les communautés et l’environnement. Mais elles se heurtent également à des violences fondées sur le genre et à des risques spécifiques de nature genrée parce qu’elles remettent en cause les normes de genre en vigueur au sein de leur culture et de leur société.
En défendant les droits, les défenseuses des droits humains sont exposées aux risques suivants :
les agressions physiques et la mort
les tentatives d’intimidation et le harcèlement, y compris dans les espaces en ligne
le harcèlement judiciaire et la criminalisation
l’épuisement
Une approche holistique et collaborative de la sécurité
Nous travaillons en collaboration avec des réseaux internationaux et régionaux ainsi qu’avec nos membres pour :
éveiller les consciences à propos des violations des droits humains et abus dont sont victimes les défenseuses des droits humains ainsi que de la violence systémique et de la discrimination qu’elles subissent ;
renforcer les mécanismes de protection et faire en sorte que des réactions plus efficaces et plus rapides s’organisent quand des défenseuses sont en danger.
Nous travaillons à la promotion d’une approche holistique de la protection des défenseuses, qui suppose notamment :
de mettre l’accent sur l’importance du souci de soi et du bien-être collectif, et de reconnaître le fait que ces notions peuvent revêtir une signification différente dans chaque culture ;
de documenter les violations dont sont victimes les défenseuses des droits humains dans une perspective féministe intersectionnelle ;
de promouvoir la reconnaissance et la célébration du travail et de la résilience des défenseuses des droits humains dans la société ; et
de construire des espaces civiques propices au démantèlement des inégalités structurelles, sans restrictions ni obstacles.
Nos actions
Nous souhaitons contribuer à l’avènement d’un monde plus sûr pour les défenseuses des droits humains, leurs familles et leurs communautés. Nous pensons que le fait que les défenseuses œuvrent en faveur des droits et de la justice ne devrait pas leur faire courir de risques ; leur action devrait être appréciée et célébrée.
Promouvoir la collaboration et la coordination entre organisations de défense des droits humains et des droits des femmes au niveau international, et ce dans le but de d’apporter des réponses plus efficaces dans le domaine de la sureté et du bien-être des défenseuses des droits humains ;
Soutenir les réseaux régionaux de défenseur-es et les organisations, parmi lesquels l’Initiative mésoaméricaine des défenseuses des droits humains et la Coalition des défenseuses des droits humains du Moyen-Orient et d’Afrique du Nord, dans leur travail de promotion et de renforcement de l’action collective en faveur de la protection des défenseuses – en mettant en avant l’importance de la création de réseaux de solidarité et de protection, de la promotion du souci de soi ainsi que du plaidoyer et de la mobilisation en faveur de la sécurité des défenseuses ;
Faire en sorte que les défenseur-e-s des droits humains et les risques qui les menacent soient plus visibles et mieux reconnus, en rassemblant des informations sur les agressions dont elles sont victimes et en produisant et diffusant des documents sur leurs luttes, leurs stratégies et les difficultés qu’elles rencontrent ;
Organiser des réponses urgentes fondées sur la solidarité internationale dès que des défenseuses des droits humains sont en danger, par le biais de nos réseaux internationaux et régionaux mais aussi grâce à nos membres.
"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.
When you do a search for “Female Genital Mutilation” or “FGM” online, an image of four line-drawings of the female anatomy pop up next to its Wikipedia entry. It illustrates four types of violence. The first being a partial cut to the clitoris. The second, a more invasive cut with the entire clitoris removed. The third is progressively worse with the removal of the clitoris, labia majora and minora. And the fourth box illustrates a series of hash marks to symbolize stitches over the vaginal opening to allow only for urination and menstruation.
As a survivor of FGM, most questions about my story fixate on the physical. The first question I usually get asked is what type of FGM I underwent. When I told a journalist once that I went through Type 1, she said “oh, that’s not so bad. It’s not like type three which is far worse.” She was technically right. I had the least invasive form. And for many years, I gaslighted myself into feeling a sense of relief that I was one of the lucky ones. I comforted myself noting that I could have been less fortunate with all of my genitalia gouged out, not just the clitoral tip. Or worse I could have been one of the ones who didn’t survive at all. Like Nada Hassan Abdel-Maqsoud, a twelve year old, who bled to death on a doctor’s operating table earlier this year in Upper Egypt. Nada is a reminder to me that for every data point -- 200 million women and girls who live with the consequences of FGM globally -- there is a story. Nada will never be able to tell hers.
As much as I find the label “survivor” suffocating at times -- I also realize there is privilege embedded in the word. By surviving, you are alive. You have the ability to tell your story, process the trauma, activate others in your community and gain insights and a new language and lens to see yourself through.
The act of storytelling can be cathartic and liberating, but it can also shatter the storyteller in the process.
Without integrating the psychosocial support of trained clinicians into storytelling and healing retreats, well-intentioned interventions can result in more trauma. This is all the more important as FGM survivors navigate the double pandemic of their own PTSD from childhood trauma, and the indefinite COVID-19 global shutdown.
In many anti-FGM advocacy spaces, I have seen this insatiable hunger to unearth stories -- whatever the cost to the storyteller. The stories help activate funding and serve as a data point
for measuring impact.
Survivor stories then become commodities fueling a storytelling industrial complex. Storytellers, if not provided proper mental health support in the process, can become collateral damage.
My motivation in writing this piece is to flip the script on how we view FGM survivors, prioritizing the storyteller over the story itself.
FGM survivors are more than the four boxes describing how the pieces of our anatomy were cut, pricked, carved, or gouged out. In this essay, I’ll break down the anatomy of an FGM survivor’s story into four parts: stories that break, stories that remake, stories that heal, and stories that reveal.
Type 1: Stories that break
I was sitting in the heart of Appalachia with a group of FGM survivors, meeting many for the first time. As they shared their traumas, I realized we all belonged in some way or another to the same unenviable club. A white Christian survivor from Kentucky - who I don’t think I would have ever met if we didn’t have FGM survivorship connecting us - told the contours of her story.
There were so many parallels. We were both cut at seven. She was bribed with cake after her cut. I was bribed with a jumbo-sized Toblerone chocolate bar when mine was over. Absorbing her trauma overwhelmed me. And I imagine when I shared my story, others in the circle may also have been silently unraveling. We didn’t have a clinician or mental health professional in a facilitation role and that absence was felt. The first night, I was sharing a room with six other survivors and tried hard to keep the sounds of my own tears muffled. By the last day, I reached breaking point. Before leaving for the airport, my stomach contracted and I convulsively vomited. I felt like I was purging not only my pain, but the pain of the others I’d absorbed that week. We all dutifully produced our stories into 90 second social media friendly soundbites with narration and photos. But at what cost?
Type 2: Stories that remake
On February 6, 2016, the Guardian published my story as a survivor. The second it was released, I was remade. My identity transformed from nondescript, relatively invisible mid-level Foreign Service Officer to FGM survivor under a public microscope. That same day, then-U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power tweeted my story with the introduction: “I was seven years old” before linking to the article. The tweet symbolized a moment for me where my personal and professional worlds collided. Since then, they have been forever intertwined.
Even though I spent ten years of my career as a diplomat focused on other issues -- I lived in Cairo during the early days of the Arab Spring in 2011 and served in Baghdad and Erbil when the Syrian revolution turned from an uprising to civil war -- all of those past experiences that began to make mefeel erased. When I spoke on panels, my identity would be reduced to “survivor.” Like other survivors, I have worked hard to rewrite the script on how others see me.
I reinsert pieces of my other identities when speaking to underscore to the broader public that while yes, I am a survivor of childhood trauma and while my FGM story may have remade a part of my identity, it doesn’t define me.
Type 3: Stories that heal
With the guidance of a mental health expert, I have spent the last few months doing a deep dive into my FGM survivor story. I have told and retold my story over dozens of times in public venues. My goal is to break the culture of silence and inspire action. At this point, the telling of my story has almost become mechanized, as though I am reciting a verse from the Quran I memorized as a kid. I would always start with: “I was sitting an anthropology class when a fellow student described her research project on Female Genital Mutilation. And that’s when I had the memory jolt. A memory I had suppressed since childhood came flooding to the foreground.” I go into the details of what happened in granular detail -- the color of the floor, the feelings of confusion and betrayal in the hazy aftermath. And then I go on to talk about the afternoon I confronted my mother about the summer she and my father shipped my brother and off to India to stay with my aunt. The summer it happened. I later found out my aunt cut me without my parents’ consent. In my years of telling and retelling this story, I would have moments I felt nothing, moments I would break down, and moments of relief. It was a mixed bag, often contradictory emotions happening all at once.
When I began to take apart the story, I discovered the core moment where I felt most gutted. It wasn’t the cut itself. It was the aftermath. I remember sitting in a corner alone, feeling confused and ashamed. When I looked at my aunt on the other side of the room, she was whispering to my cousin and they both pointed and laughed at me. Unearthing the moment of shame - the laughter - has haunted me since childhood. The piece that was carved out of me is called “haram ki boti” which translates into sinful flesh. Over time, the physical scar healed. But for many FGM survivors, the psychological wounds remain
Type 4: Stories that reveal
Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical from the Foreign Service. I was burning out on both ends -- I had just completed a really tough assignment in Pakistan and was also doing anti-FGM
advocacy in my personal capacity. When I came home, an acquaintance from graduate school approached me to capture my story on film. As part of the process, she would send a camera
crew to shadow me. Sometimes while giving speeches, other times filming mundane interactions with friends and family. On a visit to my home in Texas, I’ll never forget the moment where my mom told me her story of survival. As part of the film, we went on a roadtrip to Austin to visit the university where I first had the memory jolt. My mom is patiently waiting for the cameraman to set up his tripod. My father is standing next to her.
In the end, we eventually had the conversation I never had the courage to have with either of my parents face to face. Looking them both in the eye, retelling my story with a camera as witness, we discussed how FGM ripped our family apart (specifically my dad’s relationship with his sister). For the first time, I heard my mom talking about her own experience and the feeling of betrayal when she discovered my aunt cut me without her consent. When I later told her that FGM was actually indigenous to the U.S. and Europe and that it was a cure for hysteria (prescribed by doctors) up until the 19th century, my mother exclaimed “that’s crazy to me, this was a cure for hysteria. I’m going to educate other doctors to speak out.” And in that moment, my mother, a survivor who had never shared her story before, became an activist.
My story, intertwined with her story, revealed a tightly woven fabric of resistance. With our voices, we were able to break the cycle of intergenerational structural violence. We were able to rewrite the stories of future generations of girls in our own family and hopefully one day, the world.
This is a woman breaking free from her mundane reality, devoid of color. She dreams in a colorful, "nonsensical" way that people in her life would not understand. She could be considered insane, yet her dreams are more vivid and imaginative than actual life. This is frequently how schizophrenia occurs to me, more engaging and exciting than real life.
When walking in the heart of the Raval district of Barcelona, you might come across Metzineres, a feminist cooperative by and for womxn2 who use drugs surviving multiple situations of vulnerability.
Imagine a place free of stigma, where womxn can be safe. A safe place that provides shelter, support and accompaniment for womxn whose rights are systematically violated by the war on drugs and those who experience violence, discrimination and repression as a result.
Right outside the entrance, passers by and visitors are greeted with a massive chalkboard that outlines tips, tricks, wishes and drawings by drug users. There is also a calendar that boasts a range of activities self-organized by the Metzineres community. Whether it’s hairdressing and cosmetics workshops, radio shows, theater, communal meals offered to the community, or self-defense classes - there is always something going on.
The cooperative provides safe consumption sites as well as utilities that cover people’s basic needs. There are beds, storage spaces, showers, toilets, washing machines and a small outdoor terrace where people can chill or have a goat gardening.
Metzineres operates within a harm reduction framework, which attempts to reduce the negative consequences of using drugs. But harm reduction is so much more than a set of practices: it is a politics anchored in social justice, dignity and rights for people who use drugs.
2 Womxn is a term used by the collective to describe cis and trans women as well as non-binary people
Isabel est une féministe du Royaume-Uni avec plus d'une décennie d'expérience de réponses féministes aux fascismes, aux fondamentalismes et aux tendances antidroits. À l'AWID, son travail se concentre sur le renforcement des connaissances. Elle a notamment dirigé la production de la série Droits en danger en collaboration avec l'Observatoire sur l'universalité des droits (OUR). Elle est titulaire d’un master en études sur le genre de l’École d’études orientales et africaines (SOAS) et a précédemment travaillé avec Women Living Under Muslim Laws (WLUML). Elle est passionnée par le travail intermouvements, la construction de connaissances centrées sur les mouvements et l’utilisation de l’expression créative pour perturber les systèmes d’oppression. En dehors du travail, Isabel est active dans divers espaces de justice liée au handicap, aux soins collectifs, à l’apprentissage et au plaidoyer.
Position
Responsable de l’initiative de Promotion des Droits Universels et de la Justice
« 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.
Principles of Engagement
Welcome to Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!
Principles of Engagement
AWID is committed to creating an online space that invites and challenges us all to operate from a place of courage, curiosity, generosity and shared responsibility.
We invite you to co-create spaces with us that are free of harassment and violence, where everyone is respected in their gender identity and expression, race, ability, class, religion, language, ethnicity, age, occupation, type of education, sexuality, body size, and physical appearance. Spaces where we recognize inequalities in our world and strive to transform them in our own interactions with each other.
We want to create a space where ...
we can all be present
This means that we are able to listen, understand and relate to each other. To feel close, in spite of it all being virtual. For this, we will make interpretation available and open channels (like chat and other tools) for you to react and share. To hear each other better, we invite you to wear headphones during the conversation. If it is possible for you , we suggest that you close your email and any other likely source of distraction while you are in the conversation.
all forms of knowledge are valued
Let us celebrate the multiple ways in which knowledge shows up in our lives. We invite you to approach the conversation with curiosity and openness to learn from others, allowing ourselves to unlearn and relearn through the exchange, as a way to start collectively building knowledge.
all of us feel welcome
We are committed to holistically approaching accessibility by being mindful of different physical, language, mental and safety needs. We want a space that is welcoming of folks from various backgrounds, beliefs, abilities and experiences. We will be proactive but we also ask that you communicate your needs with us, and we will do our best within our capacity to address these needs.
all of us feel safe and respected:
We all commit individually and collectively to respect each other’s privacy and to seek people’s consent before sharing any images or content generated during the conversation that involves them.
Creating a safer, respectful and enjoyable environment for the conversations, is everybody's responsibility.
Reporting
If you notice that someone is behaving in a discriminatory or offensive manner, please contact the reference person who will be indicated at the beginning of the session.
Any participants that express oppressive language or images, will be removed from the call and will not be readmitted. We will not engage with them in any way.
Snippet FEA Care as the foundation (ES)
El cuidado como base de las economías
La pandemia de COVID-19 puso de relieve la crisis mundial de los cuidados y demostró los fracasos del modelo económico dominante que está destruyendo servicios públicos esenciales, infraestructuras sociales y sistemas de atención en todo el mundo.
Cozinha Ocupação 9 Julho, Asociación de Mujeres Afrodescendientes del Norte del Cauca (ASOM) y Metzineres son solo algunos ejemplos de economías de cuidado que centran las necesidades de las personas marginalizadas y la Naturaleza, así como el trabajo de cuidados, el trabajo reproductivo, invisibilizado y no remunerado necesario para garantizar la sostenibilidad de nuestras vidas, nuestras sociedades y nuestros ecosistemas.
Notre présence collective perturbe les mécanismes d’exclusion des institutions dans ces espaces tout en soutenant les mouvements qui s’organisent autour d’alternatives féministes aux systèmes d’oppression.
Participez aux conversations du 10 au 21 mars 2025 pour, collectivement, faire de la CSW69 un espace de résistance et de solidarité.
Margo Okazawa-Rey is an activist-educator and transnational feminist working on issues of militarism for nearly 30 years. She is a founder member of the International Women’s Network against Militarism and Women for Genuine Security, the US group of the Network. She has long-standing activist commitments with Du Re Bang/My Sisters Place in South Korea and Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling in Palestine. She also serves on the International Board of PeaceWomen Across the Globe in Bern, Switzerland and is President of the Board of Directors of Association for Women’s Rights in Development (AWID). Her foundational activist/life principle is that love is a radical act. She is also known as DJ MOR Love and Joy.
Hevrin Khalaf was a prominent Syrian Kurdish political leader in the autonomous region of Rojava where Kurdish women are risking their lives to resist the Turkish offensive and build a feminist system.
She was Secretary-General of the Future Syria Party (FSP), a group that aimed to build bridges, reconcile different ethnic groups and work towards a “democratic, pluralistic, and decentralized Syria.”
Hevrin was a symbol of this reconciliation effort. She also worked to promote equality between women and men and was a representative for visiting journalists, aid workers, and diplomats.
Hevrin was also a civil engineer from Derik, and was one of the founders of the Foundation for Science and Free Thought in 2012.
On 12 October 2019 she was tortured and murdered by the Turkish-backed militia, Ahrar al-Sharqiya during a military operation against Syrian Democratic Forces in Rojava.
“The killing of Khalaf is a turning point in Syria’s modern history. It once again demonstrated the old Kurdish proverb “no friends but the mountains.” I will always be a friend of Khalaf and her vision of a better world.” - Ahed Al Hendi
Upasana Agarwal
“Forgotten Song” [«Canción Olvidada»]“Ode to the Moon” [Oda a la Luna»]“Vapour and Fire” [«Vapor y Fuego»]
Sobre Upasana Agarwal
Upasana es unx ilustradorx y artista no binarie de Calcuta, India. Su obra explora narrativas identitarias y personales, que empean restos o evidencias visuales de los contextos con los que trabaja. Le atraen especialmente los diseños en patrones que, para ellx, comunican verdades complejas sobre el pasado, el presente y el futuro. Cuando Upasana no está ilustrando, organiza y dirige un centro de arte comunitario queer y trans de la ciudad.
Explore 150+ regularly updated funding opportunities in this searchable database, created in response to cuts in development aid. Filter by issue, region, funder type, and eligibility.
Claudia es Maestra en Igualdad y Equidad para el Desarrollo, psicóloga feminista, activista por la defensa de los derechos humanos desde hace 30 años y por los derechos de las mujeres desde hace 24 años.
Trabajando en El Salvador, Claudia está cofundadora y directora Ejecutiva de la Asociación Mujeres Transformando, desde hace 16 años es defensora de derechos laborales de las trabajadoras del sector maquila textil y confecciones. Ha colaborado en la formulación de iniciativas de Ley, propuestas de políticas públicas e investigaciones tendientes a mejorar la calidad del empleo para las trabajadoras de este sector, además de trabajar incansablemente en el fortalecimiento organizativo y empoderamiento de las obreras de la maquila textil y bordadoras a domicilio.
Participa activamente en acciones de incidencia a nivel nacional, regional e internacional por la defensa y reivindicación de los derechos laborales de la clase trabajadora del Sur Global desde una perspectiva, feminista, anticapitalista, antipatriarcal y desde la toma de conciencia de clase y de género. Es parte del Consejo Directivo de la Iniciativa Spootlithg y del Grupo Nacional de Referencia de la minsma. Tambien es parte del Grupo Asesor de la Sociedad Civil de ONUMujeres.
Diana Isabel Hernández Juárez fue una maestra guatemalteca, defensora de los derechos humanos y activista comunitaria y del medioambiente. Fue la coordinadora del programa ambiental de la parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, en la costa sur del país.
Diana dedicó su vida a co-crear conciencia ambiental, y trabajó de modo particularmente estrecho con comunidades locales para abordar problemas ambientales y proteger los recursos naturales. Inició proyectos tales como viveros forestales, granjas municipales, huertas familiares y campañas de limpieza. Participó activamente en programas de reforestación, tratando de recuperar especies nativas y paliar la falta de agua, en más de 32 comunidades rurales.
El 7 de septiembre de 2019, Diana recibió disparos y fue asesinada por dos hombres armados desconocidos mientras se encontraba participando de una procesión en su comunidad. Diana tenía solamente 35 años en el momento de su muerte.
Comprendre le contexte des menaces antidroits
Chapitre 2
Bien plus de la moitié de la population mondiale est aujourd’hui dirigée par l’extrême droite. C’est sur cette toile de fond que défenseur·e·s des droits humains et féministes luttent pour « tenir bon », protéger le multilatéralisme et le système international des droits humains, alors que leurs engagements les exposent à de violentes répressions. Ces institutions sont cependant de plus en plus soumises aux intérêts du secteur privé. Les grandes entreprises, surtout les sociétés transnationales, siègent à la table des négociations et occupent des fonctions de leadership dans plusieurs institutions multilatérales, l’ONU notamment. Le lien entre ultranationalisme, restriction de l’espace civique et emprise des entreprises a un impact considérable sur la réalisation ou non des droits humains pour tout le monde.
Emprise des entreprises : le pouvoir débridé des entreprises met nos droits en danger
Répression et restriction des espaces civiques pour les activistes féministes et les défenseur·e·s des droits humains des femmes et des personnes LGBTIQ+
Histoire du mouvement de la résistance. L’Article 16 de la CEDAW : vers une réforme des codes de la famille discriminatoires dans les contextes musulmans
