Related content
The Guardian: Kate Millett Obituary
New York Times: Kate Millett, Ground-Breaking Feminist Writer, Is Dead at 82
The New Yorker: A Last Interview with Kate Millett

The “Where is the Money?” #WITM survey is now live! Dive in and share your experience with funding your organizing with feminists around the world.
Learn more and take the survey
Around the world, feminist, women’s rights, and allied movements are confronting power and reimagining a politics of liberation. The contributions that fuel this work come in many forms, from financial and political resources to daily acts of resistance and survival.
AWID’s Resourcing Feminist Movements (RFM) Initiative shines a light on the current funding ecosystem, which range from self-generated models of resourcing to more formal funding streams.
Through our research and analysis, we examine how funding practices can better serve our movements. We critically explore the contradictions in “funding” social transformation, especially in the face of increasing political repression, anti-rights agendas, and rising corporate power. Above all, we build collective strategies that support thriving, robust, and resilient movements.
Create and amplify alternatives: We amplify funding practices that center activists’ own priorities and engage a diverse range of funders and activists in crafting new, dynamic models for resourcing feminist movements, particularly in the context of closing civil society space.
Build knowledge: We explore, exchange, and strengthen knowledge about how movements are attracting, organizing, and using the resources they need to accomplish meaningful change.
Advocate: We work in partnerships, such as the Count Me In! Consortium, to influence funding agendas and open space for feminist movements to be in direct dialogue to shift power and money.
The solidarity economy (including cooperative economy and gift economy) is an alternative framework that is allowing for different forms in different contexts, open to continual change.
This framework is grounded in the principles of:
The producers in a solidarity economy develop economic processes that are intimately related to their realities, preservation of the environment and mutual cooperation.
According to feminist geographer Yvonne Underhill-Sem, the gift economy is an economic system in which goods and services flow between people without explicit agreement of their value or future reciprocity.
Behind gifting is human relationship, generation of goodwill, and attention to the nurturance of the whole society and not just one’s immediate self and family, it is about the collective.
For example, in the Pacific region, this includes: collecting, preparing, and weaving terrestrial and marine resources for mats, fans, garlands, and ceremonial items; and raising livestock and storing seasonal harvests.
The incentives for women to be involved in economic activities are diverse, ranging from the fulfillment of career aspirations and making money for a long-term comfortable life to making money to make ends meet, paying off debt, and escaping from the drudgery of routine life.
To accommodate the diverse environments that women operate in, the concept of solidarity economy is in continual development, discussed and debated.

Young feminist activists play a critical role in women’s rights organizations and movements worldwide by bringing up new issues that feminists face today. Their strength, creativity and adaptability are vital to the sustainability of feminist organizing.
At the same time, they face specific impediments to their activism such as limited access to funding and support, lack of capacity-building opportunities, and a significant increase of attacks on young women human rights defenders. This creates a lack of visibility that makes more difficult their inclusion and effective participation within women’s rights movements.
AWID’s young feminist activism program was created to make sure the voices of young women are heard and reflected in feminist discourse. We want to ensure that young feminists have better access to funding, capacity-building opportunities and international processes. In addition to supporting young feminists directly, we are also working with women’s rights activists of all ages on practical models and strategies for effective multigenerational organizing.
We want young feminist activists to play a role in decision-making affecting their rights by:
Fostering community and sharing information through the Young Feminist Wire. Recognizing the importance of online media for the work of young feminists, our team launched the Young Feminist Wire in May 2010 to share information, build capacity through online webinars and e-discussions, and encourage community building.
Researching and building knowledge on young feminist activism, to increase the visibility and impact of young feminist activism within and across women’s rights movements and other key actors such as donors.
Promoting more effective multigenerational organizing, exploring better ways to work together.
Supporting young feminists to engage in global development processes such as those within the United Nations
Collaboration across all of AWID’s priority areas, including the Forum, to ensure young feminists’ key contributions, perspectives, needs and activism are reflected in debates, policies and programs affecting them.

No. Solicitamos una sola respuesta a la encuesta por agrupación.
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Akosua Hanson is an artistic activist, based in Accra, Ghana. Her work spans radio, television, print media, theatre, film, comic art exhibitions, art installations, and graphic novels. Akosua’s activism has been centred around pan-Africanism and feminism, with an interest in the intersection of art, pop culture, and activism. She has a Masters in Philosophy in African Studies with a focus on Gender and African Philosophical Thought. Akosua Hanson is the creator of Moongirls, a graphic novel series that follows the adventures of four superheroes fighting for an Africa free from corruption, neocolonialism, religious fundamentalism, rape culture, homophobia and more. She works as a radio host at Y 107.9 FM, Ghana. |
In these panels, the Moongirl Wadjet is engaged in BDSM lovemaking with a two-gender daemon. Of the four Moongirls, Wadjet is the healer and philosopher, the conduit of the Oracle. She does this to launch a scientific and spiritual process – an experiment she calls “Illumination by the Light of the Full Moon” – through which she traces a vibrational time arc between her memories, sensations, emotions, visions, and imagination. It is a form of vibrational time travel in order to discover what she terms as “truth-revelations.”
During the experience, some of Wadjet’s hazy visions include: an approaching apocalypse brought about by humans’ environmental destruction in service to a voracious capitalism; a childhood memory of being hospitalized after a mental health diagnosis; and a vision of a Moongirls’ origin story of the Biblical figure of Noah as an ancient black Moongirl warning of the dangers of environmental pollution.
More than a fun kink to explore for the sensations, BDSM can be a way of addressing emotional pain and trauma. It has been a medium of sexual healing for me, providing a radical form of liberation. There is a purge that happens when physical pain is inflicted on the body. Inflicted with consent, it draws out emotional pain – almost like a “calling forth.” The whip on my body allows me to release suppressed emotions: anxiety, depression, my sense of defenselessness to the stresses that overwhelm me sometimes.
When engaging in BDSM as an avenue for healing, lovers must learn to be very aware of and responsible for each other. Because even though consent may have been initially given, we must be attentive to any changes that might occur in the process, especially as feelings intensify. I approach BDSM with the understanding that in order to surrender pain, love and empathy have to be the basis of the process and by that, I create space or open up for love.

The engagement with aftercare after the infliction of pain is a completion of the process. This can be done in very simple ways such as cuddling, checking if they need water, watching a movie together, sharing a hug or just sharing a joint. It can be whatever your chosen love language is. This holding space, with the understanding that wounds have been opened, is necessary to complete the process of healing. It is the biggest lesson in practising empathy and learning to really hold your partner, due to the delicacy in blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. In this way, BDSM is a form of care work for me.
After BDSM sex, I feel a clarity and calm that puts me in a great creative space and spiritually empowers me. It is an almost magical experience watching the pain transform into something else in real time. Similarly, this personally liberating experience of BDSM allows Wadjet to access the foreknowledge, wisdom, and clarity to aid in her moongirl duties in fighting African patriarchy.
Moongirls was birthed during my tenure as the director for Drama Queens, a young artistic activist organization based in Ghana. Since our inception in 2016, we’ve employed different artistic media as part of their feminist, pan-Africanist, and environmentalist activism. We used poetry, short stories, theatre, film, and music to address issues such as corruption, patriarchy, environmental degradation, and homophobia.
Our inaugural theatre production, “The Seamstress of St. Francis Street” and “Until Someone Wakes Up” addressed the problem of rape culture in our communities. Another one, “Just Like Us,” was arguably one of the first Ghanaian theatre productions to directly address the country’s deep-seated issue of homophobia. Queer Universities Ghana, our queer film workshop for African filmmakers, has trained filmmakers from Ghana, Nigeria, South Africa, and Uganda. Films birthed during the workshop, like “Baby Girl: An Intersex Story” by Selassie Djamey, have gone on to be screened at film festivals. Therefore, moving to the medium of graphic novels was a natural progression.
About seven years ago, I’d started a novel that I never completed about the lives of four women. In 2018, the Open Society Initiative for West Africa (OSIWA) opened up a grant opportunity that launched the production of the project and my uncompleted novel was turned into Moongirls.
There have been two seasons of Moongirls made up of six chapters each. Contributing writers and editors for the first season were Suhaida Dramani, Tsiddi Can-Tamakloe, George Hanson, and Wanlov the Kubolor. Writers for the second season were Yaba Armah, Nadia Ahidjo, and myself. Character illustrations and conceptualizations were by Ghanaian artist Kissiwa. And AnimaxFYB Studio, a premium animation, design, and visual effects studio, does the illustrations.
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Writing Moongirls between 2018 and 2022 has been a labour of love for me, even, a labour for liberation. I aim to be very explorative in form and style: I’ve dabbled in converting other forms of writing, such as short stories and poetry, to graphic novel format. By merging illustration and text, as graphic novels do, Moongirls aims to tackle the big issues and to honor real life activists. My decision to centre queer women superheroes – which is rare to see in this canon – came to mean so much more when a dangerous backdrop started developing in Ghana in 2021.
Last year saw a marked hike in violence for the Ghanaian LGBT+ community that was sparked by the shutdown of an LGBT+ community centre. This was followed by arbitrary arrests and imprisonment of people suspected to be on the queer spectrum, as well as of those accused of pushing an “LGBT agenda.” Crowning this was the introduction in Ghanaian Parliament of an anti-LGBT bill named “Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanaian Family Values.” This bill is arguably the most draconian anti-LGBT bill ever drafted in the region, following previous attempts in countries like Nigeria, Uganda and Kenya.
I remember quite vividly the first time I read the draft of this bill.
It was a Friday night, typically a night I take off to rest or party after a long work week. By sheer luck, the draft was leaked and shared with me on a WhatsApp group. As I read it, a deep sense of fear and alarm made burnt toast of my Friday night chill. This bill proposed to slap any LGBT+ advocacy with five to ten years of imprisonment, and to fine and imprison people who identify as LGBT+ unless they “recanted” and accepted conversion therapy. In the draft bill, even asexual people were criminalized. The bill went for all fundamental freedoms: freedoms of thought, of being, and the freedom to hold one’s personal truth and choose to live your life by that truth. The bill even went for social media and art. If it passed, Moongirls would be banned literature. What the bill proposed to do was so evil and far-reaching, I was stunned into a depression at the depth of hate from which it had been crafted.
Scrolling through my Twitter timeline that night, the terror I felt inside me was mirrored. The timeline was a livestream of emotions as people reacted in real time to what they were reading: disbelief to terror to a deep disappointment and sorrow when we realized how far the bill wanted to go. Some tweeted their readiness to fold up and leave the country. Then, in the way Ghanaians do, sorrow and fear is alchemized to humour. From humour came the zest to upscale the fight.
So, the work still continues. I created Moongirls to provide an alternative form of education, to provide knowledge where it has been suppressed by violent patriarchy, and to create visibility where the LGBT+ community has been erased. It is also important that African BDSM is given this platform of representation when so much of BDSM representation is white. Sexual pleasure, through BDSM or otherwise, as well as non-heterosexual love, transcend race and continent because sexual pleasure and its diversity of experience are as old as time.
Related content
The Guardian: Kate Millett Obituary
New York Times: Kate Millett, Ground-Breaking Feminist Writer, Is Dead at 82
The New Yorker: A Last Interview with Kate Millett
“Los saberes y prácticas indígenas siempre han apoyado la soberanía alimentaria, y ese saber está en manos de las mujeres […] El ecofeminismo para mí es el respeto por todo lo que tenemos a nuestro alrededor” -
Sauf si vous avez des problèmes d’accessibilité et/ou que vous répondez aux questions de l’enquête dans une autre langue, nous vous encourageons fortement à utiliser KOBO pour une collecte et une analyse standardisées des données WITM.
Thank you, Ángela and Pilar.

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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). |


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.


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.
Representó al Consorcio Internacional sobre Discapacidad y Desarrollo (IDDC por su sigla en inglés) durante la negociación de la Convención sobre los Derechos de las Personas con Discapacidad (2001-2006). Su trabajo estaba dedicado a la implementación del objetivo de la Convención: el goce pleno de los derechos humanos universales por, para y con las personas con discapacidades, en pos de un mundo inclusivo, accesible y sostenible.
En sus propias palabras, su liderazgo consistía en «servir a la comunidad de personas con discapacidad, comenzando por aquellas pequeñas tareas que otrxs pueden no querer realizar».
Falleció el 27 de octubre de 2017 en su ciudad natal de Rosario, Argentina.
En esta nota puede leerse más sobre María Verónica Reina, en sus propias palabras.
Un lieu de travail n'a pas à fonctionner sur la base de la concurrence et du profit. Un lieu de travail ne devrait pas exploiter les gens au profit d’autrui. C’est pourquoi les communautés marginalisées en dehors des économies formelles construisent des modèles coopératifs alternatifs basés sur l'autonomie, la coopération, la coresponsabilité, l'autogestion et la solidarité.
Les lieux de travail et coopératives autogérés par les travailleur·euses ont toujours offert d'autres moyens de générer des opportunités d'emploi, des revenus, une sécurité sociale et des épargnes, tout en distribuant les revenus de manière plus communautaire, durable et sûre.
Mais le coopérativisme c'est bien plus qu'une opportunité d'emploi: c'est la réalisation des rêves et la construction d’économies féministes basées sur la solidarité et l'entraide. C'est la création d’un monde où nos vies, notre travail et nos communautés comptent.
Voici l'histoire de la Coopérative Textile Nadia Echazú, la première coopérative créée et dirigée par et pour les personnes travesti et trans en Argentine.
Yes, we invite you to share more on issues that are important to you by responding to the open question(s) at the end of the survey.

Queridos movimientos feministas:
Ustedes nos recibieron con los brazos abiertos cuando en el Foro de AWID 2016 en Bahía se anunció que íbamos a ser las nuevas codirectoras ejecutivas de AWID. Fue un momento que sentimos lleno de posibilidades: estábamos construyendo un oasis feminista que ayudaría a sostener las luchas colectivas que teníamos por delante. Salimos de Bahía con una sensación muy clara de la responsabilidad que nos cabía: hacer lo mejor que pudiéramos al servicio de ustedes, liderando a AWID de tal manera que les sirviera de apoyo y tuviera impacto para ustedes.
Ahora es el momento de abrir el camino a nuevos liderazgos
Tras cinco años de recorrido, dejamos nuestro rol como codirectoras ejecutivas de AWID. Esta decisión coincide con la finalización de nuestro ciclo estratégico actual. Pensamos que es el momento ideal para hacernos a un costado y apoyar una renovación en el liderazgo. Creemos que los liderazgos feministas transformadores son cíclicos.
Valoramos mucho la oportunidad que tuvimos de desempeñar un rol dentro de los 40 años que abarca la historia de AWID, sosteniendo y guiando a la organización en el contexto difícil de una pandemia global y la agudización de muchas crisis.
Sabemos que ustedes, movimientos feministas, nos van a acompañar en nuestros próximos recorridos, donde sea que transcurran. Una y otra vez nos han enseñado a ser fuertes y resilientes. Tal vez cumplamos roles diferentes, pero en forma colectiva seguiremos avanzando juntxs.
Tenemos recuerdos vívidos de aquellxs con quienes nos reunimos en Indonesia, Malasia, Nepal, Tailandia, Taiwán y otros lugares para crear juntxs el Foro AWID, de su generosidad y su entusiasmo. Sin duda alguna lo que más lamentamos de estos cinco años pasados es no haber podido ofrecerles un Foro presencial.
Una vez que tomamos la decisión difícil (aunque necesaria) de cancelar el Foro AWID nos concentramos en responder a las preguntas existenciales que tantas organizaciones también estaban enfrentando: ¿cómo podemos cambiar la forma en que trabajamos para seguir siendo relevantes teniendo en cuenta que todxs nosotrxs, cada quien a su manera, estamos afectadxs por el agotamiento, la enfermedad y la pena? ¿Cómo podemos construir relaciones significativas cuando nos vemos limitadxs a encontrarnos solo en forma virtual? Todavía no existen respuestas claras para estas preguntas pero ustedes, movimientos feministas, nos han mostrado el camino.
Con mucho orgullo vimos a feministas liderando las respuestas para mitigar los impactos de COVID-19 en nuestras comunidades. Lxs feministas somos quienes respondemos directamente a las crisis y vamos a continuar exigiendo que se reconozca nuestra labor y se le asignen los recursos que corresponde. Ustedes muchas veces respondieron con entusiasmo a nuestras convocatorias, haciéndose presentes de maneras increíbles en nuestra campaña por un Rescate Feminista y más tarde en el festival Crear Resister Transform. Siempre nos acompañaron en la incidencia colectiva, ya fuera en espacios de derechos humanos, con quienes diseñan políticas o con donantes.
Queremos destacar especialmente con amor y respeto a quienes forman y formaron el equipo de AWID (tanto el personal como lxs integrantes del Consejo Directivo) con quienes tuvimos el honor de trabajar durante estos años. Aprendimos algo de cada unx de ustedes y sentimos una profunda gratitud por todo lo que le han dado a AWID a lo largo de los años.
Entramos a este rol siendo la primera pareja de codirectoras ejecutivas de AWID. Aprendimos de las muchas tradiciones activistas y comunitarias de liderazgo colectivo y de las organizaciones feministas que ya habían implementado esta modalidad antes que nosotras. Sabemos que ninguna de nosotras dos podría haberlo hecho sin la otra. Pudimos aprovechar los puntos fuertes de cada una y apoyarnos mutuamente para cumplir con nuestra tarea lo mejor posible.
Llegamos juntas a este rol y nos vamos juntas, aun cuando nuestras fechas de partida sean diferentes. Estamos comprometidas a colaborar para que la transición sea fluida y para que durante este año los nuevos liderazgos puedan contar con un proceso deliberado de incorporación a sus roles.
Movimientos feministas: están en muy buenas manos con el equipo de AWID. Ellxs saben lo que tienen que hacer. Y a nosotras nos enorgullece dejar a la organización en una posición de fortaleza y resiliencia. Esperamos ver a muchxs de ustedes en el Foro AWID de 2024. Nos van a reconocer fácilmente: vamos a ser esas que están entre el público relajadas y pasándolo bien.
Vaya nuestro amor y nuestra valoración por todo lo que han hecho con y por nosotras. El impacto que ustedes han tenido en nuestras vidas va mucho más allá de los últimos cinco años y sin duda alguna continuará durante mucho tiempo en el futuro.
Cindy & Hakima
Asma était une militante pakistanaise des droits humains, une critique courageuse de l'ingérence de l'armée dans la politique et une défenseure acharnée de la primauté du droit.
Elle a été la présidente fondatrice de la Commission des droits de l'homme du Pakistan, un groupe indépendant ainsi qu’administratrice de l'International Crisis Group. Elle a remporté des prix internationaux et a été rapporteuse des Nations Unies sur les droits de l'homme et les exécutions extrajudiciaires.
Ses collègues et ami-e-s de l’AWID se souviennent d'elle avec affection
« Grâce à sa vie, Asma a réécrit l'histoire que beaucoup d'entre nous ont racontée en tant que femmes. Asma a changé le monde. Elle l'a changé au Pakistan et elle l'a changé dans notre imaginaire. »

Life expectancy of a trans and travesti person in Argentina is 37 years old - the average age for the general population is 77.
Los datos se procesarán para fines estadísticos y así arrojar luz sobre el estado de la dotación de recursos para los movimientos feministas de todo el mundo, y solo se exhibirán de forma desglosada. AWID no divulgará información acerca de ninguna organización en particular ni publicará información que permita identificar a una organización por su ubicación o características sin el consentimiento acreditado de dicha organización.
Chers mouvements féministes,
C'est avec fierté que je vous présente, au nom du conseil d'administration de l'AWID, les prochaines codirectrices exécutives de l'AWID : Faye Macheke et Inna Michaeli!
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Faye Macheke est une féministe panafricaine passionnée, engagée dans les mouvements pour les droits des femmes, la justice raciale, les droits des migrant·e·s et des travailleur·euse·s, et la justice environnementale. Son activisme s'appuie sur l'héritage de la lutte contre l'apartheid en Afrique du Sud et sur les séquelles qu’elle a laissées au Zimbabwe. En 2019, Faye a rejoint l'AWID en tant que directrice des finances, des opérations et du développement. Elle y apporte une grande expérience du leadership féministe, de la stratégie et de tous les aspects du développement organisationnel. Faye est une membre engagée du conseil d'administration d'UAF-Africa et d'autres organisations de défense des droits des femmes. Elle est basée au Cap, en Afrique du Sud. |
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Inna Michaeli est une activiste et sociologue féministe lesbienne queer comptant de nombreuses années d'engagement profond dans les luttes féministes et LGBTQI+, l'éducation politique et l'organisation par et pour les femmes migrantes, ainsi que la libération de la Palestine et la solidarité avec cette dernière. Inna a rejoint l'AWID en 2016 et occupé différents postes, dont celui de directrice des programmes plus récemment. Elle bénéficie d'une grande expérience dans la recherche et le renforcement des connaissances, le plaidoyer politique et le développement organisationnel. Inna fait partie du conseil d'administration de Jewish Voice for Peace - Allemagne. Elle est basée à Berlin, en Allemagne. |
Cette décision est le résultat d'un processus rigoureux mené avec la pleine participation du conseil d’administration et du personnel de l'AWID. Le conseil d’administration a reconnu et honoré les compétences et les talents du personnel de l'AWID en ouvrant une recherche d'embauche interne. Deux candidates brillantes, qui incarnent l'intégrité, l'éthique du soin et les valeurs féministes intersectionnelles à la base du travail de l'AWID, ont ainsi postulé ensemble en tant qu'équipe. Faye et Inna ont présenté une vision courageuse et passionnante pour faire face aux défis de notre époque : construire une communauté féministe mondiale, combattre et perturber les systèmes d'oppression, et soutenir les mouvements féministes pour qu'ils prospèrent.
En cette année de célébration des 40 ans de l'AWID, nous sommes ravi·e·s qu'Inna et Faye prennent la direction conjointe de l'AWID de notre prochaine stratégie et d’une nouvelle phase : évoluer, repousser nos limites et soutenir les mouvements féministes dans le monde entier.
La désignation des codirectrices exécutives de l'AWID et le soutien qui leur est apporté pour diriger l'organisation est une responsabilité fiduciaire que nous prenons au sérieux en tant que conseil d’administration. La façon dont nous nous engageons dans ces processus reflète également la diversité et l'excellence des membres de l'AWID, qui élisent le conseil d'administration de l'AWID.
Alors que nous disons au revoir à Cindy et Hakima, nous, le conseil d’administration, accueillons à l'unanimité et avec enthousiasme Faye et Inna en tant que nos nouvelles codirectrices à compter du 5 septembre 2022. Ne manquez pas d'autres mises à jour sur la transition de notre direction dans les mois à venir.
Merci infiniment pour votre soutien indéfectible!
Dans la solidarité et l'amour féministes,
Margo Okazawa-Rey
Présidente du conseil d’administration de l’AWID
At the time of her death, following a short but aggressive battle with cancer, Deborah was the Chief Communication and Engagement Officer at the Women’s Funding Network (WFN).
Deborah also worked for the Global Fund for Women from 2008 to 2017. Deborah was extremely loved and respected by board, staff, and partners of Global Fund for Women.
Kavita Ramdas, former CEO of the Global Fund for Women aptly noted that Deborah was “a small package exploding with warmth, generosity, intelligence, style, and a passionate commitment to fusing beauty with justice. She understood the power of story. The power of women’s voice. The power of lived experience. The power of rising from the ashes and telling others it was possible. And, still we rise.”
Musimbi Kanyoro, the present CEO of the Global Fund for Women, added, “We have lost a sister and her life illuminates values that unite and inspire us all. As we all come together to mourn Deborah’s passing, let us remember and celebrate her remarkable, bold, and passionate life.”
While active participants on the front lines of protests and uprisings in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), women became invisible, absent from processes of formation of the new states, and excluded from decision-making roles, responsibilities, and positions in the aftermath of the uprisings. Except in rare cases, men dominated leadership positions in transitional structures, including the constitutional reform and electoral committees[i]. Subsequent elections brought very few women to parliamentary and ministerial positions.
Additionally, a strong and immediate backlash against women and women’s rights has clearly emerged in the aftermath. The rise of new religious fundamentalist groups with renewed patriarchal agendas aiming to obliterate previous gains of the women’s movements even in countries with longer histories of women’s rights, such as Tunisia, has been very alarming.
The varying contexts of governance and transition processes across the MENA countries presents an important opportunity for women human rights defenders to shape the future of these democracies. However, the lack of prioritization of women’s rights issues in the emerging transitions and the aforementioned backlash have posed a variety of complex challenges for the women’s movements. Faced with these enormous challenges and possibilities, women’s rights activists have been struggling to forge ahead a democratic future inclusive and only possible with women’s rights and equality. The particular historical and contextual legacies that impact women’s movements in each country continue to bear on the current capacities, strategies, and overall preparedness of the women’s movements to take on such a challenge. Burdened with daily human rights violations in one context, with lack of resources and tools in another, with organizational tensions in a third, in addition to the constant attacks on them as activists, women human rights defenders have voiced their desire to be more equipped with knowledge and tools to be effective and proactive in engaging with these fast-changing environments. Conceptual clarity and greater understanding of notions and practices of democratization, transitional justice tools and mechanisms, political governance and participation processes, international and local mechanisms, movement building strategies, constitutional reform possibilities, and secularization of public space and government are important steps to defining future strategic action.
It is clear that feminists and women’s rights activists cannot wait for women’s rights to be addressed after transitions – issues must be addressed as the new power configurations are forming. Experiences of earlier moments of transition, namely from colonial rule, have clearly demonstrated that women’s rights have to be inherently part of the transition movement towards a more just and equal society.

This publication represents a research mapping of key resources, publications and materials on transitions to democracy and women’s rights in different countries of the world that have undergone such processes, such as: Indonesia, Chile, South Africa, Nepal, Mexico, Argentina, Poland, Ukraine, as well as within the Middle East and North Africa (MENA). It provides bibliographic information and short summaries of resources which succinctly identify the contextual changes and challenges facing women in those particular transitional moments, as well as clearly delineates the ways in which women’s rights activists sought to confront those challenges and what lessons were learned.
A key criterion in the selection process was the primacy of a women’s rights/feminist perspective; the few exceptions to this rule offer a unique and, we hope, useful, perspective on the issues that women’s rights organizations and activists face in the region. The texts have been selected to provide a wide range of information, relevant to women human rights defenders working from the grassroots to the international level, across issues (including different case studies and examples), from different perspectives (international human rights bodies, academic institutions, NGO contributions, activists’ experiences, etc.), and at a wide range of levels of complexity, in order to respond to the needs of as many readers as possible.
Six thematic anchors hold the Feminist Realities framework of the Forum. Each anchor centers feminist realities, experiences and visions, on the continuum between resistance and proposition, struggle and alternative. We seek to explore together what our feminist realities are made of and what enables them to flourish in different spheres of our life.
These realities may be fully articulated ways of living, dreams and ideas in the making, or precious experiences and moments.
The anchors are not isolated themes, but rather interconnected containers for activities at the Forum. We envision many activities to be at the intersection of these themes, at the intersection of different struggles, communities and movements. The descriptions are preliminary, and continue to evolve as the Feminist Realities journey continues.
This anchor centers questions of how we -- as individuals, communities, and movements -- meet our basic needs and secure the resources that we need to thrive, in ways that center care for people and nature. By “resources” we mean food, water, clean air, as well as money, labor, information, knowledge, time, and more.
Drawing on feminist resistance to the dominant economic system of exploitation and extractivism, the anchor highlights the powerful and inspiring feminist proposals, experiences and practices of organizing our economic and social life. Food and seed sovereignty, feminist visions of work and labor, just and sustainable systems of trade, are just some of the questions to explore. We will bravely face the contradictions that emerge from the need to survive in oppressive economic systems.
This anchor positions funding and resourcing for organizations and movements in a broad feminist analysis of economic justice and wealth creation. It explores how to move resources where they are needed, from tax justice and basic income to different models of philanthropy and creative & autonomous resourcing for movements.
We seek to build new visions and amplify existing realities and experiences of feminist governance, justice and accountability. In the face of the global crisis and rising fascisms and fundamentalisms, this anchor centers feminist, radical and emancipatory models, practices and ideas of organizing society and political life, - locally and globally.
The anchor will explore what feminist governance looks like, from feminist experiences of municipalism to building institutions outside of nation-states, to our visions of multilateralism. We will exchange experiences of justice and accountability processes in our communities, organizations and movements, including models of restorative, community-based and transformative justice that reject state violence and the prison-industrial complex.
Centering experiences of travel, migration and refuge as well as feminist organizing, we seek a world without deadly border regimes; a world of free movement and exciting journeys.
The role of technology in our lives is ever increasing and the line between online and offline realities blurred. Feminists make widespread use of technologies and online space to build community, learn from each other, and mobilise action. With online spaces, we can expand the boundaries of our physical world. On the flip side, digital communications are largely owned by corporations with minimal accountability to users: data mining, surveillance and security breaches have become the norm, as well as online violence and harassment.
This anchor explores the feminist opportunities and challenges within digital realities. We’ll look at alternatives to privately owned platforms that dominate the digital landscape, well-being strategies for navigating online spaces, and uses of technology to overcome accessibility challenges. We’ll explore the potentials of technology in relation to pleasure, trust and relationships.
We hold feminist realities also within ourselves -- the embodied experience. Control of our labour, mobility, reproduction, and sexuality continues to be central to patriarchal, cis-heteronormative and capitalist structures. Defying this oppression, people of diverse genders, sexualities and abilities create encounters, spaces and sub-cultures of joy, care, pleasure and deep appreciation for ourselves and each other.
This anchor will explore multiple ideas, narratives, imaginations, and cultural expressions of consent, agency and desire as held by women, trans, non-binary, gender non-conforming and intersex people in different societies and cultures.
We will exchange strategies for winning reproductive rights and justice, and articulate social practices that enable and respect bodily autonomy, integrity and freedom. The anchor links different struggles and movements to inform each other’s perceptions and experiences of wellbeing and pleasure.
Imagine a feminist planet. What is the sound of the water, the smell of the air, the touch of the earth? What is the relationship between the planet and its living beings, humans included? Feminist realities are realities of environmental and climate justice. Feminist, indigenous, decolonial and ecological struggles are often rooted in transformative visions and relations among people and nature.
This anchor centers the wellbeing of our planet, and reflects on the ways in which humans have interacted with and reshaped our planet. We seek to explore aspects of traditional knowledge and biodiversity as part of sustaining a feminist planet, and learn about feminist practices around degrowth, commoning, models of parallel economies, agro-ecology, food and energy sovereignty initiatives.
While we see all the anchors as related, this one is truly cross-cutting so we invite you to add an organizing dimension to whatever anchor(s) your proposed activity links to.
How is feminist organizing happening in the world today? This question turns our attention to actors, power dynamics, resources, leadership, to the economies we are embedded within, to our understanding of justice and accountability, to the digital age, to our experiences of autonomy, wellbeing and collective care. Across all anchors, we hope to create a space for honest reflection on power and resources distribution and negotiation within our own movements.
The Forum is more than a four-day convening. It is one more stop on a movement strengthening journey around Feminist Realities that has already begun and will continue well beyond the Forum dates.
In a context like Colombia’s, the work of imagining, dreaming and even creating processes of transformation so we can live in worlds that are decent, just, careful, and affectionate is worthy of admiration. It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
In a context like Colombia’s, the work of imagining, dreaming and even creating processes of transformation so we can live in worlds that are decent, just, careful, and affectionate is worthy of admiration. This is an emboldened paragraph.
We are thinking of them and of all the women leaders who are continuing the fight, having gained consciousness, from their respective ethnic, political, cultural, and identity locations and from their work, of their selves and the social problems facing their communities.
This link goes somewhere, but this sentence doesn't, it only exists to show how a link works. Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry.
£2600 is an amount of money that I've wrapped some <strong> tags around, while 4 weeks – a length of time – also has had the same treatment for the purposes of just testing how typography appears on the page. Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged. It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.
Find out how links are made into buttons
In a context like Colombia’s, the work of imagining, dreaming and even creating processes of transformation so we can live in worlds that are decent, just, careful, and affectionate is worthy of admiration.
We are thinking of them and of all the women leaders who are continuing the fight, having gained consciousness, from their respective ethnic, political, cultural, and identity locations and from their work, of their selves and the social problems facing their communities.
Women leaders and human rights defenders in Colombia: A legacy of dreams, struggles and affection that we will not silence
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
These are hyperlinks in paragraphs where they're needed the most, right in a demo page.
£2600 is an amount of money that I've wrapped some <strong> tags around, while 4 weeks – a length of time – also has had the same treatment for the purposes of just testing how typography appears on the page. Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged. It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated. These are hyperlinks in paragraphs where they're needed the most, right in a demo page.
£2600 is an amount of money that I've wrapped some <strong> tags around, while 4 weeks – a length of time – also has had the same treatment for the purposes of just testing how typography appears on the page. Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged. It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated. These are hyperlinks in paragraphs where they're needed the most, right in a demo page.
£2600 is an amount of money that I've wrapped some <strong> tags around, while 4 weeks – a length of time – also has had the same treatment for the purposes of just testing how typography appears on the page. Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged. It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
These are hyperlinks in paragraphs where they're needed the most, right in a demo page. £2600 is an amount of money that I've wrapped some <strong> tags around, while 4 weeks – a length of time – also has had the same treatment for the purposes of just testing how typography appears on the page.
Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged. It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
It is an attack on life itself.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated. It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated. It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
It is an attack on life itself. Not just on the life of one official, but an attack on the soul, on the spirit of an entire people who feels frustrated.
Anti-rights actors adopt a double strategy. As well as launching outright attacks on the multilateral system, anti-rights actors also undermine human rights from within. Anti-rights actors engage with the aim of co-opting processes, entrenching regressive norms, and undermining accountability.

Anti-rights actors’ engagement in international human rights spaces has a principal purpose: to undermine the system and its ability to respect, protect and fulfill human rights for all people, and to hold member states accountable for violations. Some anti-rights tactics operate from outside the UN and include delegitimization and political pressure to defund the UN, or to withdraw from international human rights agreements. In recent years, anti-rights actors have also gained increasing influence inside the UN. Their inside tactics include training of delegates, distortion of human rights frameworks, watering down human rights agreements, infiltrating NGO committees, applying for ECOSOC status under neutral names, infiltrating youth spaces, and lobbying to place anti-rights actors in key positions.

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Tshegofatso Senne is a Black, chronically-ill, genderqueer feminist who does the most. Much of their work is rooted in pleasure, community, and dreaming, while being informed by somatic abolitionism and disability, healing, and transformative justices. Writing, researching, and speaking on issues concerning feminism, community, sexual and reproductive justice, consent, rape culture, and justice, Tshegofatso has 8 years of experience theorising on the ways in which these topics intersect with pleasure. They run their own business, Thembekile Stationery, and their community platform Hedone brings people together to explore and understand the power of trauma-awareness and pleasure in their daily lives. Tshegofatso believes deeply in the individual and collective potential of regenerative and sustainable change, pleasure, and care work. |

The body, not the thinking brain, is where we experience most of our pain, pleasure, and joy, and where we process most of what happens to us. It is also where we do most of our healing, including our emotional and psychological healing. And it is where we experience resilience and a sense of flow.
These words, said by Resmaa Menakem in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, have stayed with me.
The body; it holds our experiences. Our memories. Our resilience. And as Menakem has written, the body also holds our traumas. It responds with spontaneous protective mechanisms to stop or prevent more damage. That is the power of the body. Trauma is not the event; it is how our bodies respond to events that feel dangerous to us. It is often left stuck in the body, until we address it. There’s no talking our body out of this response – it just is.
Using Ling Tan’s Digital Superpower app, I tracked how my body felt as I travelled around different parts of my city, Johannesburg, South Africa. The app is a gesture-driven online platform that allows you to trace your perceptions as you move through locations by logging and recording the data. I used it to track my psychosomatic symptoms – physical reactions connected to a mental cause. Whether that be flashbacks. Panic attacks. Tightness in the chest. A fast heartbeat. Tension headaches. Muscle pain. Insomnia. Struggling to breathe. I tracked these symptoms as I walked and travelled to different areas in Johannesburg. And I asked myself.
Where can we be safe? Can we be safe?
Psychosomatic responses can be caused by a number of things, and some are not as severe as others. After experiencing any kind of trauma you may feel intense distress in similar events or situations. I tracked my sensations, ranked on a scale of 1-5, where 1 were the instances I barely felt any of these symptoms – I felt at ease rather than on-guard and jumpy, my breath and heart rate were stable, I was not looking over my shoulder – and number 5 being the opposite – symptoms that had me close to a panic attack.
As a Black person. As a queer person. As a genderqueer person who could be perceived as a woman, depending on what my gender expression is that day.
I asked myself.
Where can we be safe?
Even in neighbourhoods one might consider “safe,” I felt constantly panicked. Looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, adjusting the way my T-shirt sat so my breasts wouldn’t show up as much, looking around to make sure I knew multiple routes to get out of the place I was should I sense danger. An empty road brings anxiety. A packed one does too. Being in an Uber does. Walking on a public road does. Being in my apartment does. So does picking up a delivery from the front of the building.
Can we be safe?
Pumla Dineo Gqola speaks of the Female Fear Factory. It may or may not be familiar, but if you’re someone socialised as a woman, you’ll know this feeling well. The feeling that has you planning every step you take, whether you’re going to work, school, or just running an errand. The feeling that you have to watch how you dress, act, speak in public and private spaces. The feeling in the pit of your stomach if you have to travel at night, get a delivery, or deal with any person who continues to socialise as a cis man. Harassed on the street, always with the threat of violence. Us existing in any space comes with an innate fear.
Fear is both an individual and a socio-political phenomenon. At an individual level, fear can be present as part of a healthy well developing warning system […] When we think about fear, it is important to hold both notions of individual emotional experience and the political ways in which fear has been used in different epochs for control.
- Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
South African women, femmes, and queers know that every step we take outside – steps to do ordinary things: a walk to the shops, a taxi to work, an Uber from a party – all of these acts are a negotiation with violence. This fear, is part of the trauma. To cope with the trauma we carry in our bodies, we develop responses to detect danger – watching the emotional responses of those around us, reading for “friendliness.” We’re constantly on guard.
Day after day. Year after year. Life after life. Generation after generation.
On the additional challenge of this learned defence system, author of The Body Keeps Score, Bessel Van Der Kolk, has said
It disrupts this ability to accurately read others, rendering the trauma survivor either less able to detect danger or more likely to misperceive danger where there is none. It takes tremendous energy to keep functioning while carrying the memory of terror, and the shame of utter weakness and vulnerability.
As Resmaa Menakem has said, trauma is in everything; it infiltrates the air we breathe, the water we drink, the foods we eat. It is in the systems that govern us, the institutions that teach and also traumatise us, and within the social contracts we enter into with each other. Most importantly, we take it with us everywhere we go, in our bodies, exhausting us and eroding our health and happiness. We carry that truth in our bodies. Generations of us have.
So, as I walk around my city, whether an area is considered “safe” or not, I carry the traumas of generations whose responses are embedded in my body. My heart palpitates, it becomes difficult to breathe, my chest tightens – because my body feels as though the trauma is happening in that very moment. I live hyper vigilant. To the point where one is either too on-guard to mindfully enjoy their life, or too numb to absorb new experiences.
For us to begin to heal, we need to acknowledge these truths.
These truths that live in our bodies.
This trauma is what keeps many of us from living the lives we want. Ask any femme or queer person what safety looks like to them and they’ll mostly share examples that are simple tasks – being able to simply live joyful lives, without the constant threat of violence.
Feelings of safety, of comfort and ease, are spatial. When we embody our trauma, it affects the ways we perceive our own safety, affects the ways we interact with the world, and alters the ways we are able to experience and embody anything pleasurable and joyful.
We have to refuse this burdensome responsibility and fight for a safe world for all of us. Walking wounded as many of us are, we are fighters. Patriarchy may terrorise and brutalise us, but we will not give up the fight. As we repeatedly take to the streets, defying the fear in spectacular and seemingly insignificant ways, we defend ourselves and speak in our own name.
- Pumla Dineo Gqola, in her book Rape: A South African Nightmare
Where can we be safe? How do we begin to defend ourselves, not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional, psychological, and spiritual senses?
“Trauma makes weapons out of us all,” adrienne maree brown has said in an interview conducted by Justin Scott Campbell. And her work, Pleasure Activism, offers us multiple methodologies to heal that trauma and ground ourselves in the understanding that healing, justice, and liberation can also be pleasurable experiences. Especially those of us who are the most marginalised, who may have been raised to equate suffering with “The Work.” The Work that so many of us have gone into as activists, community builders and workers, those serving the most marginalised, The Work that we struggle in order to do, burning ourselves out and rarely caring for our minds and bodies. The alternative is becoming more informed about our trauma, able to identify our own needs, and becoming deeply embodied. That embodiment means we are simply more able to experience the world through the senses and sensations in our bodies, acknowledging what they tell us rather than suppressing and ignoring the information it is communicating with us.
Being constantly in conversation with our living body and intentionally practising those conversations connects us to embodiment more deeply; it allows us to make tangible the emotions we feel as we interact with the world, befriend our bodies, and understand all that they try to teach us. When understanding trauma and embodiment paired, we can begin to start the healing and access pleasure more holistically, healthily, and in our daily lives without shame and guilt. We can begin to access pleasure as a tool for individual and social change, tapping into the power of the erotic as Audre Lorde described it. A power that allows us to share the joy we access and experience, expanding our capacity for happiness and understanding that we are deserving of it, even with our trauma.
Tapping into pleasure and embodying the erotic gives us the expansion of being deliberately alive, feeling grounded and stable and understanding our nervous systems. It allows us to understand and shed the generational baggage we’ve been carrying without realising; we can be empowered with the knowledge that even as traumatised as we are, as traumatised as we potentially could be in the future, we are still deserving of pleasurable and joyful lives, that we can share that power with our people. It is the community aspect that is missing from the ways we care for ourselves; self-care cannot exist without community care. We are able to feel a deeper internal trust, safety, and power of ourselves, especially in the face of future traumas that will trigger us, knowing how to soothe and stabilise ourselves. All this understanding leads us to a deep internal power that is resourced to meet any challenges that come your way.
As those living with deep generational traumas, we have come to distrust and perhaps think we are incapable of containing and accessing the power we have. In “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” Lorde teaches us that the erotic offers a source of replenishment, a way to demand better for ourselves and our lives.
For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavours brings us closest to that fullness.

I don’t say any of this lightly – I know that this is easier said than done. I know that many of us are prevented from understanding these truths, from internalising or even healing them. Resistance comes with acts of feeling unsafe, but is not impossible. Resisting power structures that keep the most powerful safe will always endanger those of us shoved to the margins. Acknowledging the traumas you’ve faced is a reclamation of your lived experiences, those that have passed and those that will follow; it is resistance that embodies that knowledge that we are deserving of more than the breadcrumbs these systems have forced us to lap up. It is a resistance that understands that pleasure is complicated by trauma, but it can be accessed in arbitrary and powerful ways. It is a resistance that acknowledges that our trauma is a resource that connects us to each other, and can allow us to keep each other safe. It is a resistance that understands that even with pleasure and joy, this is not a utopia; we will still harm and be harmed, but we will be better equipped for survival and thrive in a community of diverse care and kindness. A resistance that makes way for healing and connecting to our full human selves.
Healing will never be an easy and rosy journey, but it begins with the acknowledgment of the possibility. When oppression makes us believe that pleasure is not something that we all have equal access to, one of the ways that we start doing the work of reclaiming our full selves — our whole liberated, free selves — is by reclaiming our access to pleasure.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha has said in her article in Pleasure Activism (to which she contributed),
I know that for most people, the words “care” and “pleasure” can’t even be in the same sentence. We’re all soaking in ableism’s hatred of bodies that have needs, and we’re given a really shitty choice: either have no needs and get to have autonomy, dignity, and control over your life or admit you need care and lose all of the above.
The power that this has? We understand our traumas, so we understand those of others; we embody the sensations we experience and tend to them rather than distract and avoid. We access pleasure in ways that make us want to share that joy with those in our communities. When we are trauma-informed, we give ourselves more room to experience all this and give ourselves, and others, permission to heal. Imagine, a community in which everyone has access, resources, and time to live pleasurable lives, in whichever way they want and deserve. In which spatial traumas are lessened because the people that occupy them are trauma-aware, are filled with a tender care. Isn’t that healing? Is that not working through generational traumas? Does that not build and sustain healthier futures for us all?
It is time we reconnected with the ancestral knowledge that we deserve to live full lives. We need to get back in touch with our natural right to joy and existing for ourselves. To feel pleasure simply for the sake of it. To not live lives of terror. It sounds radical; it feels radical. In a world where we have been socialised and traumatised to numb, to fear, to feel and remain powerless, to be greedy and live with structural issues that lead to mental illness, what a gift and wonder it is to begin to feel, to be in community with those who feel, to be healthily interdependent in, to love each other boldly. Feeling is radical. Pleasure is radical. Healing is radical.
You have permission to feel pleasure. You have permission to dance, create, make love to yourself and others, celebrate and cultivate joy. You are encouraged to do so. You have permission to heal. Don’t bottle it up inside, don’t try to move through this time alone. You have permission to grieve. And you have permission to live.
- adrienne maree brown, “You Have Permission”
Somatic embodiment allows us to explore our trauma, work through it and make meaningful connections to ourselves and the collective. Doing this over time sustains our healing; just like trauma, healing is not a one-time only event. This healing helps move us toward individual and collective liberation.
In “A Queer Politics of Pleasure,” Andy Johnson speaks about the ways in which the queering of pleasure offers us sources of healing, acceptance, release, playfulness, wholeness, defiance, subversion, and freedom. How expansive! When we embody pleasure in ways that are this holistic, this queer, we are able to acknowledge the limitation.
Queering pleasure also asks us the questions that intersect our dreaming with our lived realities.
Who is free or deemed worthy enough to feel pleasure? When is one allowed to feel pleasure or pleased? With whom can one experience pleasure? What kind of pleasure is accessible? What limits one from accessing their full erotic and pleased potential?
- Andy Johnson, “A Queer Politics
of Pleasure”
When our trauma-informed pleasure practices are grounded in community care, we begin to answer some of these questions. We begin to understand the liberating potential. As pleasure activists, this is the reality we ground ourselves within. The reality that says, my pleasure may be fractal, but it has the potential to heal not only me and my community, but future bloodlines.
I am a whole system; we are whole systems. We are not just our pains, not just our fears, and not just our thoughts. We are entire systems wired for pleasure, and we can learn how to say yes from the inside out.
- Prentis Hemphill, interviewed by Shar Jossell
There’s a world of pleasure that allows us to begin to understand ourselves holistically, in ways that give us room to rebuild the realities that affirm that we are capable and deserving of daily pleasure. BDSM, one of my deepest pleasures, allows me a glimpse into these realities where I can both feel and heal my trauma, as well as feel immeasurable opportunities to say yes from the inside out. While trauma keeps me stuck in a cycle of fight or flight, bondage, kneeling, impact, and breath play encourage me to stay grounded and connected, reconnecting to restoration. Pleasure that is playful allows me to heal, to identify where traumatic energy is stored in my body and focus my energy there. It allows me to express the sensations my body feels through screams of pain and delight, to express my no with no fear and revel in the fuck yes. With a safety plan, aftercare, and a deeper understanding of trauma, kink offers a place of pleasure and healing that is invaluable.
So whether your pleasure looks like cooking a meal at your leisure, engaging in sex, having bed days with your people, participating in disability care collectives, having someone spit in your mouth, going on accessible outings, having cuddle dates, attending an online dance party, spending time in your garden, being choked out in a dungeon,
I hope you take pleasure with you wherever you go. I hope it heals you and your people.
Recognising the power of the erotic within our lives can give us the energy to pursue genuine change within our world.
- Audre Lorde, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power”


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.
By: Marianne Mesfin Asfaw

I have many fond memories in my journey with feminism, but one in particular that stands out. It was during my time at graduate school, at a lecture I attended as part of a Feminist Theory course. This lecture was on African feminism and in it the professor talked about the history of Pan Africanism and the ways in which it was patriarchal, male-centric, and how Pan Africanist scholars perpetuated the erasure of African women. She talked about how African women’s contributions to the anti-colonial and decolonial struggles on the continent are rarely, if ever, discussed and given their due credit. We read about the African feminist scholars challenging this erasure and actively unearthing these stories of African women led movements and resistance efforts. It seems so simple but what stood out to me the most was that somebody put the words African and feminist together. Better yet, that there were many more of us out there wrestling with the complicated history, politics and societal norms in the various corners of the continent and we were all using a feminist lens to do this. I came out of that lecture feeling moved and completely mind-blown. After the lecture three of my friends (all African feminists) and I spent some time debriefing outside the classroom. We were all so struck by the brilliance of the lecture and the content but, more than anything, we all felt so seen. That feeling stood out to me.
Falling in love feminism was thrilling. It felt like finally getting to talk to your longtime crush and finding out that they like you back. I call it my crush because in high school I referred to myself as a feminist but I didn’t feel like I knew enough about it. Was there a right way to be feminist? What if I wasn’t doing it right? Attending my first Women’s Studies lecture answered some of these questions for me. It was thrilling to learn about stories of feminist resistance and dismantling the patriarchy. I felt so affirmed and validated, but I also felt like something was missing.
Deepening my relationship with feminism through academia, at an institution where the students and teaching staff were mostly white meant that, for those first few years, I noticed that we rarely had discussions about how race and anti-blackness show up in mainstream feminist movements. In most courses we had maybe 1 week, or worse 1 lecture, dedicated to race and we would usually read something by bell hooks, Kimberly Crenshaw’s work on intersectionality, and maybe Patricia Hill Collins. The following week we were back to sidelining the topic. I dealt with this by centring race and black feminism in almost all my assignments, by writing about black hair and respectability politics, the hypersexualization of black women’s bodies, and so much more. Over time I realized that I was trying to fill a gap but didn’t quite know what it was.
Encountering and learning about African feminism was a full circle moment. I realized that there was so much more I had to learn.
Mainly that my Africanness and my feminist politics did not have to be separate. In fact, there was so much that they could learn from each other and there were African feminists out there already doing this work. It was the missing piece that felt so elusive during my exploration of feminism throughout my academic journey.
Feminism to me is the antithesis to social and political apathy. It also means once you adopt a feminist lens, nothing can ever be the same. My friends and I used to talk about how it was like putting on glasses that you can never take off because you now see the world for what it is, mess and all. A mess you can’t simply ignore or walk away from. Therefore my vow to the feminist movement is to never stop learning, to keep stretching the bounds of my empathy and to never live passively. To dedicate more time and space in my life to feminist movements and to continue to amplify, celebrate, document and cite the work of African feminists. I also commit to centring care and prioritizing pleasure in this feminist journey because we can’t sustain our movements without this.
I never knew I have a close family who loves me and wants me to grow, My mum has always been there for me, but I never imagined I would have thousands of families out there who are not related to me by blood.

I found out family are not just people related by blood ties, but people who love you unconditionally, not minding your sexual orientation, your health status, social status, or your race.
Thinking about the precious moments I listened to all my sisters around the world who are strong feminists, people I have not meet physically, but who support me, teach me, fight for me: I am short of words, words cannot express how much I love you mentors and other feminists, you’re a mother, a sister, a friend to millions of girls.
You are amazing, you fought for people you don’t know - and that is what makes you so special.
It gladdens my heart to express this through writing.
I love you all and will continue to love you. I have not seen any one of you physically but it seems we have known each other for decades.
We are feminists and we are proud to be women.
We will keep letting the world know that our courage is our crown.
A love letter from FAITH ONUH, a young feminist from Nigeria

This calendar invites us to immerse ourselves in the inspiring world of feminist artistry. Each month, as it gently unfolds, brings forth the vivid artwork of feminist and queer artists from our communities. Their creations are not mere images; they are profound narratives that resonate with the experiences of struggle, triumph, and undying courage that define our collective quest. These visual stories, bursting with color and emotion, serve to bridge distances and weave together our diverse experiences, bringing us closer in our shared missions.
This calendar is our call to you: Use it, print it, share it. Let it be a daily companion in your journey, a constant reminder of our interconnectedness and our shared visions for a better world.
Let it inspire you, as it inspires us, to keep moving forward together.

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