A big THANK YOU for being part of the 2016 AWID Forum!

Thank you to all of you who have joined us, physically or virtually, for the past four days of learning, celebrating, envisioning, dreaming and building our Feminist Futures together at the 2016 AWID Forum!

We are incredibly inspired, amazed, and re-energized by all the collective work we have done together in creating our diverse futures.

For images, blogs and resources:

Visit the 2016 AWID Forum website

Get social with the #AWIDForum

• Facebook
• Twitter
• LinkedIn
• Instagram

Ultra conservative actors have developed a number of discourses at the international human rights level that call on arguments manipulating religion, culture, tradition, and national sovereignty in order to undermine rights related to gender and sexuality.

Anti-rights actors have increasingly moved away from explicitly religious language. Increasingly, we see regressive actors - who may previously have derided human rights concepts - instead manipulating and co-opting these very concepts to further their objectives.

Protection of the family

This emerging and successful discourse appears innocuous, but it functions as a useful umbrella theme to house multiple patriarchal and anti-rights positions. The ‘protection of the family’ theme is thus a key example of regressive actors’ move towards holistic and integrated advocacy.

The language of ‘protection of the family’ works to shift the subject of human rights from the individual and onto already powerful institutions.

It also affirms a unitary, hierarchical, and patriarchal conception of the family that discriminates against family forms outside of these rigid boundaries. It also attempts to change the focus from recognition and protection of the rights of vulnerable family members to non-discrimination, autonomy, and freedom from violence in the context of family relations.

The Right to Life

The Holy See and a number of Christian Right groups seek to appropriate the right to life in service of an anti-abortion mission.  Infusing human rights language with conservative religious doctrine, they argue that the right to life, as set out in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, applies at the moment of conception.

The discourse has no support in any universal human rights instrument. Yet this is an appealing tactic for anti-rights actors, because the right to life cannot be violated under any circumstances and is a binding legal standard.

Sexual rights

Anti-rights actors use a number of rhetorical devices in their campaign to undermine sexual rights: they argue that sexual rights do not exist or are ‘new rights,’ that they cause harm to children and society, and/or that these rights stand in opposition to culture, tradition or national laws.

Conservative actors engaged in advocacy at the UN attack the right to comprehensive sexuality education from several directions. They claim that CSE violates ‘parental rights’, harms children, and that it is not education but ideological indoctrination. They also claim that comprehensive sexuality education is pushed on children, parents, and the United Nations by powerful lobbyists seeking to profit from services they provide to children and youth.

Attempts to invalidate rights related to sexual orientation and gender identity have proliferated. Ultra conservative actors argue that application of long-standing human rights principles and law on this issue constitutes the creation of ‘new rights’; and that the meaning of rights should vary radically because they should be interpreted through the lens of ‘culture’ or ‘national particularities.’

Reproductive Rights

Christian Right organizations have been mobilizing against reproductive rights alongside the Holy See and other anti-rights allies for several years. They often argue that reproductive rights are at heart a form of Western-imposed population control over countries in the global South. Ironically, this claim often originates from U.S. and Western Europe-affiliated actors, many of whom actively work to export their fundamentalist discourses and policies.

Regressive actors also cite to ‘scientific’ arguments from ultra-conservative think tanks, and from sources that rely on unsound research methodologies, to suggest that abortion causes an array of psychological, sexual, physical, and relational side effects.

Protection of children and parental rights

Just as anti-rights actors aim to construct a new category of ‘protection of the family,’ they are attempting to construct a new category of ‘parental rights,’ which has no support in existing human rights standards.

This discourse paradoxically endeavours to use the rights protections with which children are endowed, as articulated in the Convention on the Rights of the Child, to support the rights of parents to control their children and limit their rights.

Violence against women

Increasingly, anti-rights actors are attempting to infiltrate and subvert standards and discourses developed by women human rights defenders, such as violence against women (VAW).

At the Commission on the Status of Women and other spaces, one rhetorical move is to treat VAW as a concept in which to embed anti-reproductive rights and patriarchal arguments. Ultra conservative actors, for example, have argued that non-heteronormative or traditional intimate partner relationships are a risk factor for violence, and emphasize that fathers are necessary to protect families from violence.

Gender and ‘gender ideology’

The Holy See has set off a sustained critique of gender, ‘gender ideology’, ‘gender radicals,’ and gender theory, and anti-rights actors often read the term as code for LGBTQ rights. Gender is used by the religious right as a cross-cutting concept that links together many of their discourses. Increasingly, the hysteria on this subject fixates on gender identity and trans rights.

Complementarity and human dignity

Complementarity of the sexes is a discourse employed by a number of ultra-conservative actors today. Its rhetoric is structured around an assumption of difference: men and women are meant to have differing but complementary roles in marriage and family life, and with respect to their engagement in the community and political and economic life.

Reference to ‘natural’ roles is meant to fundamentally reject universal human rights to equality and non-discrimination.

It is also used to justify State and non-State violations of these rights, and non-compliance with respect to State obligations to eliminate prejudices and practices based on stereotyped roles for men or women.

National sovereignty and anti-imperialism

This discourse suggests that national governments are being unjustly targeted by UN bodies, or by other States acting through the UN. This is an attempt to shift the subject of human rights from the individual or marginalized community suffering a rights violation to a powerful and/or regressive institution - i.e. the state, in order to justify national exceptions from universal rights or to support state impunity. 

Religious freedom

Anti-rights actors have taken up the discourse of freedom of religion in order to justify violations of human rights. Yet, ultra-conservative actors refer to religious freedom in a way that directly contradicts the purpose of this human right and fundamentally conflicts with the principle of the universality of rights. The inference is that religious liberty is threatened and undermined by the protection of human rights, particularly those related to gender and sexuality.

The central move is to suggest that the right to freedom of religion is intended to protect a religion rather than those who are free to hold or not hold different religious beliefs.

Yet under international human rights law, the right protects believers rather than beliefs, and the right to freedom of religion, thought and conscience includes the right not to profess any religion or belief or to change one’s religion or belief.

Cultural rights and traditional values

The deployment of references to culture and tradition to undermine human rights, including the right to equality, is a common tactic amongst anti-rights actors. Culture is presented as monolithic, static, and immutable, and it is is often presented in opposition to ‘Western norms.’

Allusions to culture by anti-rights actors in international policy debates aim to undermine the universality of rights, arguing for cultural relativism that trumps or limits rights claims. Regressive actors’ use of cultural rights is founded on a purposeful misrepresentation of the human right. States must ensure that traditional or cultural attitudes are not used to justify violations of equality, and human rights law calls for equal access, participation and contribution in all aspects of cultural life for all, including women, religious, and racial minorities, and those with non-conforming genders and sexualities.

Subverting ‘universal’

Anti-rights actors in international policy spaces increasingly manipulate references to universal or fundamental human rights to reverse the meaning of the universality of rights.

Rather than using the term universal to describe the full set of indivisible and interrelated human rights, ultra conservative actors employ this term to instead delineate and describe a subset of human rights as ‘truly fundamental.’ Other rights would thus be subject to State discretion, ‘new’ rights or optional. This discourse is especially powerful as their category of the truly universal remains unarticulated and hence open to shifting interpretation.

Other Chapters

• Key opposition strategies and tactics
• Key impacts on the international human rights system
• Key opposition actors

Read the full report

Other Chapters

• Key opposition strategies and tactics
• Key impacts on the international human rights system
• Key opposition actors

Read the full report

Thank you for taking the first steps to Co-create Feminist Realities!

Download your toolkit

Learn more about Feminist Realities

Any questions? Please do not hesitate to contact us

Ассоциация «Права женщин в развитии» и Фонд «Красный зонт» приглашают Вас принять участие  в диспуте-семинаре на тему феминизма и секс-работы.

Вместе под Зонтом: Феминизм и Права Секс-Работниц/ков

10 ноября 2020г. в 14:00 по UTC (сверьтесь с вашим местным временем)

В рамках данной сессии, сотрудницы (-ки) Ассоциации «Права женщин в развитии» будут делиться своими знаниями и опытом работы в условиях виртуального общения. Мы поговорим об основных сложностях и интерсекциональности в работе секс-работниц (-ков) и феминисток (-ов).

Подумайте над своими вопросами!

Для участниц (-ков) будет предоставлен перевод на испанский, французский и русский языки.

Спикеры

Кей Тхи Вин 

Кей Тхи является секс-работницей и с 2007 года лоббирует вопросы здоровья и прав секс-работниц (-ков). За последние девять лет она участвовала в программе по предупреждению ВИЧ среди женщин, работающих в секс-индустрии, и мужчин, имеющих половые связи с мужчинами, в Мьянме. В настоящее время Кей Тхи является региональной координаторкой  Азиатско-Тихоокеанской сети секс-работниц (-ков) (АТССР) и работает с партнерами по всему Азиатско-Тихоокеанскому региону.

Гитанджали Мишра 

Гитанджали является соосновательницей и исполнительной директоркой организации CREA (Нью-Дели). Она феминистка и любительница кино, работала по вопросам сексуальности, репродуктивного здоровья, гендера, прав человека и насилия в отношении женщин на различных уровнях - в качестве активистки, грантодательницы и на директивном уровне.

Вера Родригез

Вера присоединилась к фонду «Красный зонт» в августе 2017 года в качестве сотрудницы по программам. Вера родилась в Испании, где окончила факультет журналистики Университета Сан Пабло в Валенсии. Последние 7 лет она является активной участницей организации «X-talk», очень вовлечена в работу Коллектива Стриптизерш (-ров) Восточного Лондона, а также является участницей съемочной группы «Опера секс-работниц (-ков)».

Заинтересованы в том, чтобы вскоре стать частью этого диспут-семинарa и других обучения?!

Присоединяйтесь сейчас как участница/участник!

Meet Sopo Japaridze, fierce feminist, union leader and chair of the independent service trade union at the Solidarity Network.

She left the country when she was very young to go to the United States where she first became very politically active as a labor organizer. She kept Georgia in the back of her mind all that time, until one day, two decades later, she decided to return.

The existing Georgian union confederation back then was less than ideal. So, equipped with her skills, knowledge and labor organizing experience, Sopo went back to Georgia and built her own union.

Sopo is a passionate researcher and writer. She studies labor and social relations, writes for various publications and is the contributing editor of LeftEast, an Eastern European analytical platform. She also co-founded the political history initiative and podcast, Reimagining Soviet Georgia, where she explores the complexities and nuances of the country's experiences under the Soviet Union, to better understand its past in order to shed light on how to build a better future.

Bunga or flower in English is something that is often associated with women in Indonesia. Meaning, a flower can also be associated with transgender women. Because transgender women are women. As beautiful, as strong, and they both lived not only waiting to be 'picked' but instead grew and bloom and died as they pleased. This work is a tribute to my transgender women friends on The International Transgender Day of Visibility. 

About Ika Vantiani 

Principles

OF WORK

Hind and Hind were the first documented queer couple in Arab history. In today’s world, they are a queer artist from Lebanon.

Sequence 1

When I was 6, I learned that my grandfather owned a movie theater. My mother recounted to me how it had opened in the early 1960s, when she was also about 6 years old. She remembered that they screened The Sound of Music on the first night.

I would pass by the theater every weekend and watch my grandfather play backgammon with his friends. I didn’t know he was living in the theater, in a room right under the projection booth. I later learned that he moved there after he and my grandmother separated and after the theater closed, in the 1990s, shortly after the Lebanese civil war had ended.

 
For years and until he passed away, I would mostly see my grandfather play backgammon in the unmaintained reception area of the movie theater. Those repeated scenes are all I remember of him. I never got to properly know him; we never talked about cinema, even though he spent all his time in a run-down movie theater. I never asked him what it was like to live in a place like this. He died when I was 12, on Christmas Eve, from a fall down the spiraling steps that led to the projection booth. It is almost poetic that he passed away in movement, in a house where moving images are perpetually suspended in time. 

Sequence 2

In the spring of 2020, my cousin called me to say he had cleaned up my grandfather’s movie theater and asked me to meet him there. The two of us had always dreamed of renovating it. I got there before he did. In the reception area, the film poster frames were still there but the posters were gone. I knew there must have been some ticket stubs left somewhere; I found them stacked away in a small rusty tin box, on a shelf in the ticketing booth, and I pocketed some.

I began to walk around. On the main stage, the projection screen was quite dirty and a little torn on the side. I glided my index finger on the screen to remove a patch of dust and noticed that the screen was still white underneath. The fabric seemed to be in good shape too. I looked up to see that my grandmother’s curtains were still in place. They were made of white satin with a little embroidered emblem over the bridge of the curtain, representing the theater. There was a main seating area and a gallery. The chairs seemed to be very worn out. 

I noticed the projector peeking out of a small window at the very end of the balcony seating area. I led myself up the spiraling steps of the projection booth.

The room was dark, but a source of light coming from the dusty windows revealed a stack of film reels tossed in a corner. Lifeless celluloid strips were tangled up against the foot of the film projector. The dusty reels were all Western, Bollywood, and Science-Fiction genre films with bad titles like The Meteor that Destroyed Earth, or something of the sort. My attention was caught by the dusty film strips – mostly snippets cut out from reels. One by one, the short strips depicted different kissing scenes, what seemed like a suggestive dance, a nondescript scene of a gathering, a close-up of a woman lying down with her mouth open, opening credits to a Bollywood film, and a “Now Showing” tag that went on for several frames.

The Bollywood film credits reminded me of my mother. She used to tell me how they would hand out tissues to audience members on their way out of screenings. I kept the kissing scene and suggestive dance strips; I assumed they had been cut out for censorship reasons. The close-up of the woman reminded me of an excerpt from Béla Balázs’ Visible Man, or The Culture of Film, The Spirit of Film, and Theory of the Film. He said that close-ups in film provided a 

silent soliloquy, in which a face can speak with the subtlest shades of meaning without appearing unnatural and arousing the distance of the spectators. In this silent monologue, the solitary human soul can find a tongue more candid and uninhibited than any spoken soliloquy, for it speaks instinctively, subconsciously.

Balázs was mostly describing the close-ups of Joan in the silent film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc. He pointed out how, “...in the silent (movie), facial expression, isolated from its surroundings, seemed to penetrate to a strange new dimension of the soul.” 

I examined the film strip further. The woman looked dead, her face almost mask-like. She reminded me of Ophelia by the painter John Everett Millais. In her book On Photography, Susan Sontag says a photograph is “a trace, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask.” These death masks are like a presence that reminds of an absence.

I remembered encountering a discourse between death and photography in Roberto Rossellini’s forgotten film The Machine that Kills Bad People. In this film, a cameraman goes around taking photographs of people, who would in turn freeze, and are later suspended in time. French film critic André Bazin used to say that photography snatches bodies away from the flow of death and stores them by embalming them. He described this photographic mummification as “the preservation of life by a representation of life.”

This projection booth, its whole layout, all the things that looked like they were moved, the celluloid strips on the ground, everything my grandfather left a mark on – I felt very protective of.

Underneath the strips was an undone dusty film reel. It seemed like someone had been watching the reel manually. At that moment, my cousin made his way up the spiraling steps to find me examining it. He rubbed his fingers along his chin and, in a very-matter-of-fact way, said, “You found the porn.”

Sequence 3

I looked at the film strip in my hand and realized it was not a death scene. The strip was cut out of the porn reel. The woman was moaning in ecstasy. Close-ups are meant to convey feelings of intensity, of climax, but I had never really used Balázs’ theories to describe a porn scene. He wrote how “the dramatic climax between two people will always be shown as dialogue of facial expressions in close-up.” I pocketed the film strip and I named the woman Ishtar. She has lived in my wallet ever since. It seemed strange to compare the close depiction of Joan’s fears and courage with Ishtar’s facial expression in ecstasy. 

According to my cousin, my grandfather’s brother would wait until my grandfather left the theater and, instead of closing, invite his friends for some after-hour private screenings. I didn’t think much of it. It was a common practice, especially during and after the Lebanese civil war. After the war, television sets were almost in every Lebanese household. I even remember having one in my bedroom in the late 1990s, when I was around 6 years old. I was told that buying porn films on VHS was popular at the time. Mohammed Soueid, a Lebanese writer and filmmaker, once told me that movie theaters used to screen art films and pornography from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, so that they could survive. I also heard that projectionists would cut up porn reels to make different montages, so that they could screen something different every night. Eventually, people stayed within the comforts of their homes to watch VHS tapes on their televisions, and movie theaters began to run out of business.

Sequence 4

My cousin went back downstairs to go through an archive of paperwork in the office space. I stayed in the booth and began to slip the film strip between my index and middle finger, sliding it up with my thumbs and slowly running the frames through my hands. I lifted the strip against the dusty window and squinted to make sense of the monochrome vignettes. In this series of frames was an extreme close-up of a dick shoved into a vagina. It went on for several frames until I came across a knot in the film, and I imagined the rest.

 

   

Sequence 5

Hank is showcasing his hard-on in front of Veronika who is lying in bed across a Louis XIV secrétaire knockoff. She gets up slowly and slides the thin strap of her see-through négligé off her left shoulder. Hank unties her veiled robe, turns her around, slaps her ass, and pushes her down against the secrétaire. He thrusts his dick inside her pussy repeatedly as the back of the furniture bangs against the wallpaper-adorned wall.

 

 

Sequence 6

I was always attentive to the interior décor, ever since I was told by my Women in Porn Studies professor that the largest porn archives in North America are interestingly used to examine the middle-class furniture of that epoch. So, while Veronika is bending over and being taken from behind by Hank, a university research assistant could very well be trying to guess the design of the gold motif on the secrétaire, or study the rococo relief on a wooden chair in some corner.

For a moment, the booth became a space for female sexual imagination, disrupting a space otherwise promised for the freedom of male sexuality. I was sure that only men were able to access movie theaters that screened porn films. The film reel was too entangled to undo in a projection booth where dust had accumulated for over a decade, so I stuffed it into my duffle bag and walked out of the theater. 

I am not sure what came over me, but I felt compelled to keep it. I wanted to feel the thrill of safeguarding something mysterious, something unorthodox. In my mind, I was sure people knew I was hiding something as I walked down the street. A feeling of guilt intertwined with pleasure came over me. It felt kinky. 

 

Sequence 7

I got into the house, preoccupied with the thought of having a porn reel in my duffle bag and the stream of thoughts that had unfolded on my walk home. I immediately went to my bedroom. In some distant part of my mind, I remembered that I shared a wall with Layla’s room next door. She was probably not home, but the possibility of being heard excited me. I closed my bedroom door and I took the film strip of Ishtar out. 

I imagined her dressed in a light green veiled dress, dancing seductively in front of me, swinging her hips sideways and smiling with her eyes. I got onto my bed. I slipped my fingers into my panties. I lifted my hips. I trailed my hand down my thighs to part them, and slid two fingers in. I tensed up as I palpated my various creases. I moaned before I could stop myself. I panted and swayed. The rays of sun coming through my window planted reluctant kisses onto my skin. I held my breath in and my limbs quivered. I swallowed my breath and laid flat on the mattress.

Sequence 8

When I was an undergraduate student, I had taken an introductory film class and Professor Erika Balsom had scheduled a screening of Bette Gordon’s Variety. I was excited to watch producer Christine Vachon’s first film before she moved onto producing films that are now part of the New Queer Cinema movement. Variety was described as a feminist film about Christine, a woman who  begins to work as a ticketing clerk in a porn movie theater in New York city called The Variety Theater. Christine overhears the films at the theater but never goes in. Eventually, she becomes interested in a regular customer, whom she watches closely. She follows him to an adult shop where she stands aside and flips through adult magazines for the first time.

Christine’s voyeurism was displayed in different ways throughout the film. The script was also ridden with excess, and erotic monologues that would be considered obscene or vulgar.

In a scene set in an arcade, she reads erotica to her boyfriend. The camera goes back and forth between a close-up of her boyfriend Mark’s butt as he was playing pinball, swinging his hips back and forth against the arcade machine, and a close-up of Christine’s face as she recited her monologue.

 

Sequence 9

“Sky was hitchhiking and he got a ride from a woman in a pick-up truck. It was late at night and he needed a place to stay, so she offered him her place. 

She showed him to his room and offered him a drink. They drank and talked and decided to turn in. He couldn’t sleep, so he put on his pants and walked down the hall to the living room. He was a stop short of being seen, but he could see. The woman was naked and spread on the coffee table with only her legs dangling over. Her whole body was excitingly white as if it’d never seen the sun. Her nipples were bright pink, fire-like, almost neon. Her lips were open. Her long auburn hair licking the floor, arms stretched, fingers tickling the air. Her oiled body was round with no points, no edges. Slithering between her breasts was a large snake curving up around one, and down between the other. The snake’s tongue licking toward the cunt, so open, so red in the lamp light. Hot and confused, the man walked back to his room, and with great difficulty, managed to fall asleep. The next morning, over strawberries, the woman asks him to stay another night. Again, he couldn’t sleep […]”

 

Sequence 10

When I was 23, Lynn, the girl I was dating from film class, surprised me by taking me to watch erotica short films on Valentine’s Day. The event took place at The Mayfair Theater, an independent old movie theater. The architecture of the theater recalled North American Nickelodeons, but with a campy touch. Its balconies were decorated with life-size cardboard cutouts of Swamp Thing and Aliens.

That year, the festival was judged by adult star Kacie May and the program consisted of an hour and a half of short films. The content ranged from soft-core machismo-ridden shorts to scat fetish films. We watched a few minutes of what seemed to be heterosexual soft porn. It followed a couple who start making love in a modern living room space, then move to the bedroom. It was mostly footage of them kissing each other, touching each other, and making love missionary-style. Then a woman with a short brown bob crawled onto the bed, licking the back of her own hand in short strokes. She meowed and crawled over the unconcerned couple. They continued to make love. She crawled out to the kitchen, picked up her empty bowl with her teeth, and placed it onto a pillow. She kept walking over them until the end of the short. It seemed quite absurd. I began to laugh, but Lynn looked a bit uncomfortable. I then looked to our left, watching other audience members chugging beers and inhaling popcorn while laughing hysterically. Their uninterrupted laughter and loud comments really set the tone of the festival. Watching the audience became more interesting than watching the erotic films. The Mayfair Theater often showed cult films, and watching cult films is a communal experience.

It’s not exactly how I imagined my mother’s uncle watching porn in my grandfather’s theater. Movie theaters were openly screening porn films at that time, but I could not picture it happening within my mother’s hometown. I pictured him watching the film from the projector in the booth, so he could quickly stop the screening in case any unexpected guests decided to stop by. His friends sat on the balcony in the back. No one could get in from there unless they had a key, so it was safe. They had to think of everything. It was a conservative Christian neighborhood and they would not want to cause any trouble. They were most likely overcome with excitement and guilt. The voices of loud homoerotic banter merged with sound bites of grunting and moaning, but they reminded each other to keep it down every few minutes. They took turns to check the windows to make sure the sound was not loud enough to alarm any neighbors. Sometimes, they would turn off the speaker and there would be no sound. 

 

Sequence 11

After a political protest in 2019, I came across a bookstand on Riad El Solh street, close to Martyr’s Square in downtown Beirut. Towards the end of the table, past the copies of Hugo and de Beauvoir, I found a stack of erotica novels and adult magazines. They were all translations of Western publications. I really did not care which one I picked; I just knew I wanted to own a copy for the thrill of it. I looked for the most interesting cover art. 

As he was giving me my change back, the vendor asked me, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

He scanned my breasts, gliding his eyes downwards. He probably assumed I worked in the porn or sex industry. I looked into his eyes and said, “No.” I turned around, ready to walk away with my magazine. He then stopped me to say that he had a large archive in his basement, and that he regularly sold porn collections and publications on EBay, to Europe and the USA. Although I was interested in rummaging through that archive, I was not comfortable enough to take his offer. It did not feel safe. I asked him where he found these novels. To my surprise, they were produced in Lebanon.

Walking towards the Riad El Solh statue, I read through the journal I had bought and found the format of the text somewhat canted; the font was a bit smudged, making it illegible. The photographs inside were comprised of faded pornographic collages. It looked raw; I liked that. The title of the novel read, Marcel’s Diaries.

The cover art was clearly a magazine cut-out pasted over a blue sheet. In the picture, a shirtless woman is grabbing her lover’s head, digging her fingers in his hair, while he is kissing her neck from behind. Her skirt is zipped down. Her lover has his hand on her lower right hip. She has her hand over his. Her lips are puckered up and open, almost like she is moaning with pleasure, her 1970s straight blonde hair running down her chest and partially covering her nipples.

I opened the first page. The preface read

شهوات”
 “وشذوذ        

which either translates to 

“Desire
                               and deviance”

or to

“Desire
                  and kink”

I read through the first chapter and I found that whoever translated the text had changed the main character’s name to Fouad, an Arabic name. I assumed they wanted their Lebanese male audience to identify. As I read through, I found that all of his lovers had foreign names like Hanna, Marla, Marcel, Marta. 

 

 

Sequence 12

I realized on page 27, chapter four, that Marcel was one of Fouad’s lovers.

Sequence 13

The scene took place in a movie theater. Movie theaters were often spaces for sexual freedom in North America, especially since the 1970s after the sexual revolution.

I also assumed they kept all the other foreign names so that it sounds exotic and less taboo. Pornography and erotica were attributed to West Hollywood, despite the fact that the Arab world historically produced erotic texts. Erotica became taboo, and the only way to safely produce it was to market it as foreign, as exotic.

It is interesting how the exotic covers for the erotic. The difference between the two adjectives is rooted in their Greek etymologies: exotic is from exo, “outside,” meaning alien or foreign. Erotic is derived from Eros, the god of sexual love. So, what’s exotic is mysterious and foreign – what’s erotic is sexy.

In Lebanon there is a thin line between the exotic and the erotic in cinema, like the thin line between art films and porn films. In 2015, during a conversation with filmmaker Jocelyne Saab in a Vietnamese restaurant in Paris, I learned that she had to shoot her art film Dunia a second time to change the dialect from Egyptian to Lebanese. She told me that her actors were Egyptian, and that she wasn’t strict about the script. She was not allowed to use Egyptian dialect. It had to be in Lebanese because the producers were concerned about the borderline erotic scenes in the film. So, they made it foreign.

Dear feminist movements, 

You welcomed us with open arms when it was announced during the 2016 AWID Forum in Bahia that we would be AWID’s new Co-EDs. It was a moment that felt full of possibility, we were building a feminist oasis that would help sustain our collective struggles forward. We left Bahia with a sharp sense of responsibility, to do our best in your service and to lead AWID in ways that would be most supportive and impactful for you.

It is now time for us to step aside for new leadership! 

Over five years into our journey, we are stepping down as AWID’s Co-EDs. Our decision comes as we wrap up the current strategic cycle. We see this as an ideal moment to step aside and support a leadership refresh. We believe that transformative feminist leadership is cyclical. 
We so appreciate the opportunity we had to play a role in AWID’s 40 year history, holding and shepherding the organization through the difficult context of global pandemic, and so many spiraling crises. 

Feminist movements, we know you will be part of our next journey, whatever that may be. You have consistently taught us about strength and resilience. We may move to different roles, but we will collectively continue to move together. 

How We Moved

We have vivid memories of those of you in Indonesia, Malaysia, Nepal, Thailand, Taiwan and beyond who met us to co-create the AWID Forum with so much generosity and spark. Without a doubt, our greatest regret from the last five years is that we could not give you an in-person Forum. 

Once we came to the difficult (albeit necessary) decision to cancel the AWID Forum, we focused on grappling with the existential questions so many of our organizations were facing: how do we shift our ways of working to be relevant, account for the exhaustion, sickness, and grief affecting all of us in different ways? How do we build meaningful relationships when we are limited to being online? There are still no straightforward answers to these questions, but feminist movements, you have shown the way. 

We were so proud to see the ways feminists were leading responses to mitigate the impacts of COVID-19 on our communities. Feminists are frontline responders in crisis and we will continue to demand recognition and resources for this work. You often responded enthusiastically to our outreach, showing up in amazing ways in our Feminist Bailout campaign and later in the Crear Resister Transform festival. You jumped into collaborative advocacy with us – whether influencing human rights spaces, policy makers or funders. 

We give a special shout-out of love and respect to the current and former AWID team (both our staff and Board members) whom we’ve had the honor to work with over these years. We’ve learned from each one of you and felt deep gratitude for everything you have contributed to AWID over the years. 

We came into this role as AWID’s first pair of Co-Executive Directors. We learned from the many activist and community traditions of collective leadership and the feminist organizations who had done this before us. We know that we couldn’t have done this job without each other. We were able to leverage each other’s strengths and have each other’s backs to do the best job we could.    

What’s Next

We came into role together and are leaving together, even as we will be staggering our departure dates. We are both committed to supporting a smooth transition and deliberate onboarding of the new leadership this year.  

Feminist movements, you are in great hands with the AWID team. They’ve got this. And we are proud to be leaving the organization in such a strong and resilient place. Hopefully, we’ll see many of you at the AWID Forum in 2024 – you’ll recognize us as the kicked back, relaxed folks in the audience!
Love and appreciation for all that you’ve done with and for us. Your impact on our lives stretches well beyond the last 5 years, and no doubt will continue to stretch far into the future.

Cindy & Hakima

Feminist movements have changed and adapted tremendously since we last convened in this way - so to remember why AWID Forums matter, we asked activists from around the world to reflect on and share their stories, impressions and memories. This is what we learned.

Discover The Forum Stories here