
Teresa De Anda

WHRDs are self-identified women and lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex (LBTQI) people and others who defend rights and are subject to gender-specific risks and threats due to their human rights work and/or as a direct consequence of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
WHRDs are subject to systematic violence and discrimination due to their identities and unyielding struggles for rights, equality and justice.
The WHRD Program collaborates with international and regional partners as well as the AWID membership to raise awareness about these risks and threats, advocate for feminist and holistic measures of protection and safety, and actively promote a culture of self-care and collective well being in our movements.
WHRDs are exposed to the same types of risks that all other defenders who defend human rights, communities, and the environment face. However, they are also exposed to gender-based violence and gender-specific risks because they challenge existing gender norms within their communities and societies.
We work collaboratively with international and regional networks and our membership
We aim to contribute to a safer world for WHRDs, their families and communities. We believe that action for rights and justice should not put WHRDs at risk; it should be appreciated and celebrated.
Promoting collaboration and coordination among human rights and women’s rights organizations at the international level to strengthen responses concerning safety and wellbeing of WHRDs.
Supporting regional networks of WHRDs and their organizations, such as the Mesoamerican Initiative for WHRDs and the WHRD Middle East and North Africa Coalition, in promoting and strengthening collective action for protection - emphasizing the establishment of solidarity and protection networks, the promotion of self-care, and advocacy and mobilization for the safety of WHRDs;
Increasing the visibility and recognition of WHRDs and their struggles, as well as the risks that they encounter by documenting the attacks that they face, and researching, producing, and disseminating information on their struggles, strategies, and challenges:
Mobilizing urgent responses of international solidarity for WHRDs at risk through our international and regional networks, and our active membership.
An exhibition by Nicole Barakat, embodying her reconnection with the diaspora of objects from her ancestral homelands in the South West Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region.
Barakat presents a collection of textile works as manifestations of her practice of engaging with displaced, and often stolen objects held within Western museum collections including the Louvre, British Museum and Nicholson Museum.
To by-pass the gatekeepers and breach the vitrines holding these ancestral objects, Barakat reclaims pre-colonial, non-linear, receptive forms of knowing that are often devalued and dismissed by colonial and patriarchal institutions - engaging with coffee cup divination, dream-work, intuitive listening and conversations with the objects themselves (source).
"Después
Después del amor la primera vez,
nuestros cuerpos y mentes desnudas:
un salón de espejos.
Totalmente desarmadxs, íntegramente frágiles,
nos echamos en los brazos del otrx,
respiramos con cuidado,
por miedo de romper
estas figuras de cristal". - Fahmida Riaz
Su trabajo se enfrentó a duras críticas de los frentes conservadores, que la acusaron de utilizar expresiones eróticas y "pornográficas" en su lenguaje poético.
Eventualmente, Fahmida fue incluida en una lista negra y acusada de sedición en virtud del artículo 124A del Código Penal de Pakistán, durante la dictadura de Zia Ul Haq. Fahmida fue obligada a exiliarse en 1981 y pasó casi siete años en la India antes de regresar a Pakistán.
En el prefacio de "Badan Dareeda" ("El Cuerpo Desgarrado"), una colección de poesía publicada en 1974, escribió:
La brillantez de Fahmida fue la de desafiar cualquier lógica singular o categoría de género, nación, religión o cultura. Ella se negó a ser colocada en el rol de la "mujer poeta", rompió con las definiciones tradicionales de la poesía y los conceptos y temas femeninos (que van desde la conciencia política, el cuerpo, la cultura, el deseo, la religión, al hogar) y derribó las inhibiciones impuestas a su género.
"Tienes que entender que la cultura no puede tener esencia. Las culturas se mueven, fluyen unas en otras, formando nuevas culturas. La cultura nace de esa manera. No hay choque de culturas".
Fahmida es autora de más de 15 libros de poesía y ficción, incluido su poema "Taaziyati Qaraardaaden" ("Resoluciones de condolencia" - en inglés), que podría servir como un tributo apropiado a su vida y legado, y una colección de poemas (Apna Jurm To Saabit He "Mi crimen está probado") publicado en 1988, durante su tiempo en exilio.
Fahmida Riaz nació en Meerut (India) el 28 de julio de 1946 y falleció el 21 de noviembre de 2018 en Lahore (Pakistán).
LA EXCLUSIÓN, ESTIGMA Y ABUSO INSTITUCIONAL
que las personas trans y travesti siguen enfrentando diariamente
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.
لتجسيد قوتكم/ن كخبيرات عن وضع التمويل للحركات النسوية
« Ce n’était pas une personne. C’était une puissance », compagnes et compagnons de lutte se souvenant de Navleen Kumar
Avec implication et intégrité, elle a œuvré pendant plus d’une décennie à la protection et la restitution des terres aux populations autochtones (les adivasi) dans le district de Thane, une région confisquée sous le régime de la force et de l’intimidation par les promoteurs immobiliers et fonciers. Elle a combattu cette injustice et ces crimes en menant des procédures juridiques au niveau de différents tribunaux, réalisant que la manipulation des registres fonciers était une opération courante dans la plupart des acquisitions de terres. Dans l’un de ces cas, celui des Wartha (une famille tribale), Navleen a entre autres découvert que la famille avait été dupée avec la complicité de fonctionnaires du gouvernement.
Grâce à son travail, elle a aidé les Wartha à récupérer leurs terres, de même que continué à défendre plusieurs affaires de transferts de terres d’adivasi.
« Son rapport sur l’impact de l’aliénation des terres sur les femmes et les enfants adivasi retrace l’histoire et les complexités de l’aliénation tribale depuis les années 1970, alors que les familles de la classe moyenne ont commencé à venir vivre dans les banlieues éloignées de Mumbai, suite à la hausse des prix de l’immobilier dans la ville.
Les complexes immobiliers se sont multipliés dans ces banlieues, et les tribus analphabètes en ont payé le prix. Les meilleures terres le long de la voie de chemin de fer valaient cher et les constructeurs se sont jetés dessus comme des vautours, pour arracher les terres des tribus et autres résidents locaux par des moyens illégaux », Jaya Menon, Justice and Peace Commission.
Au cours de ses actions militantes, Navleen a reçu de nombreuses menaces et survécu à plusieurs tentatives d’assassinat. Malgré tout, elle a continué son travail sur ce qui était non seulement important à ses yeux mais qui contribuait à transformer les vies et les réalités de tant de personnes qu’elle soutenait dans sa lutte pour la justice sociale.
Navleen a été poignardée à mort dans son immeuble le 19 juin 2002. Deux gangsters locaux ont été arrêtés pour son meurtre.
Écoutez l'histoire ici :
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Cynthia Cockburn was a feminist sociologist, writer, academic, photographer and peace activist.
She explored the gendered aspects of violence and conflict and made significant contributions to the peace movement through her exploration of the themes of masculinity and violence as well as her local and international activism.
Cynthia brought a feminist power analysis to militarisation and war, and was among the academics whose writings and analysis clearly demonstrated how gender-based violence played a key part in perpetuating war. Working closely with peace activists in countries experiencing conflict, her findings covered diverse contexts including Northern Ireland, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Israel/Palestine, South Korea, Japan, Spain and the UK. She helped bring in her research and academic writings, an understanding that violence was experienced as a continuum of time and scale and perceived very differently when seen from a gendered lens.
In her words, “Gender helps us to see the continuity, the connection between instances of violence.”
Cynthia bridged her research with the activism she did locally and internationally with movements for demilitarisation, disarmament and peace. She helped start the Greenham Common women’s peace camp, which advocated for universal nuclear disarmament in Britain and was part of establishing the London chapter of Women in Black.
Over the decades, Cynthia organized and participated in local weekly vigils and the political choir Raised Voices, singing in the choir, and writing several of the lyrics to the songs that have made up its repertoire. She was also active in the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF), the European Forum of Socialist Feminists as well as in Women Against Fundamentalism.
“Cynthia shed feminist light, wove together feminist communities, sang songs of peace, listened, listened, listened, watched the birds – and stopped traffic. I’ll be forever and gratefully in her debt, the other ‘Cynthia’” – Cynthia Enloe
Cynthia was born in July 1934 and passed away in September 2019 at the age of 85.
Georgia's minimum wage is in the bottom percent of all countries in the world. This reality affects mostly women.
The country not only has a significant gender pay gap, but women also work longer, more unregulated hours before going home to take care of housework and their families. There is no maternity pay, no wage increase for overtime work, no unemployment insurance, and no pay for sick leave or other social protection. Pressured by Western organizations, Georgian oligarchic political parties have been implementing reforms that are destroying the welfare state, increasing austerity measures, and worsening worker exploitation - all for the benefits of big corporations which are applauding the country for its “ease of doing business”. Mass media, coerced by private and corporate interests, either remain silent or biased on these issues. Union organizing remains one of the very few options to fight for basic human rights, and for holding the State and corporations accountable in the face of daily, pervasive violations and persecutions, especially against women.
Sources: Minimum-Wage and Interview with Sopo Japaridze to OpenDemocracy
Interviewed by Chinelo Onwualu
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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.
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
Chinelo Tell me about the workshop you conducted with AWID for the festival. What was it about and what was the context?
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?
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.
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.
A AWID agradece sinceramente às várias pessoas cujas ideias, análises e contribuições moldaram a pesquisa e a defesa do “Onde está o dinheiro” ao longo dos anos.
Em primeiro lugar, os nossos mais sinceros agradecimentos aos membres da AWID e às ativistas que participaram nas colaborações com o WITM e testaram este questionário connosco, ao partilhar tão generosamente o seu tempo, análise e espírito.
Agradecemos aos movimentos feministas, aos aliados e aos fundos feministas, incluindo, mas não se limitando ao Black Feminist Fund, Pacific Feminist Fund, ASTREA, FRIDA Young Feminist Fund, Purposeful, Kosovo Women's Network, Human Rights Funders Network, CEECCNA Feminist Fund e PROSPERA, pelas suas investigações rigorosas sobre o estado de financiamento, pela análise perspicaz e pela defesa contínua de mais recursos de melhor qualidade e poder para a organização feminista e de justiça de género em todos os contextos.