Tik Tok presents a new way to engage with an audience and educate others, which is why we are excited to bring Sahiyo to this platform! We will share valuable, inspiring, and educational content to raise awareness about female genital cutting (FGC), as well as uplift survivors’ stories, with the hopes of reaching many more people with potential for becoming supporters and advocating for our cause!

Check out our first two videos about what FGC is and FGC in the United States.

Follow and connect with us @sahiyovoices.

By Rachel Wine

On November 17th, outgoing Israeli Interior Minister Ayelet Shaked forwent the unanimous recommendation from a committee on refugee policy and rejected the asylum request of a young Sierra Leonian woman fleeing female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C). The Minister cited several reasons for her decision, many of which included problematic assumptions about FGM/C. I’ll aim to unpack these and provide points of consideration regarding power, politics, and FGM/C.

FGM/C is not a “developing countries” issue.

In reference to the Geneva Convention relating to the Status of Refugees, Shaked insisted that it was “not designed to address all of the difficulties and hardships suffered by hundreds of millions of people in developing countries.” This false belief that FGM/C only occurs in developing countries can be used to other those affected by the practice and absolve responsibility for taking action. In reality, FGM/C occurs in 92 countries, including the United States. Were this asylum-seeker from Canada or the United States, would Shaked's decision to deny refugee status stuck?

What constitutes a trauma that is “sufficient” enough? And who has the power to declare it as such? 

There is a discriminatory tone to Shaked’s point about the Geneva Convention too, as she insists “a threshold of some kind… as sufficient grounds for persecution” is necessary for considering refugee status. The WHO has declared FGM/C a human rights abuse, and therefore I do not believe anyone has the right to question the validity of this fleeing woman’s struggle, much less someone with power and influence like Shaked. Considering the Minister’s involvement in Israel’s nationalist politics, it is possible that her decision is part of a larger agenda to keep certain racial groups out of the country, which should disqualify her from making decisions regarding refugees and asylum seekers.

FGM/C is not a cultural practice and cannot be compared with male circumcision.

To further reinforce her decision, Shaked falsely conflates FGM/C with cultural identity by claiming that “some [forms of FGM/C] are similar or milder than ceremonial male circumcision.” To assign cultural significance to FGM/C also serves as justification for the practice in the name of preserving tradition, much like Shaked is trying to do with male circumcision in Jewish populations. Furthermore, the assumption that FGM/C is a cultural or religious practice denies the reality that FGM/C is globally pervasive, and cannot be lineated with or justified by any one identity, be it religion, culture, or ethnicity. While both culture and religion are large reasons that FGM/C continues, and institutions that uphold the social norm of FGM/C, this harmful practice must be seen as gender-based violence, a suppression of feminine sexuality and freedom, as an attempt to intimidate and control. To deny this truth is to enable the continuation of this violence, and we cannot let culture or religion continue to be an excuse for this human rights violation.

No one form of FGM/C is more harmful, and all iterations of the practice are damaging to survivors.

Finally, Shaked undermines the trauma inflicted by millions of survivors by claiming: “only a portion of [the forms of FGM/C] have the potential to inflict sufficient serious harm that could be considered persecution.” This statement invalidates the lived reality of every survivor, and reveals Shaked’s lack of knowledge on the practice. This again raises the question of who can be granted authority to make such decisions, and speaks to the need of organizations like Sahiyo, who work tirelessly to educate and dispel falsities that are harmful and dangerous.

A note from the author: I often question what my role as an activist should look like. As a white Jewish woman, I know it is not enough to remember the oppression of my own ancestors; as Fannie Lou Hamer said, “nobody’s free unless everybody’s free.” I believe the critical work of activism for a person of privilege such as myself must encompass standing with and supporting those who face oppression in all of its iterations and holding members of your community accountable for problematic and dangerous behavior. When other Jews fail to use their privileges in standing against oppression, and particularly the oppression of non-Jews, I must reckon with the impact of these choices. To be the descendent of an oppressed people, and yet still play a role in the oppression of others, is a disgrace to our ancestors and their legacy of survival; this survival is only made possible through communal care, as well as solidarity with other marginalized groups. I encourage everyone to consider the impact of your choices and the choices of your peers. Hold yourself, and others, accountable. We must use the power we have to protect each other to the best of our ability.

Finally, I believe anyone of the Jewish faith who supports Shaked’s decision should turn to this teaching from the Torah: “The strangers who reside with you shall be to you as your citizens; you shall love each one as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:36).

Umme Kulsoom Arif is a lawyer, activist, and sometimes writer from Missouri. They received their Bachelor of Science in Justice Systems from Truman State University and their Juris Doctor from Penn State Law in University Park. Despite having been born and raised as a part of the Dawoodi Bohra community, they did not become familiar with FGC until they were nineteen, when they learned that they had a much more personal connection to it than they could have anticipated. Umme volunteers as a writer for Sahiyo after joining the organization while in law school, telling their story and hoping to encourage others to do the same and find healing in speaking out.

What was your experience of learning about female genital cutting (FGC) for the first time like?

I had some passing understanding of what FGC was thanks to a mention of it by my high school sociology teacher, but I think I truly learned about the gravity of it and how connected I was to it a few years later. I was a sophomore in college and just coming to terms with my sexuality, leading to me coming out to my parents as asexual. That was when my mother told me that my fear of intimacy was intentionally done, and suddenly more than a few childhood memories that didn’t immediately make sense clicked. 

When and how did you first get involved with Sahiyo?

I was in my second year of law school and had been watching the U.S. prosecution case until its devastating conclusion. While researching what advocacy groups were out there to help survivors like myself, in an effort to see if there was something I could do, I came across Sahiyo and — recognizing the name from my own culture — immediately reached out to volunteer.

What does your work with Sahiyo involve?

Mostly a lot of writing and blog posts! I’m very grateful to have been part of the 2022 Sahiyo Activists Retreat, and to be able to share my perspective as someone part of the LGBTQ+ community, especially as someone who is nonbinary. I’ve focused heavily on the healing side of activism and encouraging survivors to be kind to themselves, even if it isn’t easy.

How has your involvement with Sahiyo impacted your life?

Growing up as part of the Dawoodi Bohra community, speaking up against FGC has been a very strange and isolating experience. But being part of Sahiyo offered me the opportunity to find and build my own community of survivors and allies who are focused on uplifting each other and embracing our authentic selves. I’m much more comfortable writing about my experiences these days and often look forward to more opportunities to volunteer. It has been an incredible healing journey and I am so grateful to not walk this path alone.

What words of wisdom would you like to share with others who may be interested in supporting Sahiyo and the movement against FGC?

Come as you are and be yourself. Everyone’s healing journey is different and you do not have to push yourself beyond your limits to join the movement against FGC. Survival is activism too. And know that you do not walk this path alone — we are with you, to speak when you don’t feel able and to listen when you do.

by Urvashi Sharma

On a foggy day in October, I had the pleasure of speaking with Domtila Chesang, an inspired activist against female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C) in Kenya, and more recently a panellist on The Global Platform for Action to End FGM/C’s Climate Change and FGC webinar, to learn about her work and gain a better understanding of how climate change is impacting FGM/C. 

Though Domtila is not a survivor, her community is one that practices FGM/C: 

“I grew up in a village where everybody, all the older members of my family, the female members, had undergone FGM.” 

After a turn of fate allowed Domtila to witness her cousin being cut, she decided that she would not be cut. 

“I'm telling you one of the reasons why FGM is still happening in some parts of the communities is because of the celebration. It is a huge ceremony…There are dances. There's singing. It's like a one- or two-week celebration. That is not at the moment, because now it is against the law The prohibition of Female Genital Mutilation Act 2011… Nobody knows about the actual cutting and the pain and, of course, the suffering that comes after that.” 

Seeing this damage changed her perception of FGM/C. Luckily, her mother did not pressure her to undergo the practice.

“Apart from one of my younger sisters going through it, none of the other girls from my family went through it after myself. So I became the first girl in my village to say I'm not going to be cut.” 

Over the years Domtila became more and more involved in the work to end FGM/C. 

"I got involved [in campaigning against FGM] after I went to high school because I wanted to protect more girls… By the time I was going to the university, I was already taking part in mentorships programs, and working with a group of women who had also decided to campaign against FGM… When I left university, I went straight to campaigning."

It wasn’t until I spoke with Domtila that I understood the urgent intersections of FGM/C with climate change: climate change is forcing communities to further invest in this harmful practice for their survival. 

“Climate change has really pushed people to the limit, beyond their limit, because… we continue to experience the worst impact of climate change, which is now forcing families to resort to the last solution to survive… We are pastoralists… So we entirely rely on livestock for survival… And now that the land has been degraded, now that there is no pasture, now that there's no water, it's becoming very, very scarce, and communities have been displaced.”

Because FGM/C “is associated with a rite of passage… child marriage, and… acquisition of wealth,” there is a direct link to climate change. From this displacement and loss of sustenance comes the pressure on young girls to undergo FGM/C: 

“Girls are now at the centre of saving their families… It has become the only commodity apart from their livestock, because girls are not being extinct as livestock is. So the girls' existence in itself is becoming a threat because right now, it's becoming a solution to the communities.”

Domtila expressed her frustration at the limits of her role in the face of this challenge: 

“It is really rendering me almost powerless. I cannot feed the community. I cannot provide alternative survival or livelihood to the community.” For me, this raised the question of context when it comes to advocating for values such as autonomy. In situations where survival is on the line, how do we decide who-or what- is more important?

When I asked her about the long-term impacts of climate change on FGM/C, she had this to say: 

“There's nothing that is being done at the moment. Very little, just a conversation at the global level, that is slightly prevalent at the national level, and there's nothing at the community level. It is still a theory. And these people are not yet connecting the dots between climate change and all the other impacts. And I am here as a front-line advocate, but I do not really understand the full degree of climate change and how we can mitigate it.” 

Despite this vast problem and how it impacts her work to end FGM/C, Domtila cannot imagine dedicating her life to any other social issue.  

“I think everything about my work is valuable and exceptional… What makes me smile all the time is that seeing all these girls shining in their schools and seeing that all these girls have forgotten about FGM.”

After our conversation, I was left with a combination of admiration, food for thought, and gratitude for the chance to learn from Domtila. I gained a new appreciation for the role of an activist, re-evaluated my own developing role, and was inspired by Domtila’s fierce promise of protecting the girls in her community.

Domtila Chesang has been advocating for girls and women’s rights since 2014 through various initiatives, including working to end female genital mutilation (FGM), child marriage, and other harmful cultural practices. As a full time women’s rights advocate, Domtila founded I_Rep Foundation, a community-based organisation that serves to sensitise her community on the harms and negative implications of the practices by creating awareness and providing platforms at the community levels for learning and dialogues. I _Rep Foundation is currently directly and indirectly providing educational scholarships to close to 100 girls in different schools. Overall, this work has prevented thousands of girls from the cut and supported her community with the capacity to protect their daughters from violence. 

Domtila with a reformed cutter in Otiot downing her tools (2021).

This past month, Sahiyo hosted a social media campaign, ‘Healing as Activism’, to honor the 16 Days of Activism to End Gender Based Violence. From November 25th to December 10th, we shared the stories of FGC survivors in their journey towards healing. We received 16 submissions from survivors located around the world, and they shared their journey in various formats, including videos and blogs. We also highlighted a recent Dear Maasi blog exploring the role of confronting the person who cut you. Overall, the goal of this campaign was to break the stigma around discussions of mental health that often impact survivors' abilities to heal by amplifying stories of those who are on the journey towards healing. To learn more, follow us @SahiyoVoices across social media platforms!  

Read blogs from the Healing as Activism Campaign here.

By Anonymous

It has only been a little over 2 weeks since I learned what female genital mutilation (FGM) was.
It has only been a little over 2 weeks since I learned that I’ve been through FGM. 

I am 24 years old, involved in a community that practices FGM, yet is so secretive about its practices. I have gone 24 years of my life unaware of the severity of this issue, among my own community and many others around the world. When I found out, my mind went into pure chaos. I was told about the FGM by a friend who was talking about the issue freely to me, when I stopped her mid-explanation, saying I had no idea what she was even talking about. Shocked, she explained the true purpose behind the practice, and how so many of her close friends had undergone this procedure. The memories came flooding back. I started making connections to my confusion when I was only 7 years old, secretly being told by my mother we have to do this for the safety of my health, but I can never talk about it again. As a child, fully in the protection and care of my parents, I agreed and suppressed the experience because it was what I was told to do. Until this moment was when I realized this confusing, painful and suppressed experience was FGM. 

It has only been a few weeks since the experience, and I threw myself into research to better help me cope. I needed to know everything I could about this. I confronted my parents about the experience and just left with more questions and pain. I think why it drove me so crazy is because of my background. I have been a part of countless movements and organizations supporting survivors and victims of sexual violence for over 6 years now. I have organized events, workshops, table events, and worked hundreds of hours as a medical advocate and hotline volunteer for these organizations to this day. I’ve helped other survivors through their own experiences. It took me years to grow to fully accept my identity as a young woman who was part of this community. To build my love and appreciation for who I am as a minority in a white majority world. And for the past few weeks, it feels as if all of this was wiped away by one knick. All the progress I made to overcome the worst of the worst, constant discrimination because of my minority identity and my own sexual assault in college, all feels faded. I feel lost. How could I have missed this? How did my parents, knowing very well everything that I have been through, not tell me? 

I wish I had a happy ending to share from this experience, but my story is not over. We should normalize letting the pain sit with us for some time. Right now is my time. I have moments of raging anger, crazy anxiety, unbeatable sadness, high drive, constant compassion, and endless envy. I want to overcome this and not fall into the hole that those previous experiences had put me in. I pushed myself to seek out help and put myself in the place of the many survivors I have previously helped. What would I do to help them? I should treat myself the same way as I would them, right? I wish I could say it was that easy. And I do think one day it will get easier. Right now, there are more bad days than good, but if anything my past experiences have given me endless tools to do something I didn’t before: to fight back. I know it will take time to beat the chaos and to really process this. And I’m taking the steps to get there, something I can’t say I did quickly before this. I have an amazing support system, friends with similar experiences, an amazing therapist, and involvement in organizations that have given me the tools to fight back. Sahiyo has really provided a great community to let me know I am not alone in this experience. 

This time I’m letting the chaos drive me, not beat me. 

We’re excited to release our July 2021 to June 2022 Annual Report and hope you’ll take the time to learn more about how we’ve been working to end female genital cutting (FGC). 

Over the past year at Sahiyo, we expanded our programs with the support of our staff, interns, volunteers, and Advisory Board. 

• Our survivor-story-centered blog has grown and we launched a new column called Scenarios by Sahiyo that features comic strips based on real-life stories by activists, advocates, and allies working to end FGC. 

• We hosted our 6th Voices to End FGM/C workshop with 9 participants, bringing the total number of videos created by the program to 55 participants from over 19 countries. Collectively, these videos have been viewed over 45,000 times! We are currently hosting our 7th workshop.

• We also launched a new website where you can learn more about the Voices to End FGM/C digital storytelling project at voicestoendfgmc.org.

• We received our first grant from the U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Victims of Crime in partnership with Asian Women’s Shelter and StoryCenter to create a training curriculum and materials to educate gender-based violence advocates working in domestic violence and sexual assault organizations on FGC so that the overall capacity for care for FGC survivors can be increased

• We held our 5th annual U.S Bohra Activist Retreat with 13 participants, bringing the total number of advocates trained by Sahiyo to 74! 

• We’ve hosted and participated in 40 different community outreach and educational events, reaching around 2,000 people from across the globe. 

• Our Bhaiyo program has continued to grow, and we now have 15 Bhaiyos working with us to empower men to become engaged in the world to abandon FGC. 

We’re proud to share our accomplishments from this past year with you all and certainly hope you’ll take a look at our Annual Report to learn more about what our amazing team at Sahiyo has accomplished together!

By Anonymous

Emotional burnout looms over my head like my very own Sword of Damocles, waiting to strike me down for being woefully human. But the above saying travels with me, like my shield against self-doubt, offering ownership of my humanity, acceptance, and assurance that it is okay to be tired, okay to rest.

The simple fact is this: one cannot give of themselves, their time or their talents, without taking too — taking time for themselves, taking care of themselves.

I joined Sahiyo because of a trauma. Female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C) and my experience with it has irrevocably marked my psyche and I will never escape those consequences. Initially, when I joined on as a volunteer, I did so because I thought activism was healing.

Turns out, the opposite is more true.

Activism is work. Healing from trauma is also work. Sometimes that work can be done simultaneously, but other times one must be paused to further the other. And that’s okay.

As an activist, I like to think of myself as an advocate for persons known and unknown, a voice for those not quite ready to speak up — and those who cannot speak at all anymore. But who speaks for me? Who speaks when my voice is torn apart from speaking too much? Who will see me struggling to be heard and say what I can’t?

One cannot give from an empty cup.

Without taking time for my own mental health, without addressing my trauma, emotional burnout would have been a permanent condition.

I treat my relationship with my trauma like grief, a thing that comes in waves, and has different settings. Some days I don’t grieve at all; I feel ready to face the world and speak my truth, denying my grief in favor of naming and addressing others’. Most days, I feel it acutely, a mixture of depression and anger I am still grappling with, and that too is part of healing. I find it important to name the grief, what I am feeling, and let it exist. Honor it as a friend that will, eventually, hopefully, one day leave my presence —  even temporarily — so that I can make room for action again.

Sometimes that honor takes the form of writing: in creating a fictional world that I control the outcome of, or in journaling, so that I can name my emotions for when I next get a chance to talk with my therapist. It may sound trite, or even potentially immature, but there is so much healing in something as simple as writing fanfiction, in creating a story with a character that is absolutely a version of myself that gets to live in a fictional world I love. That character may have faced the same trauma as me, but the questions they — and I — grapple with have easier answers in the fictional world I get to control. It’s the answers I want to hear to the questions I am a little afraid to ask aloud.

Other times, that honor takes the form of community, of being with others who understand, and candidly naming the emotions we are feeling. Being with other members of Sahiyo, even for small periods of time, is a form of healing I didn’t realize I needed until I joined the 2022 Activists’ Retreat and really processed that I was not alone in what I felt. Just like activism, healing does not have to be done solo.

Other times still, it is about escaping, about finding something that lets me be unplugged from it all. Turning off my notifications and disappearing into a new craft project; watching a show that I know makes me happy; resetting my thoughts and getting a good night’s sleep because tomorrow will still be there, waiting to arrive, and the work will still be there, waiting to get done, and the journey does not always have to be about moving forward. Sometimes, it can be about resting.

One cannot give from an empty cup.

I cannot give my time or energy to Sahiyo without first dedicating time and energy to myself. The greatest lesson I have learned on my healing journey is that I must be my greatest advocate, must learn when I need to step back and lean on the love of friends and family to refill my cup so that I can give again. Without taking steps to care for yourself, it becomes harder and harder to care for others. Choose activities that honor your talents and your interests. Choose people who will support you, will speak for you when you are tired. Your cup may never runneth over, but it doesn’t have to run dry in the service of others either.