The UN fact-finding mission on Venezuela documented physical and sexualized violence committed against women and girls who took part in anti-government protests, or who were perceived as dissidents, as activists and journalists are actively targeted by security forces under the Nicolas Maduro regime.
Choosing journalism as a profession in Syria in the late 1990s was almost as unusual for a young girl as choosing to become a professional soccer player. “There were a lot of women studying media, but we already knew that we [would] not work as journalists,” said Rula Asad.
“He said, ‘If you cry, I’ll kill you,’” Agnes says. “He clasped my throat so I wouldn’t scream, threw me to the ground and raped me.” The shy, anxious 18-year-old lowers her eyes and touches her throat. She’s barely said a word in two months.
This is meant as an informal guide for journalists who cover sexualized violence or want to, mainly in an international context.
Earlier this month, Amnesty released a report detailing allegations of government-sanctioned abuses in the two buildings of Saydnaya military prison outside of Damascus, between 2011 and 2015. The findings show a systematic policy of mass executions, torture and deprivation of food, water, medicine and medical care, which could amount to war crimes and crimes against humanity.
“No hate! No fear! Refugees are welcome here!” Shouts are rising into the night sky in Brooklyn as I write this. I just left the Brooklyn federal courthouse, where hundreds of people are chanting that and more, some slogans more angry and profane than others.
In September 2016, when I arrived at a gloomy, two-star Econo Lodge hotel in Fort Lee, New Jersey, Daey*—which means “mother” in Kurdish—was sleeping.
On April 20, Marcia Mejía Chirimia, 28, an indigenous Colombian peace and women’s rights activist, received a text message from someone she believes is a member of a paramilitary group.
Tucked away in the graffitied center of Athens is a soothing example of 1920s architecture. High ceilings and arched doorways lead to a stone-walled patio. The feeling inside is fresh on a sweaty day in Greece, with a breeze winding through tall, paneled windows. But it is the life inside, the laughter and chatter, that makes this a truly calming place.
For women, the world might feel like it’s slowly becoming worse. Earlier this month, the UN announced that four peacekeepers in the Central African Republic have been accused of raping two women and an underage girl, as well as a 12-year-old girl. Last month, four women were raped and killed in Mexico City. And then there’s Syria, where reports keep emerging of how Islamic State militants justify raping women and children.
In a visit to India in January, U.S. President Barack Obama said women everywhere should be able to “walk the street or ride the bus and be safe.” They should be “treated with respect,” he said. Yet less than two months before that visit, a 26-year-old woman from Delhi said she was raped by a taxi driver for Uber, a Web-based taxi firm that allows passengers to book rides using a phone app.
Following the end of the #16Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence Campaign, WMC’s Women Under Siege has gathered some of the best tweets out there in the hope that this action, this dialogue, this advocacy doesn’t stop here. We can do more. We must.
Sometimes I read something that makes the movement of the world, the very air in the room, freeze to a stop. That’s what happened recently when I read a letter written by an activist in the Democratic Republic of Congo named Neema Namadamu. I read it once, then I read it again. Instead of describing why it had such a profound effect on me, I’m pasting it in full below.