Mass demonstration in Madrid on International Women's Day
Multitudinaria manifestación en Madrid en el día internacional de la mujer
Priority Areas
Supporting feminist, women’s rights and gender justice movements to thrive, to be a driving force in challenging systems of oppression, and to co-create feminist realities.
Across the globe, feminist, women’s rights and gender justice defenders are challenging the agendas of fascist and fundamentalist actors. These oppressive forces target women, persons who are non-conforming in their gender identity, expression and/or sexual orientation, and other oppressed communities.
Discriminatory ideologies are undermining and co-opting our human rights systems and standards, with the aim of making rights the preserve of only certain groups. In the face of this, the Advancing Universal Rights and Justice (AURJ) initiative promotes the universality of rights - the foundational principle that human rights belong to everyone, no matter who they are, without exception.
We create space for feminist, women’s rights and gender justice movements and allies to recognize, strategize and take collective action to counter the influence and impact of anti-rights actors. We also seek to advance women’s rights and feminist frameworks, norms and proposals, and to protect and promote the universality of rights.
Our actions
Through this initiative, we:
Build knowledge: We support feminist, women’s rights and gender justice movements by disseminating and popularizing knowledge and key messages about anti-rights actors, their strategies, and impact in the international human rights systems through AWID’s leadership role in the collaborative platform, the Observatory on the Universality of Rights (OURs)*.
Advance feminist agendas: We ally ourselves with partners in international human rights spaces including, the Human Rights Council, the Commission on Population and Development, the Commission on the Status of Women and the UN General Assembly.
Create and amplify alternatives: We engage with our members to ensure that international commitments, resolutions and norms reflect and are fed back into organizing in other spaces locally, nationally and regionally.
Mobilize solidarity action: We take action alongside women human rights defenders (WHRDs) including trans and intersex defenders and young feminists, working to challenge fundamentalisms and fascisms and call attention to situations of risk.
Related Content
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Yo, Imposible / Being Impossible Watch Party Participation Guide
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Anti-Rights Actors
Chapter 4
A complex and evolving network of anti-rights actors is exerting increasing influence in international spaces as well as domestic politics. Often backed by obscure funding, these actors build tactic alliances across issues, regions, and faiths to increase their impact.
We are witnessing fascist and fundamentalist actors that, while nationalist in their discourse, are completely transnational in their ideological underpinnings, political alliances, and networks of financing. In some cases these groups are backed by obscure funding flows, linked with big business, or far-right political parties. However, they also create strategic alliances, including, in some cases, with segments of the feminist and women’s rights movements, and distance themselves from more outwardly extreme elements to appear more legitimate. Anti-rights actors are also spreading and replicating their brand of anti-rights organizing - be that campaigning and lobbying or strategic litigation - across the globe.
Table of Contents
CitizenGo
Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF)
Funding of Anti-rights Actors
The Links Between Anti-trans Feminists and Christian Fundamentalists
Exercise: Let’s Map the Landscape
Movement Resistance Story: Catolicadas, a Powerful Communication Tool to Promote Gender Equality and Sexual and Reproductive Rights
يركّز استطلاع "أين المال" على وقائع التمويل للتنظيمات النسوية، تسأل أغلبية الأسئلة عن تمويل مجموعتكم/ن بين الأعوام 2021-2023. سوف تحتاجون أن تكون لديكم/ن معلومات معيّنة عند تعبئة الاستطلاع مثل ميزانيتكم/ن السنوية ومصادر التمويل الأساسية.
Moving Conversation
Thank you, Ángela and Pilar.
Yannia Sofía Garzón Valencia I am a Black woman and a community weaver. I live in Santander de Quilichao in Cauca, Colombia. I am interested in the creative processes that organize sustainable collective life. I like exchanging thoughts and cooking, investigating and analyzing, planting seeds and learning from plants, reading and playing. I am currently coordinating the observatory of gender-based violence against afro-descendant communities in Colombia (@VigiaAfro).
The three of us were “sharing” the afternoon in a neighborhood south of Bogota.
There was an unusually large green playing area and we sat on little wooden stools under an elderberry tree. We were finally experiencing that other form of love – that pleasure of being together and listening to each other. For me, these kinds of chats are among the expressions of love that life had only recently allowed me to enjoy. I had not known this other form of love – the kinds found outside workshops, activist spaces, classrooms, or workplaces – to be possible. Yet we three friends spent the afternoon amongst ourselves and we did not pretend to be blind to the color of our respective skins. Rather, it was a lived factor that allowed us to intimately discuss the similarities and differences in our childhood and youthful experiences.
Those chats were unrelated to any upcoming activities of the Black movement in Colombia, but they still nourish me and acquire new meanings. Our closeness was woven through coming together, recognizing each other, and identifying the uniqueness of our liberations. And by realizing there is not just one but many paths to liberation – those paths we inhabited every time we said “no” and rebelled. Far from feeling discomfort, we met in an authenticity made of weakness and strength, one which brought us closer instead of separating us.
Our purpose on that beautiful afternoon was to just be – to have an awareness of simply being amongst ourselves. We walked through our pasts so that the memories that stayed with us were those we decided to keep as ours, and not those that fear let through and found a place for. We remembered exact fragments of TV shows, and sang songs written by artists who had taught us about loving well, hating well, cursing like the worst villain, and suffering like the best leading lady.
We told each other about our school pranks, and what remained in our subconscious after being exposed to the many ways the media repeats the same thing – after the teachers and nuns at school overexposed us to stories so that we would identify with and appropriate Cinderella’s aspirations for our own lives. This would set the tone for the rest of our story: the drama of the impoverished and diminished girl who is yet to achieve her full value through an act that redeems her condition. And that act can only be brought about by the gaze of a male who, at the very least, is white, hence deserving of what is between our thighs – his “main aspiration” – and the “perfect realization of our dreams,” which we are told should then be our main aspiration.
There were three of us there that afternoon. Each had been brought up in a different part of the country, but it was fascinating that we could all still quote fragments and situations from songs and soap operas that often – as we realized by getting to know each other – shared codes or symbols that were replicated, with a few variations, in our homes, in our first relationships, and in our neighborhoods and schools. Brought up by “dramas” (is that what that very successful genre is called?) where the more you suffer, the more you deserve, the issue of “how and in which situations it is acceptable and legitimate to suffer” becomes an important mandate on how the person who suffers should be seen, what they should do, and whom they should be. Some of us managed to liberate ourselves and “learn” a definition of love that could only be learnt in adulthood, shattering illusions, and accepting natural sin. And becoming aware of the industrial production of a virgin, which we may refuse to look like as she has no place in our understanding, and the disappointment this alienation brings.
After singing, we reviewed our early sexual explorations. I never thought that most people experienced them before the age of nine and that even in adulthood, those experiences, those memories, remain a heavy burden. Even today, in thousands of places, millions of girls and boys see their innocence curtailed by lack of trust and the ignorance we present them with when they try to explore their bodies. Blaming curiosity is a most efficient control mechanism. We went back to the brief conversations we had when we changed the history of our lives from cursed Black beings to a perspective that rebirthed us. We remembered how many of our aunts and female cousins left their homes, their core, their roots, to seek a future outside, elsewhere.
The future comes with a price: it demands that those relationships that marked our childhood are reshaped and confined to oblivion. They are our foundations, but they are not relevant if we want to move ahead. For us, advancing was to learn by heart what we do to ourselves with the opportunities we find elsewhere. That it is elsewhere, and not within us, that opportunities lie, that we are available, that we need to be outside. However, for many of our aunts and female cousins, the few opportunities to enroll and stay in an evening class or take a sabbatical from domestic work were paid for by becoming the first sexual experience of relatives living in the future. A future for which others before them had also paid for, and whose price they had already forgotten. The demand for this payment arrived with the same inevitability as a public utility service bill. We will not take up that legacy.
In Colombia and Latin America, there was an etiquette manual called La urbanidad de Carreño (Carreño’s Etiquette Manual). It was mandatory reading until the 90s in both public and private schools. The manual conditioned how bodies were perceived and my mother, taken in and brought up by Carmelite nuns, knew it by heart. The first time I read it I had to stop more than once to rub my stomach, which hurt from laughing so much. It has ridiculous instructions such as: take a shower with your eyes closed and turn off the lights to wear your nightclothes. Different chapters address how one is to behave at home, in the street, and during a dinner or lunch party – in short, the norms of good taste and etiquette. The ethical core of good citizens was the urbanity that allowed one to distance oneself from rural life. The same manual indicated that shouting a greeting to an acquaintance on the other side of the street was indecorous; good manners dictate that you must cross the street. By the same token, men must remove their coats and place them over puddles of water if accompanying a woman whose shoes should not get wet. I thought about greeting someone across a river, and how it is so hot where we live that we don’t require coats.
"She learned that to care for her belly, she needed to keep her tissues warm, to avoid the cold that comes through the soft spot on the top of the head, through the feet, the ears, so it would not hurt particularly at moontime. For that, you need to be careful about what you eat and what you don’t eat, how you dress and how you walk, as all that has to do with girls’ health. The woman elder says that, from her devoted grandfather, she learnt that cramps became more common when houses no longer had floors made of mud and/or wood. When concrete and tiles came, when the material making up the house allowed the cold to come in through the feet, tension also grew in the belly tissue."
The manual’s author, Mr. Carreño is the opposite of the grandfather of a woman elder born in Turbo. She told me once that her grandfather was a wise man, that he told her about birthing and how to take care of her body. She learned that to care for her belly, she needed to keep her tissues warm, to avoid the cold that comes through the soft spot on the top of the head, through the feet, the ears, so it would not hurt, particularly at moontime. For that, you need to be careful about what you eat, how you dress, and how you walk, as all that has to do with a girl’s health. The woman elder said that, from her devoted grandfather, she learnt that cramps became more common when houses no longer had floors made of mud and/or wood. When concrete and tiles came, when the material making up the house allowed the cold to come in through the feet, tensions in the belly tissue also grew.
Surprised again. Such a distance between Don Carreño and the wise grandfather in terms of being aware of life – as distant as the mandates of proper behavior that stifle your impulses and senses, even the most common sense that values health. At that moment, I was able to understand one of the many ways that concrete obstructs the earth’s breathing, and our own as part of her. I had not realized there was, and still is, the architecture and materials for taking care of our bodies. In Colombia, as well as in other countries, the materials used to make houses are taken as indicators of multidimensional poverty. A house built with concrete moves the home away from being considered poor. This is just one disappointing example of how progress pushes us to abandon the relationship between our environment and our body. Good taste and urbanity pushes us outside: to move forward, they lie, you have to go out there.
It bothered us to realize that neither our mothers nor fathers had spoken to us about menstruation, except when the brown stain had already smeared our knickers. They failed to preserve us from the shame that was supposed to be a natural feeling once menstruation had come. Along with menstruation came the belly cramps often endured in silence, because there was work to be done; some cramps were due to cysts, hematomas, or fibroids that killed the grandmothers who had discovered and forgotten the healing treatments, and then were forgotten themselves. That our mothers and fathers’ breaths turned colder and colder, but the Outside froze familiarity and, instead of warming our bellies, passed judgment with advice similar to warnings of the only thing men care about. This was applied to all men – legitimizing the plundering role of the phallus, as if its only option was to take what we have between our legs. The multiple versions of that truth were replaced by an unmovable and deeply-set naturalization: telling all women that we must preserve ourselves for one of them, for the one that will first introduce his penis inside us, for the one that will give us something in exchange, and that we are women only because we aspire to and let him put it inside us. As a girl I explored little penises and clitorises and, in between games among girls, the question was whispered: whose turn is it to play man and whose turn is it to play woman? And the answer: the beginnings of little orgasms, regardless of with whom. I guess the same must happen among male bodies.
The experiences and explorations of our aunts, female cousins, and acquaintances focused on the body and its nudity as taboo. They avoided expressing and naming it, to the point of covering it up, assigning new names to its excreting, expelling, procreating, and, just for us women, its receiving functions. Once I heard a woman elder in a workshop say that when she was living with her grandmother, her memory was of this old woman sleeping with one eye open, the other closed, and a rifle by the mattress. The softest night sound was enough for her to grab the rifle and aim. This is a common situation in the Colombian Pacific, where some harmful behaviors are normalized. Married and single men who like a young woman would enter her room at night – we call it gateada. It was a risk: if those with authority in the home realized what was happening, abuse or not, the man could be hurt or even killed.
This practice of taking the law into one’s own hands has failed to put an end to gateadas, even today. In that same workshop – as I kept telling my sisters – other participants said that neither they nor their mothers would leave their daughters alone with their fathers at bath time, unless the girls were wearing underwear. I remembered then my father’s voice saying, when I was seven, your mother never let me bathe you. After sharing this, another woman responded that, in contrast, her father would give her a bath naked in the courtyard of her childhood home until she turned seven, and then her eldest brother did it until she turned nine. She never felt anything strange in the way they looked at her; for them, it was just another task in caring for the most spoiled child in the home. She remembered being seen for what she was: a daughter child, a sister child, who did not like the water.
Once again childhoods, yesterday and today. We were surprised by that story, and it comforted us. Even I had seen things being different elsewhere; my daughter’s father bathed her in the tub until she was almost two. Even before turning two, he would give her a few soft slaps upwards on her bum, to make it bigger, as he said. Here, we could also speak of other dimensions of how we construct our bodies, but that is a different story. For me, it was one care task, among many, that we agreed to divide between ourselves before the baby was born. And the decision to not see every man as a lurking rapist does not mean they are not rapists, but instead that they can stop being so. There are also men and male bodies that have been brought up to never be rapists.
This is still happening. It happened to a friend of ours and to my own daughter. I thought: how can it be that some women are coupled with men they cannot trust to care for their daughters? I am sure that my mum loved my dad. And even though we seldom speak about the woman she was before becoming my mum, I know her experiences of abuse cannot be compared to the brutality and over-tolerance of those of today. But that is still a decision many women in many places make, and that leads to other questions. How often, how repeated were cases of abuse in our extended families to make women openly, or in indiscernible ways, forbid their partners from bathing their daughters? Is it related to the media overexposure we are subject to almost from birth? What makes family ties blur and turn into just bodily-satisfaction exchanges? Is it the proximity to urban values that cares so much about the right shapes of female bodies as objects of desire, and pushes male bodies to behave like owners and conquerors, fulfilling the mandate to mimic media representations so they feel safe in their identity? Is it concrete and other codes, like the Carreño etiquette, that sustain it? Is it encouraged by the need to forget certain relationships as the price of progress, that insistence on “doing for the outside?” What happens to what we learned in our times, those of us who, in secret or not, undertook sexual explorations as children? Were they erased by guilt? Were they the seeds of mistrust and shame in nudity? Were they the seeds of mistrust and shame of being inside oneself? Indeed, aren’t these learnings possibilities to trust in, understand the nudity of bodies as part of respecting oneself and others? These questions emerge in trusted spaces, where the fear to say what one thinks and feels is driven away by the intention of accompaniment. I imagine how many of us there are in all corners of this planet and I am certain these are not new questions, that messages in them are repeated, and that we find ourselves living the answers.
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.
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Love letter to Feminist Movements #1
Dear gorgeous beings,
I know you are so close. You can feel it can't you? How things need to shift and you need to centre yourself.
This is a letter to tell you to do it. Choose your healing. Choose to be OK. Better than OK. Choose to be whole, to be happy. To cry tears for yourself and no one else. Choose to shut out the world and tell them that 'you will be back in 5 mins'. Or five days. Or five years.
Or never.
Choose to not take it all on. Choose to take none of it on. Because none of it is yours. It was never yours. They told you since you were born that it was yours. Your family's problems. Your lovers' problems. Your neighbours' problems. The globe's problems. The constant whisper that these problems belong to you. They are yours. Yours to hold, yours to shoulder. Yours to fix.
That was a lie.
A bamboozle
A long con.
A scam.
The problems of the universe are not yours.
The only problems that are yours are your own. Everyone else can take a hike.
Allow yourself to drop everything and sprint off into the jungle. Befriend a daisy clad nymph, start a small library in the roots of a tree. Dance naked and howl at the moonlight. Converse with Oshun at the river bed.
Or simply drink a cup of tea when you need to take a moment to breathe.
Give yourself permission to disappear into the mist and reappear three countries over as a mysterious chocolatier with a sketchy past and penchant for dramatic cloaks and cigars.
Or stop answering work calls on weekends.
Let yourself swim to deserted island with a lover and dress only in the coconut shells from coconut rum that you make and sip at sunset.
Or say no when you don't have the capacity to create space for someone.
The options for holding yourself are endless.
Whatever you do, know the world will always keep spinning. That's the beauty and the pain of it. No matter who or what you choose over yourself and your soul the world will always keep spinning.
Therefore, choose you.
In the morning when that first light hits, choose you. When it’s lunchtime and it’s time to cry on company time, choose you. In the evening, when you are warming up leftovers because you didn’t have time to cook again, choose you. When anxiety wakes you up and existence is silent at 3:45 am.
Choose you.
Because the world will always keep twirling on a tilt and you deserve to have someone always trying to make it right side up for you.
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O questionário está disponível até o final de julho de 2024. Queira preencher o mesmo dentro deste prazo para garantir que as suas respostas são incluídas na análise.
AWID at CSW67: a Portal to Feminist Power
Imagine opening a door which takes you into a conversation with feminist activists in other continents. This portal will transcend the barriers of UN CSW by pushing beyond language barriers, unaffordable travel, unequal protection from COVID19, and racist visa regimes.
This week, we’re putting a virtual spin on CSW by connecting and amplifying feminist activists' voices, to challenge the discriminatory barriers that limit participation and influence. By setting up connecting “portals” in New York City, Nairobi & Bangalore, we'll host a physical-virtual hybrid space for feminists to connect their struggles and build collective power.
"This community is a place for connections, to understand our individual fights as part of global struggles, and sometimes even dance! There aren’t places like this online where you can meet real grassroots activists from all over the world and build solidarity and sisterhood."
- Paz Romero, Argentina
The 2026 AWID Feminist Calendar
Consider this calendar a gift, one that goes out to you and 9,500 members of our global feminist community. A gift of hope, renewed connection, action and community in a time of immense injustice and violence.
Let its stories remind you that across borders and struggles, we are many, we are powerful, and together we are building the worlds we deserve.
📅 Wednesday, March 12, 2025
🕒 5.00-7.00pm EST
🏢 Chef's Kitchen Loft with Terrace, 216 East 45th St 13th Floor New York
Organizers: Women Enabled International and AWID
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If the positions advertised have closed, or just don’t match your area of interest and expertise, we suggest the following resources for your job search.
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"Where is the money for feminist organizing?"
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Sign up to be an AWID member to connect with 9,600+ global feminist movements and co-create a range of platforms and spaces designed especially for activists and organizations from teach-ins to solidarity spaces and member mixers.
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Women human rights defenders (WHRDs) worldwide defend their lands, livelihoods and communities from extractive industries and corporate power. They stand against powerful economic and political interests driving land theft, displacement of communities, loss of livelihoods, and environmental degradation.
Why resist extractive industries?
Extractivism is an economic and political model of development that commodifies nature and prioritizes profit over human rights and the environment. Rooted in colonial history, it reinforces social and economic inequalities locally and globally. Often, Black, rural and Indigenous women are the most affected by extractivism, and are largely excluded from decision-making. Defying these patriarchal and neo-colonial forces, women rise in defense of rights, lands, people and nature.
Critical risks and gender-specific violence
WHRDs confronting extractive industries experience a range of risks, threats and violations, including criminalization, stigmatization, violence and intimidation. Their stories reveal a strong aspect of gendered and sexualized violence. Perpetrators include state and local authorities, corporations, police, military, paramilitary and private security forces, and at times their own communities.
Acting together
AWID and the Women Human Rights Defenders International Coalition (WHRD-IC) are pleased to announce “Women Human Rights Defenders Confronting Extractivism and Corporate Power”; a cross-regional research project documenting the lived experiences of WHRDs from Asia, Africa and Latin America.
We encourage activists, members of social movements, organized civil society, donors and policy makers to read and use these products for advocacy, education and inspiration.
AWID acknowledges with gratitude the invaluable input of every Woman Human Rights Defender who participated in this project. This project was made possible thanks to your willingness to generously and openly share your experiences and learnings. Your courage, creativity and resilience is an inspiration for us all. Thank you!
« Notre voix » pour améliorer le bien-être social, culturel et économique des femmes et des filles
Créée en 2008, La Floraison se donne pour mission de mobiliser, consolider et appuyer les énergies de jeunes femmes activistes des droits humains dans le territoire de Fizi[1], zone rurale de la province du Sud-Kivu en République démocratique du Congo, afin d’améliorer leur bien-être social, culturel et économique. Sa mission s’inscrit dans le cadre d’une vision plus globale de l’éclosion d’une nouvelle catégorie de jeunes femmes soucieuses de leur développement et résolument engagées à être des actrices de progrès socioculturel et économique dans leur environnement. C’est ainsi qu’est né le slogan « Jeunes femmes au service de la communauté », porté par l’association depuis sa création
« Je me suis sacrifiée à passer tout mon temps au service des vulnérables et surtout des femmes victimes de violences sexuelles», Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, assistante psychosociale dans le cadre d’un des projets de La Floraison.
L’organisation utilise une approche qu’elle intitule « Notre voix », qui va de la sensibilisation et l’information via une troupe théâtrale, un journal écrit et des radios communautaires, au plaidoyer et à la mobilisation des ressources de groupements féminins. « « Notre voix » est la preuve de notre souci et de notre engagement vers un monde sans violence », dit Loy Honore, Fondatrice de La Floraison.
Une maison d’écoute pour les survivantes de violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre
Depuis trois ans, La Floraison appuie la prise en charge psychosociale et la réinsertion socioéconomiques des femmes et des filles qui ont survécu aux violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, dans les aires de santé de Nemba, Katenga et Rubana, en territoire de Fizi. Dans le cadre d’une maison d’écoute, ce projet cherche à informer les communautés sur les violences sexuelles faites aux femmes et aux filles, les services disponibles, les droits des femmes et leur cadre légal d’exécution, ainsi qu’à fournir aux victimes un accompagnement, une orientation vers des services de soutien médical et juridique et assurer leur réinsertion économique à travers des Associations Villageoises d’Epargne et de Crédit (AVEC), tout en renforçant l’activisme communautaire contre les violences basées sur le genre.
En plus des activités d’identification, d’écoute, de soutien et d’orientation des survivantes de violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, La Floraison assure une médiation entre les survivantes qui ont été rejetées et leurs familles. De façon complémentaire, le projet comprend des activités de sensibilisation communautaire sur les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre, la création et le renforcement de Comités d’Alerte et de Surveillance, la résolution de conflits sociaux et communautaires et la consolidation d’un plaidoyer en faveur des droits des femmes.
« Au sein du groupe, j’ai trouvé quelque chose qui dépasse même l’argent : la solidarité ! »
Une survivante burundaise de la violence, âgée de 17 ans et bénéficiaire de l’assistance proposée par La Floraison, raconte son histoire :
« A 15 ans, j’ai mis au monde mon premier enfant avec un vieux et fidèle client qui a proposé une vache à ma mère. Le comportement brutal de ce vieux soulard – coups, menaces de mort – n’a pas permis une entente dans le foyer. Je suis rentrée à la maison mais ma mère n’a pas été satisfaite de ma réaction. En octobre 2013, un vieil homme congolais âgé de plus de 49 ans a voulu m’amener avec lui en RDC, ma mère a donné son accord pour me marier sans me demander mon avis et le prétendant lui a remis 3 chèvres et deux paires de pagnes[2] pour ma dot.
Quand nous sommes arrivés en RDC, j’ai trouvé qu’il avait 3 femmes et que j’étais devenue la quatrième ; il avait des enfants plus âgés que moi. Après un mois, les trois premières femmes n’ont pas accepté que je reste dans la parcelle agricole. Le mari m’a abandonnée sans aucun soutien. Je suis allée voir le chef de village mais la communication a posé problème en raison de la différence de langue. Sans ration ni moyen de survie, j’ai commencé à cultiver pour les gens pour que je puisse manger. Quand mon mari apprenait que je travaillais pour quelqu’un, il venait le menacer en disant que j’étais son épouse et que personne ne pouvait m’utiliser sans son consentement. Je ne comprenais rien car tout se passait dans une langue que je ne comprends pas. Plusieurs personnes avaient peur de me faire travailler. Un jour, trois hommes se sont introduits dans ma maison non protégée vers minuit. Ils m’ont violée à tour de rôle. L’un d’eux a entendu mes cris en Kirundi – il était aussi burundais – et a demandé à ses amis de me laisser en vie. Il m’a conseillée de partir car mon mari avait l’intention de me tuer. Le matin, les voisins sont venus à mon secours.
Je n’ai dit à personne ce qui m’est arrivée cette nuit – le viol – car selon nos coutumes, si l’entourage apprend que vous avez subi le viol, personne ne peut plus se marier avec vous. Au vu de ces menaces, le chef de village m’a installée chez lui et la police est venue faire des investigations. Ça n’a pas été facile de m’assister car j’étais installée illégalement en RDC, mais ils ont commencé à chercher mon mari. Ma vie était devenue très difficile car j’avais déjà vendu tous les biens que j’avais pour ma survie et celle de mon enfant. J’ai demandé au chef de village de me faire partir au Burundi, il fallait plus de 30$, ce n’était pas facile.
Un jour, une femme travaillant au centre de santé est venue me chercher et m’a demandé de venir au centre de santé pour un entretien en privé. J’avais peur, mais lorsque je suis arrivée sur le lieu, elle m’a très bien accueillie, elle m’a rassurée, mais l’émotion était si grande que les pleurs n’ont pas permis un entretien libre. Elle m’a donnée un nouveau rendez-vous et cette fois-là, je lui ai révélé tout ce qui m’est arrivée à partir du Burundi. L’infirmier m’a aussi reçu et je suis allée à Sebele[3] pour les soins. Elle m’a beaucoup aidée par des conseils et des visites, même si je ne parle pas convenablement le Swahili. Je passais la voir au centre de santé et un jour elle m’a accompagnée au poste de la police pour suivre le déroulement de mon dossier et a demandé à la police de faciliter mon rapatriement vers le Burundi.
Elle m’a aussi conseillée de rejoindre un groupe d’épargne et crédit créé dans le village pour que je puisse bénéficier du crédit pour me permettre de mener des petites activités commerciales. Au sein du groupe, j’ai trouvé quelque chose qui dépasse même l’argent : la solidarité ! Je ne savais pas que je pouvais trouver des personnes généreuses à mes côtés surtout pendant ces moments de dures épreuves. J’ai eu un petit crédit de 16000FC qui me permet de commercialiser les fretins (12000FC) et la farine de maïs (4000FC). Je ne peux plus mourir de faim.
Mentalement je me sens bien, mais j’ai encore besoin de regagner mon pays pour vivre avec ma mère. »
[1] Le territoire de Fizi comprend quatre collectivités rurales, 27 groupements, 142 localités et 1.634 villages. Ses structures de base sont en mauvais état, notamment pour l’éducation, la santé, l’emploi, les transports et les loisirs. La région n’est pas électrifiée et peu de ménages disposent d’un accès à l’eau potable et aux infrastructures hygiéniques appropriées.
“Our voice” to advance the social, cultural and economic well-being of women and girls
Founded in 2008, La Floraison’s mission is to mobilize, convene and support young women human rights activists in Fizi territory[1], a rural area in the South Kivu province of the Democratic Republic of Congo, to advance their social, cultural and economic wellbeing. Its mission is part of a broader vision for the emergence of a new group of young women concerned about their development and resolutely committed to becoming agents of sociocultural and economic progress within their environment. This brought about the slogan “Young women serving the community” which has been part of the association since its launch.
“I sacrificed all of my time to serve the most vulnerable, especially women victims of sexual violence,” Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, psychosocial assistant of one of the Floraison projects.
The organization uses an approach they call ‘Our Voice’ which ranges from awareness-building and information-sharing via a theatrical troupe, a newspaper and community radio, to advocacy, and mobilizing resources for women’s groups. ‘Our Voice’ is proof of our support and engagement toward a world without violence,” says Loy Honore, founder of La Floraison.
A counseling center for survivors of sexual and gender-based violence
For three years, La Floraison has supported the psychosocial care and socioeconomic reintegration of women and girls who are survivors of sexual and gender-based violence within the Nemba, Katenga and Rubana health centers in Fizi territory. Through the counselling center the project seeks to inform communities about sexual violence against women and girls, available services, and women’s rights and their legal implementation, as well as provide victims with counseling, referral to medical and legal support services and ensure their economic reintegration through Village Saving and Lending Associations (VSLA), while strengthening community activism against gender-based violence.
In addition to documenting, counselling, supporting, and providing referrals to survivors of sexual and gender-based violence, La Floraison mediates between survivors who have been shunned and their families. To compliment, the project includes community outreach on sexual and gender-based violence, creating and strengthening Committees for Surveillance and Alert, social and community conflict resolution, and women’s rights advocacy.
“Through the group, I found something worth more than money: solidarity!”
A 17 year old Burundian survivor of violence, and beneficiary of La Floraison support, tells her story:
“At 15, I gave birth to my first child with an old loyal client who offered a cow to my mother. The brutality of that old drunkard – beatings, death threats – wouldn’t allow for a moment’s peace at home. I came home but my mother wasn’t pleased with my behaviour. In October 2013, an old Congolese man, older than 49, presented the need to bring me to the DRC with him, my mother gave him her permission for marriage without asking me and the suiter gave 3 goats and 2 pairs of loincloths[2] as my dowry.
When we arrived in the DRC, I found out that he had 3 wives and that I had become the fourth; he had children older than me. After a month, the three first wives didn’t want me on the plot of land. The husband abandoned me without any support. I went to see the village chief but there was a language barrier. Without any ration or means of survival, I started to cultivate for people so that I could eat. When my husband learned that I was working for someone, he would come and threaten them by saying that I was his wife and that no one could use me without his consent. I did not understand anything because everything was happening in a language I don’t understand. Many people were scared to give me work. One day, three men came to my unprotected home around midnight. They raped me one by one. One of them heard my screams in Kirundi – who was also Burundian – and asked his friends to let me live. He advised me to leave because my husband was planning to kill me. In the morning, the neighbours came to my rescue.
I didn’t tell anyone what happened to me that night – the rape – because according to our customs, if others find out that you have been raped, no one can marry you any longer. In light of these threats, the village chief brought me to his home and the police came to investigate. It was not easy to help me because I was in the DRC illegally, but they began to look for my husband. My life became very difficult because I had already sold all of the goods I had for survival, and those of my child. I asked the village chief to send me to Burundi. That cost more than $30, it was not easy.
One day, a women working at the health centre came to look for me and asked me to come to the health centre for a private meeting. I was scared, but when I arrived at the location, she welcomed me very kindly, she reassured me, but I was so emotional and the meeting couldn’t take place because of all my crying. She gave me a new meeting, and this time, I told her everything that happened beginning from Burundi. The nurse also saw me and I went to Sebele[3] for care. She helped me a lot, with counselling and visits, even though I don’t speak fluent Swahili. I would go and see her at the health center and one day she came with me to the police station to follow-up on the progress of my case and asked the police officer to facilitate my repatriation to Burundi.
She also recommended that I join a savings and credit group founded in the village so that I could receive a loan to conduct small business transactions. Through the group, I found something worth more than money: solidarity! I didn’t know that I could find such generous people by my side, especially during such hardship. I received a small loan of 16,000FC, which allows me to sell fry (12,000FC) and corn flour (4,000FC). I can’t starve to death anymore.
Mentally, I feel good, but I still need to return to my country to live with my mother.”
[1] Fizi territory includes four rural communities, 27 groups, 142 towns and 1,634 villages. The infrastructure is in poor condition, particularly for education, health, employment, transportation and recreation. The area lacks electricity and few households have access to potable water and proper sanitation.
"Nuestra voz” para promover el bienestar social, cultural y económico de las mujeres y las niñas
La Floraison fue fundada en 2008 y su misión es movilizar, reunir y brindar apoyo a mujeres jóvenes activistas por los derechos humanos en el territorio de Fizi[1] –un área rural de la provincia de Kivu del Sur en la República Democrática del Congo– con el propósito de fomentar el bienestar social, cultural y económico de estas jóvenes. Su misión forma parte una visión más amplia para el surgimiento de un nuevo grupo de jóvenes preocupadas por su desarrollo y firmemente decididas a convertirse en agentes de progreso sociocultural y económico en su entorno. Así surgió el eslogan “Mujeres jóvenes al servicio de la comunidad”, que ha sido parte de la asociación desde su lanzamiento.
“Sacrifiqué todo mi tiempo para servir a las personas más vulnerables, en especial a las mujeres víctimas de violencia sexual”, Magdeleine Rusia Abwe, asistente psicosocial de uno de los proyectos de La Floraison.
La organización trabaja desde un enfoque al que denomina “Nuestra voz” y que incluye la concienciación y la información a través de una radio, un grupo de teatro y un periódico comunitarios, así como la incidencia y la movilización de recursos para los grupos de mujeres. ‘Nuestra voz’ es prueba de nuestro apoyo y compromiso con la construcción de un mundo sin violencia”, afirma Loy Honore, fundadora de La Floraison.
Un centro de atención para sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género
Desde hace tres años, La Floraison apoya la atención psicosocial y la reintegración socioeconómica de las mujeres y las niñas sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género en centros de salud de Nemba, Katenga y Rubana, en el territorio de Fizi. A través de los centros de atención, el proyecto busca informar a las comunidades sobre la violencia sexual contra las mujeres y las niñas, los servicios disponibles y los derechos de las mujeres y su implementación legal. La iniciativa se propone también asesorar a las víctimas, derivarlas a servicios médicos y de apoyo legal y asegurar su reintegración económica a través de las Asociaciones Aldeanas de Ahorro y Préstamo, a la vez que fortalece el activismo comunitario contra la violencia de género.
Además de documentar, asesorar, apoyar y derivar a las sobrevivientes de violencia sexual y de género, La Floraison media entre las sobrevivientes que han sido rechazadas y sus familias. Como complemento, el proyecto incluye la divulgación entre la comunidad sobre la violencia sexual y de género a través de la creación de comités de vigilancia y alerta, la resolución de conflictos sociales y comunitarios y la promoción y defensa de los derechos de las mujeres.
“A través del grupo encontré algo más valioso que el dinero: ¡la solidaridad!”
Una joven burundiana de 17 años sobreviviente de violencias y beneficiaria del apoyo de La Floraison, cuenta su historia:
“A los 15 años di a luz a mi primer hijo con un viejo buen cliente que le ofreció una vaca a mi madre. La brutalidad de ese viejo borracho –me propinaba golpizas y amenazas de muerte– no daban un momento de paz en el hogar. Volví a la casa de mi madre, pero ella no aprobó mi comportamiento. En octubre de 2013, un congoleño mucho mayor que yo, de más de 49 años, planteó la necesidad de llevarme con él a la República Democrática del Congo. Mi madre dio su permiso para el matrimonio sin consultarme y el pretendiente entregó 3 cabras y 2 pares de taparrabos[2] como dote.
Cuando llegamos a la RDC, descubrí que él tenía tres esposas y que yo me había converitdo en la cuarta; él tenía hijos mayores que yo. Al cabo de un mes las tres primeras esposas no me querían en la parcela de tierra. El esposo me abandonó sin ningún apoyo. Fui a ver al jefe de la aldea pero estaba la barrera del idioma. Sin comida ni medios de superviviencia, empecé a cultivar para otras personas para poder comer. Cuando mi esposo se enteraba de que yo estaba trabajando para alguien, venía y los amenazaba diciendo que yo era su esposa y que nadie podía usarme sin su consentimiento. Yo no entendía nada porque todo sucedía en un idioma que no comprendo. Muchas personas tenían miedo de darme trabajo. Un día, tres hombres llegaron a mi hogar desprotegido alrededor de la medianoche. Me violaron uno a uno. Uno de ellos oyó mis gritos en kirundi –él también era de Burundi– y le pidió a sus amigos que me dejaran vivir. Me aconsejó que huyera porque mi esposo planeaba matarme. Por la mañana, los vecinos vinieron a rescatarme.
No Ie dije a nadie lo que me había sucedido esa noche –la violación– porque de acuerdo con nuestras costumbres, si los demás saben que has sido violada, ya nadie querrá casarse contigo. A la luz de estas amenazas, el jefe de la aldea me llevó a su casa y la policía empezó a investigar. No era fácil ayudarme porque estaba en la RDC ilegalmente, pero empezaron a buscar a mi esposo. Mi vida se volvió muy difícil porque para sobrevivir había vendido todo lo que tenía, y también las cosas de mi hijo. Le pedí al jefe de la aldea que me enviara a Burundi. Eso costaba más de $30, y no era fácil.
Un día, una mujer que trabajaba en el centro de salud vino a verme y me dijo que fuera al centro de salud para una cita privada. Yo tenía miedo, pero cuando llegué al lugar, ella me recibió con mucha amabilidad, me reconfortó, pero yo estaba muy conmovida y la reunión no pudo tener lugar a causa de mi llanto. Me dio una nueva cita, y esa vez le conté todo lo sucedido desde el principio en Burundi. También me vio la enfermera y fui a Sebele[3] para que me atendieran. Ella me ayudó mucho, con asesoramiento y visitas, aunque yo no hablaba swahili fluidamente. Yo iba a verla al centro de salud y un día fue conmigo a la estación de policía para ver cómo iba mi caso y le pidió al funcionario policial que facilitara mi repatriación a Burundi.
Ella también me recomendó que me uniera a un grupo de ahorro y crédito fundado en la aldea ya que así podría recibir un préstamo y hacer pequeñas transacciones comerciales. A través del grupo encontré algo más valioso que el dinero: ¡la solidaridad! No sabía que podría encontrar personas tan generosas a mi lado, en especial durante momentos tan duros. Recibí un pequeño préstamo de 16.000FC, que me permite vender pescado (12.000FC) y harina de maíz (4.000FC). Ya no moriré de hambre.
Mentalmente me siento bien, pero todavía necesito regresar a mi país a vivir con mi madre”.
[1] El territorio de Fizi incluye cuatro comunidades rurales, 27 grupos, 142 pueblos y 1634 aldeas. La infraestructura es insuficiente, en especial para la educación, la salud, el empleo, el transporte y la recreación. El área carece de electricidad y pocos hogares tienen acceso a agua potable y a saneamiento adecuado.
« Surmonter l'adversité et guérir de la douleur » - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong, membre de l’AWID depuis janvier 2015, est citoyenne irlandaise et d’origine nigérienne. En 2001, elle est arrivée en Irlande après avoir été forcée de quitter le Nigéria suite à des violences domestiques, sexuelles et reproductives.
« Je pense que personne ne mérite d’être l’esclave de quelqu’un. Cela ne devrait arriver à personne. » dit-elle.
Au début, son arrivée en Irlande, comme demandeuse d’asile et fille mère, a été très difficile : « les gens vous jugent sans vraiment connaître votre situation », commente-t-elle. A force de détermination, Iniobong a achevé ses études secondaires et a occupé de nombreux postes rémunérés et bénévoles.
Pendant des années, Iniobong a gardé toute cette histoire d’abus et de départ forcé pour elle. Par crainte des réactions de sa famille et aussi parce qu’elle ne voulait pas qu’on la juge, qu’on la plaigne ou lui mette une étiquette. En 2014, Iniobong a choisi de rompre la loi du silence, pour elle, et aussi « pour toutes celles et ceux qui endurent ce qu’elle a vécu, pour les survivant-e-s, pour les personnes qui n’ont plus d’espoir et celles qui veulent prendre un nouveau départ.»
« Je suis reconnaissante d’avoir une voix et de pouvoir m’exprimer librement. »
Iniobong fait aussi entendre sa voix pour militer pour les droits des femmes et des enfants qui subissent eux-mêmes différentes formes de violence. Avec l’aide de quelques ami-e-s, elle a fondé “Amour et attention aux gens du monde entier” (Love and Care for People Worldwide), une organisation non-gouvernementale qui aide les femmes, les enfants et les jeunes ayant subi des abus, et souffrant de pauvreté et d’autres formes d’exclusion sociale. “Je voulais apporter de l’espoir aux gens et leur faire savoir que nous soutiendrons leur détermination.” L’organisation propose différentes activités qui permettent de renforcer la confiance en soi des enfants et des femmes, de les éduquer et de développer leurs compétences professionnelles.
« Je ne pourrais jamais brader mon bonheur. C’est mon bonheur. Je continuerai de vivre pour moi-même et non pour satisfaire les autres. »
Ecoutez Iniobong raconter son histoire avec ses propres mots (en anglais)
"Overcoming adversity and healing the pain" - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong, an AWID member since January 2015, is an Irish citizen with Nigerian roots. In 2001, she migrated to Ireland because she was forced to leave Nigeria after experiencing domestic, sexual and reproductive abuse.
“I don’t think anyone should be put in that situation where they are a slave to someone…. It shouldn’t happen to anyone”, she says.
Her arrival to Ireland as an asylum seeker and a single mother was extremely difficult at the beginning.
“People judge you even without knowing your situation”, she says. But due to her determination, Iniobong completed post-secondary education and has since worked in different paid and voluntary positions.
For years Iniobong kept her experience of abuse and forced migration to herself. She feared her family’s reactions and did not want to be judged, pitied or labelled.
In 2014, Iniobong chose to break her silence.
She spoke out for herself but also “for people who are currently experiencing what I had gone through, for survivors, for those who have given up hope and those who want to make a fresh start.”
“I am grateful because I have a voice and I can use it freely.”
Iniobong also uses her voice to advocate for the rights of women and children who are facing different kinds of violence.
With the help of some friends, she founded Love and Care for People Worldwide, a non-governmental organisation that supports women, children and youth affected by abuse, poverty and other forms of social exclusion. “I wanted to offer people hope and make them know their determination combined with some support.” The organisation offers diverse activities to help strengthen children’s and women’s self-confidence, learning and vocational skills.
“I would not sell my happiness for anyone. I have to be happy for me. And not continue living my life to please every other person but me.”
"Superando la adversidad y sanando el dolor" - Iniobong Usanga
Iniobong es una ciudadana irlandesa con raíces nigerianas, que forma parte de AWID desde enero de 2015. Llegó a Irlanda en 2001 tras ser obligada a abandonar Nigeria por sufrir violencia doméstica, sexual y reproductiva.
“Nada justifica que una persona sea puesta en la situación de ser esclava de otra. Es algo que no debería sucederle a nadie, declara.
Su llegada a Irlanda como solicitante de asilo y madre soltera fue muy difícil al principio. Las personas te juzgan incluso sin conocer tu situación, afirma. Con determinación, Iniobong completó sus estudios superiores y ha realizado numerosos trabajos, tanto remunerados como voluntarios.
Durante varios años, guardó silencio sobre sus experiencias de abuso y migración forzada. Sentía temor de la reacción de su familia y no quería ser juzgada, etiquetada o que sintieran lástima por ella. En 2014, Iniobong decidió romper el silencio, lo hizo por ella misma, pero también por aquellas personas que ahora están sufriendo lo que yo sufrí, por las supervivientes, por quienes han perdido la esperanza y por quienes desean comenzar de nuevo.
“Agradezco tener voz y poder usarla con libertad."
Iniobong también usa su voz para defender los derechos de aquellas mujeres, niñas y niños que están viviendo algún tipo de violencia. Con la ayuda de algunas amistades, fundó Love and Care for People Worldwide (Amor y protección para las personas de todo el mundo), una organización no gubernamental que apoya a las mujeres, niñas y niños afectados por el abuso, la pobreza y otras formas de exclusión social. Quería dar esperanzas a la gente, que conocieran su valor y que tuvieran cierto apoyo. La organización ofrece distintas actividades para ayudar a fortalecer la confianza de las mujeres, las niñas y niños, sus habilidades para aprender y sus destrezas vocacionales.
“No vendería mi felicidad por nadie. Es por mí que debo ser feliz y no dejar de vivir mi vida por complacer a nadie que no sea yo.”
Escuche la historia de Iniobong con sus propias palabras. (en inglés)
