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 | Vilma Magdalena (Honduras)
I was born in Honduras, Puerto Cortes.
In 2004 I retired after working as a secretary in a law office, a personal assistant at Empresa Nacional Portuaria, a personal manager at a fabric company and lastly as a manager at the Registro Civil Municipal of Puerto-Cortes.
I was married to an alcoholic and abusive soccer player. We have three children.
I was the one responsible to pay for food, school, medicines, personal expenses and taxes.
While I was at work, my husband would hit my children for anything, like when they wouldn't go to buy him cigarettes or alcohol. We would argue about it, and since I was the one bringing food home, he would respect me a little.
He would take my money and even pawned our property to finance his habit.
One day, when he found out that I transferred my property to the children’s name, he got really mad at me and left to get drunk. Next day my babysitter called me at work, saying that my husband got home very drunk, screaming that my children and I were going to die that day. He had bought gasoline and he was spreading it all over the house, planning to burn it down. I ran home and found my children crying. I begged him to stop but he wouldn't, so I grabbed my children and ran to my neighbors’ house, praying God to help us. When we noticed that no smoke was coming out of the house, I went back home and found him asleep on the floor. When he woke up, he asked me why there was gasoline all over the house. When I told him, he did not remember what happened. He started forgetting things and soon got very sick. He died of cirrhosis at the age of 49. My children and I have not felt his absence in our lives.
Many times, my children would tell me to leave him, but I would tell them that the enemy was better to have near one, because who knows what harm he could do to any of us out there.
Besides all the bad moments in my life, I thank God for listening to my prayers, for bringing me protection, knowledge and patience for not having done anything that I could regret later. God is my faithful friend.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Josephina (Sierra Leone) # 2
Ninety percent of women in Sierra Leone go through a process of female circumcision called "Bondo." At age seven I was initiated without my consent. This "Secret Initiation" is usually performed on girls between the ages of three and thirteen, girls who are too young to know they have the right to protest it. Beforehand I had been told that this ceremony represented my first step into womanhood, my acceptance into society, and my proper readiness for marriage.
The night before my initiation, my older sisters and I were taken to the village. We were told that we were going to visit my grandmother. She would be the one to cause my nightmarish pain. My grandmother was a “Sowey”, a woman traditionally dedicated and trained to perform the initiation. She removed my external female genital organs with a crude knife in an unclean environment.
After the ceremony she told me this initiation would prevent women from being promiscuous. Even now, at the age of nineteen, I am still having the psychological effect from that initiation.
Female circumcision in Sierra Leone is the leading cause of prolonged and obstructed childbirth and infections. Considering these consequences, you might think that the tradition would stop. On the contrary, many still think that it is their right to be circumcised.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Amani (USA)
Everyone tells me that I have a great smile and a wonderful
loud laugh but did you know that I once cried for 6 hours straight?
I was 38 years old and taking the long ride to my home town to
have the surgery that would change my life forever. A woman I
was riding with had just told me that her husband left her when
she had her surgery because he just couldn't stand looking at the scars.......
Back then there were no pink ribbons, or walk for the cure.
Breast Cancer was something that happened to older women
and no one talked about it. My doctor even told me to ignore
it until it was just about too late. My hair fell out and it took 7 surgeries to put me back together.
Things are much better now but there's still work to be done.
Researchers worldwide are searching for a cure to this deadly
disease and women are still dying every day. I'm 51 years old
now and I celebrate each day with a ritual: Every morning I stand
in front of the mirror and trace the scars that mark my survival.
My grin widens to a great big smile and l laugh out loud.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Luisa (Philipines)
I cannot speak of the country of my origins, the Philippines, without
invoking its colonial histories under Spain and the US. The sense of
exile and fragmentation engendered by these experiences, are felt even by Filipinos who may have never physically left the islands. That colonial
history has also left an indelible mark on Filipino women in ways that
continue to affect their status.
The advent of colonial rule and institutionalized religion, banished and
outlawed the BABAYLAN or poetess/priestess/healer, formerly a powerful
and respected figure in her community and the chronicle and archive of
tribal memory.
In the present time, many Filipinas continue to experience different
forms of banishment and exile from the fullness of participation in the
greater cultural, economic, and social life of the nation. These include
but are not limited to urban poor mothers and peasants. There are also
the factory workers whose needs continue to be under-addressed by
government even as their labors are harnessed by multinational
corporations like Mattel and Texas Instruments. Unable to make ends meet for themselves and their families at home, vast numbers of skilled
professional Filipinas have had to make the difficult decision to leave
their country. In seeking employment abroad, not all of them are able to
work again as teachers or nurses or clerks. Despite having advanced
educational degrees, many wind up as maids, nannies, mail order brides,
or overseas contract workers.
I too have joined the hundreds of thousands of Filipina women who have
left their home country and made their way to every corner of the globe
to find economic relief; to flee political persecution; or to follow their hearts.
Filipinos have ambivalent feelings about how recent census figures show
that warm bodies—overseas contract workers-—now count as the second
highest source of national income for the Philippines. How immensely sad
it is on the one hand, yet on the other hand perhaps it might be viewed
as a hopeful thing.
Unquestionably, the fact of living in exile has changed us—has changed
me.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Mandisa (Xhosa - Transkei, SA)
I am as proud as I could be
I am from the XHOSA,
of South Africa.
Of-course I have a husband,
he works near the city of Johannesburg.
He hardly comes home any more,
he spends all his time
mining for diamonds and gold.
Now,
my issue is about land.
The money he sends is getting less,
it’s not enough
to feed and clothe our children.
This situation would not be a terrible thing
if I had control of the land.
But,
since the land is in his name,
I cannot get a loan
to buy seed
or fertilizer nor tools to work it.
I can not lease the land to my neighbors
or sell it to start a basket business.
I own no property, the title is his!
It is a male thing.
Even if he would die
the title would go to his brother,
or my son, who does not want it!
But that’s the rule here.
My thinking is,
that ought to change.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Michiq (Quechua-Peru)
My family farm is high in the Andes Mountains
not far from the ancient city of Cuzco
As a family,
we till the land and plant seeds.
We grow mainly potatoes.
Right now I gather grass and herbs
to feed our llama and her newborn.
I also collect the llama droppings;
I flatten them to dry,
so I can use them
to make a fire for cooking.
We have five llamas;
they give us wool.
I spin and weave the wool
to make blankets and clothing and such.
Sometimes
I sell what I made on the market
to buy whatever I need.
Not long ago I lost my child,
he died before he was born
right then, when I was needed to help
with the tilling of the land.
I guess
it was all
a little too much....
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Veronika (Russia) #2
During the communist times, my mother was an English teacher. She met foreigners at the Interclub, where sailors came when they visited St. Petersburg, and at the Academy of Scientists, where she translated for foreign scientists. My father was a seaman, who made trips around the world as a political instructor of the crew, which means that he in fact controlled their political orientation.
The myth of the communist utopia was never accepted in my family. I got some influence from outside, nevertheless.
The Soviets did a lot for the equality of men and women in the USSR. Women received the same positions and salary as men, and nearly all of them worked. It is like this in Russia now as well.
But the life of women there remains very difficult. Most males still believe that women should do all the housework. So women work all day long at their job and in the evenings go on working about the house.
Also men know that they are a minority and can easily find another woman. Often they don’t try to please their girlfriends or wives, and many men even become drunkards.
I went to study in Germany—not because I wanted to escape Russia but because I wanted to experience something different: a new culture, a different lifestyle. I wanted to develop myself, to live as much as possible before I settled down to a regular family life.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | JingJing (China)
I was born into an ordinary traditional Chinese family, where boys are more wanted than girls. It is believed that only boys can carry on the family line. It’s also a boy’s responsibility to take care of his parents when they are aged.
My parents’ first child was a girl—my elder sister. They hoped that their second baby would be a boy. My mother prepared only boy’s clothes before the birth. Then I was born. My birth was accompanied by more despair than happiness, especially for my grandparents who blurted out, “Girl again!” when they saw me arrive in the world.
Yet in the intervening years, I have distinguished myself by my academic achievements and have received numerous scholarships to attend university every year. Eventually I came to the U.S. to study. All of these achievements have made my family proud of me. Yet whenever I hear my mother chatting with her friends about me, she’ll say, “What a pity she isn’t a boy!”
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Rania (Egypt)
I grew up in Egypt as a Muslim woman in a Muslim country.
I know what you are thinking: suppressed. Well, I was never suppressed because Islam DOES NOT suppress women. I know this sounds completely different from what you see in the media or even from some Muslims. There is a difference between what Islam actually is and people’s interpretations of it.
The fact that certain so-called Muslims use Islam to support their acts does not mean that they truly represent Islam.
The fact that some or many Muslims suppress women does not necessarily mean that Islam degrades women, or that all Muslims share the same views.
In the seventh century, long before the women’s movement, Islam established equality between man and woman, gave woman the right to inherit, own, manage and pass on property, the right to act as witness in courts of law as well as the right to divorce her husband, all of which were unthinkable at the time.
When you see me in this picture without a veil (hijab), I am not getting away with something. This is the way I dress in Egypt, and this is the way women dress in many Islamic countries. In Egypt, it is pretty much every woman’s business whether she wants to wear hijab or not. I walk around bareheaded without feeling in the least threatened or pressured to wear hijab.
When I hear someone say that Islam is a religion of terror or that it suppresses women, I am as surprised as you are.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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| |  | Blain (Saponi-USA)
I am from the Saponi tribe, which comes from the border of North Carolina and Virginia. I dance the “Old Style Women's Fancy Shawl” and compete in Powwows up and down the East Coast and as far west as South Dakota. The colors in my outfit represent fire and the Monarch butterfly, both symbols of strength, beauty, grace, and rebirth.
I come from a long line of strong-willed, resilient Southern Indian women. My mother taught me to be proud of my heritage, my background, and the land, just as her mother had taught her. They made me who I am.
That there is still a large quantity of American Indians on the East Coast is a conflicting issue for us today. Our traditions and spirituality were denied us for so long. That’s why Indians embrace our culture through dance, song, ceremony, and family. Through these celebrations, we try to encourage the awareness of our people. It is a constant struggle.
My mother raised me with the traditions and values of my tribe, and my family lives by them. She raised me with an appreciation for my lineage, my roots, my blood, my family, my history, and our history as a People. I will continue the fight. I will continue to spread awareness of our existence. I will continue to be my mother's daughter. I will continue to dance always. I will continue to be Indian.
Because it is who I am.
watercolor on paper
22"x 30"
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