Young Feminist Activism
Organizing creatively, facing an increasing threat
Young feminist activists play a critical role in women’s rights organizations and movements worldwide by bringing up new issues that feminists face today. Their strength, creativity and adaptability are vital to the sustainability of feminist organizing.
At the same time, they face specific impediments to their activism such as limited access to funding and support, lack of capacity-building opportunities, and a significant increase of attacks on young women human rights defenders. This creates a lack of visibility that makes more difficult their inclusion and effective participation within women’s rights movements.
A multigenerational approach
AWID’s young feminist activism program was created to make sure the voices of young women are heard and reflected in feminist discourse. We want to ensure that young feminists have better access to funding, capacity-building opportunities and international processes. In addition to supporting young feminists directly, we are also working with women’s rights activists of all ages on practical models and strategies for effective multigenerational organizing.
Our Actions
We want young feminist activists to play a role in decision-making affecting their rights by:
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Fostering community and sharing information through the Young Feminist Wire. Recognizing the importance of online media for the work of young feminists, our team launched the Young Feminist Wire in May 2010 to share information, build capacity through online webinars and e-discussions, and encourage community building.
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Researching and building knowledge on young feminist activism, to increase the visibility and impact of young feminist activism within and across women’s rights movements and other key actors such as donors.
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Promoting more effective multigenerational organizing, exploring better ways to work together.
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Supporting young feminists to engage in global development processes such as those within the United Nations
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Collaboration across all of AWID’s priority areas, including the Forum, to ensure young feminists’ key contributions, perspectives, needs and activism are reflected in debates, policies and programs affecting them.
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Laurie Carlos
Laurie Carlos was an actor, director, dancer, playwright, and poet in the United States. An extraordinary artist and visionary with powerful ways of bringing the art out in others.
“Laurie walked in the room (any room/every room) with swirling clairvoyance, artistic genius, embodied rigor, fierce realness—and a determination to be free...and to free others. A Magic Maker. A Seer. A Shape Shifter. Laurie told me once that she went inside people’s bodies to find what they needed.” - Sharon Bridgforth
She combined performance styles such as rhythmic gestures and text. Laurie mentored new actors, performers, writers and helped amplify their work through Naked Stages, a fellowship for emerging artists. She was an artistic fellow at Penumbra Theater and supported with identifying scripts to produce, with a goal of “bringing more feminine voices into the theater”. Laurie was also a member of Urban Bush Women, a renowned contemporary dance company telling stories of women of the African diaspora.
In 1976, as Lady in Blue, she made her Broadway debut in Ntozake Shange’s original and award-winning production of the poetic drama For colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf. Laurie’s own works include White Chocolate, The Cooking Show, and Organdy Falsetto.
“I tell the stories in the movement—the inside dances that occur spontaneously, as in life—the music and the text. If I write a line, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a line that is spoken; it can be a line that’s moved. A line from which music is created. The gesture becomes the sentence. So much of who we are as women, as people, has to do with how we gesture to one another all the time, and particularly through emotional moments. Gesture becomes a sentence or a state of fact. If I put on a script ‘four gestures,’ that doesn’t mean I’m not saying anything; that means I have opened it up for something to be said physically.” Laurie Carlos
Laurie was born and grew up in New York City, worked and lived in Twin Cities. She passed away on 29 December 2016, at the age of 67, after a battle with colon cancer.
Tributes:
“I believe that that was exactly Laurie’s intention. To save us. From mediocrity. From ego. From laziness. From half-realized art making. From being paralyzed by fear.
Laurie wanted to help us Shine fully.
In our artistry.
In our Lives.” - Sharon Bridgforth for Pillsbury House Theatre
“There’s no one that knew Laurie that wouldn’t call her a singular individual. She was her own person. She was her own person, her own artist; she put the world as she knew it on stage with real style and understanding, and she lived her art.” - Lou Bellamy, Founder of Penumbra Theater Company, for Star Tribune
From the heart of the comuna
Our women ancestors form a circle
Sacred, alive, powerful
We are in the middle
Feeling their strength.
The drum beats a sound of earth
Our skin dresses in colours
We are green, red, orange, blue, violet, black
The drum beats a sound of earth
A voice vibrates, a scream emanates, a song rings out, lulling to sleep, awakening consciousness.
The drum beats a sound of earth
A gaze of complicity, friendship profound.
The drum beats a sound of earth
Ours is but one heart, beating a rhythm of the soul, inviting us to move, inspiring desire, and showing us a path.
One of communal togetherness, power of the people, self-government, a women’s revolution of subversive communal care.
The drum beats a sound of earth
And I invite you to join, to be voice, skin, gaze, seed, fire, song, communion.
The drum beats a sound of earth
And I invite you to discover it, to love it, to know it, and to defend it from the heart of the community
For 25 years they have lived along the same dusty streets, at the top of a hill named after a lion. They come from different places, many from traditional farming communities. Their skin is the colour of rebellion, the colour of a cardon cactus, because in them lives the spirit of the semi-arid Lara State, which is where their love for life comes from, their appreciation, care and protection of water and land. They are heiresses of the Gayon and Ayaman lineages, Indigenous communities that lived and live in the northern part of Lara State.
From the time they were very young they learned that maternity is a role from which it is not easy to escape. Caring for children, home and husband, washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning—everything had to be impeccable, people insisted.
And that was life—that and violence, insults, abuse, hitting, scheming, complaints were to be expected. It seemed almost natural, and that is how they spent their days. Everyday life on those dirt streets living in little houses of tin sheet metal without any electricity or running water. That was poverty, the precarity of when a man would arrive, yes, a man, a project. And then, an unusual revolution because it came about without war.
Then they were invited to go out, they were invited to take to the streets and occupy public space. In the process, the women tore down doors and windows, broke chains, let their hair down and they felt free, free like runaway slaves, Caribbean rebels, freedom fighters.
And those concepts of independence and sovereignty are something that those who had the chance to study had read about, but feeling it, feeling like the protagonists of a process of social transformation—that is an important victory that we have to mention and we cannot forget.
At the top of that hill one can feel the complicity, the shared fire, the years of struggle. They tell of how one of them would go around with her parasol in the afternoons from house to house having coffee and conversing with the people she would invite, convincing them
We are going to make a community council!
Let’s move forward together as a community!
Let’s make plans for education, sports, health, nutrition, a women and gender equality committee, the economy.
We can form our own People’s Government so our Neighbourhood can Be Beautiful!
And that is how the houses came, the doctor’s office, daycare, electricity, potable water. These are some of the community’s achievements, some of our common dreams come true.
And you might ask how a cuentera, a storyteller, made her way to a hill with the name of a lion
And I will tell you: it’s that I was born rowdy, always fighting, I was born a wanderer my grandmother would say, born ready Comandante Chavez would add, from so much walking, grumbling, fighting, and doubting that military man, that I would end up becoming convinced by the community project, by the idea of self-government, of the people managing their own resources, of all the power going to the communities, and so I was convinced.
But I knew something was missing because the women, the women of the community kept building up the people’s power and putting our hearts in the anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist fight, but there is something that hurts and continues to affect us. There are wounds from a patriarchy still present.
So one day, I found myself crying and the drum of the earth beat and our women ancestors spoke.
I found myself surrounded by a group of women who held me up, who contained me as I spilled over in front of them, as it both hurt and liberated me at the same time. That is how I discovered that love among women heals you, saves you, and that our friendship is profoundly political and that sisterhood is a way of being, of living life. From that moment on I never felt alone again, I never felt like an island again, because I know there is a group of women who carry me, bring me, love me, care for me and me for them. I know that this way of becoming a feminist with the mysticism of women loving life is an experience of feeling connected and loved by women, even if you never see them again. How not to want this that happened to me, to happen also to other women, this new beginning, this birth of a new heart is a gift from the goddesses that must be shared.
So I decided to join the women and I began walking from community to community to learn about others’ experiences. We began debating health, education, nutrition, we began preaching the anti-patriarchal word and calling for communities free of machismo. We insisted on recovering ancestral knowledge, intuition, we decided to defend life by talking about abortion and we found ourselves laughing, crying, debating, reflecting. I find myself with Macu, with the China, Yenni, Carolina, Maria, Ramona, Irma, and even with our sister Yenifer who left us not long ago.
This is my homage to them, the women of the hill, the lioness women, the ones who without a doubt have sown a seed in me with so much force it now beats with my heart.
Without a doubt they blaze a path, they are the ones who make caring for a family possible, collective care. They are also a force, a force in a territory that fights to overcome the embargo, the patriarchal violence, the political treason, to overcome the bureaucracy and the corruption.
Without a doubt they blaze a path
Without a doubt they are a compass
Without a doubt they are the heart of the community
Many thanks, I am Maria Bonita, Mharyha Morales from Venezuela. I hope you will continue to enjoy this beautiful festival that brings us women together, in all our diversity, that brings us together from the heart of the community to create, resist, and transform.
Thank you.
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What will be different about this Forum?
With up to 2,500 participants on-site and 3,000 virtual/hybrid participants, it will be the largest AWID Forum ever. We envision multiple spaces for meaningful connection, learning, exchange, strategic conversations, healing and celebration. It is the first time we gather in this space since the pandemic, and we can’t wait.
OURS 2021 - Chapitre 1
Chapitre 1
Promouvoir les programmes féministes : principales avancées en matière de genre et de sexualité
Alors que les fondamentalismes, les fascismes et autres systèmes d’oppression se métamorphosent et trouvent de nouvelles tactiques et stratégies pour consolider leur pouvoir et influence, les mouvements féministes persévèrent et célèbrent leurs victoires nationales, régionales et internationales.
Safia Ahmed-Jan
Fadila M.
Fadila M. fue una activista tribal soulaliyate de Azrú, en la región Ifrane de Marruecos. Luchó contra una forma específica de discriminación territorial dirigida a las mujeres tribales.
Como parte del Movimiento de Mujeres Soulaliyate por el Derecho a la Tierra, trabajó para reformar el marco legislativo relacionado con la administración de la propiedad comunitaria, a través de la adopción, en 2019, de tres proyectos de ley que garantizan la igualdad de mujeres y varones.
Según las leyes consuetudinarias vigentes, las mujeres no tenían derecho a beneficiarse de la tierra, en especial aquellas que eran solteras, viudas o divorciadas. En Marruecos, los derechos a las tierras colectivas eran transmitidos tradicionalmente entre los varones de la familia mayores de 16 años. Desde 2007, Fadila M. ha sido parte del movimiento de mujeres, la primera movilización nacional de base por los derechos a la tierra. Una de sus conquistas ha sido que, en 2012, las mujeres soulaliyate pudieron registrarse por primera vez en las listas de beneficiarixs, y recibir compensaciones relacionadas con la cesión de tierras. El movimiento también logró la enmienda del dahir (decreto del Rey de Marruecos) de 1919, para garantizar el derecho a la igualdad de las mujeres.
Fadila M. falleció el 27 de septiembre de 2018. Las circunstancias de su muerte no son claras. Participó en una marcha de protesta relacionada con el tema de las tierras colectivas y, si bien las autoridades informaron que su muerte fue accidental y que tuvo un paro cardíaco camino al hospital, la sección local de la Asociación de Derechos Humanos de Marruecos (AMDH) señaló que Fadila fue sofocada por un miembro de la fuerza policial utilizando una bandera marroquí. Su familia solicitó una investigación, pero los resultados de la autopsia no fueron dados a conocer.
Más información sobre el Movimiento de Mujeres Soulaliyate por el Derecho a la Tierra (en inglés)
Nota: Como no ninguna fotografía/imagen de Fadila M. disponible, la obra de arte (en lugar de un retrato) pretende representar por lo que luchó y trabajó: la tierra y los derechos a vivir y tener acceso a esa tierra y lo que crece en ella.
Carta de amor a los movimientos feministas #3
Carta de amor al feminismo
Por Marianne Mesfin Asfaw
Tengo muchos recuerdos queridos de mi recorridofeminista, pero hay uno en particular que se destaca. Fue durante mi época en la escuela de posgrado, una conferencia a la que asistí como parte de un curso de Teoría Feminista. La conferencia trataba sobre feminismo africano y, en ella, la profesora habló de la historia del panafricanismo, de su carácter patriarcal, centrado en los hombres, y de cómo los estudiosos panafricanistas perpetuaban el borramiento de las mujeres africanas. La conferencista señaló que las contribuciones de las mujeres africanas a las luchas anticoloniales y descoloniales en el continente rara vez, o nunca, se analizany no se les da el debido crédito. Leímos acerca de las académicas feministas africanas que desafían ese borramiento y dan a conocer activamente las historias de los movimientos y los esfuerzos de resistencia liderados por mujeres africanas. Parecetan sencillo, pero lo que más me llamó la atención fue que alguien juntara las palabras africana y feminista. Mejor aún: descubrir que había muchas más de nosotras ahí afuera, luchando contra las complicaciones de la historia, la política y las normas sociales en distintos rincones del continente, y que todas estábamos utilizando una perspectiva feminista para hacerlo. Salí de esa conferencia conmovida y completamente alucinada. res de mis amigas (todas feministas africanas) y yo nos quedamos un rato comentando fuera del aula. Todas estábamos impresionadas por la genialidad de la conferencia y su contenido pero, sobre todo, sentimos que estábamos siendo tenidas en cuenta. Ese sentimiento fue el que más me llamó la atención.
Enamorarse del feminismo fue electrizante. Fue como sentir que por fin puedes hablar con la persona que te gusta desde hace mucho tiempo y descubres que también le gustas. Lo llamo mi enamoramiento porque durante la escuela secundaria me consideraba feminista pero sentía que no sabía lo suficiente sobre el tema. ¿Había una forma correcta de ser feminista? ¿Y si no lo estaba haciendo bien? Cuando asistí a mi primera conferencia de Estudios de las Mujeres obtuve respuestas para algunas de estas preguntas. Fue emocionante conocer historias de resistencia feminista y de desmantelamiento del patriarcado. Me sentí muy afirmada y validada, pero también sentí que algo me faltaba.
Profundizar mi relación con el feminismo a través de la academia en una institución en la que el estudiantado y el personal docente eran en su mayoría blancx, significó que, durante esos primeros años, me diera cuenta de que rara vez hablábamos sobre cómo la raza y la antinegritud se ponen en juego en los movimientos feministas hegemónicos. En la mayoría de las asignaturas teníamos tal vez una semana, o peor aún, una clase, dedicada a la raza donde por lo general leíamos algo de bell hooks, el trabajo de Kimberly Crenshaw sobre interseccionalidad, y tal vez, a Patricia Hill Collins. A la semana siguiente volvíamos a dejar de lado el tema. Lidié con todo esto dándole un lugar central a la raza y al feminismo negro en casi todas mis tareas, escribiendo sobre el pelo negro y las políticas de respetabilidad, la hipersexualización de los cuerpos de las mujeres negras, y mucho más. Con el tiempo me di cuenta de que intentaba llenar un vacío, pero no sabía muy bien cuál era.
El momento en que el círculo se cerró de manera perfecta fue cuando descubrí que había un feminismo africano y lo estudié. Me di cuenta de que teníamucho más por aprender, principalmente que mi africanidad y mi práctica feminista no tenían por qué estar separadas. Al contrario: tenían mucho que aprender la una de la otra, y había feministas africanas que ya estaban haciendo este trabajo. Esa era la pieza que faltaba y que me fue tan esquiva durante mi exploración del feminismo a lo largo de mi carrera académica.
Para mí, el feminismo es la antítesis de la apatía social y política. También significa que una vez que adoptas una perspectiva feminista, nada puede ser igual. Con mis amigas solíamos decir que era como ponerse unos anteojos que nunca te puedes quitar porque ahora ves el mundo tal y como es, con todos sus desastres. Desastres que no puedes ignorar ni dejar de lado. Es por eso que mi compromiso con el movimiento feminista es no dejar nunca de aprender, seguir ampliando el alcance de mi empatía y no vivir nunca de forma pasiva. Dedicar más tiempo y espacio en mi vida a los movimientos feministas, y seguir amplificando, celebrando, documentando y citando el trabajo de las feministas africanas. También me comprometo a darle un lugar central al cuidado y a dar prioridad al placer en este recorrido feminista porque no podemos sostener nuestros movimientos sin esto.
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Primer: Spot key groups and debunk their narratives
Primer:
Spot key groups and debunk their narratives
Are you a UN policy maker and want to know the main anti-rights groups and discourses to look out for? Or a feminist looking for quick counter-arguments? This 8-page primer provides key information at a glance.
Rachel Bhagwan
Rosa Candida Mayorga Muñoz
Rosa Candida Mayorga Muñoz était une travailleuse sociale, leader syndicale et défenseure des droits humains du Guatemala. On la surnommait affectueusement Rosita.
Dans les années 1980, Rosa devient la première femme à siéger au comité exécutif du syndicat de l’Institut d’électrification nationale (STINDE), syndicat qu’elle avait rejoint en premier lieu pour défendre les droits des femmes au travail. Cela signifiait, à ses yeux, de lutter pour l’égalité des chances dans une entreprise où de nombreuses femmes affrontaient un système discriminatoire et violent mis en place par la direction de l’entreprise. Rosa avait également subi du harcèlement sexuel sur son lieu de travail, tant de la part de collègues que de responsables. Elle n’entendait cependant pas rester silencieuse.
Rosa a continué à se battre et fait partie des efforts pour façonner la lutte afin qu’elle prenne la forme du « Pacte collectif pour les conditions de travail du INDE-STINDE ». Ce pacte était le premier du genre et le premier au Guatemala à caractériser le concept de harcèlement (sexuel). Il fait désormais référence dans la loi guatémaltèque pour les questions de travail, et sert d’encouragement aux autres syndicats.
« Elle n’avait d’autres outils pour se battre que ses propres idéaux... Elle a été intimidée à plusieurs reprises, harcelée pour abandonner la lutte, mais son courage a fait naître l’espoir chez les syndicalistes de la base. Rosita a créé une image de respect non seulement au sein de son syndicat mais également face aux autorités de l’institution et au sein du mouvement des femmes. Elle a été reconnue comme une pionnière du mouvement des femmes du syndicat, dans un espace qui avait davantage été dominé par les hommes. » - Maritza Velasquez, ATRAHDOM
Rosa est décédée le 4 avril 2018, elle avait 77 ans.