Over the past few years, a troubling new trend at the international human rights level is being observed, where discourses on ‘protecting the family’ are being employed to defend violations committed against family members, to bolster and justify impunity, and to restrict equal rights within and to family life.
The campaign to "Protect the Family" is driven by ultra-conservative efforts to impose "traditional" and patriarchal interpretations of the family, and to move rights out of the hands of family members and into the institution of ‘the family’.
“Protection of the Family” efforts stem from:
rising traditionalism,
rising cultural, social and religious conservatism and
sentiment hostile to women’s human rights, sexual rights, child rights and the rights of persons with non-normative gender identities and sexual orientations.
Since 2014, a group of states have been operating as a bloc in human rights spaces under the name “Group of Friends of the Family”, and resolutions on “Protection of the Family” have been successfully passed every year since 2014.
This agenda has spread beyond the Human Rights Council. We have seen regressive language on “the family” being introduced at the Commission on the Status of Women, and attempts made to introduce it in negotiations on the Sustainable Development Goals.
Our Approach
AWID works with partners and allies to jointly resist “Protection of the Family” and other regressive agendas, and to uphold the universality of human rights.
In response to the increased influence of regressive actors in human rights spaces, AWID joined allies to form the Observatory on the Universality of Rights (OURs). OURs is a collaborative project that monitors, analyzes, and shares information on anti-rights initiatives like “Protection of the Family”.
Rights at Risk, the first OURs report, charts a map of the actors making up the global anti-rights lobby, identifies their key discourses and strategies, and the effect they are having on our human rights.
The report outlines “Protection of the Family” as an agenda that has fostered collaboration across a broad range of regressive actors at the UN. It describes it as: “a strategic framework that houses “multiple patriarchal and anti-rights positions, where the framework, in turn, aims to justify and institutionalize these positions.”
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Mena Mangal était une éminente journaliste de télévision, défenseure des droits des femmes et conseillère culturelle du Wolesi Jirga, la chambre basse du parlement national afghan.
Pendant plus d’une décennie, Mena a travaillé pour Ariana TC, la chaîne en pashto Lamar de Tolo TV et la chaîne de télévision nationale privée Shamshad TV. Mena était principalement présentatrice d’émissions sur les droits des femmes et la culture.
« La défenseure des droits des femmes Wazhma Frogh a dit que Mangal « se faisait entendre » et s’exprimait ouvertement en faveur de la défense de son peuple. »
Loin des écrans, elle dirigeait également des plateformes sur les réseaux sociaux, promouvant les droits à l’éducation et au travail des filles et femmes afghanes. Sur le plan de sa vie privée, Mena a longuement écrit sur le mariage arrangé qu’elle a été forcée d’accepter en 2017, et le long processus qui s’en est suivi pour finalement obtenir le divorce.
Dans un post sur Facebook, Mena avait écrit qu’elle recevait des menaces de mort de sources inconnues, mais qu’elle continuerait néanmoins son travail.
Elle a été attaquée le 11 mai 2019 par des hommes armés inconnus et tuée en plein jour et dans un espace public, dans le sud-est de Kaboul.
« La situation nous inquiète, car elle a un impact direct sur les femmes qui travaillent en dehors de la maison... Les femmes journalistes changent de profession du fait de l’augmentation des risques auxquels elles sont confrontées. » - Robina Hamdard, défenseure des droits des femmes à Kaboul
Tendencias anti-derechos en los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos
Chapter 6
En la Comisión Africana y en el Sistema Interamericano, los actores antiderechos impulsan nociones esencialistas de cultura y género para impedir el avance de los derechos y socavar las responsabilidades. Como vemos, los actores anti-derechos están ejerciendo su influencia sobre los sistemas regionales de derechos humanos, así como en los espacios internacionales.
La Comisión Africana de Derechos Humanos y de los Pueblos ha comenzado a definir a los derechos sexuales y de las mujeres como un menoscabo a su capacidad de ocuparse de los «derechos reales» y como contrarios a los «valores africanos», con lo cual se establece un precedente anti-derechos preocupante. La anulación del estatus de observador de la Coalición de Lesbianas Africanas es un ejemplo de esta tendencia y muestra la forma en que el espacio para el involucramiento feminista panafricanista está siendo restringido.
En la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y en el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos, las estrategias anti-derechos incluyen la oenegización de grupos religiosos, la utilización de discursos seculares, y la cooptación de marcos de discriminación. La influencia antiderechos se ha materializado de diversas maneras, que incluyen la intimidación de activistas trans y la obstrucción de la introducción de lenguaje progresista en las resoluciones.
Índice de contenidos
Silenciamiento de feministas en el Sistema Africano de Derechos Humanos
Grupos anti-derechos en América Latina: Asamblea General de la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA) y el Sistema Interamericano de Protección de los Derechos Humanos
Jaitun, commonly referred to as ‘Amma’, was committed to ensuring the reproductive rights of women and girls in India. She was particularly dedicated to advocating for those living in poverty and who are most marginalized, including Dalit and Muslim women and girls.
Jaitun was the vital force behind the case Jaitun v Janpura Maternity Home & Ors. Her perseverance for justice led to a ground-breaking judgment issued by the High Court of Delhi, holding the Indian government accountable for failing to deliver a number of its legally-binding obligations such as reproductive health care and the right to food.
Her daughter Fatema who was living under the poverty line was denied reproductive services and had to deliver her child in public, under a tree. At the time, both Jaitun and Fatema were homeless as a result of their home being demolished by the government as part of redevelopment and gentrification in New Delhi.
“The judgment has since been used by countless lawyers and activists globally, including the Former United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Right to Health, not only as a source of inspiration but as a solid springboard to further justice.” - Jameen Kaur
Jaitun has inspired many other women living in poverty to claim their rights. She passed away in 2017.
“In Jaitun’s death, we have now lost an inimitable warrior for justice, but her spirit of defiance lives on.” - Jameen Kaur
“In my 18 years as a human rights advocate, I have not met a woman that has inspired and moved my spirit in the same way Amma did. Her roaring courage; her imitable humour - we used to compare her to the Bollywood actress Hema Melini - as she would be upset we had spent so much time away from her - she would say, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘You have forgotten Amma, Amma is not speaking to you’ and then with great dramatics turn her back, only to turn around laughing and stretching her arms out for a hug. Her kindness and ultimately her love and joy for love and the right for all of us to live with dignity. I miss her terribly.” - Jameen Kaur
S'inscrire à la liste de diffusion
Snippet - Podcast Intro (ES)
Estamos encantadxs de anunciar el lanzamiento del nuevo podcast de AWID: ESE FUEGO FEMINISTA. Esta serie narrativa revela más de 40 años de movimientos feministas e imagina nuevos caminos a seguir.
En nuestra temporada piloto, escucharán cinco historias cautivadoras que forman parte de la actual constelación de activismo feminista. Presentado por nuestra Gopika Bashi, subdirectora de programas de AWID, cada episodio explora realidades feministas únicas pero interconectadas que están logrando una mayor justicia de género y asegurando derechos humanos.
ESE FUEGO FEMINISTA es producido en asociación con lxs ganadorxs de Webby, Hueman Group Media. Puedes suscribirte al podcast y escuchar nuestro primer episodio aquí.
Encuéntranos en Apple Podcasts, Spotify o donde sea que obtengas tus podcasts. ¡Comparte con tu red! Ayúdanos a difundir historias que enciendan nuestro fuego feminista y nos muevan a la acción.
Isabel Cabanillas de la Torre fue una activista joven y una artista feminista muy querida de Ciudad Juárez, México, conocida por sus hermosos diseños evocadores de indumentaria pintada a manoen los que los ojos eran una característica emblemática de su trabajo. Sus murales transformaron los edificios abandonados y vacíos del centro de Ciudad Juárez, al sumarles vida y crítica política a sus paredes.
A través de su arte y de su activismo político, Isabel buscó llamar la atención sobre la violencia de género que se extendía por su ciudad natal. Colaboró como voluntaria con la red Mesa de Mujeres en el proyecto «Observatorio Ciudadano de Género», que monitoreaba la actuación de jueces, fiscales y defensorxs públicxs en casos de femicidios y otras violaciones a los derechos basadas en el género. Integró también «Hijas De Su Maquilera Madre», una colectiva feminista cuyo nombre alude a las hijas de madres que son trabajadoras de la maquila. Algunas de estas madres fueron las primeras víctimas de femicidio en Ciudad Juárez.
El último proyecto de Isabel (todavía en curso) fue una instalación artística para protestar contra una compañía canadiense que quería extraer cobre de los Médanos de Samalayuca.
El 18 de enero de 2020 Isabel fue atacada a balazos mientras volvía a su casa del centro de Ciudad Juárez en bicicleta, víctima, aparentemente, de un asesinato selectivo. Su cuerpo fue encontrado junto a su bicicleta.
El asesinato de Isabel desató una nueva ola de indignación contra los femicidios de la región: cientos de personas marcharon hacia el puente de la frontera entre EEUU y México, y lo bloquearon durante horas mientras cantaban «Ni una más», que es la protesta continua de las colectivas feministas contra los asesinatos de las mujeres en todo México. Solamente en 2019, 3.142 mujeres y niñas fueron asesinadas en el país; muchas de ellas fueron atacadas específicamente por su género.
Amaba andar en bicicleta.
«La bicicleta era un símbolo de libertad para ella. Simbolizaba ser libre en las calles.» - Marisol, amiga de Isabel
A Joy to the World: Six Questions with Naike Ledan
Interviewed by Chinelo Onwualu
Naike Ledan is a social justice defendant, a committed feminist that brings forward 20 years of experience in human rights and health justice advocacy, women’s empowerment, the fight for universal access to basic services and social inclusion, as well as civil society capacity building. She has built extensive work in Canada, West and southern Africa, as well as in Haiti, in civil rights advocacy, capacity building for CSOs, while emphasising the social determinants of structural exclusion. She values the principles of shared leadership, anticolonial, anti-oppressive, and anti-patriarchal spaces.
Chinelo You’re billed as a trans rights activist; I’m curious about how you made that journey.
Naike So, I grew up in Haiti until I was 18, then I lived in Montreal for 19 years. Coming back to Haiti in 2016, I thought I would be coming back home, but the place had changed and I had to readjust. I did not necessarily reconnect in the way that I’d expected to with childhood family and friends. I came back as an expat with a comfortable work situation, and I felt very much like a foreigner for a very long time. And at the same time, I felt very much at home because of the language, the understood silence, the not having to explain when we start singing a commercial – you know, that thing we share, that energy, that space, that spirit.
My return to self-love – I would call “rebirth” – coinciding with giving birth to my first child, giving birth to myself, and falling in love with my queerness or same-gender lovingness. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
What helped me was, I loved the work of going into the country and documenting people’s knowledge. So I left the comfort. I became a country director of a regional organisation that was queer as fuck! Most of my work was to find resources and build the capacity of civil society. My strategy was to go into the countryside, look for all these little organizations, help build their capacity, and fund them. I was not interested in politicians and shaking hands and taking pictures . I had a very good ally, Charlot Jeudy – the [queer] activist that got killed three years ago in his house. We got very close after an Afro-queer film festival we were planning got banned in Haiti. But it made a lot of noise and sparked conversations about queerness everywhere, so Charlot introduced me to every little CSO in every little corner of the country. And I would just be there to help organisation[s] with registering legally or building their strategic plan. So it’s been a lot of these kinds of work that made me a queer activist and by extension, a trans activist. Although I don’t call myself that – an activist. It’s such a loaded word, you know? And it’s something people call you. I think I’m just a lover and a fighter .
Chinelo Tell me about the workshop you conducted with AWID for the festival. What was it about and what was the context?
My deep self awareness during my childhood years and my engagement in questioning inequalities and injustice at a very very young age (+/- 4 years old). (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike International media doesn’t really talk about Haiti, but with a political environment that is as bad as ours, the economic environment is even more catastrophic. Being a more middle class Haitian, speaking different languages, having different passports, I was initially hesitant to take the space. But I often see myself as a bridge more than someone that would talk about themself. That is how I came to invite Semi, who is a brilliant young trans woman from outside Port-au-Prince, to take the space to talk for herself and walk us through the ecosystem of the realities for trans women in Haiti. We ended up building a session about uninclusive feminism – or, I would say, formal feminist spaces – and how trans girls in Haiti do not have spaces where they can contribute to women’s knowledge and sharing of women’s realities. So the AWID festival was the opportunity for me to give the space to the women who should have it. We had a wonderful time; we had wine online while hosting the conversation. My co-facilitator, Semi, shared what it is like to be a trans child/girl/woman at different stages of her life. She also shared the dangers of the street, of poverty, of exclusion, of “not passing,” and her victories as well.
Chinelo What is the relationship of trans women to feminist organizations in Haiti? What has been your experience with that?
Naike It’s been really hard – heartbreaking, actually – the experience of trans women in Haiti. From not existing at all to just being extremely sexualized. The other thing that’s been happening is how they’re being killed, and how those killings have gone unreported in the media. This is how non-existent, how erased trans women are. They’re everywhere but not in job settings, not in feminist settings, not in organizational settings. Not even in LGBT organizations. It’s only recently, and because of a lot of advocacy push, that some of these organization are kind of readjusting, but in feminist spaces, this is still out of the question. We are still having to deal with the old exclusionary discourse of “They’re not women. Of course, if they can pass…” The culture of passing, it’s a risk management conversation – how much you pass and how much you don’t pass and what it means for your body and the violence it inflicts. In the trans-exclusionary realities we live in, which are reproduced in a lot of feminist spaces, those that pass completely may be considered girls, but only to a certain extent. But how about falling in love, how about having a conversation, how about being in the closet, how about wanting a certain aesthetic, or a career? So really, the conversation about hormone therapy becomes about risk reduction, as Semi herself shared at the workshop. But we don’t have the option of hormone therapy, we don’t have the medical framework nor the system to support those who would like to pursue that option.
Chinelo When you talk about the way that trans people and queer people are thought of in society, it sounds like it might be similar to Nigeria, which can be a deeply homophobic environment.
Naike Haiti is a very complex country in a very beautiful way. Nothing is simple, you know, nothing is ever one way. Haitians are very tolerant – and they’re also very homophobic. You’re going to find regions in the countryside where people aren’t that homophobic at all because all the Vodou temples there, and this is a religion that respects life. One basic principle of the Vodou religion is that all children are children. So, there is no right or wrong in the religion. For the longest time, people thought of Haiti as a haven, a place where people are tolerant – we’re talking 70s, 80s, pre-HIV, 90s even. Then you had the earthquake [in 2010] where around 300,000 people died. And then all this money came from the south of the US through the Evangelicals to rebuild the country and find Jesus. So, the homophobia in Haiti is very recent. In the depth, in the heart of the soul of the culture, I cannot really say that it is homophobic. But in the everyday life, it surely lands on the skin of queer people, that violence. And that of women, of poor women, of dark women as well, because colorism runs deep in the Caribbean.
Chinelo How have you managed this? What’s been your strategy for survival?
My return to Haiti as part of my decolonizing process, and choosing to physically position my senses and my family’s senses to magic and blackness uncompromisingly. (Photo credit: Naike Ledan)
Naike I’m really in love with my work. I love working. When I first arrived, I was working with this horrible NGO but I was doing amazing work. I was always in the countryside, conversing and learning from people, from women. And that filled my heart for so long because I’m very much in love with my culture, with black people, with black women – old black women, black babies. It just fills me up in a spiritual way. When we were in Canada my kids were in these all-white schools and tokenized. They did not speak Creole nor French. And now, they’re running free in the yard and starting to fight in Creole. I also found hubs of survival with the people I met. I created bonds with the queers and others who were weirdos like me and it’s been really wonderful. But now I’m struggling because I don’t feel safe in Haiti anymore. We have about 40 kidnappings per week in Port-Au-Prince – and it’s been like that since 2018. I’ve developed anxiety and panic attacks. So It’s time to go, and I’ve been asking myself, “where is home?” I spent 19 years in Montreal but I never felt at home there. When I left, I never missed it so I don’t want to go back. I’ve been crying a lot lately because it feels like entering a second exile.
Chinelo What’s your relationship to pleasure, leisure, and rest?
Naike My relationship with pleasure, leisure, and rest are for me one and the same. It is the lived moment when I indulge in the heat of the sun on my face for example. It is pleasure, leisure, and rest at the same time.
Pleasure: My go-to space, most solely a haven of celebration of myself. I reserve myself the power and the right to be loud or quiet in the enjoyment of the pleasure I experience. All the pleasure I viciously and abundantly indulge in, including and not limited to the pleasure of solitude and silence.
Leisure: biking, music festivals, eating, wine discoveries, dancing in Haitian traditional Vodou dances are amongst many that occur at the moment.
Rest: is what I live for. As an overachiever and a person that is literally in love with work, it is a paradox how lazy I am. No one knows that because all of what the world sees is this: an accomplished overworker. They do not know how I can just, uncompromisingly and profoundly indulge in idleness.
ExploreTransnational Embodiments
This journal edition in partnership with Kohl: a Journal for Body and Gender Research, will explore feminist solutions, proposals and realities for transforming our current world, our bodies and our sexualities.
نصدر النسخة هذه من المجلة بالشراكة مع «كحل: مجلة لأبحاث الجسد والجندر»، وسنستكشف عبرها الحلول والاقتراحات وأنواع الواقع النسوية لتغيير عالمنا الحالي وكذلك أجسادنا وجنسانياتنا.
What does an AWID Forum mean to those who have been there? What is this magic that happens when feminists from around the world gather to celebrate, strategize, learn and share joy?
AWID spoke to over forty Forum participants to hear their stories of the transformations that happened to them as activists, to their organizations and to the movements they are part of. We also learned about what we should keep and build on that makes an AWID Forum different and how we can improve.
This report holds lessons and advice invaluable to anyone planning in-person regional and thematic convenings and for us as we plan for the 15th AWID International Forum.
Recherche sur les espaces sécurisés : une prise de perspective
par Judyannet Muchiri
Je suis partie pour le Kenya en octobre de l'année dernière, pour entamer ce que j'en suis venue à considérer comme mon travail le plus important à ce jour. (...)
Aïssata Kane, surnommée affectueusement “Yaye Kadia” (Mère Kadia), a de tout temps été une féministe engagée dans la défense des droits des femmes africaines, et particulièrement mauritaniennes.
Au cours de sa carrière politique, en 1975, elle fut nommée ministre de la protection de la famille et des affaires sociales et travailla avec ardeur à l’amélioration du statut des femmes dans son pays; c’était la première fois qu'une femme occupait un tel poste.
Ce travail consista notamment à promouvoir l’éducation des filles et des femmes, à lutter contre la pratique du gavage sur les jeunes femmes, à faire pression pour l’inclusion d’une disposition sur les droits maritaux et à plaider en faveur de la création d’un quota de représentation féminine au Parlement.
“[Aïssata] a réalisé toutes ses passions avec humilité, courage et détermination. Elle ne voulait déranger personne avec ce combat qu’elle menait sur tous les fronts à la fois.” Ball Halimata Dem, la nièce d’Aïssata
Ayant fondé l'Union nationale des femmes de Mauritanie (UNFM), elle avait cocréé et publié pour elles le magazine Marienou, dédié à l’émancipation des femmes mauritaniennes. Aïssata dirigea également plusieurs organisations sous-régionales et locales, notamment en tant que présidente de l'Association internationale des femmes francophones (AIFF) et, en écologiste résolue, fut présidente de l'Association pour la protection de l'environnement en Mauritanie (APEM).
En 2018, on lui décerna le Prix de la Femme africaine pionnière. Ce prix honore son engagement à faire progresser le statut de la femme en Mauritanie et reconnaît son grand leadership et son sens de l'innovation.
