The Human Rights Council (HRC) is the key intergovernmental body within the United Nations system responsible for the promotion and protection of all human rights around the globe. It holds three regular sessions a year: in March, June and September. The Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) is the secretariat for the HRC.
The HRC works by:
Debating and passing resolutions on global human rights issues and human rights situations in particular countries
Examining complaints from victims of human rights violations or activist organizations on behalf of victims of human rights violations
Appointing independent experts (known as “Special Procedures”) to review human rights violations in specific countries and examine and further global human rights issues
Engaging in discussions with experts and governments on human rights issues
Assessing the human rights records of all UN Member States every four and a half years through the Universal Periodic Review
AWID works with feminist, progressive and human rights partners to share key knowledge, convene civil society dialogues and events, and influence negotiations and outcomes of the session.
With our partners, our work will:
◾️ Monitor, track and analyze anti-rights actors, discourses and strategies and their impact on resolutions
When you do a search for “Female Genital Mutilation” or “FGM” online, an image of four line-drawings of the female anatomy pop up next to its Wikipedia entry. It illustrates four types of violence. The first being a partial cut to the clitoris. The second, a more invasive cut with the entire clitoris removed. The third is progressively worse with the removal of the clitoris, labia majora and minora. And the fourth box illustrates a series of hash marks to symbolize stitches over the vaginal opening to allow only for urination and menstruation.
As a survivor of FGM, most questions about my story fixate on the physical. The first question I usually get asked is what type of FGM I underwent. When I told a journalist once that I went through Type 1, she said “oh, that’s not so bad. It’s not like type three which is far worse.” She was technically right. I had the least invasive form. And for many years, I gaslighted myself into feeling a sense of relief that I was one of the lucky ones. I comforted myself noting that I could have been less fortunate with all of my genitalia gouged out, not just the clitoral tip. Or worse I could have been one of the ones who didn’t survive at all. Like Nada Hassan Abdel-Maqsoud, a twelve year old, who bled to death on a doctor’s operating table earlier this year in Upper Egypt. Nada is a reminder to me that for every data point -- 200 million women and girls who live with the consequences of FGM globally -- there is a story. Nada will never be able to tell hers.
As much as I find the label “survivor” suffocating at times -- I also realize there is privilege embedded in the word. By surviving, you are alive. You have the ability to tell your story, process the trauma, activate others in your community and gain insights and a new language and lens to see yourself through.
The act of storytelling can be cathartic and liberating, but it can also shatter the storyteller in the process.
Without integrating the psychosocial support of trained clinicians into storytelling and healing retreats, well-intentioned interventions can result in more trauma. This is all the more important as FGM survivors navigate the double pandemic of their own PTSD from childhood trauma, and the indefinite COVID-19 global shutdown.
In many anti-FGM advocacy spaces, I have seen this insatiable hunger to unearth stories -- whatever the cost to the storyteller. The stories help activate funding and serve as a data point
for measuring impact.
Survivor stories then become commodities fueling a storytelling industrial complex. Storytellers, if not provided proper mental health support in the process, can become collateral damage.
My motivation in writing this piece is to flip the script on how we view FGM survivors, prioritizing the storyteller over the story itself.
FGM survivors are more than the four boxes describing how the pieces of our anatomy were cut, pricked, carved, or gouged out. In this essay, I’ll break down the anatomy of an FGM survivor’s story into four parts: stories that break, stories that remake, stories that heal, and stories that reveal.
Type 1: Stories that break
I was sitting in the heart of Appalachia with a group of FGM survivors, meeting many for the first time. As they shared their traumas, I realized we all belonged in some way or another to the same unenviable club. A white Christian survivor from Kentucky - who I don’t think I would have ever met if we didn’t have FGM survivorship connecting us - told the contours of her story.
There were so many parallels. We were both cut at seven. She was bribed with cake after her cut. I was bribed with a jumbo-sized Toblerone chocolate bar when mine was over. Absorbing her trauma overwhelmed me. And I imagine when I shared my story, others in the circle may also have been silently unraveling. We didn’t have a clinician or mental health professional in a facilitation role and that absence was felt. The first night, I was sharing a room with six other survivors and tried hard to keep the sounds of my own tears muffled. By the last day, I reached breaking point. Before leaving for the airport, my stomach contracted and I convulsively vomited. I felt like I was purging not only my pain, but the pain of the others I’d absorbed that week. We all dutifully produced our stories into 90 second social media friendly soundbites with narration and photos. But at what cost?
Type 2: Stories that remake
On February 6, 2016, the Guardian published my story as a survivor. The second it was released, I was remade. My identity transformed from nondescript, relatively invisible mid-level Foreign Service Officer to FGM survivor under a public microscope. That same day, then-U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power tweeted my story with the introduction: “I was seven years old” before linking to the article. The tweet symbolized a moment for me where my personal and professional worlds collided. Since then, they have been forever intertwined.
Even though I spent ten years of my career as a diplomat focused on other issues -- I lived in Cairo during the early days of the Arab Spring in 2011 and served in Baghdad and Erbil when the Syrian revolution turned from an uprising to civil war -- all of those past experiences that began to make mefeel erased. When I spoke on panels, my identity would be reduced to “survivor.” Like other survivors, I have worked hard to rewrite the script on how others see me.
I reinsert pieces of my other identities when speaking to underscore to the broader public that while yes, I am a survivor of childhood trauma and while my FGM story may have remade a part of my identity, it doesn’t define me.
Type 3: Stories that heal
With the guidance of a mental health expert, I have spent the last few months doing a deep dive into my FGM survivor story. I have told and retold my story over dozens of times in public venues. My goal is to break the culture of silence and inspire action. At this point, the telling of my story has almost become mechanized, as though I am reciting a verse from the Quran I memorized as a kid. I would always start with: “I was sitting an anthropology class when a fellow student described her research project on Female Genital Mutilation. And that’s when I had the memory jolt. A memory I had suppressed since childhood came flooding to the foreground.” I go into the details of what happened in granular detail -- the color of the floor, the feelings of confusion and betrayal in the hazy aftermath. And then I go on to talk about the afternoon I confronted my mother about the summer she and my father shipped my brother and off to India to stay with my aunt. The summer it happened. I later found out my aunt cut me without my parents’ consent. In my years of telling and retelling this story, I would have moments I felt nothing, moments I would break down, and moments of relief. It was a mixed bag, often contradictory emotions happening all at once.
When I began to take apart the story, I discovered the core moment where I felt most gutted. It wasn’t the cut itself. It was the aftermath. I remember sitting in a corner alone, feeling confused and ashamed. When I looked at my aunt on the other side of the room, she was whispering to my cousin and they both pointed and laughed at me. Unearthing the moment of shame - the laughter - has haunted me since childhood. The piece that was carved out of me is called “haram ki boti” which translates into sinful flesh. Over time, the physical scar healed. But for many FGM survivors, the psychological wounds remain
Type 4: Stories that reveal
Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical from the Foreign Service. I was burning out on both ends -- I had just completed a really tough assignment in Pakistan and was also doing anti-FGM
advocacy in my personal capacity. When I came home, an acquaintance from graduate school approached me to capture my story on film. As part of the process, she would send a camera
crew to shadow me. Sometimes while giving speeches, other times filming mundane interactions with friends and family. On a visit to my home in Texas, I’ll never forget the moment where my mom told me her story of survival. As part of the film, we went on a roadtrip to Austin to visit the university where I first had the memory jolt. My mom is patiently waiting for the cameraman to set up his tripod. My father is standing next to her.
In the end, we eventually had the conversation I never had the courage to have with either of my parents face to face. Looking them both in the eye, retelling my story with a camera as witness, we discussed how FGM ripped our family apart (specifically my dad’s relationship with his sister). For the first time, I heard my mom talking about her own experience and the feeling of betrayal when she discovered my aunt cut me without her consent. When I later told her that FGM was actually indigenous to the U.S. and Europe and that it was a cure for hysteria (prescribed by doctors) up until the 19th century, my mother exclaimed “that’s crazy to me, this was a cure for hysteria. I’m going to educate other doctors to speak out.” And in that moment, my mother, a survivor who had never shared her story before, became an activist.
My story, intertwined with her story, revealed a tightly woven fabric of resistance. With our voices, we were able to break the cycle of intergenerational structural violence. We were able to rewrite the stories of future generations of girls in our own family and hopefully one day, the world.
This is a woman breaking free from her mundane reality, devoid of color. She dreams in a colorful, "nonsensical" way that people in her life would not understand. She could be considered insane, yet her dreams are more vivid and imaginative than actual life. This is frequently how schizophrenia occurs to me, more engaging and exciting than real life.
Our values - esponsibility, Accountability, and Integrity
Responsibility, Accountability, and Integrity
We strive for transparency, responsible use of our resources, fairness in our collaborations and accountability and integrity with our members, partners, funders and the movements with(in) which we work. We are committed to reflecting on our experiences, sharing our learnings openly, and striving to change our practices accordingly.
Gloria Chicaiza, una activista social y ambiental ecuatoriana, fue una ferviente defensora de la tierra y el agua. Desafió el statu quo, al luchar contra un modelo de desarrollo basado en la extracción, y trabajó incansablemente por la justicia ecológica y los derechos de las comunidades afectadas por la minería.
Gloria participó en las acciones de resistencia para la protección del ecosistema en distintas áreas de Ecuador. Con pasión y dedicación, Gloria apoyó al movimiento indígena y ambiental, a sus comunidades y a las organizaciones que se oponen a los proyectos de minería y protegen sus territorios y sus proyectos de vida colectivos. En foros locales e internacionales, se pronunció contra la criminalización del disenso y la resistencia, contra la presión y la violencia ejercidas contra lxs activistas comunitarixs (y, en particular, contra las defensoras de derechos humanos), y a favor de los esfuerzos comunitarios por la soberanía alimentaria y la sustentabilidad.
Fue Coordinadora del Área de Justicia Minera de Acción Ecológica, participó en la Red Latinoamericana de Mujeres Defensoras de Derechos Sociales y Ambientales, e integró la Junta Directiva del Observatorio de Conflictos Mineros de América Latina (OCMAL).
En 2014 Gloria apoyó la coordinación de una delegación a la Conferencia Internacional sobre Cambio Climático (COP 20) de la ONU. El grupo estuvo integrado por veinticinco mujeres indígenas de América Latina.
Gloria falleció el 28 de diciembre de 2019 por complicaciones de un trasplante de pulmón. Es recordada por su resistencia y su incansable trabajo.
«El camino más rápido para llegar a la sustentabilidad sigue siendo la resistencia.» - Gloria Chicaiza (entrevista de 2010)
«Gracias Glorita, por sostener la esperanza, por mantener el tejido fuerte, por conectar la comunidad, por las manos unidas, por la solidaridad, gracias Glorita por acompañarnos en los momentos más difíciles. Gracias por enseñarnos que, a lo largo de la vida, nadie se cansa.» - Chakana News
«Fue más intrépida, más audaz y más generosa que su cuerpo; ese cuerpo que enfrentó toletes y bombas lacrimógenas, que paseó bajo la cadencia de los tambores y las batucadas, que incubó otra vida, hermosa y digna, como la suya. Haz dejado de toser, querida amiga, pero hoy, más que nunca, tu voz me quema adentro.» - Pablo Ospina Peralta
«Gloria Chicaiza valoraba ser una de muchxs, y así prosperaba. Y, humilde como era, tenía una extraordinaria capacidad para llevar y mantener un ritmo sostenido y estruendoso, un pulso de afirmación de la vida que guiaba, movilizaba e inspiraba a las comunidades y a las redes para la protección de la Madre Tierra. Se oponía a toda forma de violencia contra los cuerpos-territorios. Apoyaba el buen vivir.» - Gabriela Jiménez, Coordinadora de Asociaciones para América Latina, KAIROS
«Gracias Gloria Chicaiza, desde el infinito estamos seguros de que seguirás apoyando nuestra lucha.. Tú, que continuaste acompañándonos en la lucha a pesar de que tu salud fallara. Vivirás en los bosques y en el agua que defendiste con tanta valentía, vivirás en nuestros corazones.» - Comunidad de Intag, Ecuador
لا أشعر بالراحة لمشاركة اسمي او اسم مجموعتي، منظمتي و\ أو حركتي مع AWID, هل أستطيع مع ذلك تعبئة الاستطلاع؟
طبعاً! هذه الأسئلة اختيارية. نقدّر جداً حقكم بالسرية. الرجاء تعبئة الاستطلاع دون علاقة بقراركم/ن بمشاركة اسم المجموعة، المنظمة أو الحركة أو تفاصيل التواصل معكم/ن.
Avril 2015: tienen lugar las audiencias interactivas con empresarios y sociedad civil
El 8 y 9 de abril de 2015, en la sede de la ONU en Nueva York se realizaron audiencias interactivas oficiosas con el sector empresarial y la sociedad civil, respectivamente.
Las organizaciones por los derechos de las mujeres y otras organizaciones de la sociedad civil (OSC) plantearon sus preocupaciones acerca de la participación limitada de los Estados Miembros durante las audiencias con las OSC, por lo cual el CSO Coordinating Group [Grupo Coordinador de las OSC, ACG en inglés] envió una carta a los facilitadores sobre este asunto.
La segunda sesión redactora del Documento Final de la Conferencia de Adís Abeba tuvo lugar del 13 al 17 de abril de 2015 en la sede de la ONU. Sus discusiones tuvieron como base el Borrador Cero.
En las diferentes sesiones oficiales y eventos paralelos, el WWG presentó recomendaciones sobre las áreas temáticas de la FpD a los Estados Miembros. Algunas de las principales preocupaciones de las mujeres giraban en torno al hecho de que el Borrador Cero no ponía suficiente énfasis en los impactos enormes y negativos de la crisis financiera producto de la inestabilidad en los sistemas financieros internacionales sobre el desarrollo, la igualdad y los derechos humanos, particularmente los derechos de las mujeres.
Snippet FEA Union Otras Photo 5 (ES)
Principles of Engagement
Welcome to Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!
Principles of Engagement
AWID is committed to creating an online space that invites and challenges us all to operate from a place of courage, curiosity, generosity and shared responsibility.
We invite you to co-create spaces with us that are free of harassment and violence, where everyone is respected in their gender identity and expression, race, ability, class, religion, language, ethnicity, age, occupation, type of education, sexuality, body size, and physical appearance. Spaces where we recognize inequalities in our world and strive to transform them in our own interactions with each other.
We want to create a space where ...
we can all be present
This means that we are able to listen, understand and relate to each other. To feel close, in spite of it all being virtual. For this, we will make interpretation available and open channels (like chat and other tools) for you to react and share. To hear each other better, we invite you to wear headphones during the conversation. If it is possible for you , we suggest that you close your email and any other likely source of distraction while you are in the conversation.
all forms of knowledge are valued
Let us celebrate the multiple ways in which knowledge shows up in our lives. We invite you to approach the conversation with curiosity and openness to learn from others, allowing ourselves to unlearn and relearn through the exchange, as a way to start collectively building knowledge.
all of us feel welcome
We are committed to holistically approaching accessibility by being mindful of different physical, language, mental and safety needs. We want a space that is welcoming of folks from various backgrounds, beliefs, abilities and experiences. We will be proactive but we also ask that you communicate your needs with us, and we will do our best within our capacity to address these needs.
all of us feel safe and respected:
We all commit individually and collectively to respect each other’s privacy and to seek people’s consent before sharing any images or content generated during the conversation that involves them.
Creating a safer, respectful and enjoyable environment for the conversations, is everybody's responsibility.
Reporting
If you notice that someone is behaving in a discriminatory or offensive manner, please contact the reference person who will be indicated at the beginning of the session.
Any participants that express oppressive language or images, will be removed from the call and will not be readmitted. We will not engage with them in any way.
14th AWID international Forum is cancelled (forum page)
El 14°Foro Internacional de AWID ha sido cancelado
Dada la situación global, nuestra Junta Directiva tomó la difícil decisión de cancelar el Foro que estaba programado en 2021, enTaipei.
Lorena Borjas, femme trans et activiste latino-américaine, travaillait et vivait dans le quartier de Jackson Heights dans le Queens, à New York. Dans ces rues, pendant des années, elle s’est occupée de sa communauté à plaider en faveur des droits des personnes trans et immigrées, soutenir les individus ayant survécu à la traite des êtres humains et à la maltraitance et défendre les droits des travailleures du sexe et des personnes vivant avec le VIH et le sida.
Lorena se battait avec force, sans relâche, afin d’aider, de défendre et de soutenir les personnes les plus marginalisées et discriminées par la transphobie, la misogynie et le racisme.
« Elle nous a poussé·e·s à briller avec authenticité, à devenir le cri subversif qui affirme “ je suis là et je mérite moi aussi d’être heureux·se ” » - Cecilia Gentili, activiste trans et ami·e de Lorena
Ayant elle-même fait face à de nombreux traumatismes et difficultés en tant qu'immigrée transgenre et victime de la traite des êtres humains, Lorena a puisé dans le puits de ses expériences des connaissances et d’une mémoire émotionnelle afin d'aider à construire et à renforcer la communauté dont elle faisait partie, et qui faisait partie d'elle. Pour ce faire, elle a notamment organisé et mobilisé des aides allant de la fourniture de préservatifs à la mise en relation de femmes trans avec différents services, en passant par la création d'une clinique de dépistage du VIH à son propre domicile.
« C’était une si belle âme qui aidait les autres alors que son parcours d’immigrée, et d’immigrée trans, était difficile et douloureux. Elle était convaincue que la communauté trans avait besoin d’amour, d’acceptation et de compassion, et elle a tout donné. » - Luchia Dragosh, superviseuse de production chez QPTV dans le cadre d’un documentaire sur Lorena
En plus de 25 ans d'activisme, elle a également fondé le Fonds communautaire Lorena Borjas avec Chase Strangio (avocat et activiste des droits des trans), qui aide les nombreux·ses membres de sa communauté (et en particulier les personnes trans) confronté·e·s aux problèmes d'immigration à éviter le cycle arrestation-prison-expulsion.
Lorena est décédée en mars 2020 des suites de complications liées à la COVID-19.
Son oeuvre, gigantesque et merveilleuse, sera poursuivie dans les rues du Queens par le réseau et la communauté qu’elle a cocréés.
« Nous reprendrons son travail là où elle l’a laissé, travail essentiel au bien-être de ses “ pajaras ” (oiselles), comme elle aimait appeler les filles trans du Queens qu’elle avait prises sous son aile. » - Cecilia Gentili
Hommages :
« Lorena nous a apporté de la lumière alors que nous vivions une période très sombre ici à New York. Elle nous a apporté sa lumière alors que nous faisions face à l’ ”épidémie de crack ”, à la crise du sida, aux changements dans les politiques d’immigration. » - Cristina Herrera, fondatrice et directrice générale de Translatina Network et amie de Lorena
« Lorena a fait plus que quiconque pour faire la lumière sur l’épidémie de traite dans les communautés transgenres et permettre à d’autres femmes trans d’échapper à l’exploitation. » - Lynly Egyes (a représenté Borjas pour le compte du Transgender Law Center)
Могу ли я поделиться информацией об опросе с другими?
Да, пожалуйста! Мы просим распространить ссылку на опрос среди своих коллег по сети. Чем больше различных точек зрения мы соберем, тем более полным будет наше понимание финансового положения феминистских организаций.
Quels sont les enjeux de ce processus pour les droits des femmes ?
Le financement du développement est, pour les droits des femmes et les droits humains de toutes et tous, un champ qui comporte des menaces et des possibilités spécifiques. Le financement du développement et des politiques à visées transformatrices peut être un facteur déterminant dans la mise en œuvre des changements systémiques nécessaires pour garantir le respect, la protection et la réalisation des droits humains des femmes.
L’étape actuelle du processus sur le FdD est une occasion importante pour définir un cadre de financement susceptible de garantir le financement efficace de la mise en œuvre du programme de développement de l’après-2015 et des Objectifs pour le développement durable (ODD). Elle pourrait également permettre d’aborder les conditions structurelles et les changements systémiques nécessaires à la pleine réalisation d’autres priorités et engagements, tels que les conventions sur les droits humains et le Programme d'action de Beijing.
Au cours de ces treize dernières années, les organisations féministes et de défense des droits des femmes se sont résolument engagées dans le processus sur le FdD.
Snippet FEA Principles of Work S4 (FR)
HORIZONTALITÉ
Upasana Agarwal
“Forgotten Song” [«Canción Olvidada»]“Ode to the Moon” [Oda a la Luna»]“Vapour and Fire” [«Vapor y Fuego»]
Sobre Upasana Agarwal
Upasana es unx ilustradorx y artista no binarie de Calcuta, India. Su obra explora narrativas identitarias y personales, que empean restos o evidencias visuales de los contextos con los que trabaja. Le atraen especialmente los diseños en patrones que, para ellx, comunican verdades complejas sobre el pasado, el presente y el futuro. Cuando Upasana no está ilustrando, organiza y dirige un centro de arte comunitario queer y trans de la ciudad.
“Where is the Money for Women’s Rights?" AWID’s WITM Toolkit (landing page intro) FR
Une nouvelle édition de la recherche Où est l'argent ? est en cours.
L’AWID propose la Boîte à outils « Où est l’argent pour les droits des femmes? » (« Where Is The Money for Women's Rights? », WITM) pour soutenir les individus et les organisations qui souhaitent mener leur propre recherche sur les tendances de financement en adaptant la méthodologie de recherche de l’AWID à une région, une question ou une population spécifique.
La Boîte à outils WITM de l’AWID est le produit de dix ans de recherches. La rméthologie WITM de l’AWID proposent une démonstration politique et pratique des ressources et des étapes qu’exige une solide recherche-action.
L’équipe 'Ressources des mouvements féministes' offre également un soutien technique et politique, avant et pendant le processus de recherche. Parcourez la boîte à outils et contactez fundher@awid.org si vous souhaitez plus de renseignements.
Rosane Santiago Silveira was affectionately known as Rô Conceição. A Brazilian environmental and human rights activist, she fervently fought to protect the environment where it was most threatened.
This included defending it on the island of Barra Velha, where it was endangered by oil exploration, as well as safeguarding it by campaigning against land-grabbing and expansion of eucalyptus plantations in Bahia State, where Rosane was a member of the Cassurubá Extractivist Reserve Council.
“Extractive Reserve is a protected area where resident families make their living off natural products extracted from the forest. These activities help maintain the forest integrity.” - Global Justice Ecology Project (original source: Rede Brasil Atual)
She was part of trade union activities, human rights and cultural movements. Rosane dedicated much of herself to causes that were not only close to her but are also of concern to land, forests, rivers, and communities whose rights and lives are continuously at risk.
She was tortured and murdered on 29 January 2019 in Nova Viçosa, a city in southern Bahia.
“Unfortunately, today there is a feeling of total insecurity, because of the State’s absence in prosecuting these crimes. We were with her at Christmas, and everyone realised that she was worried and now we know that she had received three death threats,” - Tuian, Rosane’s son in an interview with Rádio Brasil Atual (original source: Rede Brasil Atual)
I believe empowered women empower women and that is why I’ve had an incredible time being an AWID member. My knowledge and understanding of Feminism and intersectionality has been broadened by the exposure I received being part of the AWID Community Street Team. I hope more women join and share topics and ideas that will help other women.
