Since then, while covering the topic of human trafficking, I have heard Lloyd talk at numerous events and panels. I have called her up for quotes and insights, like the time football star Lawrence Taylor was arrested. I had needed to get a lucid response on why the media was portraying an under-age trafficked girl as a “hooker.”

Lloyd always speaks the truth to power. It may be to a New York City police commissioner, or an affluent Manhattan audience learning for the first time that 13-year-old African-American girls in Bedford–Stuyvesant, Brooklyn are being bought and sold. Lloyd frequently notes that they are part of an estimated 200,000-300,000 adolescents who are at risk annually for commercial sexual exploitation in the United States.

Consequently, it was no surprise to me that the memoir Lloyd had penned, Girls Like Us: Fighting for a World Where Girls Are Not for Sale, an Activist Finds Her Calling and Heals Herself, would be a tough, gritty and brutally honest account. Lloyd traces how a difficult childhood led to a hair-raising journey that encompassed risk, recruitment, violent abuse, breaking free from sexual exploitation—and ultimately healing. She now is a top activist in the anti-trafficking movement.

Finding her purpose in working with girls “in the life,” Lloyd connects to those in crisis based on shared experiences, understanding without judgment, and respect. Founding Girls Educational and Mentoring Services (GEMS) in 1998, Lloyd went back to school to attain her GED, going on to receive a Bachelors degree in Psychology from Marymount Manhattan College and a Masters in Applied Urban Anthropology from the City College of New York. She has racked up numerous awards for her efforts, all while “owning her experience.”

Girls Like Us presents a dual story. One is Lloyd’s personal narrative; the other is a primer on what trafficked American girls are up against. Lloyd outlines the elements that make girls vulnerable, examines how they are sexually exploited, and discusses the role of pimps, johns, and cops in the equation. The inherent difficulties of overcoming the trauma of sexual servitude often mimic the symptoms of Stockholm syndrome and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Lloyd breaks down one fallacy after another, many unfortunately believed by social workers, law enforcement officials, and those making decision calls in the judicial system. If misconceptions could start to be addressed, perhaps a real awareness toward new solutions could be innovated.

There is so much that needs to change, and Lloyd points out the problems with crystal clarity. One of her frequent talking points is the statistic that the estimated median age of entry into the commercial sex industry occurs between the ages of 12 and 14. Defining the difference between an “exploited child and a prostitute” is a full time endeavor. She explains that “leaving the life takes practice,” and that girls need to have the unfailing support of a person who will not “give up on them.” Most important to note are the socioeconomic causes, that for some baffling reason appear more comprehensible when they occur in foreign countries, but which are insufficiently grasped on our own national turf.

Lloyd posits that too often the wrong questions are asked. Instead of taking a facile approach to a girl’s situation with the query, “Why doesn’t she just leave?”—Lloyd suggests an examination of the impact of lack of income, homelessness, and neglect, along with “race and class factors.” There are over 500,000 children in New York City living in poverty.

For police who don’t understand that captivity isn’t an issue of being physically tied and bound, it can be frustrating to translate the depths of a “trauma bond” in an existence predicated on terror. Leaving the life and making the transition is difficult. As Lloyd says, “Healing is a messy, complicated process that’s rarely linear.” It doesn’t help that society—even those tasked with supporting victims—often relay the message that the girl’s “exploitation was their choice,” leaving them with a burden of shame and a “policy that blames the victim.”

One of the major challenges is the need to reframe not only attitudes, but also language. The United Nations and UNICEF have adopted the term commercially sexually exploited child/youth to reference those who are underage.  New terminology will help grow novel thinking. Once assimilated into the collective mindset, a change can start to be reflected in the media and popular culture. As Lloyd emphasizes, most of America didn’t have trouble understanding the trauma of Elizabeth Smart. But when you shift from her story to a 14-year-old girl of color in the Bronx, the reaction is totally different.

Girls Like Us puts it all out there—no holds barred. In addition to the contribution that Lloyd has made with a book filled with visceral punch and detailed veracity, she has left the public with nowhere to hide.

There can no longer be the question, “Who knew?”

As she began her career, StJohn discovered firsthand that there were some things about the military that she didn’t like. Foremost was the way in which women enlistees were treated. Secondary, was the institutional response to the behavior, “That’s the way it is.” Degrading conduct was not limited to verbal insults. It included coerced sexual relations with senior male staff—or else. While at technical school, StJohn outlined the circumstances as, “It was a given that you could be forced into sex with a senior officer or your career would be compromised, and possibly ruined.”

StJohn summed up the psychology behind the action with the clear statement, “It’s a conquering of each person—a way of putting a woman in her place to achieve a mode of submission.” Her female colleagues “knew the instructors who could hurt their careers, and acquiesced as a matter of survival.”

It happened to StJohn more than once.

Defining the situation for me, StJohn related how “her idealism had been crushed.” She pinpointed the nitty-gritty of what fighting back could do. It was made clear to her that any actions on her part would endanger the status of her hard-earned security clearance, potentially leave her with a dishonorable discharge, or have her tagged with a “personality disorder.” Most distressing for StJohn was the inference that her father’s career could be “tarnished.” StJohn noted, “I understood from childhood how the military works. The swipe of a pen can affect if you can get a job or buy a house.”

Cassaundra StJohn

StJohn departed active service at 22 because she realized that “things were not going to change” and that she was no longer able to be “a good soldier and keep my mouth shut.” She mentioned the comment written on her security clearance report which labeled her with the contentious description: “Non-Conformist.” As StJohn emphasized, “It wasn’t a compliment.” She chose to finish out the rest of her obligation by serving in the Air National Guard and the Air Force Reserves. StJohn clarified the difference between active and reserve duty in the 1980s saying, “It means that you don’t have to face the harassment everyday, and the military has no control over your life.”

Her father—unaware of the extent of her disillusionment or the malfeasance she had been subjected to—gave her the advice, “Keep your nose down and don’t rock the boat.”

After StJohn left active service, she had no luck finding a job with just a high school diploma. She tried college, but felt a disconnect with the students. At 26, she was ready to get back on the educational track, with the goal of achieving an MBA by the age of 30. By this time, she had two children and was working two jobs while attending classes. As she noted dryly, “Scrubbing toilets at a Texaco gas station can be very motivating.” She used funds from the GI Bill and fees from donating blood to pay the tab. By her third decade, she had caught up with her peers and began a career in advertising, marketing, and entrepreneurship.

StJohn’s “aha” moment didn’t come until March 2011, when she attended an event for women veteran entrepreneurs. None of the teachers had any experience with military life. Realizing that they were many resources for men who had served—but not for women—StJohn had an epiphany. She asked herself, “Why aren’t I doing this? Why am I waiting for the VA? I can speak a language that women vets understand.” In retrospect she observed, “It just hit me all at once.”

That was the beginning of F7 Group, which StJohn describes “as an organization that is looking through the windshield—rather than the rear view mirror.” The approach is grounded in seven basic tools of support: friends and family, freedom, foundation, function, focus, flexibility, and fundamentals.

StJohn is very clear that emotional issues around military service must be resolved before women can move forward. “We acknowledge the impact of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Military Sexual Trauma (MST), and Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). With women driving trucks, being in special operations or combat zones, there is a high risk for potential hostile engagement. As StJohn underscored, the current military policy maintains there are no women in “direct hand-to-hand combat.” This has created a bureaucratic mess for those women suffering from the ramifications of TBI. F7 is actively supporting a change in legislation.

For the women it works with, F7 is vigorously trying to fill in the gaps around healthcare, employment, education and housing. Supporting and partnering with other groups that concentrate on these specific concerns, F7 functions as an information clearinghouse. StJohn sees plenty of room at the table for everyone’s work, advocating pulling up extra chairs rather than feeling competitive about existing seats.

StJohn has moved beyond her original concept of providing business boot camps for building entrepreneurial skills to the concept of personal retreats. She envisions “building a train from the uniform to the place that women vets want to be.” She expanded the profile of potential attendees from vets only, to others in the military family—such as wives and mothers. Welcoming those who served in Vietnam, along with younger women who were deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan, the F7 premise is to eliminate the labels. StJohn outlined her approach as, “You take off your rank, your service, your era, and your role, and connect with the fact that the military is the common thread that binds us.”

The first retreat was held in October. The goal for 2012 is to convene quarterly, with three meetings in national locations and one in Texas. StJohn qualifies the gatherings as “looking at the heart side.” She speaks about “putting the past where it belongs,” while answering questions and redefining the self with other women who “have walked the walk.”

The need is there. StJohn quoted stats that illustrate female veterans are four times as likely to be homeless as other women. The total number of homeless women veterans in California, Texas, and Florida exceeds the amount of homeless female vets in the entire country. On the reason for elevated rates of homelessness among female vets, StJohn responded, “They’re proud, they don’t want handouts, and many are suffering with emotional problems and PTSD.” She also referenced figures showing that 70 percent of women vets experience some level of PTSD, and 38 percent of women vets “report” incidents of MST.

“Women vets get back here, and there’s no support,” StJohn said. She spoke about two women in the F7 program who had gone for services at the Dallas VA Medical Center. They described their encounters there as “nightmare experiences.” StJohn has scheduled the next F7 “Lone Star” retreat for April 2012, in Texas. Her goal is to serve 200 applicants.

“I know these women,” StJohn said. “I don’t want them to have to take twenty years to get to the other side. I want to help other women in the military family to go to the next step—with less pain and in less time than I did.”

Photos courtesy of F7 Group

Members of The Elders, a contingent of independent global leaders focusing on “peace and human rights,” made appearances at the Clinton Global Initiative and the Mashable Social Good Summit. Their focus: to bring awareness to the “neglected” topic of child marriage through the Girls Not Brides platform. The campaign dictum is, “Let girls be girls and not brides.”

Working to bring together non-governmental agencies from around the world, Girls Not Brides is confronting a practice that prohibits 10 million girls—annually—of the right to an education, health, and security.

The stats are overwhelming.  On a daily basis, twenty-five thousand girls are married before they reach the age of eighteen. To grasp the numbers in real time, that is the equivalent of nineteen girls being married without their consent every minute. According to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights drawn up in 1948, a “marriage shall be entered into only with the free and full consent of the intending spouses.”

Child marriage occurs worldwide. It affects 46 percent of underage girls in Sub-Sahara Africa; 38 percent in South Asia; 2 percent in the Caribbean and Latin America; 18 percent in North Africa and the Middle East. The highest rate, 75 percent, is evident in Niger. More than a third of child brides inhabit India. Some groups in Europe and North America engage in the “custom” as well. A child is defined as being any human being below the age of eighteen in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child [CRC Article 1].

For girls who are wed before they turn eighteen years old, there are health concerns with major ramifications. They are at a far higher risk of fistula and other pregnancy related injuries. Those under fifteen years of age are five times more likely to die in childbirth than young women in their twenties. The number drops slightly, to twice as likely, for girls between fifteen to nineteen years old.

Child brides face greater odds of contracting HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases, because they cannot advocate for safe sex practices. When they give birth, as opposed to mothers who are over nineteen years old, their offspring are 60 percent more likely to die before they reach their first birthday. Child brides are also prone to be victims of domestic violence and sexual abuse. Intrinsically intertwined with issues surrounding gender equality, family planning and maternal health, child marriage is dually driven by tradition and poverty.

One ripple effect has caused six of the eight 2015 Millennium Development Goals to be thwarted as child brides are forced to terminate their schooling. Stymied educational opportunities result in limited economic options without possibility of breaking the continuous rounds of poverty.

Photo Courtesy of Thierry Boccon-Gibod/The Elders

To learn more about The Elders role in this initiative, I sat down with human rights advocate and “Elder” Mary Robinson, who served as the first woman President of Ireland (1990-1997) before becoming the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (1997-2002). She spoke at length about what her past experiences bring to the table.

Robinson also delved into the backstory of how The Elders were started by Nelson Mandela. The purpose was to band together a group of accomplished people who could bring their insights to the front to help with global conflict resolution. Engaging “courageous and innovative” local people on the ground “who know best what is transpiring,” Robinson outlined how The Elders have been able to form global alliances.

Starting with a strong commitment to champion the empowerment of girls and women, they recognized that the topic of child marriage needed “moral leadership.” The Elders knew they had to intervene on behalf of girls worldwide despite the sensitivity of the problem. These girls can, if allowed, become potential agents of change.

To do this Robinson understood that a push had to be made to win the hearts and minds of those who have positions as tribal leaders to individual women. Imposing a point of view solely from the top down was not going to work. There had to be a strong grassroots effort. Social institutions had to be addressed by facilitating a community dialogue, particularly in rural conservative populations where there is a strong fear of ostracism. A major piece of the puzzle included bringing men into the conversation to change the thinking on child marriage.

“It’s all part of the same issue. The role in the home is not as important,” says Robinson. “The country girl in the village has no voice. She knows from the adult that she is not as important as her brother.”

Robinson is well versed in confronting concerns that inhabit unpopular and uncomfortable spheres. Elected at the age of twenty-five to the Irish Senate—when Catholicism dominated the mores—her first goal was tackling the legislative legalization of contraceptives. (At that time, married women in Ireland had no birth control rights.) “I completely underestimated the reaction. I was denounced from pulpits,” Robinson told me. The reason? She was addressing “deeper cultural issues.” From challenging the “cultural norm,” she learned that “you need a lot of patience and understanding.”

“If we don’t promote education for girls, we won’t get to the millennium goals,” said Robinson as she circled back to the relationship of women and tradition—and the “role of religion” when it is abused and distorted to subjugate women. “Girls are losing hope for the future,” she added.

Investing in girls can change perceptions as they are valued beyond their ability to be laborers, producers of children, or second-class citizens. Even in countries where there is legislation in place, such as Ethiopia, the reality does not match the law. The average age of a girl bride is twelve.

“We need to scale up,” Robinson stated resolutely. “Child marriage is not adequately discussed.  It’s a travesty for girls and their human rights…an unacceptable practice.” However, she optimistically points out how “practices can be changed,” underscoring her belief that child marriage can be “ended in one generation.”

At the Mashable Social Good Summit, where Robinson shared the stage with Archbishop Desmond Tutu, she had the ear of an audience dialed in to the power of social media. She understands how the value of digital tools can be a “highly influential way to have a conversation about an issue that is way underestimated.” With a Twitter handle and a website set up linking to “What Can I Do?”—crowdsourcing awareness and activism on behalf of child marriage was launched.

“It’s about the oxygen of recognition and breaking the cycle,” Robinson concluded. Before she stood up to leave she added, “It’s important that we have the opportunity to advocate.”

During June 2011 travels to Ethiopian communities affected by child marriage with the 'Towards an end to child marriage' campaign, Mary Robinson asks a young woman what she remembers about her wedding day. She replies, "It was the day I left school." Photo Courtesy of Ashenafi Tibebe/The Elders

This article originally appeared on the website Women News Network.

The project has garnered top tier talent on both sides of the camera. Executive Producers include Jennifer Aniston, Marta Kauffman, Paula Wagner, and Kristin Hahn. Helming the director’s chairs are Demi Moore, Alicia Keyes, Patty Jenkins, Penelope Spheeris—and Aniston. Participating actors cover the generational continuum, from Bob Newhart portraying a doctor, to Rosario Dawson as an independent career woman.  Patricia Clarkson, well known in the indie film sphere, brings edginess to her character “Mia,” in a tale that combines caustic humor with hope and redemption.

Woven into the scripts are facts including “one in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer,” references to the BRCA gene, dialogue on the trajectory from diagnosis to mastectomy and reconstruction, and the too often ignored detail that men also get breast cancer (one in 1,000).

The narrative begins in 1969, as a family gathers around a television to watch Apollo 11 land the first man on the moon. Young Pearl is aware that her mother is sick, but she is left in the dark about the extent of the illness. Although 1969 was also the year of Woodstock and growing domestic unrest, Pearl’s family dynamics reflect a sensibility and a rigid framework that seems more in keeping with 1960. The inadequate way that her mother’s imminent death is handled will push Pearl to find answers and empowerment through a career as an oncologist. Later, when she receives her own diagnosis of breast cancer, Pearl will be in the role of the parent. Deciding how to inform her daughter, she agonizes over how to create an experience for her child—the same age as she was—that will stand in sharp contrast to the trauma that so deeply impacted her. In the process, Pearl gains insight into her father’s struggle and his inability to provide the parenting she so desperately needed.

The five stories encompass concerns that reflect the multitude of challenges facing a patient who has received a breast cancer diagnosis. Addressed are the topics of asking for help, interacting with caregivers, reframing life attitudes, family relationships, challenges based on age demographics, and cultural messages about women’s bodies.

In the segment titled “Cheyanne,” a dancer in her twenties must confront how her self-identity and career, which have been enmeshed with her breasts as physical attributes, will be impacted by an acute prognosis. The camera does not shy away from showing a visual of her upper torso, post-mastectomy. Rather, it uses the imagery to illustrate the evolution of her intensely sexual relationship with her husband as it morphs from lust and passion to tenderness, appreciation, and a different form of love.

I spoke with Executive Producer Hahn by telephone, to get a deeper understanding of the impetus behind the project. She related that Susan G. Komen for the Cure had approached her with the “seeds of an idea,” which she saw as a challenge “to push the envelope to create something that felt fresh—combining humor and irreverence with drama.” The producing team got the “best five writers” to brainstorm on potential stories, with each person contributing a script. According to Hahn, it was important that each segment work “both individually and as part of a whole.” It was at this point that Lifetime came on board.

Hahn said, “I hope the film will truly inspire dialogue.” She related an experience about an e-mail she had received from a woman who had attended a preview screening. It said, “I’m Stage 4. After seeing this film, I had my first real conversation.”

Getting through the “fear of asking questions, stimulating research dollars, and bringing the issues to light,” were core objectives enumerated by Hahn. “We all know someone who has been impacted,” she said. “It’s more than an epidemic.”

In a graphic featuring data culled from the American Cancer Society and the National Cancer Institute, stats show that there are 2.5 million breast cancer survivors in the United States. The median age at diagnosis for breast cancer is 61. The median age at death for breast cancer is 68. In 2011, 39,520 women and 450 men are expected to die from the disease.

To capitalize on the momentum of the movie, Lifetime has partnered with top cancer organizations to form the FIVE Coalition (Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation, LIVESTRONG, the National Breast Cancer Coalition, the Noreen Fraser Foundation, the Prevent Cancer Foundation, Stand up to Cancer, and Susan G. Komen for the Cure). The network is donating airtime to Public Service Announcements, and has provided a discussion guide written by Hahn. Action links have been set up at mylifetime.com/stopbreastcancer. Currently, Lifetime is spearheading an initiative to ensure that health insurance companies give their approval to making a 48-hour hospital stay after a mastectomy the “standard of care.” Previously, Lifetime was able to mobilize 26 million signatures in support of The Breast Cancer Protection Act.

In our conversation, Hahn reiterated the theme of the astronauts as a metaphor for the miracle and wonder of science. She reflected, “If we can land a man on the moon, we can cure breast cancer.”

All photos courtesy of Lifetime Television

This article originally appeared on the women’s health site Empowher.

Up until now, advice from your mother or best friend that unprotected sex is a bad idea may not have made an adequate impression. Perhaps you haven’t seen the stats.  Globally, half of the people living with HIV/AIDS are women.  For those of reproductive age (15–44), HIV/AIDS is the leading cause of death and disease worldwide. In the United States, AIDS diagnoses for women have tripled since 1985.

Enter Lady Gaga, teaming up with the MAC Cosmetics philanthropic arm, MAC AIDS Fund, for the VIVA GLAM campaign.  The objective: To launch a new lipstick and lipglass shade where every penny of the purchase price goes to the MAC AIDS Fund.  Working off of her personal brand of distinct individuality, Lady Gaga is the perfect model for self-advocacy.  As this year’s official VIVA GLAM spokesperson (last year she shared the role with Cyndi Lauper), she has instructed her admirers “to live passionately, but do it safely.”  Perhaps her strongest advice is, “Be your own biggest fan and protect yourself.”

I sat down with Nancy Mahon, Global Executive Director of the MAC AIDS Fund.  She spoke to me about the company’s “corporate responsibility” model, which has been “embedded in the MAC Cosmetics DNA” from its inception.  The MAC AIDS Fund was started in 1994—as a response to the AIDS epidemic. This giveback philosophy permeates the company.  It encompasses not just the executive level, but also the diverse sales force that feels a part of something beyond “just selling lipstick.”

The Fund has an impressive track record.  They have raised over $202 million and sold over 13.8 million VIVA GLAM lipsticks.  They focus on highlighting the link between “poverty and AIDS” and on targeting “underserved populations.”  The results of what one VIVA GLAM sale can do are impressive.  Internationally, their Mothers2Mothers program enables a two-day support group for pregnant women “newly diagnosed with HIV/AIDS.”  In America, The Women’s Collective Program provides a minimum of 45 minutes of “lifesaving HIV prevention skills” for girls and women in groups of 20 to 74 people.  That’s critically important, especially because domestically, HIV/AIDS is the leading killer of women of color.

In Washington, D.C. alone, 3 percent of African-American women are living with HIV/AIDS.  Going to “places where there are problems” is a primary strategy of the MAC AIDS Fund.  One of their grantees based in the District of Columbia (The Women’s Collective) provides a female-centric model of care.  As a community based organization, they are talking to women about using female condoms, and showing proper usage techniques.

The interview circled back repeatedly to the topic of “female initiated prevention”—both in terms of a tangible product for protection and the wherewithal to use it.  Mahon broke down why it was important to reach women on a wide continuum.

• Younger women are not practicing safe sex.
• Older women think that if they can’t get pregnant, they don’t need protection. They are reluctant to make demands that might make them “lose the guy.”  Online dating and male use of Viagra have increased risk factors as people are engaged with multiple partners.
• AIDS is the leading cause of death for African-American women in the age bracket of 25 to 34 in the United States.

Mahon spoke at length about the female condom. The Female Health Company, a manufacturer that worked with The Women’s Collaboration, has developed a product (available at Walgreens), which is in its second-generation iteration. The FC2 female condom received FDA approval in March 2009.  As explained by Avert, an HIV and AIDS information website:  “The FC2 female condom is a nitrile sheath or pouch 6.5 inches in length. At each end there is a flexible ring. At the closed end of the sheath, the flexible ring is inserted into the vagina to hold the female condom in place. The other end of the sheath stays outside the vulva at the entrance to the vagina. This ring acts as a guide during penetration and it also stops the sheath from moving up inside the vagina.”

The Female Health Company has a helpful page devoted to guiding women on how to discuss concerns with a partner.  The Lady Gaga VIVA GLAM campaign is creating high-level visibility.  However the ultimate step is up to each individual woman.  As Mahon observed, “If women are not using protection, they need to have a serious conversation with themselves.”

Image Courtesy of MAC Cosmetics.

This article originally appeared on the women’s health site EmpowHER.

©Jason Laure, 1969/courtesy of HBO

Gloria Steinem has frequently spoken about the importance of sharing stories, using the imagery of communicating oral narratives around an ancient campfire. She has done that with her own personal history in the HBO documentary, Gloria: In Her Own Words.  Responding to questions asked by director Peter Kunhardt and co-producer Sheila Nevins, Steinem has added depth to readily accessible facts by opening up about the darker corners of her emotional life.

Two juxtaposed Glorias emerge.  One evolves from a brunette young woman who came to New York City via Smith College.  (Early on, Steinem had determined that she would get out of Toledo, Ohio—even if it had to be on the winged feet of her tap dancing prowess.) The other is a woman who has lived seven decades, delved into the journey of self-knowledge, and come up with the hindsights that the passage of time affords.

Repeatedly referenced as a “feminist icon,” Steinem often functions as a blank slate upon which others imprint their own anxieties, appreciation, disapproval or angry resentments.  In a society that habitually discards its most prominent contributors when they are deemed no longer relevant, Steinem radiates resilience. Functioning as a stand-in Rorschach test for all the attributes and shortcomings of the feminist movement, her best armor has been an acute sense of humor.

I saw the documentary first on a preview DVD, and then at the Women’s Media Center screening at the HBO building.  The 120-seat theater was filled with women (and a handful of men) representing a continuum of ages and a modicum of diversity.  As Steinem quipped when she appeared to answer audience questions—fresh from a taping with Stephen Colbert, “For a lot of people in this room, it’s a home movie.”  Archival footage of the 1972 Democratic convention (where one third of the delegates were women) and the march in Manhattan down Fifth Avenue gained a breadth of scope on the larger screen.  The experience of hearing in unison laughter when a 1960s broadcaster intoned, “Women have a problem with concentration,” lent a feeling of community.  Yet Steinem’s private revelations were more intimate when viewed via television’s smaller scale.

Throughout the film, a window into the burgeoning women’s movement runs parallel to the storyline about the girl born in the 1930s who described her awareness as, “I’m not sure if I knew what feminism was.  I thought if I was having difficulty, it was my own personal fault.”

Pursuing a career as a freelance journalist, Steinem was continually assigned features on food, beauty, and babies despite her interest in political topics.  “The low point,” she said, “was writing a piece on textured stockings.” Friday afternoon propositions by the boss were not uncommon.  Steinem notes of this time, “There was no word for sexual harassment.  It was just called life.”

In 1963, Steinem got what she called “the bunny assignment,” to do an undercover report about employment conditions at the “glamorous” Playboy Club. What was written as an exposé of “grinding work in three-inch heels” ended up creating new problems of credibility for Steinem’s writing—as she got stamped with the “unserious” label.

By the time Steinem hit her 30s, she realized that she wasn’t the only woman having problems. She put it concisely, “I wasn’t crazy, the system was crazy.”  Her “aha” moment came in 1969, when she was covering a story about an abortion hearing for New York Magazine. For Steinem, “That was the big click.”  At 22, she had an abortion and never told anybody. The black and white sequence of the meeting illustrates irate women speaking up and refusing to be silenced.  It is evident how the energy and dissension in the room telegraphed a message to Steinem that she was now ready to decode.  She observed, “I began to understand that my experience was an almost universal female experience.”

A montage of top male news anchors delivering reports in 1970 about the new “women’s liberation movement,” serves as a mordant backdrop to Steinem discussing her frustration about not being able to get her work published.  It pushed her to seek a different venue to get the word out.  She moved into speaking publicly, embarking on a national tour in partnership with Dorothy Pitman Hughes.

By then, Steinem had evolved into the “Gloria persona.”  Explaining the genesis, she said. “I used the aviator glasses to hide behind.”  The blonde streaks at the front of her long hair owed their origins to Audrey Hepburn’s character Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s–and Steinem’s appreciation for Golightly’s determination not to lose her freedom in a relationship based on “belonging to another person.”

The recognition that there was no place for women to read content uncontrolled by men was Steinem’s impetus for co-founding Ms. magazine.  Feminism hadn’t been faring well in the media, though as Steinem slyly pointed out, “Hostility is a step forward from ridicule.”  Harry Reasoner pronounced the periodical’s mission as “sad.”  The number of issues printed was supposed to last on the newsstands for three months.  They sold out in a week.  Seven months later, Ms. was in the black. For Steinem, making a point of using her “anger constructively” had paid off well.

Despite what appeared to be a successful and glamorous life, Steinem was dogged by criticism—from outside the movement and from within. “A woman who aspires to be something is a bitch,” she said.  Both lauded and excoriated for her appearance, Steinem stated, “I work really hard, and then it’s attributed to looks.  That’s really painful.”  Esquire magazine ran a story (with an accompanying comic strip) portraying Steinem in such a negative light that she characterized it as “cruel.”  Some of the sniping, bubbling just below the surface, came from other contributors to feminism who resented the limelight coalescing around Steinem.  The most prominent conflict played out with Betty Friedan, author of the groundbreaking The Feminine Mystique. Steinem said of Friedan, “She considered herself the owner of the movement.”  Looking to expand feminist alliances with other constituencies marginalized by traditional hierarchies, Steinem forged friendships with women who shared her sensibilities—such as Bella Abzug and Flo Kennedy. Qualifying Friedan’s approach, Steinem elucidated, “She didn’t identify down, she identified up.”

In 1977, The National Women’s Conference took place in Houston, Texas. Steinem refers to it as a major highlight of her career.  First Ladies Ford, Johnson, and Carter were present. The 20,000 women in attendance had different objectives for the proposed National Plan of Action, twenty-six resolutions that were put to a collective vote.  Ultimately, abortion and lesbian rights—along with support for the Equal Rights Amendment—were included in the Plan submitted to President Carter in 1978.  Steinem worked non-stop to promote her ideological agenda, pushing herself relentlessly.

Viewers get an unguarded glimpse of Steinem’s core in the segments where she addresses her dysfunctional upbringing.  She describes her father as a “charming” but “totally irresponsible man,” and tells how her mother, a “pioneer in journalism who couldn’t do it all,” was debilitated by what was “at that time called a nervous breakdown.”  In a childhood that Steinem depicts as scary and depressing, she became a caretaker to a mother who couldn’t function. When her father departed, they were a household of two women, enveloped by the sound of a persistently playing radio.  Steinem learned to rely on the defense mechanism of “detachment.”  She came to understand, in her later adult years, that she had distanced herself from her mother out of the apprehension of “not being her.”  Steinem expresses profound misgivings about her handling of the demise of both her parents.  Her father, who was mortally injured in a car accident in 1961, died alone.  Resisting the call to travel to California to be with him, Steinem feared being recast in the role of caretaker.   She was at her mother’s side during her last hours, yet confesses that in retrospect, “I so regret that I wasn’t more of a companion to her.”

Steinem’s 50^th birthday was celebrated by a party attended by luminaries—or as Phil Donahue put it, “The revolution comes to the Waldorf.”  She saw the year as a definitive marker.  Yet, it was a diagnosis of breast cancer (she had a lump excised and was treated with radiation) that served the purpose of making her aware of the passage of time.

In the segment titled, “There was a period when the world was in black and white instead of color,” Steinem sorts out an interval when she dealt with depression.  Moving from “bottoming out,” she looked internally.  Burnt out from constant traveling and speaking gigs, the solitary din of a radio in her hotel room brought back the memories and unfinished business of her childhood—and the “neglected child” who felt “she didn’t exist.” With this realization, Steinem knew that she “couldn’t go forward in the old way.”  Her book on self-esteem, Revolution from Within, uses her own issues as an anchoring point.  She admits, “Even social activism can be a drug that keeps you from going back, as you keep trying to fill up an emptiness which can’t be filled by anything external.”

Married in 2000 to David Bale, it was a union of two partners who understood that “love is not about power.”  Steinem affirms that for the first time since childhood, she felt “in the present.” Bale developed brain lymphoma in 2002, which lasted a year.  In considering what she learned from Bale’s illness and death, she recounts her appreciation for the chance to do-over her part as a caretaker—this time as an adult.  The exchange is another parallel of the younger Gloria and older Gloria—underscoring her psychological progression.

Why did Steinem evolve into a symbol of so much to so many?  It’s impossible to know.  She became a vessel through which some women discovered themselves, their potential, and the strength to advocate for their own truths.  For others, she will remain the scapegoat for the “downfall of our beautiful American family,” as an irate caller to Larry King pronounced.

On her own place in the feminist pantheon, Steinem tells audiences on college campuses, “Don’t listen to my advice.  Listen to the voice inside you and follow that.”  She is clear that being of a different generation, girls coming up now need to have their own feminist heroes.  In a self-effacing manner Steinem suggests, “The primary thing is not that they know who I am, but who they are.”

Her hope for the future is succinct—a time when being a feminist means you see the world whole instead of half.  “It shouldn’t need a name,” Steinem pronounces.  She adds, “One day it won’t.”

©Annie Leibovitz, 2010/courtesy of HBO

The movie is structured in a style reminiscent of the 1980s Costa-Gavras narratives.  The dramatization is based on actual events. Some characters have been merged, with names and timelines changed for the sake of a streamlined plot. One of the anchoring characters is Madeleine Rees (Vanessa Redgrave), who was the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights in Bosnia.

Shot in palettes of blues and browns, the facts are laid out as Bolkovac—who is of Croatian descent—takes her belief in “doing her job” into the field.  After ten years of experience on the domestic violence beat back home, Bolkovac finds herself up against a web of corrupt players ranging from local police and United Nations peacekeepers, to State Department brass and “Democra” bigwigs.

Bolkovac discovers that the area’s bars and clubs are serving as a front to sites where girls from the Ukraine, Russia, and Eastern Europe have been enslaved. Many of the girls being sold to an international clientele are between 12 and 15 years old.

The story’s trajectory follows Bolkovac (who served as a story consultant) from her discovery of trafficking corruption, complicity, and cover-ups through her efforts to report her findings—despite files of evidence disappearing and witness tampering. Death threats are the precursor to her being fired, when she gets too close to the truth.  The multilayered cover-up finally sees the light of day when she files a wrongful dismissal case against “Democra,” and feeds the information from her findings to the British press.

Director Larysa Kondracki spent time with her co-writer in Eastern Europe doing background research.  There are two key scenes that speak volumes.  One is revelatory, the other is searing.  In the former, Bolkovac—and the audience—begin to understand the magnitude of what she is up against as she scrutinizes the first photos and bits of information she had pinned to her office wall.  The camera pulls back to show how the original findings have grown exponentially.  The latter is an indelible image of one of the girls being raped, tortured and killed in front of the others, as an example of why compliance is the only way to survive.

The Human Rights Watch Film Festival showcased the New York premiere of The Whistleblower in June. HRW has done extensive work documenting post-war abuse in the Balkans.  Their website article “Bosnia and Herzegovina: Traffickers Walk Free” gives an overview of the material covered in the movie.  In addition, they issued a report in 2002 that breaks down their findings into twelve comprehensive sections.

I interviewed Kondracki by e-mail to get additional insights about her vision and aspirations for the movie.  She explained that as a Ukrainian Canadian, the issue of sex trafficking was widely discussed within her community.  When she read Bolkovac’s book, The Whistleblower: Sex Trafficking, Military Contractors, and One Woman’s Fight for Justice, she was overwhelmed by the breadth of the crime of trafficking.  She was surprised that a film had not already been made.

What made you decide to do the movie as an indie film? Did you think it would give you more latitude to portray the story as you best saw fit?

To be honest, I didn’t see another way. We set out to do it. We spent some time in studios, which was a valuable experience and I think the script was improved when we were there. But ultimately, this was the way that made sense. That’s where I have to hand it to the producers. Once we got the project out, we were shooting within nine months.

Do you see the film reaching people about the issue of human trafficking in a way that a news story or article cannot?  Are you hoping that the “political thriller” tag will pull people in, which might otherwise be afraid of the subject matter?

Absolutely. Kathy’s story is practically a Robert Ludlum novel. Sex, scandal, corruption, governments, international cover-ups. It’s something you would usually make up. Our primary goal was to make a good thriller with a great character at the center. Is she going to get the girl? Are they going to get our heroine?

Was it Bolkovac’s experience with domestic violence in the United States, combined with how she got a conviction on her first time at bat in Bosnia, that made Madeleine Rees reach out to her?

Yes. That conviction made Kathy really stand out.

How did you decide how far to go with graphically showing the abuse and torture of the trafficked girls?

I wasn’t going to make this movie and not be realistic. But I also had no intention of deterring audiences. We tested it several times, and found the right balance. You don’t see anything. It’s not unlike Silence of the Lambs in a way. It’s what’s inferred.

How is the United Nations dealing with the film? I understand there was an internal memo that was circulated that advocated a “no comment” policy. Does that suggest that they haven’t learned anything from their experience about transparency?

The internal memo left it at the UN being split. But we have learned from sources that they are sticking with a “damage control” policy. I really have no idea what they’ve learned, and why they aren’t seizing the opportunity not only to right these wrongs, but in doing so, to gain some faith from so many cynics that are watching. Show us you want to be the organization you’re meant to be. I’ve written a letter to Secretary General Ban-Ki Moon, and we have offered to screen the film wherever and whenever they want. So far…No Comment.

cultureID specifically deals with connecting those doing cultural work with political and social intent/content with audiences.  How do you see The Whistleblower within this context?

I genuinely believe that films have one of the loudest voices. And I believe that if we can get this story into public discourse, the State Department and the United Nations will be embarrassed. Hopefully, enough to do something. Look at Guantanamo, extraordinary renditions…I’m not saying that’s done with, but at least they aren’t snatching people in plain sight out of airports anymore. Same thing here. U.S. tax dollars should not be going to the buying and selling of girls. Period. There’s no grey area to that.

This article originally appeared on the website cultureID.

OWFI Director Yanar Mohammed was in New York City the following week for a panel at a conference on social change philanthropy. In an interview facilitated by OWFI partner Madre, I sat down with Mohammed to discuss the recent events.

Mohammed cofounded OWFI during the U.S. invasion of her country in 2003.  In two rooms inside a burned out bank, she put a sign on the door proclaiming Women’s Freedom in Iraq. “One thing led to another,” she said, but from day one, the profile of the group reflected the philosophy that “anything military would not lead to a solution for the women of Iraq.”

In addition to setting up safe houses in 2004 to protect women from domestic abuse and honor killings, Mohammed fought sexual trafficking and advocated for women who were incarcerated. She runs a newspaper and a radio station under the banner name of Al Mousawat, which means “equality.”

Beyond providing services, Mohammed demands parity for women with the men of Iraq and promotes secular and human rights, earning her the antagonism of Islamic fundamentalists—who have threatened her life. She sees the power of these religious extremists as a direct result of the military occupation of Iraq. “The Americans did more harm than good,” she said.  “Under Saddam, women were educated.”  She pointed to how the occupation had left a vacuum for the rise of Islamists—who wrote a new constitution taking away women’s gains.  She noted, “In a religious group, there is not moderation.  You are not equal to men.”  Currently, Mohammed sees the popularity of the Shiite leadership waning.  “You can’t force democracy through a gun.”

Mohammed talked about Iraqi mothers who come to Tahrir Square dressed in traditional garb, holding pictures of their missing sons.  Beyond being poor, deprived, or wanting social change, they want to know where their children are. It is impossible to penetrate the many layers of security in Iraq, with detainees held in jail without due process as a result of “anti-terrorism” laws.

The weekly demonstrations this year keep pressure on Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki following February 25, the “Day of Iraqi Anger,” when thousands of Iraqis defied a state curfew in Baghdad as part of what became the Arab Spring uprisings. Protestor grievances included the scarcity of electricity and water, as well as rampant corruption.  Maliki set a deadline of one hundred days for following through on his promises and guarantees.

Mohammed described the Friday gatherings as comprised of younger people in their twenties, mixed with working and college educated people—many unemployed.  “Women came unveiled,” she maintained, “because in the revolution, women are equal to men.”  In response to her presence, she said, “Men wanted to shake my hand.  They saw me as a symbol of change.”  She emphasized the importance of the female turnout. “Women are at the front of the fight.  Our experience with the Islamists for the past eight years have made us ready.”  Many of the women sheltered by OWFI received not only refuge, but learned political empowerment as well.  However, the second Friday in June turned out to have a different narrative.

Mohammed related the incident from conversations she had with members of OWFI who witnessed the events. Early in the morning, charted air-conditioned buses brought huge numbers of men dressed in tribal clothes to Tahrir Square. They chanted their support for Maliki as the “sole leader of the nation.”  The women held signs with slogans that read: “Initiators of Revolution, Defeaters of Tyrants, Come to the Square of Change.”  They overheard some of the men saying, “These are the whores we are here to get.”  Another contingent of men dressed in athletic tracksuits began grabbing the signs and ripping them, using the wooden handles to hit the women.

One young male activist threw his body over a woman who was being kicked by eight men.  While women were being beaten, their bodies—breasts, thighs, buttocks, and genitals—were groped.  Mohammed was clear, “It was about humiliation and shame.”  One woman was in danger of being physically stripped, but was protected by male compatriots.  Mohammed said the thugs also wielded knives and pipes, and a person was threatened with a gun equipped with a silencer. OWFI had prepared to hold a press conference June 12 about the assaults, but the military and army intelligence blocked their street.

One of the most outspoken activists, a 28-year-old woman, went home to find her apartment turned upside down and her possessions destroyed.  There was no theft.  The point of the action was a warning. Mohammed said succinctly, “The women who were attacked need to be compensated by the government.  There should be a formal apology. The woman who had her apartment ransacked needs to be compensated as well.”

What would Mohammed like to tell President Obama? “The Maliki government is pushing women back from the political arena, once again, and the latest incident included sexual harassment and humiliation,” she answered. “If the American government wants to stop the Iraqi government from suppressing women, it will happen right away.”

Meanwhile, the women will be returning to the square.

This article originally appeared as an exclusive on the Women’s Media Center website.

Photo courtesy of Yanar Mohammed.

The director of No Woman, No Cry, Christy Turlington Burns, experienced a similar situation as my mother.  It pushed her to take a look at why 1,000 women around the globe die daily due to complications from pregnancy or childbirth, particularly as 90 percent of those deaths are preventable.

Most immediately recognizable as a top fashion model, Turlington Burns took on the mantle of activist back in the early 1990s with her efforts toward rebuilding war torn El Salvador, the homeland of her mother. She worked on the ground with the Salvadoran American Humanitarian Foundation.  In 1997, when her father died of lung cancer, she became pro-active in smoking prevention.  She connected with CARE, as their Advocate for Maternal Health. This experience motivated her to embark on getting a Masters in Public Health at Columbia University.

Turlington Burns was involved in the film’s production for two years.  She observed four different women and their pregnancies in Tanzania, Bangladesh, Guatemala, and the United States.  The anecdotal threads are anchored by her gentle voice over.  She begins the story with home footage of her pregnancy.  Through the choice of her narratives, Turlington Burns lays out her points while exploring basic facts about maternal mortality.

Reproductive health problems are the top cause of death for women ages 15-19 in the developing world, with approximately 70,000 young women dying because their bodies are not yet ready for childbearing.  Over 200 million women who want to plan their families don’t have access to modern birth control.  This option would reduce the amount of maternal deaths due to unsafe abortion by 82 percent.

At the Paley Center in New York City, I attended a screening of the documentary, followed by a panel discussion with Turlington Burns and experts Dr. Suellen Miller and Ann M. Starrs. Turlington Burns explained, “It’s a global tragedy, and I wanted to show that.”  She continued, “I constantly marvel at the power and strength of women.”

Maternal health is considered a benchmark of how a country’s health care measures up.  Turlington Burns cannily juxtaposes an American segment, to echo the issues that are at the root of problems in developing countries.  For those previously unaware of the American stats, they may be shocked to learn that the United States comes in 50^th on the scale of how well a country provides its citizens with maternal health care.  It has dropped from a previous ranking of 41^st, trailing Canada and a host of European countries. Race and economics are a primary factor:

• African-American women are three to four times as likely to die from pregnancy related causes as white women.
• The maternal mortality ratio for Native American and Native Alaskan women is four times higher than the 2010 national goal set by the government.
• Women living in low-income areas across the country are twice as likely to suffer a maternal death as women in affluent areas.

Superficially, it’s easy to believe that the obstacles facing women in other nations are dramatically different than those in America.  Yes, a van ride to a hospital in Tanzania costs $30, more than a family’s monthly wages.  However, Jennie Joseph, LM, CPM, Midwife and Executive Director of The Birth Place, which operates in Florida near Orlando, points out in her onscreen interview, “There’s no real access for disenfranchised women.”  On the expenditures needed for pre-natal care she says, “This is an upside down system.  Health care is anything but free.”

Many economically disadvantaged American women are getting their care through hospital emergency rooms.  There, they are often victims of judgments emanating from a core lack of understanding about why they can’t get prenatal services.  With two American women dying each day from pregnancy related problems, you have to question access and equality.  A pervasive tone of condescension from some of the doctors permeates all four stories.  It may be culture specific, but it’s there.

The mother-to-be in Tanzania, who consistently invokes the “will of Allah” as an explanation for events, replies with resignation to the question posed to her about how she is faring. “It’s okay.  I haven’t died, so I’m alive,” she says wearily.  While learning about the woman in Bangladesh who has finally conceived her second child, and is relieved that her husband won’t leave her for a more fertile mate, we find out that there are fourteen local words for a woman who can’t bear children.

In Guatemala, a woman suffering from the aftermath of a failed abortion refuses to admit it — because the stigma is so great. Abortion is illegal in Guatemala, except to save a woman’s life. Procedures under unhygienic conditions lead to 65,000 unsafe abortions performed each year.  These factors are contextualized in the film by Dr. Linda Valencia, who directs Planned Parenthood Federation of America’s support for programs in Guatemala.

Since barriers in the United States — not unlike those in foreign countries, exist — Turlington Burns has created a multi-pronged approach to bring awareness to this national and global crisis.  She has founded and put into play Every Mother Counts, a platform to link a grassroots mobilizations campaign with the steps of “engagement, education, and advocacy.”  Using a social media strategy to get eyeballs and action on several levels, the documentary is being rolled out on Oprah Winfrey’s new network OWN on May 7^th, with repeats the following day. People are being encouraged to host screening parties.  Starbucks will be selling a CD entitled “Every Mother Counts,” with tracks by “mom artists” including Rosanne Cash, Ani DiFranco, Jennifer Lopez, and Toshi Reagon.  It will be available through the end of 2011.  Starbucks will donate $8.00 of the selling price to CARE, a partner with Every Mother Counts.

When I spoke to Turlington Burns at the Paley Center, she told me that she was headed down to Washington, D.C. to be a speaker at the Capitol Hill briefing on the Maternal Health Accountability Act (H.R. 894) sponsored by Rep. John Conyers (D-MI).  The goal of the bill is to help set up “maternal mortality review committees” in each state, and to help “eliminate disparities in maternal health outcomes.”

Amnesty International will also be testifying. I wrote an article last year about their March 2010 report, Deadly Delivery: The Maternal Health Care Crisis in the USA. They have since released a 2011 update to their previous findings. Based on new evaluations by the Maternal Child Health Bureau, it shows that in America “low-income women face substantial barriers to obtaining medical care during pregnancy,” extending beyond finances to include transportation and a lack of professionals in their area.  Asking the public to get pro-active on maternal mortality through a Mother’s Day card action to legislators, Amnesty International is supplying cards free, which will then be distributed to members of Congress.

Throughout the world, maternal obligation is seen as tantamount.  In some locales, that may come at the expense of maternal death.  It is time to go beyond the lip service paid to mothers for a life-long role that is exalted, but so often poorly supported.  Turlington Burns’ clear-eyed documentary is a step toward bringing recognition and tangible action to the struggles of women worldwide.                                                                              

Photos courtesy of Every Mother Counts

This article originally appeared on the women’s health site Empowher.

Leymah Gbowee

The first time I heard Leymah Gbowee speak was at the 2010 Daily Beast Women in the World event in New York City.  I was familiar with her from her history-changing role in the Liberian civil war, documented in Abigail Disney’s documentary, Pray The Devil Back to Hell.  I then had the opportunity to sit down and speak with Gbowee at the Omega Women’s Institute Women and Power conference.  We talked in depth about her work to secure the reproductive and sexual rights of African women.

Pointing out the intrinsic link between women’s health and on the ground conflict, Gbowee said, “You can’t talk about maternal mortality without looking at the implications of peace and conflict.”  She correlated how countries with the highest negative statistics have sustained civil wars.  Liberia has 994 maternal deaths per every 100,000 births — one of the worst rates in the world.  These dismal figures have given Gbowee a “new sense of purpose.”

Her current portfolio extends beyond just reproductive rights —terminology which in Gbowee’s estimation “side-steps critical issues.”  For her, it boils down to “not owning your own body as an African women,” and she is straightforward about what she acknowledged as a prevalent problem — “harmful traditional practices.”  She asked rhetorically, “”How do we address the chiefs on FGM?” Reflecting on the need to “sit down with these men,” Gbowee said, “We haven’t yet taken big, deep steps on FGM because we are from a highly traditional, cultural background.”  She added, “The message on FGM has to be refined so that you don’t offend your mothers, your grandmothers — because they are all believers in this practice, even if they went to school.”  Reiterating that people’s traditional values are part of their identity, Gbowee was emphatic about the importance of how messages are structured so that “people don’t think you are attacking them.” Pragmatically, she has no illusions about the fact that taking on the FGM matter is a “huge thing to confront.”

Gbowee discussed the importance of continuing the prevalence of women’s leadership roles after President Ellen Sirleaf steps down.  Commenting on the challenges of a post-conflict society, Gbowee insisted, “The same efforts we put into sensitizing people into ending violence, we need to put into the renewed form of democracy — and I think that is where we failed.”  She explained, “Communities are groping in the dark, because they have never functioned in a functional society.  We have a whole generation of people who have only known war.  They are used to chaos because that is the only language that they understand.  Our role as activists and advocates is to really show them how to function.”  After pausing a moment, she reflected, “It’s overwhelming.  There’s so much to do.”

In Gbowee’s estimation, American women also have challenges that need to be addressed.  This topic came up in response to our conversation about CEDAW, and the inability for the agreement to get national traction.  She referenced the disadvantages that come from not signing the international treaty.  Totally frank in her assessment questioning America’s ability to provide cogent leadership on women’s issues, Gbowee pointed to matters that leaders “don’t want to tackle.”   She said, “If a President or Secretary of State is standing up and making statements about the rapes in Congo, and that same country has not signed a document that is so important to the lives of their women —what other name do you give it but hypocrisy?”

Part of our exchange included how important it was for those working to help women under siege, to truly engage in an equal dialogue.  “There is a need to speak to the women of these countries,” Gbowee said.  She told me a story about a trip she had taken to Congo where she had spoken with women on the ground, and learned that for them “rape was at the bottom of the list.”  At the top — was “political participation.”  For those women, “rape is a symptom of an actual issue.”  She continued, “We want to help. But we need to step out of our donor driven issues and step into what it is that these communities actually want.”  On Afghanistan she articulated, “We need to say to the women of Afghanistan, ‘What is your opinion? How is it [the troops] affecting you?  What added value is it bringing? What are the disadvantages?’” Gbowee added with crystal honesty, “It’s not good enough to sit in a Hilton or a Sheraton talking about Afghanistan’s issues.”

Trying to get a handle on the pervasive brutality against women, I asked Gbowee what she thought was at the root of such systemic violence.  After a thoughtful pause, she answered, “You ask, ‘Why is it this way?’  I think it is all part of the power dynamics that are affiliated with patriarchy. Let’s maintain this status, this way of life.”

Elaborating on this train of thought she offered, “If the leaders of the world were truly committed to women’s issues and were making those issues political issues — putting sanctions on countries that were doing nothing about honor killings, femicides, and all of these things…It would bring it to an end.  But this is the structure and system of power.

If President Obama stood up and made a solid statement about domestic violence in this country [United States], people would sit up.  If he went to the U.N. and made a statement about the abuses of women across the world and just added some sanctions to it — people would sit up.  But it’s all about the dynamics of power in my opinion.”

She concluded with the pithy observation, “In order to empower people, some one is going to have to give up some power.”

Photo Courtesy of Michael Angelo/Wonderland

©2011 Women News Network – WNN
No part of this article may be reproduced without prior permissions from WNN &/or the author