Women human rights defenders (WHRDs) worldwide defend their lands, livelihoods and communities from extractive industries and corporate power. They stand against powerful economic and political interests driving land theft, displacement of communities, loss of livelihoods, and environmental degradation.
Why resist extractive industries?
Extractivism is an economic and political model of development that commodifies nature and prioritizes profit over human rights and the environment. Rooted in colonial history, it reinforces social and economic inequalities locally and globally. Often, Black, rural and Indigenous women are the most affected by extractivism, and are largely excluded from decision-making. Defying these patriarchal and neo-colonial forces, women rise in defense of rights, lands, people and nature.
Critical risks and gender-specific violence
WHRDs confronting extractive industries experience a range of risks, threats and violations, including criminalization, stigmatization, violence and intimidation. Their stories reveal a strong aspect of gendered and sexualized violence. Perpetrators include state and local authorities, corporations, police, military, paramilitary and private security forces, and at times their own communities.
Acting together
AWID and the Women Human Rights Defenders International Coalition (WHRD-IC) are pleased to announce “Women Human Rights Defenders Confronting Extractivism and Corporate Power”; a cross-regional research project documenting the lived experiences of WHRDs from Asia, Africa and Latin America.
We encourage activists, members of social movements, organized civil society, donors and policy makers to read and use these products for advocacy, education and inspiration.
AWID acknowledges with gratitude the invaluable input of every Woman Human Rights Defender who participated in this project. This project was made possible thanks to your willingness to generously and openly share your experiences and learnings. Your courage, creativity and resilience is an inspiration for us all. Thank you!
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AWID Community Jobs board - ES
Bolsa de Empleos Comunitaria
¿Estás buscando trabajo? Una de las ventajas de unirse a la Comunidad AWID es tener acceso a nuestra bolsa de empleos co-creada por la comunidad. Podrás explorar nuevas oportunidades y también tendrás la oportunidad de compartir vacantes y convocatorias de propuestas con todos los miembros.
Sylvia Rivera was a civil rights activist, a transvestite and sex worker.
Known as the New York Drag queen of color, Silvia was fierce and tireless in her advocacy, in defense of those who were marginalized and excluded as the “gay rights” movement mainstreamed in the United States in the early 1970’s.
In a well-known speech on Christopher Street Day in 1973, Sylvia, shouted through a crowd of LGBT community members:
“You all tell me, go and hide my tail between my legs.
I will no longer put up with this shit.
I have been beaten.
I have had my nose broken.
I have been thrown in jail.
I have lost my job.
I have lost my apartment.
For gay liberation, and you all treat me this way?
What the fuck’s wrong with you all?
Think about that!”
In 1969, at age 17, Silvia took part in the iconic Stonewall Riots by allegedly throwing the second Molotov cocktail to protest the police raid of the gay bar in Manhattan. She continued to be a central figure in the uprisings that followed, organizing rallies and fighting back police brutality.
In 1970, Sylvia worked together with Marsha P. Johnson to establish Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (S.T.A.R.), a political collective and organisation that would set up projects of mutual support for trans people living on the streets, those struggling with drug addiction and in prisons and in particular for trans people of color and those living in poverty.
Defiant of labels, Silvia lived life in a way that challenged people in the gay liberation movement to think differently. She said:
“I left home at age 10 in 1961. I hustled on 42nd Street. The early 60s was not a good time for drag queens, effeminate boys or boys that wore makeup like we did. Back then we were beat up by the police, by everybody. I didn't really come out as a drag queen until the late 60s. when drag queens were arrested, what degradation there was. I remember the first time I got arrested, I wasn't even in full drag. I was walking down the street and the cops just snatched me. People now want to call me a lesbian because I'm with Julia, and I say, "No. I'm just me. I'm not a lesbian." I'm tired of being labeled. I don't even like the label transgender. I'm tired of living with labels. I just want to be who I am. I am Sylvia Rivera.
Through her activism and courage, Sylvia offered a mirror that reflected all that was wrong within society, but also the possibility of transformation. Sylvia was born in 1951 and passed away in 2002.
Nicole Barakat
“We transcend time and place” [«Trascendemos el tiempo y el lugar»], papel recuperado cortado a mano (2017)“We will remember who we are and we will persist” [«Recordaremos quiénes somos y persistiremos»], lamé cortado a mano bordado en algodón sobre seda de lana (2018)“We will return home” [«Regresaremos a casa»], lamé cortado a mano bordado en seda sobre terciopelo de algodón (2018)“We will heal in the now” [«Sanaremos en el ahora»], seda cortada a mano, lana, lamé, algodón, impresión digital directa de satén sobre tela de lino (2018)
somos infinitxs
Una exposición de Nicole Barakat que encarna su reconexión con los objetos de la diáspora de sus tierras ancestrales en la región del Sudoeste Asiático y África del Norte (SWANA, por sus siglas en inglés).
Barakat presenta una colección de obras textiles como manifestaciones de su práctica de conectarse con los objetos desplazados, y a menudo robados, que son exhibidos en colecciones de museos occidentales que incluyen el Museo del Louvre de París, el Museo Británico de Londres y el Nicholson Museum de Sydney.
Para burlar a los guardianes y fisurar las vitrinas que retienen estos objetos ancestrales, Barakat recupera formas de conocimiento precoloniales, no lineales y receptivas que son, a menudo, devaluadas y desestimadas por las instituciones coloniales y patriarcales, utilizando la adivinación con la borra del café, el trabajo con los sueños, la escucha intuitiva y las conversaciones con los objetos mismos (fuente).
Sobre Nicole Barakat
Nicole Barakat es una artista femme queer de SWANA, que nació y vive en las tierras de Gadigal (llamadas Sydney) en Australia. Trabaja con procesos intuitivos y de escucha profunda, con la intención de transformar las condiciones de la vida cotidiana. Su obra se desarrolla a través de métodos artísticos no convencionales, creando objetos intrincados que plasman el amor y la paciencia característicos de las prácticas textiles tradicionales.
Sus trabajos incluyen dibujos en papel y en tela cortados y cosidos a mano, esculturas realizadas con su propio cabello, tela y materiales vegetales, así como obras en vivo en las que utiliza su voz como material.
La práctica creativa de Nicole está arraigada en el re-cuerdo y la re-colección de sus conocimientos ancestrales, incluyendo la adivinación con la borra del café y, más recientemente, el trabajo con esencias de plantas y flores para el cuidado y la sanación comunitaria.
Nicole’s creative practice is rooted in re-membering and re-gathering her ancestral knowing, including coffee divination and more recently working with plants and flower essences for community care and healing.
"Ashawo Work na Work": Cómo lxs jóvenes feministas de Ghana están haciendo realidad los futuros feministas
por Fatima B. Derby
En 2017, la campaña de AWID #PracticaSolidaridad destacó cómo lxs jóvenes feministas podían construir un futuro feminista apoyándose mutuamente, participando en conversaciones interregionales entre ellxs, marchando en solidaridad con otrxs activistas y abriendo canales de colaboración entre los movimientos. (...)
< arte: «Let it Grow» [Déjalo crecer], Gucora Andu
Snippet - Join CSW69 Conversations Intro_FR
Rejoignez-nous en prenant part aux conversations#FreezeFascisms!
(#BloquerLesFascismes) !
Alors que nous affrontons de multiples crises dans le monde entier, nos mouvements œuvrent sans relâche à construire une influence qui dépasse les structures de pouvoir traditionnelles. La vague de décrets présidentiels américains vise à nous intimider, mais aucune idéologie fasciste, quelle que soit son ampleur, ne peut effacer notre existence et notre résistance.
Nous vous invitons à rejoindre la campagne de solidarité pour dénoncer et résister aux forces fascistes qui sapent les mouvements féministes et de justice de genre dans vos communautés !
Déclenchez des conversations au sein d’un espace courageux : partagez vos initiatives de lutte et de résistance aux fascismes à votre échelle sur la plateforme de la Communauté AWID. Pas encore membre ? Rejoignez-nous ici.
Soutenez les mouvements qui ont été touchés : relayez les collectes de fonds, les ressources disponibles, les efforts d’entraide en utilisant #FreezeFascisms #BloquerLesFascismes (nous sommes toujours sur X, Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, mais aussi sur Bluesky !)
Mobilisez-vous autour d’alternatives : nous avons créé une communauté de pratiques à adopter pour des alternatives économiques féministes et un financement autonome. Inscrivez-vous pour en faire partie ici(en anglais)
Cynthia Cockburn fue una socióloga feminista, escritora, académica, fotógrafa y activista por la paz.
Estudió los aspectos relacionados con el género en la violencia y el conflicto e hizo importantes contribuciones al movimiento por la paz gracias a sus investigaciones sobre masculinidad y violencia, así como gracias a su activismo local e internacional.
Cynthia aportó un análisis feminista potente sobre la militarización y la guerra, y fue una de las académicas cuyos escritos y estudios demostraron claramente cómo la violencia de género desempeñaba un papel clave en la perpetuación de la guerra. Al trabajar en estrecha colaboración con activistas por la paz en distintos países en conflicto, sus conclusiones abarcaron diversos contextos, entre ellos: Irlanda del Norte, Bosnia y Herzegovina, Israel/Palestina, Corea del Sur, Japón, España y el Reino Unido. También logró incluir en sus investigaciones y escritos académicos una interpretación sobre cómo la violencia se experimenta como un continuo de tiempo y escala y cómo se percibe de forma muy diferente cuando se analiza desde la perspectiva de género.
En sus propias palabras: "El género nos ayuda a ver la continuidad, la conexión entre los casos de violencia".
Cynthia conectó su trabajo de investigación con el activismo que sostuvo a nivel local e internacional con los movimientos por la desmilitarización, el desarme y la paz. Ayudó a iniciar el campamento de paz de las mujeres de Greenham Common, que defendía el desarme nuclear universal en Gran Bretaña, y formó parte también de la creación del capítulo londinense de Women in Black [Mujeres de Negro]. A lo largo de las décadas, Cynthia organizó y participó en vigilias semanales locales y en el coro político Raised Voices [Elevar las Voces], para el que, además de cantar, escribió varias letras de canciones que forman parte de su repertorio.
Su activismo la llevó a apoyar también el trabajo de la Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom [Liga Internacional de Mujeres por la Paz y la Libertad] (WILPF, por su siglas en inglés), el European Forum of Socialist Feminists [Foro Europeo de Feministas Socialistas] y Women Against Fundamentalism [Mujeres contra el Fundamentalismo].
"Cynthia arrojó claridad feminista, tejió comunidades feministas, cantó canciones de paz, escuchó, escuchó, escuchó, observó los pájaros - y detuvo el tráfico. Siempre estaré agradecida y en deuda con ella, la otra 'Cynthia'" - Cynthia Enloe.
Cynthia nació en julio de 1934 y falleció en septiembre de 2019, a la edad de 85 años.
Les tendances antidroits au sein des systèmes régionaux des droits humains
Chapter 6
À la Commission africaine et au Système interaméricain, les antidroits promeuvent les notions essentialistes de culture et de genre pour miner les avancées en matière de droits et décrédibiliser la redevabilité. Les antidroits gagnent en influence dans les systèmes de protection des droits humains régionaux et internationaux.
La Commission africaine des droits de l’Homme et des peuples commence à présenter les droits des femmes et droits sexuels comme mettant en danger sa capacité à adresser les « droits réels » et contraires aux « valeurs africaines », un précédent inquiétant à l’égard des droits. Le retrait de son statut d’observatrice à la Coalition des lesbiennes africaines est un exemple de cette tendance, et traduit la répression de l’engagement féministe panafricaniste.
Au sein de l’Organisation des États américains (OEA) et du Système interaméricain de protection des droits humains, les stratégies antidroits incluent l’ONGisation de groupes religieux, l’adoption d’un langage séculier et la prise de contrôle de cadres discriminatoires. L’influence antidroits a pris plusieurs formes, et notamment l’intimidation d’activistes trans et l’entrave à l’introduction d’un langage progressif dans les résolutions.
Sommaire
Réduire les féministes au silence au sein du Système africain de protection des droits humains
Les groupes antidroits en Amérique latine : l’Assemblée générale de l’Organisation des États américains (OEA) et le Système interaméricain de protection des droits humains
Hevrin Khalaf était une grande dirigeante politique kurde de Syrie dans la région autonome du Rojava, où les femmes kurdes risquent leur vie pour résister aux offensives turques et pour bâtir un système féministe.
Elle a travaillé en tant que secrétaire-générale du Parti du Futur de la Syrie, un groupe qui souhaitait construire des ponts, réconcilier les différents groupes ethniques et mettre sur pied une « Syrie démocratique, pluraliste et décentralisée ».
Véritable symbole de cet effort de réconciliation, elle a également oeuvré à la promotion de l’égalité entre les femmes et les hommes et fut représentante auprès des journalistes en visite, des humanitaires et des diplomates.
Hevrin a de plus été diplômée en tant qu’ingénieure civile, à la ville de Derik, ainsi que l’une des fondatrices de la Fondation pour la Science et la Libre pensée en 2012.
Elle a été torturée et assassinée le 12 octobre 2019 par la milice Ahrar al-Sharqiya, soutenue par la Turquie, lors d’une opération militaire contre les Forces démocratiques syriennes dans le Rojava.
« L’assassinat de Khalaf est un tournant majeur dans l’histoire moderne de la Syrie, celui-ci ayant une fois de plus confirmé la validité du vieux proverbe kurde qui dit : « Il n’y a de véritable ami·e que la montagne ». Je serai toujours ami avec Khalaf et sa vision d’un monde meilleur. » – Ahed Al Hendi
Transnational Embodiments - Editor's Note
Lost For Words
Chinelo Onwualu
Ghiwa Sayegh
When we are desperate for change, as we are both in illness and insurrection, our language drains of complexity, becomes honed to its barest essentials... As illness and revolution persist, though, the language made in them and about them deepens, lets in more nuance, absorbed in the acutely human experience of encountering one’s limits at the site of the world’s end. Johanna Hedva
When we began scheming for such an issue with Nana Darkoa, ahead of AWID’s Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!, we departed from a question that is more of an observation of the state of the world – a desire to shift ground: why do our sexualities and pleasures continue to be tamed and criminalized even as we are told, over and over again, that they bring neither value nor progress? We came to the conclusion that when they are embodied, something about our sexualities works against a world order that continues to manifest itself in border controls, vaccine apartheids, settler colonialism, ethnic cleansing, and rampant capitalism. Could we speak, then, of the disruptive potential of our sexualities? Could we still do that when, in order to be resourced, our movements are co-opted and institutionalized.
When our embodied labor becomes profit in the hands of the systems we seek to dismantle, it is no wonder that our sexualities and pleasures are once again relegated to the sidelines – especially when they are not profitable enough. In many instances during the production of this issue, we asked ourselves what would happen if we refused to accommodate the essential services of capitalism. But can we dare ask that question when we are exhausted by the world? Perhaps our sexualities are so easily dismissed because they are not seen as forms of care. Perhaps what we need is to reimagine pleasure as a form of radical care – one that is also anti-capitalist and anti-institutional.
As we enter our second full year of a global pandemic, our approach to transnational embodiments has had to focus on a single political realization: that taking care is a form of embodiment. And because right now so much of our work is being done without consideration for the borders between and within ourselves, we are all Transnationally Embodied – and we are all failing. We are failing to take care of ourselves and more critically, to take care of each other.
This failure is not of our own making.
Many of our parents thought of labor as transactional, something to be given in exchange for compensation and a guarantee of care. And while that exchange was not always honored, our parents did not expect that their work would provide them fulfillment. They had their leisure, their hobbies, and their communities for that. Today, we their children, who have been conditioned to think of our labor as intertwined with our passion, have no such expectations. We think of work and leisure as one and the same. For too many of us, work has come to embody our whole selves.
However, heteropatriarchal capitalism doesn’t value us, let alone our labor or our sexualities. This is a system that will only demand more and more until you die. And when you die, it will replace you with somebody else. Expectations to be online round the clock mean we simply can’t get away from work, even when we want to. This commercialization of labor, divorcing it from the person, has infiltrated every aspect of our lives and is being perpetuated even in the most feminist, the most radical and revolutionary circles.
Capitalist expectations have always been particularly pernicious to bodies who don’t fit its ideal. And those seeking to consolidate their powers have used the pandemic as an opportunity to target women, sexual minorities, and any others that they see as less than.
This special issue exists because of, and certainly in spite of this.
Almost every contributor and staff member was pushing themselves past their capacity. Every single piece was produced from a place of passion, but also incredible burnout. In a very real way, this issue is an embodiment of transnational labor – and in the digital world we live in, all labor has become transnational labor. As we have to contend with new borders that do not break an old order but reify it, we experienced firsthand, alongside our contributors, how capitalism drains our limits – how it becomes difficult to construct cohesive arguments, especially when these come with a deadline. We collectively became lost for words – because we are lost for worlds.
Feeling lost and alone in the world of heteropatriarchal capitalism is exactly why we need to re-evaluate and rethink our systems of care. In many ways, we turned this issue into a mission of finding pleasure in care. Because it has become more difficult to construct cohesive arguments, visual and creative mediums have come to the forefront. Many who used to write have turned to these mediums as ways to produce knowledge and cut through the mental fog that’s enveloped us all. We brought into the issue other voices, in addition to many whom you heard at the festival, as a way of opening up new conversations, and extending our horizons.
As we are robbed of our words, it is our political duty to continue to find ways to maintain and care for ourselves and each other. So much of our current realities are trying to erase and displace us, while still exploiting our labor. Our embodiment, therefore, becomes a form of resistance; it is the beginning of us finding our way out and into ourselves.
