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
Barbara Allimadi fue una activista política y defensora de los derechos humanos de Uganda. En 2012, co-organizó una protesta contra la agresión policial a Ingrid Turinawe, una figura política de la oposición, que fue televisada y muestra cómo un policía le aprieta el pecho. Durante la protesta, Barbara, junto con otras compañeras activistas, se quitaron la ropa hasta quedarse en sujetador frente a la Estación Central de Policía de Kampala. Este hecho pasó a conocerse en Uganda como la infame "protesta de los sujetadores".
"Nos decidimos por la protesta de los sujetadores. Pensamos que sería lo más apropiado para lo que había sucedido. Con esta acción, no es que estuviésemos diciendo que no nos respetásemos a nosotras mismas. Estábamos indignadas con lo que había sucedido." - Barbara Allimadi, 2013 (Daily Monitor, en inglés)
Barbara se licenció en Ingeniería Electrónica y de Comunicaciones en la Universidad Metropolitana de Londres, y ejerció como ingeniera de redes en el Reino Unido. Era,además, una fan entusiasta de la música reggae. Regresó a Uganda en 2007, cuando su madre falleció.
En 2019, fue nombrada Coordinadora de Asuntos Internacionales y de la Diáspora de la Alianza para la Transformación Nacional (ANT, por sus siglas en inglés), un partido político lanzado ese año por un líder de la oposición.
"Queremos garantizar la seguridad de la vida y la propiedad, no el dolor, las lesiones o incluso la muerte a manos de unas fuerzas de seguridad que se supone deberían protegernos. Y lo más importante, queremos un entorno estable y propicio donde podamos realizar nuestros sueños y aspiraciones". - Barbara Allimadi, video de ANT (en inglés)
Barbara falleció el 27 de abril de 2020.
Tributos:
"Estaba muy orgullosa de mi hermana por muchas razones, pero, en particular, por su intrépida búsqueda de la paz, la democracia, la justicia y la igualdad en Uganda. En los momentos más álgidos de su activismo, Barbara lideró muchas marchas por las calles de Kampala, hacia las comisarías de policía y el Parlamento". - Doris Allimadi, hermana de Barbara
"Nos enteramos con profunda tristeza del prematuro fallecimiento de Barbara Allimadi. Ella ha sido una fuerza valiente, implacable y valerosa para el movimiento de liberación de Uganda. Queremos dar nuestro más sentido pésame a su familia. La echaremos mucho de menos". - Akina Mama wa Afrika (tweet, 28 April 2020)
"El fallecimiento de Barbara es una noticia muy triste para nosotrxs y para toda su familia. Barbara dedicó su vida a luchar por la justicia, la libertad y los derechos de las personas desde la sociedad civil, hasta que se unió, recientemente, al partido." Maj Gen Mugisha Muntu, coordinador nacional de la ANT (por sus siglas en inglés)
"Una hermana hermosa, encantadora, divertida, carismática e inspiradora. Mis hijxs han perdido a su tía. Uganda ha perdido a una audaz y valiente defensora de la libertad. Barbara dijo una vez: "Mientras siga habiendo aliento en ti, sigue trabajando por conseguir tus sueños". - Doris Allimadi, hermana de Barbara.
Sanyu est une féministe panafricaine basée à Nairobi, au Kenya. Elle a passé la dernière décennie à soutenir les mouvements syndicaux, féministes et de défense des droits humains en faveur de la redevabilité des entreprises, de la justice économique et de la justice de genre. Elle a travaillé avec le Business & Human Rights Resource Centre, IWRAW Asia Pacific et la Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative. Elle est titulaire d’un master en droits humains et d’une licence en droit de l’Université de Nottingham. Ses écrits ont été publiés dans le Business and Human Rights Journal, Human Rights Law Review, Open Global Rights, Open Democracy et d’autres encore. Pendant son temps libre, elle adore se promener en forêt et chasser les papillons.
Position
Cheffe de l’Initiative de Construction d’Économies Féministes
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.
Eni Lestari is an Indonesian domestic worker in Hong Kong and a migrant rights activist. After escaping her abusive employer, she transformed herself from a victim into an organizer for domestic workers in particular, and migrant workers in general. In 2000, she founded the Association of Indonesian Migrant Workers (ATKI-Hong Kong) which later expanded to Macau, Taiwan, and Indonesia. She was the coordinator and the one of the spokesperson of the Asia Migrants Coordinating Body (AMCB) - an alliance of grassroots migrants organisations in Hong Kong coming from Indonesia, Philippines, Thailand, Nepal and Sri Lanka. She is also the current chairperson of International Migrants Alliance, the first-ever global alliance of grassroots migrants, immigrants, refugees, and other displaced people.
She has held important positions in various organizations including and current Regional Council member of Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law and Development (APWLD), former Board Member of Global Alliance Against Traffic in Women (GAATW), spokesperson for Network of Indonesian Migrant Workers (JBMI), advisor for ATKI-Hong Kong and Macau as well as the Association of Returned Migrants and Families in Indonesia (KABAR BUMI). She has been an active resource person in forums organized by academics, interfaith groups, civil societies, trade unions and many others at national, regional, and international arenas.
She has actively participated in United Nations assemblies/conferences on development and migrants’ rights and was chosen as a speaker at the opening of the UN General Assembly on Large Movement of Migrants and Refugees in 2016 in New York City, USA. She received nominations and awards such as Inspirational Women by BBC 100 Women, Public Hero Award by RCTI, Indonesian Club Award, and Non-Profit Leader of Women of Influence by American Chamber Hong Kong, and Changemaker of Cathay Pacific.
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.
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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.
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Snippet FEA Title Main (ES)
Las Economías Feministas
QUE AMAMOS
Snippet - WCFM Movement and Struggle - EN
Movement in focus:
Filter your search by funders’ priority support areas that speak to your organizing efforts
FRMag - Freeing the Church
Liberar a la Iglesia, descolonizar la Biblia para las mujeres de Papúa Occidental
por Rode Wanimbo
«Señor, somos indignas. Somos las que pecaron, porque Eva comió el fruto en el Edén. Solo somos mujeres que cultivan batatas, cuidan cerdos y dan a luz niñxs. Creemos que tú moriste en la cruz para liberarnos. Gracias, en el nombre de Jesús, amén». (...)
Caroline a travaillé régulièrement pour l'AWID, organisant auparavant les forums de 2005 et 2008 à Bangkok et au Cap, et à travers d'autres fonctions au sein de l'organisation. Avant de rejoindre l'AWID, elle a enseigné l'anglais en licence, puis a quitté l’université pour diriger le Reel Asian International festival de film de Toronto et travailler sur d'autres projets. Plus récemment, elle a occupé le poste de responsable des opérations chez Spring Strategies. En dehors du travail, Caroline se retrouve généralement dans son jardin, communiant avec ses chères plantes et faisant la paix avec les insectes et les rongeurs qui s’invitent.
“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.
Snippet - Podcast Intro (FR)
Nous sommes ravi.es d'annoncer le lancement du nouveau podcast de l'AWID, NOTRE FLAMME FÉMINISTE. Notre série narrative dévoile plus de 40 ans de mouvements féministes et réinvente une voie à suivre.
Dans notre saison pilote, vous entendrez cinq histoires captivantes qui font partie d'une constellation d'activisme féministe aujourd'hui. Animé par Gopika Bashi,notre directrice adjointe des programmes à l'AWID, chaque épisode explore des réalités féministes uniques mais interconnectées qui améliorent la justice de genre et les droits humains.
Produit par notre partenaire de podcast Webby Hueman Group Media, vous pouvez vous abonner à NOTRE FLAMME FÉMINISTE et écouter notre premier épisode ici.
Retrouvez-nous sur Apple Podcasts, Spotify ou partout où vous obtenez vos podcasts. Partagez avec votre réseau ! Aidez-nous à diffuser des histoires qui allument notre feu féministe et nous poussent à l'action.
