Australian IAWRT Member Lis Kirkby, a president of IAWRT in the late 1970s and early 1980s, has died at her home north of Sydney, Australia, at the age of 105.
Lis attended her last IAWRT conference in Malaysia in 2011.
She was an activist in every career that she had: as an actor, as a broadcaster, a politician, a sheep and wheat farmer and the oldest person to graduate with a Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) from the University of Sydney, at the age of 93.
Lis joined IAWRT in 1963 when she was head of talks at Radio Malaya (as it was known then) however she could not be active in IAWRT as broadcasters in Asia and Australia did not fund women who were not in high management positions to travel anywhere much, especially not overseas.
” In those days, trips to Europe paid for by the ABC were reserved for senior management; It goes without saying that in the 1960s senior management was MALE! “[i]
Like all Australian IAWRT members, Lis was self- funded and could not meet other international members personally until the 1970’s when her travel to the UK to see relatives coincided with an IAWRT conference in Brussels, Belgium.
“It was a long slow trip by air in those days. I went from Sydney with a stopover in Athens then to Brussels for the conference then London, Paris and Madrid and back via Washington, San Francisco and Fiji”.
By this time Lis was freelancing with the Australian Broadcasting Commission, where she was a producer/presenter of ‘Morning Call’. “It was designed for women at home and included news items, music, household hints and eventually, some interviews with prominent women in politics and in the arts”. Lis says she had tried to audition for a news reading role as that was what she’d done in Kuala Lumpur, only to be told: “don’t be silly nobody’s going to hear news read by a woman.” [ii]
It was a tough call for a feminist and opponent of the Vietnam War to be barred from broadcasting any political analysis.
Lis’ acting career had begun in the UK where she acted in some of the premier theatre groups of the day. During WW2 She was called up and spent three years working with the women’s branch of the British Army as an entertainer, writer and producer for Stars in Battledress. Lis says she was lucky that she was allowed to do work during the war that was later not allowed for women.
After time in Zimbabwe, her radio career began in Malaysia, where she moved for her husband’s medical posting, he was also a broadcaster on Radio Malaya (as it was then called). She gave birth to three children and the family lived through the uprising dubbed the ‘Malayan Emergency’. Lis rose to become head of the Talks and Features Unit of Radio Malaysia. Some IAWRT members including a former IAWRT President, Racheal Nakitare of Kenya, were fortunate enough to be on a tour of Kuala Lumpur with Lis in 2011:
“Liz was warm and very “energetic” every step of her life. She was such an inspiration to us all who were privileged to interact with her. I remember how graceful she was in Malaysia, sharing her time and inspiring stories”.
On that tour Lis pointed out the balcony where, in 1957, she produced the ABC/BBC radio broadcast of the handover of power from the British – represented by the then Prince Charles – Lis also pointed out the site of a theatre company she helped to establish.
Lis eventually served on IAWRT’s international board from 1972 and as President from 1976 -1980. By this time, she had left the ABC: She acted in theatre and had supporting roles in several commercially popular shows of the day. Lis’ role as Lucy Sutcliffe in the soap opera Number 96, Australia’s highest rating TV program in 1973 and 1974, had made her a household name. She was the disapproving wife of a ‘whinging Pom’ (English migrant who constantly complained about life in Australia). The episode in which it was revealed that Lucy’s (Lis’) cancer tumour was benign, proved to be Number 96′s highest-ever rated episode. Number 96 was groundbreaking, introducing controversial and taboo human experiences unheard of internationally at the time. Lis was not surprised that I was one of the many children not allowed to watch it, but she strongly believed in the power of drama.
“It’s the field of entertainment, in drama programs that show social conflict in human terms that emphasise the true tensions of western life, that we can make a significant contribution” she said.
It is no surprise that the first IAWRT conference that Lis had to co-organise with Ionka Kotzeva, the [local] board member in Bulgaria, included the theme Media and the Arts. Lis loved discovering that the western view of a spartan life behind the iron curtain was not reflected in the experiences that she had there. In general, she liked the way that IAWRT offered a way to meet and perhaps understand many other cultures through meeting women. Gunilla Ivarsson, a former president of IAWRT remembers Lis’s interest in other cultures: “She was sweet, impressive, always curious. And kind. As I remember, when we met, she had just been on a trip to Azerbajdzjan to explore the cultural life there.
Lis found IAWRT offered so much scope “It wasn’t the start of the women’s movement but because many women were getting more enthusiastic and dynamic about promoting women to all kinds of jobs, senior positions they never been allowed to hold before. The fact that wasn’t only happening in Australia, but was happening in Jamacia and in Manilla, was a great experience.”
In 1979 Lis joined Australia’s centrist party, the Australian Democrats, which was the largest minor political party of the time. She was elected to the upper house of the state of New South Wales in 1981 serving there for 17 years, before moving to the south of the state and farming wheat and sheep; she also spent five years there as a local government councillor.
Lis invited me to join IAWRT in 1993. I was a journalist and she was a politician but there was never any suspicion on my part that she wanted any political advantage from me. Our friendship grew out of a mutual respect for ethics and the rule of law, and getting the facts straight. Due to her political work, I attended more IAWRT conferences than Lis managed. However, she was close to the President Gundel Krauss Dahl (1995-2001) and remained interested in IAWRT, attending the Indian biennial in 1999 and going to her last conference in Malaysia in 2011. She also mentored younger women in IAWRT, such as Violet Gonda from the UK/Zimbabwe, who later became a President.
”I was fortunate to interact with Lis during my time on the International Board and came to know her not just as a colleague, but as a mentor and friend. Along with other veteran IAWRT leaders like Gundel, she regularly shared her wisdom and advice on IAWRT matters — always engaged, always passionate.”
Violet says Lis’ view on a proposal to change IAWRT’s name showed her as “principled, articulate, and deeply proud of IAWRT’s legacy.”
Lis’s 2006 email read: “I became a member in 1963, and I am very proud of what the IAWRT has achieved since then, to change the name now is to belittle all those years of achievement…. The suggested names have none of the dignity of IAWRT and will surely lessen our influence with the UN and other international organisations.”
Many other IAWRT members have paid tribute to Lis’s grace and energy, and as someone who was always keenly interested in new ideas and who listened closely.
It’s indicative of her extraordinary energy that she began university study in her 80’s, earning an arts degree in 2006. In 2014 she completed a PhD at the age of 93, becoming Australia’s oldest university graduate. Her thesis was on unemployment during the Great Depression, which she lived through as a child. Once again, her activism was at the forefront; a paper she delivered about her thesis was entitled ‘Should Banking be Left to the Bankers? A Comparison of the Great Depression and the Great Financial Crisis’. Her thesis was all about learning from history to relieve the burden of unemployment on the most vulnerable in society.
On her 100th birthday Lis and her family were invited to the New South Wales Parliament and the leader of the Greens party David Shiebridge paid tribute to her as forging a path for independent parties. “When I looked to the exercise of conscience there was the Honourable Elisabeth Kirkby in this place, exercising conscience, politics of principle, caring about the issues of the day; bringing issues to the chamber that neither of the major parties would do.”
Apart from her doctorate, Lis was awarded a medal in the order of Australia for her service to politics and she was granted the right to continue with the title ‘the Honourable’ for the rest of the life. However, the Honourable Doctor Elisabeth Kirkby, OAM, bothered to send an email to myself and Olya Booyar (former IAWRT President) after we visited her for lunch in January this year, asking to be forgiven for her belated thankyou note!
It’s hard to close on such an extraordinary life.
I think an Afghanistan (in exile) IAWRT member, Najiba Ayoubi, sums up this loss.
“It is truly distressing that those who upheld values and strove to make the world a better place pass away—and with their departure, the world is left diminished. They contributed so much to this world, may God grant us the ability to safeguard and honour their legacy.”
————————————————————————–
[i] Quotes from Lis’ reminiscences of IAWRT written in 2003 Voices/Pictures The Story of the International Association of Women in Radio and Television
[ii] Interview with Lis Kirkby by Nonee Walsh 2023
On this World Press Freedom Day, we stand in solidarity with the women and men who have turned the pursuit of truth into a lifelong mission, often at the highest personal cost. For those of us in the media, this day is a reminder that our work is never for ourselves—it is a service to the people.
We continue to demand the immediate release of Frenchie Mae Cumpio. Her ongoing incarceration and the recent January verdict are not just an attack on one journalist; they are an attempt to paralyze the community press. A survivor of storms and a witness to history, Frenchie Mae belongs in the newsroom, not a prison cell. We call on the Philippine government to end this judicial harassment and recognize that journalism is not a crime.
This year, our hearts are heavy as we remember two brilliant lights who were gone too soon. We honor their legacies by continuing the work they started.
• RJ Ledesma: A community journalist and regional coordinator for Altermidya, RJ was killed just last month in Negros Occidental. RJ was a champion of the rural poor, choosing to immerse rather than just cover. Through work with the alternative press, RJ lived alongside farmers and laborers, documenting the impacts of so-called development projects on their lands.
• Dempsey Reyes: We also mourn the passing of Philippine Daily Inquirer reporter Dempsey Reyes, who left us on April 26. At only 29, his colleagues see Dempsey as a “bright light” in the newsroom and had an instinct for the truth that cut through the noise.
We, the women in media, remain undeterred. We fight for press freedom because it is the bedrock of a just society.
Reference:
Executive Board
International Association of Women in Radio and Television – Philippines
For queries:
Janess Ellao
09157971838
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Free_Frenchie_3-e1777780112444.jpeg206300Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2026-05-03 03:17:132026-05-03 05:09:48On World Press Freedom Day
By Nankwanga Eunice Kasirye, Chapter Head, International Association of Women in Radio and Television Uganda Chapter
As the global community commemorates International Women’s Day 2026, the International Association of Women in Radio and Television (IAWRT) Uganda Chapter joins voices around the world in reflecting on this year’s theme: “Give To Gain.” This theme powerfully captures the spirit of the work that women in media undertake every day, often quietly, without recognition, but always with profound impact on the societies they serve.
Throughout the first week of March, the IAWRT Uganda Chapter carried out a seven-day digital campaign on https://x.com/iawrt_ug and https://www.facebook.com/IAWRTUG designed to spotlight the lived realities of women working across the media landscape. The campaign sought to bring attention to both the visible and invisible sacrifices women journalists make to ensure that stories continue to reach the public.
Behind every headline, every radio bulletin, every television broadcast, and every documentary are women who give more than their professional skills. They give their time, courage, emotional strength, and sometimes even their personal dreams so that society can gain access to truth, accountability, and informed public dialogue.
Our campaign highlighted several groups of women journalists whose contributions often remain overlooked.
We honoured women journalists reporting from conflict and crisis environments, and the families who live daily with the anxiety that accompanies such assignments. Their courage ensures that the world does not turn away from injustice and that communities affected by conflict are not forgotten.
We also stood in solidarity with freelance women journalists, many of whom work under precarious conditions. Some are paid only minimal amounts per story, while others face the discouraging reality of having their bylines stolen or their work published without proper compensation. Despite these challenges, they continue to pursue stories that matter, driven by the belief that persistence and integrity will eventually open doors.
Our campaign also amplified the voices of journalists reporting on gender-based violence, many of whom carry the emotional burden of telling deeply painful stories while navigating similar experiences themselves. These women often report on trauma, injustice, and survival while lacking adequate professional and psychosocial support systems to protect their own well-being.
We recognized women journalists working in rural and underserved communities, where limited access to reliable internet, electricity, equipment, transportation, and professional training can make the practice of journalism particularly difficult. In some areas, entrenched cultural attitudes still question whether women should even pursue careers in journalism. Yet
these journalists remain steadfast in their commitment to ensuring that the voices and realities of their communities are heard.
Finally, we honoured women working in broadcast media, the faces and voices audiences encounter daily on television and radio. While viewers and listeners see confidence and composure, many of these professionals navigate intense pressures from rigid appearance expectations to demanding work schedules while trying to balance personal aspirations with the realities of the media industry.
Across all these experiences, one truth stands out clearly: women in media give far more than what the public often sees. They give courage where there is fear. They give voice where there is silence. They give visibility where there is invisibility. They give resilience where systems fall short. And because they give, society gains. Society gains stories that challenge injustice and demand accountability. Society gains perspectives that expand public understanding and empathy. Society gains stronger democracies built on informed citizens and inclusive dialogue.
At the IAWRT Uganda Chapter, we believe that strengthening women’s participation in media is not simply a matter of representation. It is about building fair, inclusive, and ethical media ecosystems where women journalists can work safely, receive fair compensation, and pursue their careers without sacrificing their dignity, security, or personal aspirations. As we mark International Women’s Day 2026, we reaffirm our commitment to supporting women in media through advocacy, mentorship, professional development, and solidarity networks that ensure no woman journalist walks her professional journey alone. The stories of women journalists are not merely media stories. They are stories of resilience, courage, and transformation. And when we give to women in media, through opportunity, fairness, and respect, the entire society gains.
Happy International Women’s Day 2026.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/Uganda.png15361024Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2026-03-08 13:05:332026-03-08 13:05:56GIVE TO GAIN: HONOURING THE COURAGE, SACRIFICE AND RESILIENCE OF WOMEN IN MEDIA
On July 16 of this year, Altermidya– People’s Alternative Media Network filed a complaint against Tacloban City Jail Warden J/Insp. Eva E. Naputo with the Bureau of Jail Management and Penology (BJMP) over alleged abuses committed against persons deprived of liberty (PDLs) — specifically Frenchie Mae Cumpio and Marielle Domequil — inside the Tacloban City Jail. The same complaint was also sent on the same day to the Commission on Human Rights (CHR) in Manila.
In a statement, Altermidya reported that Cumpio and Domequil have been subjected to “repressive treatment,” which includes denial of access to medical check-ups, and restrictions on visits from media representatives, the international community, and diplomatic missions. The complaint further alleged that letters addressed to Cumpio and Domequil were read by the jail warden but were never delivered to the intended recipients.
Photo by Altermidya: Altermidya National Chairperson Raymund Villanueva and National Coordinator Avon Ang
A week ago, it was learned that the jail warden had been replaced. However, the name of the new officer has not been disclosed, as such changes are often handled internally within the BJMP.
The International Association of Women in Radio and Television (IAWRT) expressed its appreciation for this development and hopes that the new leadership will implement policies more favorable to the rights and welfare of PDLs.
Photos from British Embassy Manila: BEM team with Frenchie Mae Cumpio and Marielle Domequil at Tacloban City Jail
Recently, it was confirmed that representatives from the British Embassy Manila (BEM) were able to visit Frenchie Mae Cumpio, Marielle Domequil, and Alexander Philip Abinguna at Tacloban City Jail.
This visit is part of the embassy’s commitment to media and press freedom and its role as a member of the Media Freedom Coalition (MFC). The embassy has expressed its intention to continue monitoring the case, which has remained in court for five years.
(Photos from British Embassy Manila: BEM team with Alexnader Philip Abinguna at Tacloban City Jail)
Cumpio, Domequil, and Abinguna are part of the so-called “Tacloban Five,” who were arrested on February 7, 2020. Two of the five have since been released on bail.
Frenchie Mae Cumpio is a community broadcaster and a member of IAWRT Philippines.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/draft3.jpg530849adminhttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngadmin2025-08-28 02:06:202025-08-28 03:39:55Frenchie Mae Welcomes Change as Jail Warden Is Replaced
Defending the Defenders is a three-year story telling project profiling experiences of journalists who report on Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), and other female social justice defenders across Uganda and Africa. These “Defenders” not only amplify the suffering of survivors, but also silently carry their own psychological, Social and economic wounds.
Fourth Story
I Married a Ritualist: Joy’s Survival from a Scam Disguised as Love
Just like any other young girl fresh from college, Joy (pseudo) was vibrant, ambitious, and full of dreams. With her journalism diploma in hand, she had a mental checklist of what life should look like next: a good job, a loving husband, children, and a beautiful family. She knew exactly the kind of man she wanted—professional, respectable, someone she would proudly introduce to her parents.
Joy was the firstborn in her family, raised by Buganda cultured parents who believed deeply in marriage and all the traditions that came with it. So when she landed a job at a media house straight out of school, her life felt like it was falling perfectly into place. Amidst the busy life of a young journalist chasing stories, she held tightly to her dream of finding the right man.
Then she met him.
A tall, well-groomed, soft-spoken man—a medical doctor. The perfect picture of the man she had always dreamed of. They fell in love quickly. Everything seemed right. He was educated, polite, and ambitious. When he proposed that they make it official, Joy didn’t hesitate.
He told her his family lived abroad—his mother and sister were in the United States. That explained why she couldn’t meet them in person. But in Uganda, telling people that your fiancé’s family lives overseas often earns admiration, so Joy embraced that detail with pride. His mother and sister called her once in a while via WhatsApp, and sometimes he would hand over the phone so she could speak to them.
The traditional marriage was set. He brought a few friends and distant relatives to meet Joy’s family. Her father loved him instantly. “He was humble, handsome, and carried good genes,” Joy remembers. “I felt so lucky to have him.”
Soon after the ceremony, Joy conceived. She gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. Their life together felt full. Joy was busy, reporting on women and children’s stories —particularly around domestic violence and abuse. The job came with risks, and soon, the strange calls started.
First, they were threats from anonymous people warning her to stop covering certain stories. Then came blackmail with requests for money to stop the harassment. Her husband always stepped in, called back, and made the problems disappear. He told her not to worry.
But the calls didn’t stop. They escalated. Men claiming to be security officers said they were watching her. They knew where she was at every moment. It scared her. Her husband urged her to cut off old friends, warning that jealousy might be the root of the problem. Maybe someone from work was behind it all, he said.
Joy began isolating herself. The calls were too accurate—they knew everything. She stopped receiving calls from family and friends. Even those who used to visit now avoided her. The silence was deafening. Her only companions became her husband and her ever-online mother-in-law, checking in daily from “abroad.”
She started doubting everyone at work. She shrank her world down to just her husband and child. And then, just as she was adjusting to that new, lonely life, her husband suggested they do a church wedding. He said people were jealous of their happiness it should not be made so public. Joy agreed. She would do anything to make their marriage work.
But before they could even finalize the wedding plans, her husband disappeared.
A stranger called using his phone. He said the doctor had been kidnapped. Unless Joy paid a ransom, her husband would be killed. Her mother-in-law called her, panicked. The kidnappers said the ordeal was punishment for something Joy had done. She was thrown into a state of panic.
This time, there was no one to lean on. The man who had always stepped in to “fix things” was now the one in danger. The kidnappers later claimed to be working for her husband’s bitter ex-girlfriend, who wasn’t ready to let go. She accused Joy of stealing her man and trying to seal it with a church wedding.
Joy sent money. Her mother-in-law, coordinating everything from abroad, claimed to be in contact with “security.” Eventually, her husband was released. But Joy never recovered. She was mentally exhausted, emotionally drained, and physically worn down. She lost appetite, focus, weight. Work became a blur.
Just as she was trying to pull herself together, the phone rang again.
This time, it wasn’t threats. It was an arrest warrant. She was being accused of murder—of killing the same ex-girlfriend. Evidence was “pointing directly” at her. Joy broke down completely. She attempted suicide—twice.
Then one day, her father saw her reading the news on TV. He noticed something was terribly off. Her face looked hollow. Her eyes looked lost. He called her brother and asked him to check on her.
When her brother came to visit and listened closely to everything Joy was going through, he decided to quietly take her phone and kept it for a day, just to break the cycle.
Later that evening, when Joy got home, her husband seemed unusually anxious. He asked why she hadn’t been answering his calls all day. She calmly replied that she had misplaced her phone during her busy schedule and hadn’t had it with her.
But then he said something that stopped her in her tracks—he mentioned the exact location of her phone.
Joy was stunned.
When she later asked her brother if the husband had called, he shook his head. No calls had come from the husband’s number. Only the same unknown, threatening numbers that had been haunting her for months.
That’s when it began to sink in.
That’s when it hit her. Everything had been staged. All the terror—the threats, the fake kidnappings, the murder accusations—they had all come from him.
She remembered how every time she thought of reporting to police, a call would immediately come warning her not to. She had always believed it was some outside force. But now, it was clear: he was the force.
Still, Joy tried to forgive. She wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding. Her mother-in-law, always calm, always online, encouraged her to focus on rebuilding the trust.
Then, the final blow.
One day, her husband dozed off on the couch. Joy wanted some small change to buy items from the nearby shop. She quietly picked his wallet—and froze.
Inside were skeletons of birds. Pieces of reptiles. Tied pieces of bark cloth. Pieces of clothes cut from her different nickers bound together in a knot with the rest of the items.
She trembled.
She didn’t know what to say, how to react. Fear engulfed her. She was living with a complete stranger, that she was sure …
Then, just days later, her “mother-in-law” called on WhatsApp, saying she couldn’t reach her son and wanted to talk to him through Joy’s phone. He was asleep in the bedroom and joy preparing a meal in the kitchen. Joy took the phone to him. They talked.
When he returned the phone, he went back to the bedroom. Just a few moments later, a WhatsApp message came in.
It was from the same woman. She had forgotten she had used Joy’s phone. The message was full of instructions to her “son” about how to conduct a ritual—using Joy and their child.
That’s when it became clear.
The woman wasn’t his mother. She was a witchdoctor. There were no relatives abroad. There was no family in America. The man Joy had called her husband was not who he said he was. The marriage, the love, the dreams—they had all been part of a ritual scheme. All the friends and distant relative he had gone with for traditional were fakes, people hired for that particular function-
Joy didn’t scream. She didn’t fight. She packed her bags. She took her son.
And she left. That was five years ago. She never looked back.
Joy still becomes anxious while telling her story- she is yet to gain complete healing –that Road to healing is rough as well
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Uganda-Eunice.jpeg10131080Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2025-08-07 09:18:592025-08-07 09:19:01DEFENDING THE DEFENDERS
Defending the Defenders is a three-year story telling project profiling experiences of journalists who report on Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), and other female social justice defenders across Uganda and Africa. These “Defenders” not only amplify the suffering of survivors, but also silently carry their own psychological, Social and economic wounds.
Third Story
Breaking the Blade: Spotlight on Beatrice Chelangat
A SEED PLANTED IN THE HILLS
In 1976, deep in the mist-veiled hills of the Sabiny region in Eastern Uganda — where the mountains huddle together like ancient, brooding elders — a young girl named Beatrice Chelangat first heard whispers of female circumcision. It was a Sunday morning, and the air smelled of damp earth and wood smoke. Millet fields bowed gently to the wind, and children’s laughter floated faintly between the ridges. Inside the small Anglican Church — a modest building of sunbaked bricks and timber, worn smooth by the hands of generations — the villagers had gathered, their bare feet dusting the earthen floor.
The archdeacon, a towering man in a heavy black robe, stood before the congregation. His voice, usually firm and commanding, trembled with something raw that morning — a wound too fresh to hide. Tears clung stubbornly to the corners of his eyes as he confessed: his own daughter, despite his strict warnings, had been secretly taken and circumcised at her uncle’s home.
The silence that followed was thick and stifling. It hung in the rafters and settled in the hearts of those present. His words, sharp and unrelenting, sliced through the women gathered at the front — mothers, grandmothers, aunts — accusing them of upholding a practice that some of the men, men like him, had dared to oppose in whispered defiance.
On a rough-hewn bench near the back, five-year-old Beatrice sat barefoot between her parents, the hem of her little dress gathered nervously in her fists. She could not fully grasp the meaning of what was being said, but something in the archdeacon’s brokenness carved itself into her spirit. She felt it — a strange, unfamiliar ache, a tightness in her small chest, as if the room itself had turned colder.
“That day,” Beatrice would later recall, her voice steady but her eyes distant, “a seed was planted in my heart. A seed of questions… a seed of knowing that something about our way of life was hurting us.”
It was her first awakening — the moment she began to sense that what many called tradition was, in truth, a battleground. One not fought with spears and shields, but within homes, churches, and the quiet, anguished prayers of the faithful.
The Culture Beyond Church Walls
Yet, once outside the church’s stone walls, life carried on untouched. Among the Sabiny, FGM was more than a ritual; it was a permanent marker of honour, marriageability, and family pride. Girls who evaded the blade were branded outcasts — whispered about in the marketplaces, their names carried by mocking songs around the evening fires where drums thudded into the night.
When Beatrice later joined Sabei College for her secondary education, the grip of tradition became even more visible. By Senior two, at about the age of 15-16 years , girls around her pledged solemn oaths: to remain virgins until their circumcision day — a prized virtue zealously guarded and verified by appointed mentors.
Virginity was a currency; it promised higher dowries and a proud place in society. Girls who didn’t keep their virginity until the cutting ritual-carried a permanent, invisible scar of shame.
At home, however, Beatrice’s world was different. While her friends celebrated their cuts with elaborate feasts, paraded through villages as ‘brave daughters,’ her own home remained silent.
Her father, a soft-spoken church warden, made no preparations for her initiation. “I don’t know how I was spared,“ Beatrice reflects today. “Even now, it feels like an invisible hand shielded me.“
Dancing Between Two Worlds
In 1988, when the district decreed that every girl must face the blade, Beatrice stood at the edge of a dark tradition, watching others prepare for the knife.
Her two younger brothers crossed into manhood with drums and ululations, their circumcisions celebrated with proud, public ceremony. Meanwhile, she — the eldest daughter — remained untouched, an invisible shield of silence surrounding her. Invitations flooded in for her cousins’ cutting ceremonies, and Beatrice answered them dutifully: stirring pots, leading songs, smiling for the elders. Yet beneath her bright eyes, a quiet defiance stirred.
When she left for Senior Five and Six in Mbale, the world shifted beneath her feet. Here, in this neighboring region, the blade did not hunt girls. Only boys were circumcised, and even then, it was stripped of the heavy, sacred cruelty she had known.
At the Christian Union meetings, she found a new language for the ache she had carried. What her people had baptized as “honor,” others called by its true names — “harm,” “sin,” “violence.” Her convictions against the blade hardened, forging themselves like steel in the fire of newfound belief.
But home was a harder battlefield.
Even after the district quietly rewrote the law to make FGM a choice, the invisible chains of tradition tightened cruelly. Girls who refused the knife were denied the ultimate symbol of womanhood — the “flower,” a green climber plant worn with pride, proof of courage and belonging.
“Before 2007,” Beatrice says quietly, “they never gave me the flower. I simply accepted it.”
There is no bitterness in her voice, only a deep, settled strength.
“I learned,” she says, her eyes distant but steady, “that my resilience was like a second skin — another body, covering mine, shielding me from a world that could not understand my refusal to bleed.“
Inside the Rituals of Pain
Among the Sabiny people, the ritual of female circumcision was more than a rite of passage — it was a deep, painful imprint on a girl’s body, spirit, and future. Unlike in other regions, FGM here meant a secondary circumcision: the cutting away of the clitoris and labia, without the stitches that other practices sometimes used. The wound was left open to the mercy of the body’s own strength — and the gods’.
Each girl was entrusted to a mentor, often a traditional birth attendant, a woman revered for her knowledge of herbs, spirits, and survival. She became the girl’s shadow and guide, overseeing the initiation, the slow, aching healing, and the unseen spiritual binding that tied the girl forever to her community. These mentors held an invisible power, one whispered about around cooking fires — it was said they could bless or curse a girl’s fertility, her very fortune, by where they hid the sacred, severed parts of her body.
The first treatment after the cutting was almost as brutal as the act itself. The girl was led, trembling, to squat and urinate over her fresh wounds — a therapy of fire disguised as healing. The pain was so blinding that many screamed into the hard earth, their cries swallowed by the wind and the knowing silence of the women around them.
Traditional herbs — pungent, bitter — were packed into the wounds to fight infection and hasten the body’s repair. Healing took about thirty days. Once a week, a health worker from the government might come up the winding hills, bearing a small vial of PPF injection — a fragile thread connecting ancient ritual to the outside world.
But the true climax came not with healing, but with the Leopard Ceremony.
On that day, the entire village would gather, the air thick with the beat of drums that made the very ground pulse. The girls, now initiates, would stand bare-armed. In a final act of devotion, their skin was gashed with sharp blades — four deep cuts on the upper arm, each one a symbol of the leopard’s bite. These scars, like the leopard’s own fierce markings, would brand them for life — badges of courage and womanhood.
At the peak of the ritual, the drumming would stop — a sudden, eerie silence falling like a blanket over the crowd. In that stillness, it was said, the spirit of the leopard entered, sealing the girls’ transformation.
After the ceremony, their lives were no longer their own. Marriage awaited — often arranged long before, with dowries already exchanged. Whether their hearts agreed or not, tradition had already made the choice for them.
In the world of the Sabiny, a girl’s pain was her passport. Her scars, her new identity. Her future, no longer hers alone.
A Different Path for Beatrice
Fate had its own plans for Beatrice, carving a path that no one in her village could have foreseen.
In 1992, under the vast skies and the misty slopes of Mount Elgon, Beatrice achieved what no other Sabiny girl from the lands now known as Kapchorwa, Kween, and Bukwo districts was able to achieve that year. She passed her advanced secondary school exams, earning a coveted government sponsorship to university — the only Sabiny girl that year. `
In those days, the life of a Sabiny girl was carefully scripted. Most were steered toward teaching in local primary schools, a profession seen as dignified, safe, and close enough to home to make good wives. Others were led straight from the thresholds of their initiation ceremonies into marriage, their futures sewn tightly to tradition.
But Beatrice was different. She quietly unstitched the heavy layers of expectation, one determined step at a time.
The old ways whispered that a Sabiny woman must marry within the tribe, bound by an ancient prophecy that warned of doom for any girl who dared to love beyond the ridges and rivers of her people. Those who disobeyed — who married “outsiders” — were condemned to fail and, in shame, to be returned home.
Yet the same prophecy did not bind Sabiny men. They took wives from distant lands, although those women often walked through life under the heavy cloud of suspicion, accused of witchcraft, and held at arm’s length by the community.
Against this backdrop of strict tradition, Beatrice stood — a living contradiction. She was uncut, a powerful statement in itself. She was highly educated, with books and faith tucked close to her heart instead of the ancestral expectations. In every sense, Beatrice was both a daughter of the Sabiny soil and a quiet rebellion against the forces that sought to define her.
In her stride was the courage of a generation that had been told to stay silent. In her story, the unspoken hopes of many girls — girls who, like the maize bending in the mountain winds, longed to reach for the open sky but were rooted by the old ways — finally found a voice.
The Call to Serve
During her first university holiday, Beatrice was crouched by the fire in her family’s open-air kitchen, the smoke curling into the afternoon sky and clinging to her hair and clothes. The heavy scent of burning firewood, the bubbling stew in the pot, the faint chatter of women pounding millet in the distance — it was the familiar hum of life in the Sabiny hills.
That’s when the archdeacon arrived, the same man who had once mourned the loss of his own daughter to the knife. His face was lined with years of grief and hope. Standing at the edge of the kitchen, he cleared his throat, and Beatrice looked up, squinting through the smoke.
“You must come back,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of a prayer. “Come back and fight this battle. You are proof that a Sabiny girl can be whole — untouched — and still be honored.”
Beatrice lowered her gaze, the ladle trembling slightly in her hand. She bowed out of respect, her heart caught between two worlds. Inside her, a quiet ache stirred — the pull of dreams shaped far beyond the hills: gleaming glass buildings, the hush of air-conditioned offices, polished floors clicking under high-heeled shoes.
“I dreamed of Kampala,” she says now, her voice soft with memory.
But fate — stubborn and patient like the mountains — was already threading her back into the fabric of her people’s story.
Quiet Beginnings of a Storm
After her final university exams, Beatrice stood at the edge of Kampala’s restless streets with a heavy heart and an empty pocket. Jobs were whispers in the wind — promises that never quite reached her. With no opportunities in sight, she made her way back to her village, where life moved to the steady rhythm of sun and soil.
Home meant mornings draped in mist, where she worked alongside her father on the family farm. Together, they planted maize and beans in the wide, open fields, the earth warm and familiar under their bare feet, the sky above a restless ocean of clouds. In those long days, bending over rows of crops, Beatrice found quiet strength — but also a restless yearning for more.
In 1995, opportunity arrived in a form so humble it nearly slipped past unnoticed. She was invited to usher at a public gathering organized by the local Member of Parliament — a day marked by the smell of roasting maize, colorful kitenge fabrics fluttering in the breeze, and the hum of elders’ conversations under the old fig trees.
What began as a small task became a turning point. Impressed by her poise and attentiveness, the Woman Member of Parliament, in collaboration with the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), recruited Beatrice for a discreet assignment: to document a “Reproductive Health Workshop.” Beneath that careful title was a bold mission — confronting the deep-rooted tradition of female genital mutilation (FGM) without igniting anger or shame among the proud Sabiny.
Armed with nothing more than a pen, a notebook, and an unwavering belief in the dignity of her people, Beatrice captured every whispered concern, every cautious question, every quiet act of courage. Her report, crafted in the language of respect and understanding, blossomed into something bigger: a concept paper, and eventually, the birth of a project — Reproductive Education and Community Health (REACH).
Through storytelling circles under mango trees, quiet home visits, and community dialogues woven into market days and church gatherings, REACH began to gently peel back generations of silence. It was not a battle waged with shouting and shame, but a slow, compassionate revolution rooted in the everyday life of the Sabiny people.
Within just one year, the seemingly unmovable tradition shifted — FGM rates fell by 36%. No headlines announced it. No drums were beaten in celebration. But in the hearts of daughters and mothers alike, a new story was beginning to grow — one of hope, dignity, and change carried on the soft winds of their mountain home.
Facing the Backlash
However, resistance flared like a wildfire in the dry grasslands of Sebei.
When REACH convened a gathering of 300 elders—custodians of tradition, seated in their kanzus and cloaks, leaning on walking sticks worn smooth by time—what was meant to be a dialogue turned into a storm.
The air grew thick with anger. Beatrice and her team stood at the front, hopeful, armed only with facts and fragile hope. But soon, voices rose like thunder.
“You are here to destroy us!” someone shouted. “Western agents!” others hissed.
The elders, pillars of the community, turned hostile. Stones of insult were hurled—some literal, most verbal.
Beatrice remembers the moment vividly: “The chaos…” she pauses, voice tightening, “…sent us into hiding for two months. We feared for our lives.”
It felt like exile in their own land.
But they didn’t give up.
In the quiet after the storm, they changed course. No more direct confrontations. They began to work beneath the surface—like the roots of the banana plant, steady and patient.
They sponsored girls’ education silently, offered support to youth groups humming with fresh energy, and started building a small health centre—brick by brick, hope by hope. They listened more, talked less, and slowly drew in a few sympathetic elders who were willing to reimagine the future.
Bit by bit, they planted seeds of change, knowing that in Sabiny tradition, even the stubbornest millet stalk can bend when rain and sun take turns to soften it.
New Traditions, New Resistance
Beatrice kept breaking barriers, one brave step at a time. In the heart of the Sabiny hills, where tradition runs deep like the rivers cutting through the valleys, she dared to reimagine custom itself. She staged her own modern traditional marriage — with bright tents billowing in the wind, rows of plastic chairs under the open sky, and songs rising over the village fields. It was a wedding not hidden in whispers but celebrated boldly before the entire community. That day, she didn’t just marry — she carved a new path that many would follow.
But as the drums of change grew louder, so too did the storm of resistance. Authorities froze REACH’s bank accounts without warning, leaving her team stranded. Trolls, emboldened by anonymity, hurled insults at her family across radios and market squares. Strangers, some once friends, came pleading to her father, urging him to “bring his daughter back into line.“
Still, Beatrice stood tall, her voice steady against the winds. “I knew,” she says, her eyes reflecting years of battles fought in silence, “that change comes with scars.”
The scars ran deep. In 2004, while working on a documentary, whispers grew into a deadly plot: a plan to seize and forcefully circumcise her deputy and their team. Under the cover of night, they fled on foot, abandoning their vehicles among the maize fields, hearts pounding, prayers slipping from their lips.
Ten years later, in 2014, the fight hit even closer to home. Some of Beatrice’s own relatives were arrested for carrying out illegal FGM rituals. Amid the chaos, a woman — heavy with twin pregnancy — miscarried while in detention. Grief quickly turned to fury. The hills that once echoed with celebration now roared with violent demonstrations — and Beatrice stood once more at the center of the storm, her dream bloodied but unbroken.
Beatrice’s Quiet Revolution: A Legacy Rooted in Courage
Beatrice Chilangati and her allies moved from village to village, weaving through narrow footpaths, sitting under the shade of old fig trees, speaking in hushed yet determined tones to elders, mothers, and girls whose lives were stitched tightly to tradition. Their mission was simple yet revolutionary: to end the centuries-old practice of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM).
By 2009, after countless fireside conversations, sleepless nights, and moments when hope seemed just a flicker against the vast Sabiny skies, the impossible happened — Kapchorwa District passed an ordinance banning FGM. Later that same year, with the support of Hon. Chris Baryomunsi and Hon. Dorah Byamukama, the momentum spread across Uganda, culminating in a national ban.
President Yoweri Museveni, recognizing the depth of Beatrice’s sacrifice and vision, sponsored 30 young Sabiny girls to attend university — a powerful symbol that the future of a community could be rewritten.
Even more remarkable, the traditional cutters — women once revered for ushering girls into womanhood — were not abandoned. Instead, they were retrained as reproductive health advocates, their hands once instruments of pain now offering healing and hope.
“When I look around now,” Beatrice says, her voice quivering with emotion, “I see girls in classrooms, laughter spilling from dusty playgrounds, and dreams that reach beyond earlymarriage. I see smiles where once there was only fear.”
Her eyes, bright as the morning sun breaking over the Kapchorwa cliffs, carry the weight of battles fought and won.
Walking Through Fire, Emerging Whole
Beatrice’s journey is a testament to the extraordinary strength one woman can summon from deep within her bones — strength rooted in resilience, grace, and unshakable faith. She endured rejection from her own, betrayal by those she trusted, and the heavy, sometimes silent, resistance of an entire culture. Yet she never yielded.
“Even now,” she says, tracing her memories along the ridges of her homeland, “I walk the hills knowing that the forest I crossed — though thick and dark — was not in vain.”
The dust on her feet, the songs in the air, the shy smiles of young girls fetching water at the riverbank — all whisper of a new legacy, one built on courage and compassion.
FGM in Uganda — The Broader Fight
Today, Uganda’s national FGM prevalence has dropped below 1.4% (UNICEF, 2023) — a stunning achievement. Yet in remote corners like the Sebei and Karamoja regions, particularly among the Sabiny and Pokot communities, the old ways still linger, hidden among mountain passes and border villages.
The fight continues, through:
Community dialogues that gather elders, mothers, and youth under the familiar shade of community trees.
Alternative Rites of Passage that honor tradition without bloodshed.
Strict enforcement of the 2010 FGM Act to hold offenders accountable.
Economic empowerment programs that offer former cutters a dignified livelihood.
Cross-border collaborations with Kenya to seal the escape routes for harmful practices.
This fight is not just about changing laws — it is about healing generations. It is about creating a world where no girl will ever again have to trade her dreams for survival.
And thanks to defenders like Beatrice, the hills of Sebei echo not just with ancient songs, but with the laughter of girls who are free.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Uganda-Eunice.jpeg10131080Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2025-06-17 14:53:152025-06-19 07:11:02DEFENDING THE DEFENDERS Third Story
Defending the Defenders is a three-year story telling project profiling experiences of journalists who report on Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), and other female social justice defenders across Uganda and Africa. These “Defenders” not only amplify the suffering of survivors, but also silently carry their own psychological, Social and economic wounds.
First Story Yvonne Moka’s Fight for Justice Begins with a Tear-Stained Story
Yvonne Moka never imagined that reporting on femicide and violence against women and girls (VAWG) would mean reliving her own nightmares. Each story she tells is not just a battle for justice but also a fight for her own sanity. In a chilling interview, she reveals the haunting weight of being both a journalist and a survivor.
Yvonne Moka, a passionate social justice journalist from Botswana, never anticipated that her first major social justice story would be the one that shattered her heart.
“My home girl, we grew up together. We shared everything—church, music, village life. She was like my sister. When I left for university, she stayed behind. Over time, she began dating a gangster from the village, and I was not pleased,” Moka recalls. “But she made her choices. Then, one fateful day, I received a call from her neighbor: ‘She’s dead. The boyfriend has killed her.’” Moka’s voice breaks with grief as she recalls the memory of her friend’s murder, even though it has been more than 15 years.
In December 2008, Yvonne, a young journalist at the time, wrote her first story—a heart-wrenching piece born from a broken heart. She wrote through tears, her hands trembling as grief poured out onto the page. Her childhood friend had been brutally murdered by her boyfriend. The man, under the influence of drugs, killed her while she was pregnant and discarded her body in a bush. By the time the police found her, her body had already decomposed.
Yet, despite clear evidence and phone records pointing to the perpetrators, the justice system failed to bring the criminals to justice. “They were well-connected. After a brief detention, they walked free. It was as if their privilege shielded them from justice,” Moka says bitterly. “The killers of my homegirl are still walking free today, and the case remains unresolved.”
Justice Lost in a Broken System
Moka’s pursuit of justice for her friend led her down a path of frustration and dead ends. “The last time I followed up on this case was in 2020,” she shares. “And guess what? The public prosecutors still say they can’t find the file. One minute, the guy handling the case has been transferred. The next minute, the file is just… gone.”
But the tragic loss did not end there. Another life was cut short—one that hit even closer to home. Moka’s own memories of a promising woman, just about to complete her final-year exams, were shattered. On that fateful day, her boyfriend, a soldier, strangled her with his gun belt before taking his own life.
For the public, it was another tragic headline. But for Moka, it was a wound that never fully healed. “I still remember it like it was yesterday—her body hanging from the rooftop, the blood, the pain. And worst of all, she had kids… three little kids left without a mother,” Moka says tearfully.
More Than Just a Story
Moka’s heartbreak isn’t limited to the stories she tells. She made the long journey to the Central District for the funeral, needing to stand among the mourners—not as a reporter, but as a human being.
The reality of the loss weighed heavily on her. This young woman had worked tirelessly for a better life, just as Moka had. Yet instead of celebrating her graduation, she was being mourned in a coffin.
“She was just like me—a daughter, a student, a woman with dreams. But she never got to live them. That thought still haunts me every time I write,” Moka reflects.
The Faces Behind the Headlines
Over the years, Moka has covered countless cases of women trapped in abusive relationships—many of whom never made it out alive. Just last year, in 2024, a prominent woman was killed by her boyfriend. Moka had been in touch with her only weeks before, listening to voice notes filled with fear and despair.
Later, at a project launch under the Global Forum of Women Entrepreneurs, Moka stood before a board displaying the faces of over 15 women—all murdered by their partners. She had known more than 10 of them personally. She had spoken to them. She had told their stories. Now, she could only mourn them.
“I looked at those photos, and I cried. These weren’t just stories. They were real women—women I had talked to, women who had dreams, women who should still be alive,” Moka says, her voice heavy with emotion.
The Unseen Toll on a Journalist’s Soul
For many, these tragedies exist only in passing—a brief moment of sorrow before moving on. But for Moka, the weight of these stories never fades. Journalists are expected to churn out multiple stories a week, with no time to grieve or process the horrors they witness. One day, Moka is attending a funeral 600 kilometers away; the next, she is covering another heartbreaking case.
“There’s no time to cry. No time to breathe. You’re expected to move on, find the next story. But how do you move on when you’ve just watched a mother’s children bury her?” Moka says with a tone of despair.
No Support, No Relief—Only Survival
The weight of these stories haunt her. She remembers vividly standing by as a woman’s body was exhumed from a shallow grave. She had been murdered by a former boyfriend who, after marrying another woman, refused to let go of his past. The details—the smell, the red nail polish on her lifeless hands—are forever fresh in Moka’s memory. And yet, there was no emotional support or mental health resources from her workplace. There was only the expectation to keep going.
“There was nothing—no emotional support, no therapy, no debriefing. I had to rely on my faith, on my books, on my prayers. Because if I didn’t, I don’t know how I would have survived,” she says.
The Unseen Toll: Reporting Violence, Living the Trauma
Moka’s story is not unique. It is one of many shared by female journalists who cover femicide and Violence Against Women and Girls. “These are just a few cases among dozens that I have reported on. I’ve covered countless women and girls murdered by their intimate partners, and in many cases, justice was never served,” Moka reflects.
For Moka, and journalists like her, reporting on femicide is not just a job—it is a battle against systemic indifference, corruption, and failure. “It tears me apart every time I write these stories. These women were like sisters to me. I can’t just report their deaths as if they were statistics. Their pain stays with me,” Moka shares. “Writing these stories is like reliving the grief over and over again. But I do it because no one else will.”
A World in Denial: The Global Femicide Crisis
Moka’s heartbreak is not isolated—it is echoed around the world. According to the United Nations, in 2023 alone, 85,000 women and girls were killed intentionally. Of those, 51,100 were murdered by an intimate partner or family member. That means 140 women and girls were killed every day—one woman every ten minutes.
Female journalists covering violence against women and girls are not just exposing injustice—they are risking their own safety. The same violence they report on is the same violence that threatens them.
Moka’s story is just the beginning. In the next part of this series, more female journalists will share their own harrowing accounts of reporting femicide and Violence Against Women and Girls. Their stories are painful, but they are also a testament to courage, resilience, and the fight for justice.
As these journalists risk everything to expose the horrors inflicted on women and girls, society must step up. Their work is essential, and their safety must be a priority. These women are not just reporting the news—they are breaking the silence, one story at a time.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Uganda-Eunice.jpeg10131080Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2025-06-17 14:27:572025-06-19 07:13:00DEFENDING THE DEFENDERS First Story
Defending the Defenders is a three-year story telling project profiling experiences of journalists who report on Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), and other female social justice defenders across Uganda and Africa. These “Defenders” not only amplify the suffering of survivors, but also silently carry their own psychological, Social and economic wounds.
Through their reporting, they create awareness and hold hands of others yet no one asks how they are copping. Society assumes they are immune to the violate they expose, overlooking their own vulnerability and pain. Defending the Defenders therefore seeks to break this silence, honour the emotional truths behind the professional bravery.
The project profiles two stories every month. Early examples include Beatrice Chelengant, a Uganda activist against Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), she was trolled, bullied, threatened and resented by her own people but remains a symbol of hope and dignity. Yvonne Moka of Botswana, fights with deep psychological trauma, after years of reporting about VAWG, finds solace in religion. And ZamZam, a Sudanese journalist lives under constant death threats for exposing decades of unrest in Darfur region, she refused to be silenced. These are not just stories but chronicles of women warriors, wounded, yet refuse to retreat- fighting for the safety and dignity of every woman and girl.
The project builds a data base for the defenders, conduct background research, get in touch, plan and schedule for the interviews physical or virtual. I write the original scripts, collaborate on visuals, publish on my blog and social platforms, engage other publications to amplify visibility.
Explanation Defending the Defenders story telling project addresses a critical gap often overlooked in reporting Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), the emotional psychological, social and economic toll these female journalists and other social justice defenders face while doing their work.
Most attention is on survivors in these reports, reporters could be facing the same violence and the toll she cultivates from being the witness and the bearer of the pain of the survivors. They amplify the voices of the survivors but no one checks on them, no one amplifies their plight- yet, silently the defender as a woman faces the same violence.
Defending the Defenders therefore seeks to break the silence, turn the microphone to the frontline defenders, who carry the double burden as survivors of the violence thy report on as well as pain from being the bearers and witnesses to the survivors’ pain.
The project is a turning point for the reporters of the stories become sources, survivors in their own right. This is to honour their emotional bravery and recognise their vulnerability. This will in the long run turn the data base of contacts, into a peer safe community, to hold each other’s hand from a place of understanding without the need to try to prove bravery but seek and accept support were one feels empty to keep going. Break the silence and create a judgement free community for the defenders through solidarity and collaborations.
Methodology
Defending the Defenders uses mixed methods story telling approach to collect and document experiences of journalists who report on Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG), and other female social justice defenders across Uganda and Africa.
Data Collection
The project identifies, mobilises and develops a pool of potential subjects identified through content analysis of the available and accessible content from physical media houses, organisations reports, social media platforms and, professional networks. The criterion includes consistent demonstrated engagement in VAWG reporting or social justice.
Background research is conducted to contextualise each subject’s professional course and public visibility. Semi-structured interviews are then arranged either physical in the, agreed upon locations or virtual via encrypted communication platforms to ensure participants safety and flexibility. Interviews are designed to elicit rich first-person narratives focusing on personal challenges, emotional burdens, professional risks, copping strategies and broader societal responses to their work.
Data Analysis Collected data is analysed through thematic analysis. Interviews, transcripts, field notes and secondary materials are coded to identify recurring themes such as secondary trauma, societal backlash, professional isolation, financial uncertainty, coping mechanisms and pathways to resilience. Attention is given to the intersectional factors such as geographical context, ethnicity and type of activism. The analysis seeks not only to narrate individual experiences but to map patterns that illustrate broader systemic issues affecting female defenders.
Content Production I craft the original stories from the data, weaving quotes and lived experiences into compelling narratives. Each is accompanied by carefully designed content such as digital banners and cards as well as infographics developed through collaboration with graphics designers to enhance engagement and visibility.
Publication and amplification
The final pieces are primarily published on my personal Blog https://nankwangaeunice.blogspot.com and cross shared on personal social media platforms as well as International Association of Women in Radio and Television (IAWRT). Going forward, I am actively engaging with broader media outlets and advocacy organisations to secure to secure publication and partnerships that amplify the stories to new audiences. This is intended to humanise the women behind the frontlines of the fight to stop VAWG.
Impact Over three years Defending the Defenders aims to create and establish a vibrant multimedia archives that not only documents the emotional cost of frontline work but seeds a peer support community. By recognising these dual burden these defenders carry, the project aspires to break their silence, normalise seeking support and foster solidarity, healing and resilience among women defenders.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Uganda-photo-2-1.png14291773Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2025-06-17 08:02:272025-06-17 14:55:58DEFENDING THE DEFENDERS
Safer Internet Day- Initiative of Awareness on Digital Harassment and its Prevention (Feb 13, 2025) On Safer Internet Day 2025, to aware about the role of Media persons in expanding the awareness level especially among children(male/female) and women, a crucial event was organized jointly by IAWRT Nepal Chapter and Voice of Children (VOC). Organized on 13th of February at Alpha House, Kathmandu, more than 50 journalists made it to the event. President of Federation of Journalists in Nepal Ms. Nirmala Sharma & Chairperson of National Woman Commission Kamala Kumari Parajuli graced the event with the key presentations while other presentations were delivered by National Cyber Bureau, Voice of Children and IAWRT Nepal too. Vice President of IAWRT Nepal Chapter Ms. Deepanjali Lama presented about the context in Nepal.
In addition to electricity and development, events of abuse of internet-based harassment has grown. Stakeholders and media should stand strong for today’s digital education to reduce such incidents through various platform of the Internet.
Digital Seminar ‘Urgency for Woman Journalist’s Safety and Security’ (15 March 2025)
IAWRT International hosted a virtual Seminar on 15 th March 2025 with the theme of Safety and Security of Women Journalists in various region. IAWRT Nepal Secretary Manita Pokharel represented Nepal and presented about current situation in the country. Digital Harassment issues were highlighted, and more progressive situations were delivered. The governmental policies of 33% participation of women in any forum was admired by the international forum. Nepal Chapter had the pride in sharing the recent news about the newly elected president of Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) Ms. Nirmala Sharma creating the history as first female elected in such reputed position.
Nepal’s Participation in 20th Asian Women’s Film Festival, India- (6-8 March, 2025)
IAWRT Nepal Chapter took an opportunity of attending 3 days 20th Asian Women’s Film Festival organized by the IAWRT Chapter India at India International Center, New Delhi, India from 6th to 8th March 2025. Representing Nepal, the president of Nepal Chapter Ms. Ichchha Gurung and Ms. Sandhya Thapa, Board Member participated in the event, engaging with filmmakers, watching movies made by professional and new female filmmakers from across Asia. Through the participation, IAWRT-Nepal reaffirmed its commitment to promoting women’s voices by cinema and strengthening women’s network across border. Over the course of three days, 65 films from 21 countries were showcased.
The film screenings took place at the CD Deshmukh Auditorium and Conference Hall No. 1, where attending filmmakers were introduced before their screenings, followed by an interactive Q&A session that allowed the audience to engage with the creators.
It was an immense pride and joy to have two Nepali films showcased at the festival—”Chesang” by Rajeela Shrestha and “The Call” by Jyotsana Simha Thakuri. The film was applauded by the diverse women which is quite an achievement for whole IAWRT Nepal.
Over the three days, attendees had the opportunity to watch films, participate in panel discussions and Master Classes, connect with fellow filmmakers, and engage with film enthusiast.
Board Member Sandhya Thapa reflected on the festival, stating, “Cinema Pe Cinema by Vani Subramanian sheds light on issues surrounding cinema theatres in India, while the closing film, The Night of Knowing Nothing by Payal Kapadia, presented a next-level juxtaposition of screenplay and narration.”
President Ichchha Gurung shared her thoughts on the hospitality and her second-time experience, stating, “It feels great to be surrounded by creative women. Over the course of these three days, it was a supreme sense of knowledge gain and experience sharing. Likewise, dedicating a spot where visitors can witness the phases of Saheli is remarkable. The paper, popular for strengthening women’s voices, is given such a platform to celebrate the deeds of past women and their concepts. It’s truly commendable.”
In conclusion, the 20th Asian Women’s Film Festival organized by IAWRT Chapter India provided a precious platform for women filmmakers across Asia to showcase their work and engage in creative discussions. IAWRT-Nepal’s participation not only highlighted the talents within Nepal but also reaffirmed its dedication to promoting women’s voices through cinema and extending cross-border collaborations.
Partnership with Kathmandu PinkCareAthon (March 22, 2025) With the aim to promote Woman Empowerment, a healthy lifestyle for women, and inspire them for selfcare, the “Kathmandu Pink CareAthon,” was scheduled for March 22 nd, 2025, at Jawalakhel Football Ground. IAWRT Nepal supported the event whole heartedly beyond just being Media and Publicity Partner. The event had other strong partners as well through will wider visibility and networking opportunities were created. Leisure Port Nepal organized the Kathmandu Pinkathon for three consecutive years from 2017 to 2019 and then resumed in 2024 after interruptions due to Covid Pandemic. A three-kilometer run, a five-kilometer run, a ten-kilometer run, and a 21-kilometre run started from the Jawalakhel Football Ground. Open to women of all age groups, the initiative encouraged them to prioritize their well-being despite their busy daily routines.
Philippines Chapter
1. Significant Events Held by the Chapter
The IAWRT Philippines chapter convened its General Assembly in December 2024. This assembly served as a platform for the election of a new set of officers, charting the course for the chapter’s future endeavors. A significant portion of the assembly was dedicated to the critical discussion of emerging threats to journalist safety. The discussions were particularly salient considering the upcoming midterm and BARMM elections, alongside escalating political tensions. These tensions stem from the discord between the incumbent president and the vice president, the daughter of former President Duterte, who is currently facing charges before the International Criminal Court (ICC).
2. Important Research/Reports Produced by the Chapter
In 2023, IAWRT Philippines, in collaboration with International Media Support, released an important manual focusing on the gendered experiences of women journalists under attack. This publication aims to provide crucial guidance and documentation strategies for women journalists facing unique challenges.
Additionally, the chapter published a manifesto advocating for the safety of women journalists covering the elections, emphasizing the need for their protection during sensitive political periods.
Furthermore, IAWRT Philippines issued a formal media statement addressing attempts to discredit Filipino women journalists reporting on the trial of former President Duterte at the ICC, reaffirming its commitment to journalistic integrity and safety.
3. Interventions in the Field with Possible Impacts
In November 2024, IAWRT Philippines stood in solidarity with the media community by attending the trial of detained journalist Frenchie Mae Cumpio. The chapter has consistently advocated for her release, including joining calls from other media organizations. Frenchie Mae Cumpio faced the court for the third time on March 24, 2025Link: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1AB8LLe58K/
Furthermore, IAWRT Philippines, in partnership with the British Embassy Manila, conducted a crucial safety training program on March 8-9, 2025, with a specific focus on the upcoming BARMM elections. The second day of the training included a public forum, extending the reach of the program to students and the wider community.
IAWRT Philippines, in collaboration with the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism, was also invited to speak on journalist safety at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines on March 26, 2025, further contributing to the education and awareness of this critical issue.
Tanzania Chapter
IAWRT Tanzania and University of Tanzibar – Suza
IAWRT Tanzania was invited by the State University of Zanzibar – SUZA, School of journalism and Communication to give a presentation on public speaking to talk about journalism and professionalism. IAWRT Tanzania Chapter Head Fatuma Matulanga facilitated the session and spoke about how to be competent and stand out in the field after graduation.
Some students were nervous because statistics showed that most female students, after graduation, don’t work as journalists and choose to be in public relations or information officers. Some of the reasons identified were low payments, complications of working environment and fear of sexual harassment in the newsrooms where an average of 41% of women journalists worldwide had experienced verbal or physical harassment in the work place.
In public speaking, Fatuma emphasized the need for both female and male journalism students to be competent when they entered the profession. Because always hard work pays as well as to focus on their goals. She mentioned that challenges were everywhere or in any field. It didn’t matter whether it was in journalism, law, finance, etc. When such kind of challenges happened, they had to focus on professionalism and not allow anyone to destroy their dreams.
Practicing journalism ethics, having acquired journalism certificates, learning new technology in the field, creativity, specializing in a certain field, e.g., finance journalist, environmental journalist, health journalist, etc. Gives journalists wide opportunities in the field because the world still needs experts in various sectors in order to overcome the challenges that are facing. Being a specialised and specialist journalist may also overcome harassment which female journalists encounter because their work will be visible more than if some of their colleagues are trying to pull them back and finally win, Fatuma Emphasised.
IAWRT Tanzania and AWHSN
International Women in Radio and Television (IAWRT) Tanzania in collaboration with Women in Herbs, Spices and Natural products (AWHSN) organised and moderated sessions to commemorate the International Women’s Day(IWD) for women Herbs and Spices producers , sellers and businesses to prepare them for the international export market and businesses. To “Accelerate Action: Collective Action to Empower Women Spices and Herbs Producers Access Markets”. Through capacity building knowledge on Investor Readiness. How to Access Markets, Branding, and Global Networking.
Collaborated with Discover Africa Through Technology Podcast, JIKA, TKU, and Integrated Empowerment Initiative to train business women to use KAIZEN to incorporate continuous improvement on work and efficiency into their business operations.
Partnered with ARSO to train women in international quality certification. ARSO Quality Certification Process and Certification criteria. African Spices Certification where over 100 women Spice farmers, producers, and businesswoman were awarded certificates.
Nurturing and Mentorship
Conducted a Nurturing and Mentorship programme for 8 young women journalists in radio (traditional and online) and bloggers.
Result:
One of the mentees Esther Baraka from Afya Radio received a Regional Award in recognition of her contributions in gender programming
The programme empowered young women journalists who did not have employment by creating their own blogs.
Physical Mentorship In Mwanza At An Opening Environment. The Mentee is Esther Baraka, Mwanza Regional Gender Media Award Winner
Physical Mentorship In Mwanza At An Opening Environment. The Mentee is Esther Baraka, Mwanza Regional Gender Media Award Winner
PARTICIPATION IN BEIJING 30 CELEBRATION
PROGRAMME MAKING: produced programmes and aired through existing programmes on Radio, Television and Social Media
Participated in special programme and exclusive interviews
AWARDS:
Our Founder President Rose Haji Mwalimu received an accolade of KINARA WA BEIJING 1995 (PIONEERS OF BEIJING 1995) by Women Fund Tanzania (WFT)
Kinara Wa Beijing 30 Awards Celebrated With Former Secretary General On The Conference Hon. Amb. Getrude Mongella In Black Skirt (Centre Front Row)
World Press Freedom Day 2025
Inducted as member of Preparatory Committee in World Press Freedom Day 2025.
IAWRT was among the presenters on side events to prepare and present the report on Mapping and Monitoring Online Violations of women in media a research conducted by IAWRT Kenya.
Networking
Attended various conferences on Women Leadershi and others, towards prepartory elections 2025 and others. Gender Festival At Tgnp Grounds Dar Es Salaam. Gestured In The Front Is IAWRT Members Rose Haji Mwalimu, Betty Tesha In White Tshirt And Right Is Stella Setumbi
Gender Festival At Tgnp Premise Dar Es Saam: Session On Women Leadership 2025
In The Picture: Left Is IAWRT Member Rose Haji Mwalimu, Judica Losai And TAMWA Member Kulthum AIi
The American Society for Group Psychotherapy and Psychodrama (ASGPP) has delivered not one, but two incredible honors to Sheila Dallas-Katzman — a powerhouse in psychodrama, sociodrama, and Theatre of the Oppressed. In a standout year filled with impactful work, Dallas-Katzman received both the Sociatry and Social Justice Diversity Award and the Collaborators Award, the latter alongside the remarkable Legacy of Liberation BIPOC Collective.
These dual recognitions spotlight Dallas-Katzman’s lifelong commitment to uplifting marginalized voices and fostering systemic change through compassionate, creative, and community-centered approaches. Known for leveraging the transformative power of psychodrama and Theatre of the Oppressed, she continues to be a beacon for healing, empowerment, and justice worldwide. “I am deeply grateful to the ASGPP for these incredible honors. This recognition inspires me to continue working alongside marginalized communities, empowering them to find their voices, heal from trauma, and build a more just and equitable world for all.” — Sheila Dallas-Katzman
The brilliance, strength, and legacy done and to be created, of these eight beyond extraordinary women radiates beyond this frame. I feel very privileged. Sheila in Spring florals, receiving her award from ASGPP Exec Council member, Courtney Meadows
About the Awards: The Sociatry and Social Justice Diversity Award recognizes individuals who have demonstrated exceptional dedication to promoting diversity, equity, and inclusion through the principles of sociometry. Dallas-Katzman’s work embodies this spirit, utilizing sociometric techniques to illuminate power dynamics, foster empathy, and build bridges between individuals and groups. The Collaborators’ Award shared with the Legacy of Liberation (BBIPOC) Collective, celebrates the power of collective action and recognizes the transformative impact of working in partnership to address social injustices. This award highlights Dallas-Katzman’s ability to build strong, collaborative relationships and her commitment to centering the voices and experiences of marginalized communities.
About the ASGPP The ASGPP is a professional organization committed to advancing the fields of group psychotherapy and psychodrama. It offers resources, training, and ethical guidance for mental health professionals, supporting the growth of these therapeutic practices in clinical and community settings. Membership provides access to continuing education, professional networking, and advocacy for evidence-based group therapies.
� A resounding applause from colleagues for Sheila Dallas-Katzman and the Legacy of Liberation BIPOC group and for each of the phenomenal Awardee! Their work reminds us all of what’s possible when compassion, collaboration, and a commitment to justice take center stage.
I want to honor a few people without whom none of this would be possible. Thank you for truly seeing me. Daniella Simmons believed in me and saw my potential, inviting me to center stage as her co-facilitator and recommending me for higher calling. Daisy Ramirez-DiCarlo — oh Daisy! — carrying me through doors I barely knew were open, such as the BIPOC collective and the EC, and walks beside me in true camaraderie. Nina Garcia, my primary trainer, who sees me, feels me deeply, and reminds me I belong in the psychodrama world. And Uneeda, who encourages me, teaches me with ease in conversations. Thank you for believing in what you see. These awards challenge me rise the ideals you see in me. I offer nothing but grace and gratitude.
https://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/shiela-scaled.jpeg25601920Secretariathttp://iawrt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/logo.pngSecretariat2025-04-15 08:00:002025-06-03 07:29:30Double the Accolades: Sheila Dallas-Katzman Honored with Two ASGPP 2025 Awards
