Across Women's Lives

Last September, gynecologist Isabel Stabile stood outside the Maltese Parliament with a group of activists on International Safe Abortion Day, holding signs that said: “Abortions are safe and necessary” and “My body is not a political playground.” As they livestreamed the protest on Facebook, some activists took out a box of fake abortion pills and swallowed them.“Malta is the only country in the whole of Europe where abortion is still illegal, under all circumstances."Isabel Stabile, abortion rights activist, Doctors for Choice, Malta“Malta is the only country in the whole of Europe where abortion is still illegal, under all circumstances,” said Stabile, as the camera zoomed in on her. “We are here to show you how easy and simple this process can be.”The protest was small — and later met by a bigger crowd from anti-abortion protestors — but it signals a growing abortion rights movement in the small, predominantly Catholic island of Malta in the Mediterranean, where more than 90% of the population are against abortion, on religious grounds. Related: Catalonia's temporary tele-abortion services are a game-changerUnlike Poland, where abortion is difficult to access, but still legal in cases of rape and incest, the abortion law in Malta doesn't make any exceptions — even when the mother's health is at risk.As a result, an estimated 300 pregnant people travel abroad every year to seek abortion services in places like the United Kingdom and Italy, but when the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March of 2020, travel restrictions made such trips nearly impossible.Stabile, who is part of the advocacy group Doctors for Choice, said that's when calls to the organization shot up significantly.“What happened at that point is that women became desperate,” Stabile said. “And it pushed us as pro-choice doctors to set up a service.”The Family Planning Advisory Service (FPAS) was launched last August, and is run by trained volunteers providing medically-based information about reproductive health care — fertility, contraception or abortion. Under Malta's abortion law, doctors can face up to three years in prison for providing abortion services, so FPAS volunteers figured out a work-around: They inform callers of the travel restrictions for countries where abortion is legal and tell them about reliable nongovernmental organizations that ship abortion pills — although it is illegal to consume them on Maltese soil.Related: In Italy, religious organizations' 'fetus graves' reignite abortion debates“We have effectively created a telemedicine service. ... People are now no longer needing to travel as often.”Isabel Stabile, abortion rights activist, Doctors for Choice, Malta“We have effectively created a telemedicine service,” Stabile said. “People are now no longer needing to travel as often.”Stabile said that within the first six months of launching, FPAS received more than 200 calls — in a country with a population of less than 500,000 people. What's more, the number of abortion pills ordered online from organizations like Women on Web and Women Help Women doubled from 2019 to 2020.But taking the abortion pills Mifepristone and Misoprostol is only considered safe up until the 12th week of pregnancy. For people needing an abortion past 12 weeks, including those who have found out about a fetus abnormality, taking a pill is no longer a possibility.For people who are more than 12 weeks pregnant, taking a pill is no longer a possibility, which often applies to pregnancies with fetal abnormalities, as well. Mara Clarke, from the Abortion Support Network, said those are the people who continue to travel for abortions — despite the pandemic. Clarke's organization helps fund pregnant people's trips to the UK from countries where abortion is illegal or severely restricted.“At the beginning of the pandemic, we really didn't know what was going on,” Clarke said. “They were closing airports, we would book flights and they would get canceled, people were scared about traveling.”There were nonstop hurdles: border closures, shut hotels, no child care. It was especially hard for Maltese people, who live on an island and are geographically isolated. Related: Abortion increasingly hard to access in Turkey Nowadays, Clarke said, traveling is somewhat easier, but mandatory PCR tests make it more expensive and constantly changing measures make it more difficult. “Prior to COVID, the Draconian abortion laws were an inconvenience for women and pregnant people with money, and they were only a catastrophe for people without money or resources or support networks."Mara Clarke, Abortion Support Network“Prior to COVID, the Draconian abortion laws were an inconvenience for women and pregnant people with money, and they were only a catastrophe for people without money or resources or support networks,” Clarke said.“But suddenly, you have a global pandemic, and literally everybody understands what it means to live in a country with really a bad abortion law.”According to the UK's National Health Service, the number of Maltese people who traveled there for abortions decreased by two-thirds from 2019, when 58 abortions were registered, to 2020, when 20 abortions were registered.As part of an ongoing collaboration, Clarke is now funding a helpline at Malta's Family Planning Advisory Service.Dr. Christopher Barbara, another member of Doctors for Choice, said the goal of FPAS is to fill the void left by the lack of a government-established family planning programs.“We feel that people have a right to that information because, if nothing else, it's a harm-reduction exercise."Dr. Christopher Barbara, Doctors for Choice, Malta“We feel that people have a right to that information because, if nothing else, it's a harm-reduction exercise,” said Barbara. “If a woman can't get the abortion pill safely, she'll just end up getting them from unverified sources.”To this day, no major political party in Malta has come out in favor of abortion rights — but some individual politicians are starting to speak up.This May, one parliament member introduced a bill to decriminalize abortion, though it didn't pass. President George Vella later responded to this move, saying he'd rather resign than sign a law that “involves the authorization of murder.”Abortion is still very much taboo in Malta — and abortion rights activists who speak publicly about it often face online harassment from anti-abortion groups. But Barbara said public discourse is starting to shift — websites like Break the Taboo, which tell the stories of people in Malta who had an abortion, are hoping to destigmatize the topic.And Barbara said it's working. In 2016, the morning-after pill was legalized, and in 2018, the first abortion rights group in Malta was founded. Since then, similar organizations have emerged and local media are increasingly covering the abortion debate.“People are starting to realize that you can personally be against abortion, but at the same time, an abortion ban is not the right way to go,” Barbara said. This story was produced in partnership with the International Women's Media Foundation.

Last September, gynecologist Isabel Stabile stood outside the Maltese Parliament with a group of activists on International Safe Abortion Day, holding signs that said: “Abortions are safe and necessary” and “My body is not a political playground.” As they livestreamed the protest on Facebook, some activists took out a box of fake abortion pills and swallowed them.“Malta is the only country in the whole of Europe where abortion is still illegal, under all circumstances."Isabel Stabile, abortion rights activist, Doctors for Choice, Malta“Malta is the only country in the whole of Europe where abortion is still illegal, under all circumstances,” said Stabile, as the camera zoomed in on her. “We are here to show you how easy and simple this process can be.”The protest was small — and later met by a bigger crowd from anti-abortion protestors — but it signals a growing abortion rights movement in the small, predominantly Catholic island of Malta in the Mediterranean, where more than 90% of the population are against abortion, on religious grounds. Related: Catalonia's temporary tele-abortion services are a game-changerUnlike Poland, where abortion is difficult to access, but still legal in cases of rape and incest, the abortion law in Malta doesn't make any exceptions — even when the mother's health is at risk.As a result, an estimated 300 pregnant people travel abroad every year to seek abortion services in places like the United Kingdom and Italy, but when the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March of 2020, travel restrictions made such trips nearly impossible.Stabile, who is part of the advocacy group Doctors for Choice, said that's when calls to the organization shot up significantly.“What happened at that point is that women became desperate,” Stabile said. “And it pushed us as pro-choice doctors to set up a service.”The Family Planning Advisory Service (FPAS) was launched last August, and is run by trained volunteers providing medically-based information about reproductive health care — fertility, contraception or abortion. Under Malta's abortion law, doctors can face up to three years in prison for providing abortion services, so FPAS volunteers figured out a work-around: They inform callers of the travel restrictions for countries where abortion is legal and tell them about reliable nongovernmental organizations that ship abortion pills — although it is illegal to consume them on Maltese soil.Related: In Italy, religious organizations' 'fetus graves' reignite abortion debates“We have effectively created a telemedicine service. ... People are now no longer needing to travel as often.”Isabel Stabile, abortion rights activist, Doctors for Choice, Malta“We have effectively created a telemedicine service,” Stabile said. “People are now no longer needing to travel as often.”Stabile said that within the first six months of launching, FPAS received more than 200 calls — in a country with a population of less than 500,000 people. What's more, the number of abortion pills ordered online from organizations like Women on Web and Women Help Women doubled from 2019 to 2020.But taking the abortion pills Mifepristone and Misoprostol is only considered safe up until the 12th week of pregnancy. For people needing an abortion past 12 weeks, including those who have found out about a fetus abnormality, taking a pill is no longer a possibility.For people who are more than 12 weeks pregnant, taking a pill is no longer a possibility, which often applies to pregnancies with fetal abnormalities, as well. Mara Clarke, from the Abortion Support Network, said those are the people who continue to travel for abortions — despite the pandemic. Clarke's organization helps fund pregnant people's trips to the UK from countries where abortion is illegal or severely restricted.“At the beginning of the pandemic, we really didn't know what was going on,” Clarke said. “They were closing airports, we would book flights and they would get canceled, people were scared about traveling.”There were nonstop hurdles: border closures, shut hotels, no child care. It was especially hard for Maltese people, who live on an island and are geographically isolated. Related: Abortion increasingly hard to access in Turkey Nowadays, Clarke said, traveling is somewhat easier, but mandatory PCR tests make it more expensive and constantly changing measures make it more difficult. “Prior to COVID, the Draconian abortion laws were an inconvenience for women and pregnant people with money, and they were only a catastrophe for people without money or resources or support networks."Mara Clarke, Abortion Support Network“Prior to COVID, the Draconian abortion laws were an inconvenience for women and pregnant people with money, and they were only a catastrophe for people without money or resources or support networks,” Clarke said.“But suddenly, you have a global pandemic, and literally everybody understands what it means to live in a country with really a bad abortion law.”According to the UK's National Health Service, the number of Maltese people who traveled there for abortions decreased by two-thirds from 2019, when 58 abortions were registered, to 2020, when 20 abortions were registered.As part of an ongoing collaboration, Clarke is now funding a helpline at Malta's Family Planning Advisory Service.Dr. Christopher Barbara, another member of Doctors for Choice, said the goal of FPAS is to fill the void left by the lack of a government-established family planning programs.“We feel that people have a right to that information because, if nothing else, it's a harm-reduction exercise."Dr. Christopher Barbara, Doctors for Choice, Malta“We feel that people have a right to that information because, if nothing else, it's a harm-reduction exercise,” said Barbara. “If a woman can't get the abortion pill safely, she'll just end up getting them from unverified sources.”To this day, no major political party in Malta has come out in favor of abortion rights — but some individual politicians are starting to speak up.This May, one parliament member introduced a bill to decriminalize abortion, though it didn't pass. President George Vella later responded to this move, saying he'd rather resign than sign a law that “involves the authorization of murder.”Abortion is still very much taboo in Malta — and abortion rights activists who speak publicly about it often face online harassment from anti-abortion groups. But Barbara said public discourse is starting to shift — websites like Break the Taboo, which tell the stories of people in Malta who had an abortion, are hoping to destigmatize the topic.And Barbara said it's working. In 2016, the morning-after pill was legalized, and in 2018, the first abortion rights group in Malta was founded. Since then, similar organizations have emerged and local media are increasingly covering the abortion debate.“People are starting to realize that you can personally be against abortion, but at the same time, an abortion ban is not the right way to go,” Barbara said. This story was produced in partnership with the International Women's Media Foundation.

A black and pink Ferrari coils and loops around the Mugello Circuit, just outside Florence, and guns across the finish line at 170 miles per hour. The roar of its engine echoes throughout the Tuscan countryside. This sleek ride isn't your typical commercial sports car, it's a Ferrari 488 GTE — a hyper-tuned machine built for endurance racing, with a cockpit made of carbon fiber and rebar steel.  Steering behind a wheel full of buttons is 27-year-old Michelle Gatting, an ambitious pilot from Denmark. Related: In Spain after lockdown, soccer resumes for men — but not for womenGatting started riding go-karts at the age of 7. Today, she is the youngest member of the Iron Dames, an all-female professional racing team that competes in Grand Touring endurance racing, or GT.  “An Iron Dame is a determined, strong-willed woman who has strong goals in her life. ...and who is really passionate about what she's doing.”Michelle Gatting, 27, Iron Dame pilot“An Iron Dame is a determined, strong-willed woman who has strong goals in her life,” Gatting said. “And who is really passionate about what she's doing.”Related: A #MeToo for Afghanistan's women's soccer: 'It happened so many times'  Close up of an Iron Dames race car.  Credit: Courtesy of Iron Dames  The Iron Dames is one of just three all-female teams in the world that competes head-to-head with men. The International Federation of the Automobile (FIA), the global governing body for motor racing, has praised them as a “sign of progress” in this male-dominated sport. Far from a marketing gimmick, the Iron Dames have already qualified for big-name races, and are hoping to change the perception of women in the sport. Related: Women's pro soccer made gains toward parity. Will coronavirus undo it?“We fight, we want to win, we want to go for the podiums. ... And when you do that, and you get [to] those podiums, people they don't question anymore why you're there."Michelle Gatting, 27, Iron Dame pilot“We fight, we want to win, we want to go for the podiums,” said Gatting, referring to where winners stand to receive first, second or third place. “And when you do that, and you get [to] those podiums, people they don't question anymore why you're there,” she said.  Michelle Gatting sits behind the wheel of her race car.  Credit: Angelica Marin/The World  GT endurance racing is like marathon running — but for sports cars.  Teams of pilots speed around twisty circuits for hours at a time, while racking up an insane amount of laps — sometimes up to 2,000 miles, depending on the race. In 2019, the Iron Dames became the first ever, all-female lineup to begin and finish the legendary 24-hour of Le Mans —the mother of all endurance races. Teams of pilots take turns driving one car for a full day and a full night. They pause only for seconds at a time to switch tires or pilots.Last year they finished in the top 10 at Le Mans. This year, reaching the podium — in the top three — would be the ultimate game changer.“That would be fantastic, a dream come true,” said Deborah Mayer, Iron Dames' founder and leader. Mayer, a French financier, entrepreneur and pilot, founded the Iron Dames in 2018 to promote women in motor sports. “And to give the possibility to talented women to show all their capacities and skills in a quite competitive environment,” said Mayer.   As a long-time Ferrari collector, Mayer caught the speed bug racing in Ferrari tournaments. Now, she is betting big to take the Iron Dames to the top. Motor sports is one of very few sports where the athlete's sex doesn't matter, said Mayer. At the end of the race, what separates a good pilot from the rest is strictly the lap time.“It's not a question of strength…it's skills, it's hard work…you have to improve and work on your technique. ... You have to have the right strategy, and, above all, you have to work as a team."Deborah Mayer, Iron Dames leader“It's not a question of strength…it's skills, it's hard work…you have to improve and work on your technique,” said Mayer. “You have to have the right strategy, and, above all, you have to work as a team,” she said.  Iron Dames pose for a portrait at Mugello.  Credit: Angelica Marin/The World  Mayer describes teamwork as “working at it, till the mayonnaise thickens.” Professional racing teams require million-dollar cars and a traveling crew of coaches, mechanics, engineers, and other staff working up to 24 hours at a time with the pilots. Together with Mayer and Gatting, Manuela Gostner from Italy, and Rahel Frey from Switzerland, make up the original Iron Dames team.   This year, British pilot Katherine Legge also joined the all-female line-up. Legge has done it all: NASCAR, Indy 500, Formula E and GT. She doesn't come from a dynasty of racers — or from money. She had to fight her way into the racing circuits on her own.  “That's why people like Deborah [Mayer] are so important, because when we get together we can do so much more,” said Legge.  Legge said one of the biggest challenges for women drivers can be getting sponsorship due to entrenched stereotypes about women in motor sports. “Sponsors — a lot of them don't want to see women get hurt, don't necessarily believe that women can win."Katherine Legge, Iron Dame pilot“Sponsors — a lot of them don't want to see women get hurt, don't necessarily believe that women can win,” said Legge. Legge broke both her legs last summer during a test drive in France. In just seven months she reached race-ready fitness. Now, she says, she has unfinished business. “I want to go out on a high and win championships and win races, and I want to do it as part of an all-female team,” said Legge.  “Because I think that the first all-female team that does that, will put a stamp on it, and then, you know, maybe I help other girls to become the next Iron Dames,” she said. This year, the Iron Dames have 30 races to make their mark and push for that change. When women reach the podium, sponsors take notice, and new opportunities open up for more fierce girls in the game.

A black and pink Ferrari coils and loops around the Mugello Circuit, just outside Florence, and guns across the finish line at 170 miles per hour. The roar of its engine echoes throughout the Tuscan countryside. This sleek ride isn’t your typical commercial sports car, it’s a Ferrari 488 GTE — a hyper-tuned machine built for endurance racing, with a cockpit made of carbon fiber and rebar steel.  Steering behind a wheel full of buttons is 27-year-old Michelle Gatting, an ambitious pilot from Denmark. Related: In Spain after lockdown, soccer resumes for men — but not for womenGatting started riding go-karts at the age of 7. Today, she is the youngest member of the Iron Dames, an all-female professional racing team that competes in Grand Touring endurance racing, or GT.  “An Iron Dame is a determined, strong-willed woman who has strong goals in her life. ...and who is really passionate about what she’s doing.”Michelle Gatting, 27, Iron Dame pilot“An Iron Dame is a determined, strong-willed woman who has strong goals in her life,” Gatting said. “And who is really passionate about what she’s doing.”Related: A #MeToo for Afghanistan's women's soccer: 'It happened so many times'  Close up of an Iron Dames race car.  Credit: Courtesy of Iron Dames  The Iron Dames is one of just three all-female teams in the world that competes head-to-head with men. The International Federation of the Automobile (FIA), the global governing body for motor racing, has praised them as a “sign of progress” in this male-dominated sport. Far from a marketing gimmick, the Iron Dames have already qualified for big-name races, and are hoping to change the perception of women in the sport. Related: Women's pro soccer made gains toward parity. Will coronavirus undo it?“We fight, we want to win, we want to go for the podiums. ... And when you do that, and you get [to] those podiums, people they don't question anymore why you're there."Michelle Gatting, 27, Iron Dame pilot“We fight, we want to win, we want to go for the podiums,” said Gatting, referring to where winners stand to receive first, second or third place. “And when you do that, and you get [to] those podiums, people they don't question anymore why you're there,” she said.  Michelle Gatting sits behind the wheel of her race car.  Credit: Angelica Marin/The World  GT endurance racing is like marathon running — but for sports cars.  Teams of pilots speed around twisty circuits for hours at a time, while racking up an insane amount of laps — sometimes up to 2,000 miles, depending on the race. In 2019, the Iron Dames became the first ever, all-female lineup to begin and finish the legendary 24-hour of Le Mans —the mother of all endurance races. Teams of pilots take turns driving one car for a full day and a full night. They pause only for seconds at a time to switch tires or pilots.Last year they finished in the top 10 at Le Mans. This year, reaching the podium — in the top three — would be the ultimate game changer.“That would be fantastic, a dream come true,” said Deborah Mayer, Iron Dames’ founder and leader. Mayer, a French financier, entrepreneur and pilot, founded the Iron Dames in 2018 to promote women in motor sports. “And to give the possibility to talented women to show all their capacities and skills in a quite competitive environment,” said Mayer.   As a long-time Ferrari collector, Mayer caught the speed bug racing in Ferrari tournaments. Now, she is betting big to take the Iron Dames to the top. Motor sports is one of very few sports where the athlete’s sex doesn’t matter, said Mayer. At the end of the race, what separates a good pilot from the rest is strictly the lap time.“It’s not a question of strength…it’s skills, it's hard work…you have to improve and work on your technique. ... You have to have the right strategy, and, above all, you have to work as a team."Deborah Mayer, Iron Dames leader“It’s not a question of strength…it’s skills, it's hard work…you have to improve and work on your technique,” said Mayer. “You have to have the right strategy, and, above all, you have to work as a team,” she said.  Iron Dames pose for a portrait at Mugello.  Credit: Angelica Marin/The World  Mayer describes teamwork as “working at it, till the mayonnaise thickens.” Professional racing teams require million-dollar cars and a traveling crew of coaches, mechanics, engineers, and other staff working up to 24 hours at a time with the pilots. Together with Mayer and Gatting, Manuela Gostner from Italy, and Rahel Frey from Switzerland, make up the original Iron Dames team.   This year, British pilot Katherine Legge also joined the all-female line-up. Legge has done it all: NASCAR, Indy 500, Formula E and GT. She doesn’t come from a dynasty of racers — or from money. She had to fight her way into the racing circuits on her own.  “That’s why people like Deborah [Mayer] are so important, because when we get together we can do so much more,” said Legge.  Legge said one of the biggest challenges for women drivers can be getting sponsorship due to entrenched stereotypes about women in motor sports. “Sponsors — a lot of them don't want to see women get hurt, don't necessarily believe that women can win."Katherine Legge, Iron Dame pilot“Sponsors — a lot of them don't want to see women get hurt, don't necessarily believe that women can win,” said Legge. Legge broke both her legs last summer during a test drive in France. In just seven months she reached race-ready fitness. Now, she says, she has unfinished business. “I want to go out on a high and win championships and win races, and I want to do it as part of an all-female team,” said Legge.  “Because I think that the first all-female team that does that, will put a stamp on it, and then, you know, maybe I help other girls to become the next Iron Dames,” she said. This year, the Iron Dames have 30 races to make their mark and push for that change. When women reach the podium, sponsors take notice, and new opportunities open up for more fierce girls in the game.

The economic fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic has driven an unprecedented increase in hunger across the world, according to the United Nations’ assessment of humanitarian needs in 2021, released this week.It says the number of people across the globe at risk of hunger is up 82% from a year ago, to an astounding 270 million. A whopping 70% of them are women and girls.They are more likely to go without food so others in their families can eat. And, for them, hunger leads to other dangers: Girls are being forced into child marriages; women are resorting to transactional sex, and human trafficking is on the rise.“There has been a surge in kidnappings. A lot of young girls have gone missing. It’s heartbreaking and scary.”Ashlee Burnett, Feminitt“There has been a surge in kidnappings. A lot of young girls have gone missing,” said Ashlee Burnett, 23, an advocate and poet in Trinidad and Tobago. “It’s heartbreaking and scary.”Organizations like Burnett’s nonprofit, Feminitt, are stepping in to help women while the international humanitarian community struggles to raise funds to respond. Burnett’s six-person staff worked long hours without pay to create online resources that connect women facing abuse with help. Burnett said they may not be reaching huge numbers of women, but it's more than the government is doing.“They haven’t put things in place, like proper protective policies, even now, to protect women and children,” she said. “There’s a recovery committee that seeks to only focus only on the economy, but not understanding that we have to have these laws revamped, we have to take care of our most vulnerable.”Related: Marie Stopes International name change will ‘put a focus on the future’ of reproductive choice, CEO says‘They are not protected’Governments and humanitarian groups are not responding forcefully enough to COVID-19’s disproportionate impact on women and girls in part because they lack representation “at the decision-making table,” said Hilary Mathews at CARE, an international nonprofit focused on gender issues.Mathews said CARE reviewed 73 COVID-19 reports by UN agencies and the World Bank — and almost half of them failed to mention women’s and girls’ specific needs. CARE also looked at national committees set up by countries to respond to the fallout from COVID-19. They found that 74% of those committees had fewer than one-third women members, and only one group was “fully equal,” she said.Another bigger problem is money. The Norwegian Refugee Council just released a report that said international donors only provide a fourth of the funding necessary to protect marginalized people worldwide, even as gender-based violence spirals out of control.“Tens of million [sic] of the most vulnerable on this planet are under attack from men with guns and power and they are alone. They are not protected.”Jan Egeland, Norwegian Refugee CouncilThe council’s secretary-general, Jan Egeland, said at a Dec. 1 online meeting of global humanitarian groups, “Tens of million [sic] of the most vulnerable on this planet are under attack from men with guns and power and they are alone,” adding, “They are not protected.”At that same meeting, William Chemaly, who coordinates international humanitarian assistance, said that the most effective response would be to funnel resources to local organizations with the most access to people who need help, but the challenges are plenty.“Those who have the best possible access on the ground to deliver assistance have the worst access to resources,” he said. “We need to change that.”Related: At the UN review of US human rights, the Trump administration gets an earfulCommunities mobilizing Some local actors aren’t waiting for international help. In Queens, New York, 26-year-old Aatish Gurung heard from undocumented friends struggling to buy groceries, who couldn’t afford menstrual products.“What I thought was, ‘Someone has to do something about this,’” he said. “And my parents — they always tell me, ‘If you want something, go for it’ — like not to wait for someone else to do it for you.”So, he reached out to the global nonprofit Period; within two weeks, it sent him bulk packages of tampons and sanitary napkins. Gurung used his network as a long-time advocate, and with the help of volunteers, distributed the products to hundreds of Bhutanese, Nepali and Tibetan immigrants. “It was really amazing to see people coming together even during these hard times,” Gurung said.In Nepal, 27-year-old Rukumani Tripathi had just graduated as part of the Midwifery Society of Nepal’s first class of midwives when the lockdown hit. She and fellow graduates handed out their personal phone numbers to pregnant women who couldn’t go to the hospital.Eventually, donors helped establish a 24-hour toll-free number that provides free counseling for hundreds of Nepali women.“We never thought we could make this big impact in the society [sic] and we could help women even though we are at home.”Rukumani Tripathi, Midwifery Society of Nepal graduate“We never thought we could make this big impact in the society [sic] and we could help women even though we are at home,” Tripathi said.Related: Bars for queer and transgender women are disappearing worldwide. Will they survive the pandemic?And in Romania, 18-year-old Sofia Scarlat’s gender equality nonprofit, Girl Up Romania, saw a surge of messages from women and girls asking for help dealing with online revenge pornography.  “Everybody moved into the online world and all the violence that women and girls dealt with face to face moved online with us,” she said.Scarlat said there’s not much help from lawmakers in Romania to address online harassment, and police don’t pursue justice for victims. So, her team worked with journalists to uncover a network of thousands of people online sharing revenge pornography of Romanian women and girls. As a result, Scarlat said she became a target of harassment and threats.“It’s really remarkable and very saddening that around the world, so many young advocates are having to risk their safety in order to do the jobs of people who are literally being paid to carry out these tasks,” she said.Scarlat doesn’t regret her activism, though — she said when women and girls face hunger and violence and aren’t getting the help they need, it’s the community’s responsibility to do something about it.

The economic fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic has driven an unprecedented increase in hunger across the world, according to the United Nations' assessment of humanitarian needs in 2021, released this week.It says the number of people across the globe at risk of hunger is up 82% from a year ago, to an astounding 270 million. A whopping 70% of them are women and girls.They are more likely to go without food so others in their families can eat. And, for them, hunger leads to other dangers: Girls are being forced into child marriages; women are resorting to transactional sex, and human trafficking is on the rise.“There has been a surge in kidnappings. A lot of young girls have gone missing. It's heartbreaking and scary.”Ashlee Burnett, Feminitt“There has been a surge in kidnappings. A lot of young girls have gone missing,” said Ashlee Burnett, 23, an advocate and poet in Trinidad and Tobago. “It's heartbreaking and scary.”Organizations like Burnett's nonprofit, Feminitt, are stepping in to help women while the international humanitarian community struggles to raise funds to respond. Burnett's six-person staff worked long hours without pay to create online resources that connect women facing abuse with help. Burnett said they may not be reaching huge numbers of women, but it's more than the government is doing.“They haven't put things in place, like proper protective policies, even now, to protect women and children,” she said. “There's a recovery committee that seeks to only focus only on the economy, but not understanding that we have to have these laws revamped, we have to take care of our most vulnerable.”Related: Marie Stopes International name change will ‘put a focus on the future' of reproductive choice, CEO says‘They are not protected'Governments and humanitarian groups are not responding forcefully enough to COVID-19's disproportionate impact on women and girls in part because they lack representation “at the decision-making table,” said Hilary Mathews at CARE, an international nonprofit focused on gender issues.Mathews said CARE reviewed 73 COVID-19 reports by UN agencies and the World Bank — and almost half of them failed to mention women's and girls' specific needs. CARE also looked at national committees set up by countries to respond to the fallout from COVID-19. They found that 74% of those committees had fewer than one-third women members, and only one group was “fully equal,” she said.Another bigger problem is money. The Norwegian Refugee Council just released a report that said international donors only provide a fourth of the funding necessary to protect marginalized people worldwide, even as gender-based violence spirals out of control.“Tens of million [sic] of the most vulnerable on this planet are under attack from men with guns and power and they are alone. They are not protected.”Jan Egeland, Norwegian Refugee CouncilThe council's secretary-general, Jan Egeland, said at a Dec. 1 online meeting of global humanitarian groups, “Tens of million [sic] of the most vulnerable on this planet are under attack from men with guns and power and they are alone,” adding, “They are not protected.”At that same meeting, William Chemaly, who coordinates international humanitarian assistance, said that the most effective response would be to funnel resources to local organizations with the most access to people who need help, but the challenges are plenty.“Those who have the best possible access on the ground to deliver assistance have the worst access to resources,” he said. “We need to change that.”Related: At the UN review of US human rights, the Trump administration gets an earfulCommunities mobilizing Some local actors aren't waiting for international help. In Queens, New York, 26-year-old Aatish Gurung heard from undocumented friends struggling to buy groceries, who couldn't afford menstrual products.“What I thought was, ‘Someone has to do something about this,'” he said. “And my parents — they always tell me, ‘If you want something, go for it' — like not to wait for someone else to do it for you.”So, he reached out to the global nonprofit Period; within two weeks, it sent him bulk packages of tampons and sanitary napkins. Gurung used his network as a long-time advocate, and with the help of volunteers, distributed the products to hundreds of Bhutanese, Nepali and Tibetan immigrants. “It was really amazing to see people coming together even during these hard times,” Gurung said.In Nepal, 27-year-old Rukumani Tripathi had just graduated as part of the Midwifery Society of Nepal's first class of midwives when the lockdown hit. She and fellow graduates handed out their personal phone numbers to pregnant women who couldn't go to the hospital.Eventually, donors helped establish a 24-hour toll-free number that provides free counseling for hundreds of Nepali women.“We never thought we could make this big impact in the society [sic] and we could help women even though we are at home.”Rukumani Tripathi, Midwifery Society of Nepal graduate“We never thought we could make this big impact in the society [sic] and we could help women even though we are at home,” Tripathi said.Related: Bars for queer and transgender women are disappearing worldwide. Will they survive the pandemic?And in Romania, 18-year-old Sofia Scarlat's gender equality nonprofit, Girl Up Romania, saw a surge of messages from women and girls asking for help dealing with online revenge pornography.  “Everybody moved into the online world and all the violence that women and girls dealt with face to face moved online with us,” she said.Scarlat said there's not much help from lawmakers in Romania to address online harassment, and police don't pursue justice for victims. So, her team worked with journalists to uncover a network of thousands of people online sharing revenge pornography of Romanian women and girls. As a result, Scarlat said she became a target of harassment and threats.“It's really remarkable and very saddening that around the world, so many young advocates are having to risk their safety in order to do the jobs of people who are literally being paid to carry out these tasks,” she said.Scarlat doesn't regret her activism, though — she said when women and girls face hunger and violence and aren't getting the help they need, it's the community's responsibility to do something about it.

When Sevilay, a 38-year-old, stay-at-home mom in Istanbul, learned she was pregnant with a third child, she agonized over what to do.“I became very upset when I learned about my pregnancy. I wondered whether I could do it or not. I was already having a hard time with two kids. There was nobody that could help me.”Sevilay, a mother of two in Turkey who had an abortion“I became very upset when I learned about my pregnancy. I wondered whether I could do it or not. I was already having a hard time with two kids. There was nobody that could help me,” said Sevilay, who asked that her full name not be used for privacy reasons.After thinking about it, she made the tough decision to have an abortion, something she needed permission from her husband to do, as is required by law in Turkey. She thought that would be the hardest part.Related: In Turkey, a conservative push to remove domestic violence protections is met with an uproarThe greater challenge, though, was finding a hospital willing to perform an abortion. Private hospitals cost too much, up to $500. But public ones kept turning her away.Turkey is one of the few majority-Muslim countries where abortion is legal, but access to them is becoming increasingly limited under the conservative government. Abortion has been legal in the country since 1983 — and wealthy women from places such as Saudi Arabia and Iran, where the procedure is banned, often turn to Turkish clinics. But it's still deeply stigmatized in Turkey. In the last decade, the ruling conservative AK Party and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan have been chipping away at reproductive rights. Police have busted back-alley clinics for low-income women while many public hospitals have stopped providing abortions altogether.In 2012, the government tried to reduce the 10-week pregnancy limit to six weeks, but feminists fought back and won. Erdoğan publicly calls abortion a crime and says women should have at least three children.Sedef Erkmen, who authored a book on the subject, told Duvar, a Turkish news site, that the “anti-abortion practices that have been systematically implemented since 2012 turned into a de facto ban.”Related: Turkey passes ‘draconian' social media legislationPublic hospitals can simply refuse women access based on what the president says, not the law. So, low-income women — in many cases, Syrian refugees — turn to back-alley clinics that do the procedure illegally.Last year, news broke that police had raided a clinic fronting as a Syrian hair salon. Three people were arrested.Related: Expulsions, pushbacks and extraditions: Turkey's war on dissent extends to EuropeAn all-too-familiar story Sevilay reached out to Mor Cati, a women rights group, which helped her find a public hospital to do the abortion for free. But she says that even that hospital's staff tried to make her feel guilty, and threatened her.“They said, ‘If you come to this hospital for another abortion, we won't let you in,'” she said.She had an abortion at nine weeks, one week before it becomes illegal in Turkey. Sevilay says she felt broken by the emotional toll and harsh treatment. After the abortion, she felt awful.“I felt bad. I woke up crying. To be honest, sometimes my heart aches.”Sevilay, a mother of two in Turkey who had an abortion“I felt bad. I woke up crying. To be honest, sometimes my heart aches,” she said.Unfortunately, Sevilay's story is all too common in Turkey. That's something that Hazal Atay can attest to. She's an outreach coordinator at Women on Web, a Dutch-based platform that helps women get access to abortions in restrictive countries.Turkey banned Women on Web's website in 2016. But Turkish women still find ways to contact them. Many are faced with dire circumstances.Related: Turkey's president formally makes Haghia Sophia a mosqueLike one 22-year-old woman in Erzurum, whose letter Atay shared with The World, in English: “I'm sure this situation is difficult for everyone, but if my family learns about the pregnancy, they won't let me live. I know you help a lot of people, but you don't know where I live, and you don't know my family. You are my only hope," the woman said in the letter, adding, “Please get back to me as soon as possible. I cannot trust anyone except you. This is a conservative city. Even if I go to the hospital ... they will let my family know about it. Please help.” Two other letters sent to them from women in Istanbul reflect the same desperation. One woman says she doesn't have the money to get an abortion. Another has run away from a violent husband but needs his permission to abort her pregnancy.Sevilay says she is still criticized by some of her women friends for having an abortion. But she says she just wants what is best for her family: “I am trying to set higher standards for my children. I am trying to provide them a good life … I can give birth to five children and can raise them very well, but I can't provide them good opportunities.”

When Sevilay, a 38-year-old, stay-at-home mom in Istanbul, learned she was pregnant with a third child, she agonized over what to do.“I became very upset when I learned about my pregnancy. I wondered whether I could do it or not. I was already having a hard time with two kids. There was nobody that could help me.”Sevilay, a mother of two in Turkey who had an abortion“I became very upset when I learned about my pregnancy. I wondered whether I could do it or not. I was already having a hard time with two kids. There was nobody that could help me,” said Sevilay, who asked that her full name not be used for privacy reasons.After thinking about it, she made the tough decision to have an abortion, something she needed permission from her husband to do, as is required by law in Turkey. She thought that would be the hardest part.Related: In Turkey, a conservative push to remove domestic violence protections is met with an uproarThe greater challenge, though, was finding a hospital willing to perform an abortion. Private hospitals cost too much, up to $500. But public ones kept turning her away.Turkey is one of the few majority-Muslim countries where abortion is legal, but access to them is becoming increasingly limited under the conservative government. Abortion has been legal in the country since 1983 — and wealthy women from places such as Saudi Arabia and Iran, where the procedure is banned, often turn to Turkish clinics. But it’s still deeply stigmatized in Turkey. In the last decade, the ruling conservative AK Party and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan have been chipping away at reproductive rights. Police have busted back-alley clinics for low-income women while many public hospitals have stopped providing abortions altogether.In 2012, the government tried to reduce the 10-week pregnancy limit to six weeks, but feminists fought back and won. Erdoğan publicly calls abortion a crime and says women should have at least three children.Sedef Erkmen, who authored a book on the subject, told Duvar, a Turkish news site, that the “anti-abortion practices that have been systematically implemented since 2012 turned into a de facto ban.”Related: Turkey passes ‘draconian’ social media legislationPublic hospitals can simply refuse women access based on what the president says, not the law. So, low-income women — in many cases, Syrian refugees — turn to back-alley clinics that do the procedure illegally.Last year, news broke that police had raided a clinic fronting as a Syrian hair salon. Three people were arrested.Related: Expulsions, pushbacks and extraditions: Turkey’s war on dissent extends to EuropeAn all-too-familiar story Sevilay reached out to Mor Cati, a women rights group, which helped her find a public hospital to do the abortion for free. But she says that even that hospital’s staff tried to make her feel guilty, and threatened her.“They said, ‘If you come to this hospital for another abortion, we won’t let you in,’” she said.She had an abortion at nine weeks, one week before it becomes illegal in Turkey. Sevilay says she felt broken by the emotional toll and harsh treatment. After the abortion, she felt awful.“I felt bad. I woke up crying. To be honest, sometimes my heart aches.”Sevilay, a mother of two in Turkey who had an abortion“I felt bad. I woke up crying. To be honest, sometimes my heart aches,” she said.Unfortunately, Sevilay’s story is all too common in Turkey. That’s something that Hazal Atay can attest to. She’s an outreach coordinator at Women on Web, a Dutch-based platform that helps women get access to abortions in restrictive countries.Turkey banned Women on Web's website in 2016. But Turkish women still find ways to contact them. Many are faced with dire circumstances.Related: Turkey's president formally makes Haghia Sophia a mosqueLike one 22-year-old woman in Erzurum, whose letter Atay shared with The World, in English: “I’m sure this situation is difficult for everyone, but if my family learns about the pregnancy, they won’t let me live. I know you help a lot of people, but you don’t know where I live, and you don’t know my family. You are my only hope," the woman said in the letter, adding, “Please get back to me as soon as possible. I cannot trust anyone except you. This is a conservative city. Even if I go to the hospital ... they will let my family know about it. Please help.” Two other letters sent to them from women in Istanbul reflect the same desperation. One woman says she doesn’t have the money to get an abortion. Another has run away from a violent husband but needs his permission to abort her pregnancy.Sevilay says she is still criticized by some of her women friends for having an abortion. But she says she just wants what is best for her family: “I am trying to set higher standards for my children. I am trying to provide them a good life … I can give birth to five children and can raise them very well, but I can’t provide them good opportunities.”

After almost two decades of war, representatives from the Afghan government are meeting with Taliban leaders in Doha, Qatar, to discuss a peace agreement.Four of the 42 negotiators are women — all on the Afghan government team — and they are looking to stand up for their hard-won rights.Related: Afghan peace talks set to start despite escalating attacksThe Taliban ruled Afghanistan in the 1990s. They instilled a sense of fear among many women. They banned them from leaving their homes without a male chaperone, restricted their education and forced them to wear burqas — the loose-fitting outfit that covers their bodies from head to toe.The US invasion in 2001 toppled the Taliban and in the years since there has been major progress in women's rights. Now, with the possibility of another Taliban power grab, many worry about losing those rights.Habiba Sarabi, speaking from Doha, said she was not nervous about the meetings, but that she came to the Qatari capital with a big task.“It's not easy work. We feel a kind of heavy responsibility on our shoulders.”Habiba Sarabi, Afghan negotiator in the peace talks with Taliban leaders“It's not easy work,” she said. “We feel a kind of heavy responsibility on our shoulders.”Related: Hundreds of prisoners missing after Afghanistan prison attackShe said back home, women are counting on her and her colleagues to safeguard what they achieved in the past two decades.Today, women in Afghanistan can hold public office. Sarabi herself is an example of that. She was the first woman to be elected governor. She also served as the minister of women's affairs and education.Last week, the two sides appointed two “working groups,” which each have five members. They met to discuss procedural matters such as how to conduct meetings and what rules to follow. Ten days later, they are yet to reach a consensus on that.“I thought the procedural matters would only take a few hours,” said Sharifa Zurmati Wardak, another representative participating in the negotiations.Zurmati is not part of the working groups, but she said complications often arise when the negotiators bring back ideas to their teams.“Sometimes, they don't agree to the points that were brought up and they have to go back with new suggestions,” she said.The slow progress shows just how complicated the negotiations are. Years of war have left the two sides weary and skeptical of one another.Related: A newborn survived an attack at a hospital in Afghanistan. Now the long road to recovery begins.Meanwhile, back in Afghanistan, the violence continues. Just as the talks were getting underway in Doha, a local official in Zurmati's province was shot dead.According to Paktia's media office, Ayub Gharwal was attacked and killed by gunmen on Sept. 19.Zurmati got the news in Doha.“There is no question: We want an immediate ceasefire. People of Afghanistan are tired of the bloodshed. It's time to stop the killing.”Sharifa Zurmati Wardak, Afghan negotiator in the peace talks with Taliban leaders“There is no question: We want an immediate ceasefire,” she said. “People of Afghanistan are tired of the bloodshed. It's time to stop the killing.”A ceasefire is one of the main sticking points. Taliban representatives have said they are not ready yet to agree to an immediate and permanent ceasefire.Zurmati has been answering messages from people back in Afghanistan nonstop. They want to know how the process is shaping up.“Every day, we ask when are we going to start talking about the real issues?” she said. “People of Afghanistan have been at war for 40 years. It's hard, but we have to be patient.”

After almost two decades of war, representatives from the Afghan government are meeting with Taliban leaders in Doha, Qatar, to discuss a peace agreement.Four of the 42 negotiators are women — all on the Afghan government team — and they are looking to stand up for their hard-won rights.Related: Afghan peace talks set to start despite escalating attacksThe Taliban ruled Afghanistan in the 1990s. They instilled a sense of fear among many women. They banned them from leaving their homes without a male chaperone, restricted their education and forced them to wear burqas — the loose-fitting outfit that covers their bodies from head to toe.The US invasion in 2001 toppled the Taliban and in the years since there has been major progress in women’s rights. Now, with the possibility of another Taliban power grab, many worry about losing those rights.Habiba Sarabi, speaking from Doha, said she was not nervous about the meetings, but that she came to the Qatari capital with a big task.“It’s not easy work. We feel a kind of heavy responsibility on our shoulders.”Habiba Sarabi, Afghan negotiator in the peace talks with Taliban leaders“It’s not easy work,” she said. “We feel a kind of heavy responsibility on our shoulders.”Related: Hundreds of prisoners missing after Afghanistan prison attackShe said back home, women are counting on her and her colleagues to safeguard what they achieved in the past two decades.Today, women in Afghanistan can hold public office. Sarabi herself is an example of that. She was the first woman to be elected governor. She also served as the minister of women’s affairs and education.Last week, the two sides appointed two “working groups,” which each have five members. They met to discuss procedural matters such as how to conduct meetings and what rules to follow. Ten days later, they are yet to reach a consensus on that.“I thought the procedural matters would only take a few hours,” said Sharifa Zurmati Wardak, another representative participating in the negotiations.Zurmati is not part of the working groups, but she said complications often arise when the negotiators bring back ideas to their teams.“Sometimes, they don’t agree to the points that were brought up and they have to go back with new suggestions,” she said.The slow progress shows just how complicated the negotiations are. Years of war have left the two sides weary and skeptical of one another.Related: A newborn survived an attack at a hospital in Afghanistan. Now the long road to recovery begins.Meanwhile, back in Afghanistan, the violence continues. Just as the talks were getting underway in Doha, a local official in Zurmati’s province was shot dead.According to Paktia’s media office, Ayub Gharwal was attacked and killed by gunmen on Sept. 19.Zurmati got the news in Doha.“There is no question: We want an immediate ceasefire. People of Afghanistan are tired of the bloodshed. It’s time to stop the killing.”Sharifa Zurmati Wardak, Afghan negotiator in the peace talks with Taliban leaders“There is no question: We want an immediate ceasefire,” she said. “People of Afghanistan are tired of the bloodshed. It’s time to stop the killing.”A ceasefire is one of the main sticking points. Taliban representatives have said they are not ready yet to agree to an immediate and permanent ceasefire.Zurmati has been answering messages from people back in Afghanistan nonstop. They want to know how the process is shaping up.“Every day, we ask when are we going to start talking about the real issues?” she said. “People of Afghanistan have been at war for 40 years. It’s hard, but we have to be patient.”

Since the death of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Friday, there has been an outpouring of recognition for her work fighting for justice in many corners of American society.Lesser known is how a period of her life spent outside the United States influenced her views on equality for women.In the early 1960s, Ginsburg traveled to Sweden and learned Swedish to work on a project with a Swedish legal scholar, Anders Bruzelius, on the rules of civil procedure in Europe. Karin Maria Bruzelius is a former justice on the Supreme Court of Norway and is now at the Scandinavian Institute for Maritime Law at the University of Oslo. She's also the daughter of Anders Bruzelius. She spoke to The World's host Marco Werman about Ginsburg's legacy and what she learned in Sweden.Related: Ginsburg's impact on women spanned age groups, backgroundsMarco Werman: Judge Bruzelius, I'd like to start with your reaction to the news of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death. What have you been feeling?Karin Maria Bruzelius: I've been feeling a lot of sadness. I had great admiration for her, and she's played a very important part in my family's life.In the early 1960s, Ruth Bader Ginsburg traveled to Sweden to work on a research project with your father, Anders Bruzelius. Explain what that project was about. What were they researching?At Columbia University, they had undertaken to present the rules on civil procedure in several European countries, and Ruth and my father were asked to undertake the Swedish part of the project. ... They started the project in 1961, and they corresponded for a year while Ruth was learning Swedish in New York. They were exchanging views and opinions, and then she came with her daughter Jane...to Lund, in Sweden, where my family lived, and she stayed there for several months that year.Do you have memories of her from that time?My memory is of a person who was very serious, who was very eager to do the work, and who was very interested in the way we, in Sweden, arranged the way that women could work.Interestingly, Ruth Bader Ginsburg spoke some years later and said her “eyes were opened up in Sweden.” For the first time, she saw law school classes where a quarter of the students were women. So, coming from the US, just how surprising would that have been, do you think, to a young Ruth Bader Ginsburg?It was very surprising. I mean, if you look at her background and her experiences from Harvard and Columbia, women were a minority — and it was a fighting minority. I was studying law in Sweden at that time, and there were not very many equality questions involved in studying law. Also, the society was to a very different degree arranged so that women could marry and continue their studies — all these [things] that Ruth had had to fight for. And also to have children. There were kindergartens or childcare centers where the kids were taken care of. Ruth put her child in one of those during her stay in Lund, and she was very, very pleased with the facilities that were offered.What other things around the climate around gender politics at that time in Sweden do you think influenced Ruth Bader Ginsburg's thinking?I think the state, to a very large extent, engaged itself in facilitating that women were treated equally in many more aspects than there were in the United States. And talks with my mother, who was a feminist, a very early feminist, and talks in Stockholm, with a Swedish author who was called Eva Moberg, who wrote about the gender issues at that time, also gave her a lot of food for thought.Related: Women's rights are not explicitly recognized in USDid Ginsburg have an influence on your own career in the law? I studied law in New York in 1968, '69. I was more mature by that time and we discussed more of the issues of women's rights, and she got me to write an article on the situation in Norway a couple of years later. Of course, her seriousness and her belief in law as a possible tool to obtain goals were transmitted to me, too. So, yes she did have an impact.  This image provided by the Supreme Court shows Ruth Bader Ginsburg types while on a Rockefeller Foundation fellowship in Italy in 1977. Credit: Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States This interview was edited and condensed for clarity. 

Since the death of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Friday, there has been an outpouring of recognition for her work fighting for justice in many corners of American society.Lesser known is how a period of her life spent outside the United States influenced her views on equality for women.In the early 1960s, Ginsburg traveled to Sweden and learned Swedish to work on a project with a Swedish legal scholar, Anders Bruzelius, on the rules of civil procedure in Europe. Karin Maria Bruzelius is a former justice on the Supreme Court of Norway and is now at the Scandinavian Institute for Maritime Law at the University of Oslo. She’s also the daughter of Anders Bruzelius. She spoke to The World's host Marco Werman about Ginsburg's legacy and what she learned in Sweden.Related: Ginsburg's impact on women spanned age groups, backgroundsMarco Werman: Judge Bruzelius, I’d like to start with your reaction to the news of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death. What have you been feeling?Karin Maria Bruzelius: I’ve been feeling a lot of sadness. I had great admiration for her, and she’s played a very important part in my family's life.In the early 1960s, Ruth Bader Ginsburg traveled to Sweden to work on a research project with your father, Anders Bruzelius. Explain what that project was about. What were they researching?At Columbia University, they had undertaken to present the rules on civil procedure in several European countries, and Ruth and my father were asked to undertake the Swedish part of the project. ... They started the project in 1961, and they corresponded for a year while Ruth was learning Swedish in New York. They were exchanging views and opinions, and then she came with her daughter Jane...to Lund, in Sweden, where my family lived, and she stayed there for several months that year.Do you have memories of her from that time?My memory is of a person who was very serious, who was very eager to do the work, and who was very interested in the way we, in Sweden, arranged the way that women could work.Interestingly, Ruth Bader Ginsburg spoke some years later and said her “eyes were opened up in Sweden.” For the first time, she saw law school classes where a quarter of the students were women. So, coming from the US, just how surprising would that have been, do you think, to a young Ruth Bader Ginsburg?It was very surprising. I mean, if you look at her background and her experiences from Harvard and Columbia, women were a minority — and it was a fighting minority. I was studying law in Sweden at that time, and there were not very many equality questions involved in studying law. Also, the society was to a very different degree arranged so that women could marry and continue their studies — all these [things] that Ruth had had to fight for. And also to have children. There were kindergartens or childcare centers where the kids were taken care of. Ruth put her child in one of those during her stay in Lund, and she was very, very pleased with the facilities that were offered.What other things around the climate around gender politics at that time in Sweden do you think influenced Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s thinking?I think the state, to a very large extent, engaged itself in facilitating that women were treated equally in many more aspects than there were in the United States. And talks with my mother, who was a feminist, a very early feminist, and talks in Stockholm, with a Swedish author who was called Eva Moberg, who wrote about the gender issues at that time, also gave her a lot of food for thought.Related: Women's rights are not explicitly recognized in USDid Ginsburg have an influence on your own career in the law? I studied law in New York in 1968, '69. I was more mature by that time and we discussed more of the issues of women’s rights, and she got me to write an article on the situation in Norway a couple of years later. Of course, her seriousness and her belief in law as a possible tool to obtain goals were transmitted to me, too. So, yes she did have an impact.  This image provided by the Supreme Court shows Ruth Bader Ginsburg types while on a Rockefeller Foundation fellowship in Italy in 1977. Credit: Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States This interview was edited and condensed for clarity. 

Looking at Haneen Hossam's TikTok account, one might wonder why her content landed the Egyptian social media user in jail. In one post, she explains for her followers the Greek mythological story of Venus and Adonis, which is also a Shakespeare poem.Mawada al-Adham does similarly anodyne things that are familiar to anyone who observes such social influencers, like giving away iPhones and driving a fancy car.They are just two of the nine women arrested in Egypt this past year for what they posted on TikTok. Mostly, their videos are full of dancing to Arabic songs, usually a genre of electro-pop, Egyptian sha'abi folk music called mahraganat, or festival tunes. The clips feature a typically TikTok style — with feet planted, hands gesticulating and eyebrows emoting.Meanwhile, the Trump administration has put TikTok and its Chinese parent company, ByteDance, in its sights with another escalation against Beijing. The US Commerce Department announced Friday that TikTok, and another Chinese-owned app, WeChat, would be blocked from US app stores.In Egypt, the arrests are about dictating morality rather than any kind of geopolitical struggle or international tech rivalry. But what exactly the government finds legally objectionable about these women's online content is ambiguous. “They themselves would have never imagined that they would go to jail and be sentenced for what they were doing, because what they're doing is basically what everyone else does on social media.”Salma El Hosseiny, International Service for Human Rights“They themselves would have never imagined that they would go to jail and be sentenced for what they were doing because what they're doing is basically what everyone else does on social media,” said Salma El Hosseiny of the International Service for Human Rights, a nongovernmental organization based in Geneva. “Singing and dancing as if you would at an Egyptian wedding, for example.”Hosseiny said that these women were likely targeted because they're from middle- or working-class backgrounds and dance to a style of music shunned by the bourgeoisie for scandalous lyrics that touch on taboo topics. “You have social media influencers who come from elite backgrounds, or upper-middle class, or rich classes in Egypt, who would post the same type of content. These women are working-class women,” she added. “They have stepped out of what is permitted for them.”Criminalizing the internetThey were charged under a cybercrime law passed in 2018, as well as existing laws in the Egyptian Penal Code that have been employed against women in the past.Yasmin Omar, a researcher at The Tahrir Institute for Middle East Policy in Washington, said the cybercrime law is vague when it comes to defining what's legal and what isn't.“It was written using very broad terms that could be very widely interpreted and criminalizing a lot of acts that are originally considered as personal freedom,” she said. “Looking at it, you would see that anything you might post on social media, anything that you may use [on] the internet could be criminalized under this very wide umbrella.”Egypt's cybercrime law is part of a larger effort by the government to increase surveillance of online activities. As TikTok became much more popular during the pandemic, prosecutors started looking there too, Omar said.“When I write anything on my social media accounts, I know that it could be seen by an official whose job it is to watch the internet and media platforms,” said Omar, who added that that surveillance often leads to widespread repression.“The state is simply arresting whoever says anything that criticizes its policy, its laws, its practices ... even if it's just joking. It's not even allowed.”Related: One woman's story highlights national wave of repression and sexual violenceThe arrests of TikTokers shows that this law isn't just about monitoring and controlling political dissent, but is used to police conservative social norms.Menna Abdel Aziz, 17, made a live video on Facebook. Her face was bruised and she told viewers that she had been raped and was asking for help.The police asked her to come in, and when she did, Omar said, they looked at her TikTok account and decided she was inciting debauchery and harming family values in Egypt — essentially blaming the victim for what had occurred.This past summer, there were a number of particularly shocking allegations involving rape and sexual assault in Egypt. First, dozens of women accused a young man at the American University in Cairo (AUC) of sexual violence ranging from blackmail to rape. And in another case, a group of well-connected men were accused of gang-raping a young woman in Cairo's Fairmont Hotel in 2014 and circulating a video of the act.The cases garnered a lot of attention within Egypt. Many Egyptian women were shocked by the horrible details of the cases but not surprised about the allegations or that the details had been kept under wraps for so long. “In Egypt, sexual violence and violence against women is systematic,” Hosseiny said. “It's part of the daily life of women to be sexually harassed.”‘To go after women'A UN Women report in 2014 said that 99.3% of Egyptian women reported being victims of sexual harassment. Yet, women are often culturally discouraged from reporting sexual harassment in the traditional society. “They are investing state resources to go after women who are singing and dancing on social media, and trying to control their bodies, and thinking that this is what's going to make society better and a safer place,” Hosseiny said, “by locking up women, rather than by changing and investing in making Egypt a safe place for women and girls.”When prosecutors started investigating the accused in that high-profile Fairmont case, it looked like real progress and a victory for online campaigning by women. The state-run National Council for Women even encouraged the victim and witnesses to come forward, promising the women protection. But that pledge by the state did not materialize. “Somehow, the prosecution decided to charge the witnesses,” said Omar, the researcher. “Witnesses who made themselves available, made their information about their lives, about what they know about the case — all this information was used against them.”“Witnesses who made themselves available, made their information about their lives, about what they know about the case — all this information was used against them.”Yasmin Omar, Tahrir Institute for Middle East PolicyOnce again, Egyptian authorities looked at the women's social media accounts, and then investigated the women for promoting homosexuality, drug use, debauchery and publication of false news. One of the witnesses arrested is an American citizen. When pro-state media outlets weighed in on the TikTok cases, they also had a message about blame, Hosseiny said. The coverage used sensational headlines and showed photos of the women framed in a sexual way. This contrasted with the depictions in rape cases in which the accused men's photos were blurred and only their initials printed. Social media has played an important role in Egyptian politics during the last decade. In 2011, crowds toppled the regime of military dictator Hosni Mubarak. That uprising was in part organized online with Twitter and Facebook. In 2018, the former army general, and current president, Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, said he would maintain stability in Egypt. “Beware! What happened seven years ago is never going to happen again in Egypt,” he swore to a large auditorium full of officials.Related: Five years of Sisi's crackdown has left 'no form of opposition' in EgyptSamer Shehata, a professor at the University of Oklahoma, said Egypt's military-backed regime is wary of the implications of anything posted online, even if it's just dancing.“I think there has been a heightened paranoia as a result of hysteria ... about the possible political consequences of social media,” he said. “I think that they certainly have those kinds of concerns in the back of their minds as well.”Of the nine women charged with TikTok crimes, four have been convicted and three have appeals set for October.Menna Abdel Aziz, the young woman who called for help online, was just released from detainment Wednesday and is being dismissed with no charges.

Looking at Haneen Hossam’s TikTok account, one might wonder why her content landed the Egyptian social media user in jail. In one post, she explains for her followers the Greek mythological story of Venus and Adonis, which is also a Shakespeare poem.Mawada al-Adham does similarly anodyne things that are familiar to anyone who observes such social influencers, like giving away iPhones and driving a fancy car.They are just two of the nine women arrested in Egypt this past year for what they posted on TikTok. Mostly, their videos are full of dancing to Arabic songs, usually a genre of electro-pop, Egyptian sha’abi folk music called mahraganat, or festival tunes. The clips feature a typically TikTok style — with feet planted, hands gesticulating and eyebrows emoting.Meanwhile, the Trump administration has put TikTok and its Chinese parent company, ByteDance, in its sights with another escalation against Beijing. The US Commerce Department announced Friday that TikTok, and another Chinese-owned app, WeChat, would be blocked from US app stores.In Egypt, the arrests are about dictating morality rather than any kind of geopolitical struggle or international tech rivalry. But what exactly the government finds legally objectionable about these women’s online content is ambiguous. “They themselves would have never imagined that they would go to jail and be sentenced for what they were doing, because what they're doing is basically what everyone else does on social media.”Salma El Hosseiny, International Service for Human Rights“They themselves would have never imagined that they would go to jail and be sentenced for what they were doing because what they're doing is basically what everyone else does on social media,” said Salma El Hosseiny of the International Service for Human Rights, a nongovernmental organization based in Geneva. “Singing and dancing as if you would at an Egyptian wedding, for example.”Hosseiny said that these women were likely targeted because they’re from middle- or working-class backgrounds and dance to a style of music shunned by the bourgeoisie for scandalous lyrics that touch on taboo topics. “You have social media influencers who come from elite backgrounds, or upper-middle class, or rich classes in Egypt, who would post the same type of content. These women are working-class women,” she added. “They have stepped out of what is permitted for them.”Criminalizing the internetThey were charged under a cybercrime law passed in 2018, as well as existing laws in the Egyptian Penal Code that have been employed against women in the past.Yasmin Omar, a researcher at The Tahrir Institute for Middle East Policy in Washington, said the cybercrime law is vague when it comes to defining what’s legal and what isn’t.“It was written using very broad terms that could be very widely interpreted and criminalizing a lot of acts that are originally considered as personal freedom,” she said. “Looking at it, you would see that anything you might post on social media, anything that you may use [on] the internet could be criminalized under this very wide umbrella.”Egypt’s cybercrime law is part of a larger effort by the government to increase surveillance of online activities. As TikTok became much more popular during the pandemic, prosecutors started looking there too, Omar said.“When I write anything on my social media accounts, I know that it could be seen by an official whose job it is to watch the internet and media platforms,” said Omar, who added that that surveillance often leads to widespread repression.“The state is simply arresting whoever says anything that criticizes its policy, its laws, its practices ... even if it's just joking. It's not even allowed.”Related: One woman's story highlights national wave of repression and sexual violenceThe arrests of TikTokers shows that this law isn’t just about monitoring and controlling political dissent, but is used to police conservative social norms.Menna Abdel Aziz, 17, made a live video on Facebook. Her face was bruised and she told viewers that she had been raped and was asking for help.The police asked her to come in, and when she did, Omar said, they looked at her TikTok account and decided she was inciting debauchery and harming family values in Egypt — essentially blaming the victim for what had occurred.This past summer, there were a number of particularly shocking allegations involving rape and sexual assault in Egypt. First, dozens of women accused a young man at the American University in Cairo (AUC) of sexual violence ranging from blackmail to rape. And in another case, a group of well-connected men were accused of gang-raping a young woman in Cairo’s Fairmont Hotel in 2014 and circulating a video of the act.The cases garnered a lot of attention within Egypt. Many Egyptian women were shocked by the horrible details of the cases but not surprised about the allegations or that the details had been kept under wraps for so long. “In Egypt, sexual violence and violence against women is systematic,” Hosseiny said. “It's part of the daily life of women to be sexually harassed.”‘To go after women’A UN Women report in 2014 said that 99.3% of Egyptian women reported being victims of sexual harassment. Yet, women are often culturally discouraged from reporting sexual harassment in the traditional society. “They are investing state resources to go after women who are singing and dancing on social media, and trying to control their bodies, and thinking that this is what's going to make society better and a safer place,” Hosseiny said, “by locking up women, rather than by changing and investing in making Egypt a safe place for women and girls.”When prosecutors started investigating the accused in that high-profile Fairmont case, it looked like real progress and a victory for online campaigning by women. The state-run National Council for Women even encouraged the victim and witnesses to come forward, promising the women protection. But that pledge by the state did not materialize. “Somehow, the prosecution decided to charge the witnesses,” said Omar, the researcher. “Witnesses who made themselves available, made their information about their lives, about what they know about the case — all this information was used against them.”“Witnesses who made themselves available, made their information about their lives, about what they know about the case — all this information was used against them.”Yasmin Omar, Tahrir Institute for Middle East PolicyOnce again, Egyptian authorities looked at the women’s social media accounts, and then investigated the women for promoting homosexuality, drug use, debauchery and publication of false news. One of the witnesses arrested is an American citizen. When pro-state media outlets weighed in on the TikTok cases, they also had a message about blame, Hosseiny said. The coverage used sensational headlines and showed photos of the women framed in a sexual way. This contrasted with the depictions in rape cases in which the accused men’s photos were blurred and only their initials printed. Social media has played an important role in Egyptian politics during the last decade. In 2011, crowds toppled the regime of military dictator Hosni Mubarak. That uprising was in part organized online with Twitter and Facebook. In 2018, the former army general, and current president, Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, said he would maintain stability in Egypt. “Beware! What happened seven years ago is never going to happen again in Egypt,” he swore to a large auditorium full of officials.Related: Five years of Sisi's crackdown has left 'no form of opposition' in EgyptSamer Shehata, a professor at the University of Oklahoma, said Egypt’s military-backed regime is wary of the implications of anything posted online, even if it's just dancing.“I think there has been a heightened paranoia as a result of hysteria ... about the possible political consequences of social media,” he said. “I think that they certainly have those kinds of concerns in the back of their minds as well.”Of the nine women charged with TikTok crimes, four have been convicted and three have appeals set for October.Menna Abdel Aziz, the young woman who called for help online, was just released from detainment Wednesday and is being dismissed with no charges.

George Floyd's killing this past spring has sparked battles throughout the country, particularly around places and things that evoke historical injustices and inequalities, like statues of Confederate leaders. But there are also clashes throughout North America around an often-used word that many don't know is a racial slur: “squaw.”That's beginning to change now as places like Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows in California's Sierra mountains are taking action to stop using the term. “We're probably the most well-known place with that name,” said Ron Cohen, CEO of Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows. The resort was named by the first white settlers who stumbled into the valley; they met a group of Native American women the settlers called squaws, and so they named it Squaw Valley. The consensus among Indigenous people today is that the term is a sexual slur that demeans and dehumanizes Indigenous women.  Related: Video of police beating Indigenous chief fuels ongoing anti-racism protests in CanadaRoughly a hundred years later, the world gathered in the same spot for the 1960 Winter Olympics. Squaw Valley was transformed into an elegant ski resort that, afterward, attracted generations of families.“Our guests — their grandparents skied here, their grandparents took their parents to learn to ski here when they were little kids,” Cohen said. “Those parents grew up and brought their kids here to learn to ski.”Some people are attached to the resort's name because it's connected to so many family memories, Cohen said. But after Floyd's murder, he said he couldn't ignore the emails he received from people offended by the name. And Cohen said that's what led to a decision announced last month to change the resort's name.“I think it's entirely understandable that our announcement would kick off discussions elsewhere,” he said.The resort's work to determine a new name began right away, and it will be implemented in 2021.More often than not, it's Indigenous women leading the fight to rid the word squaw from public places.Related: Toronto's first black police chief resignsOne of them is Jude Daniels, from Alberta, Canada, who is Métis. She lives at the base of a mountain peak that white explorers named Squaw's Tit.“So, I saw that peak every single day for the last 15 years,” she said. “And even though I have with one exception been treated with respect, I know that odiously named peak is part of the systemic discrimination that is one of the root causes of the huge rates of violence against Indigenous women across Canada.”Last year, a Canadian government report found that failures by law enforcement have led to systemic violence against Indigenous women and girls. They are three to five times more likely than other women to be victims of violence. Daniels first learned the harm of the word squaw when she was a child in school.“Kids would say things to me, like ‘dirty squaw,' “dirty Indian,”” she remembered.In 2000, Canada's British Columbia province eliminated the use of the word squaw from all its place names after receiving requests from local Indigenous leaders. But that's not the case in neighboring Alberta.“So it happened right next door,” Daniels said. “And here we are in Alberta, and we still have to place names with the word squaw in it.”Related: Indigenous groups in Canada fight to stay closed as restrictions easeDaniels has waged a yearslong campaign to change the name of the mountain peak with the help of pro bono attorneys. Their fight got a sudden boost this summer after Floyd's death. Daniels said now the local community is overwhelmingly supportive of getting rid of the name. It's just a matter of choosing another one.Other communities have put up more resistance, as Mandy Steele found. She's a borough council member in Fox Chapel, an affluent suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She learned what squaw meant this summer at a Black Lives Matter rally in a park.“The park happened to be called Squaw Valley Park,” Steele said. “And at that rally, a Native American woman spoke.”The woman, Michele Leonard, talked about what the word squaw means, and why it should be changed. She turned out to be one of Steele's constituents, who happens to live on a street called Squaw Run Road. Steele put forward a motion to eliminate all the uses of squaw in names there.“And the council instead decided to put the task of determining whether or not the word is a slur to a committee of residents, in a community that's largely white and privileged,” Steele said.At that council meeting, on Zoom, Leonard had three minutes to comment.Related: Canadian activists say they're being targeted by China“I don't think you understand how painful it has been to hear you speak,” Leonard said, reminding council members that she has lived on Squaw Run Road for 30 years. “I am the Native American woman who has to send out greeting cards with a return address with that horrible word. … I had to get a post office box so I would not use that address for some of the Indian member organizations I belong to.”Leonard is on the committee that will decide whether the word warrants being removed. She said she'll argue that while the early white settlers might not have not known they were using a slur, people should recognize that now, and take action.

George Floyd’s killing this past spring has sparked battles throughout the country, particularly around places and things that evoke historical injustices and inequalities, like statues of Confederate leaders. But there are also clashes throughout North America around an often-used word that many don’t know is a racial slur: “squaw.”That’s beginning to change now as places like Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows in California's Sierra mountains are taking action to stop using the term. “We’re probably the most well-known place with that name,” said Ron Cohen, CEO of Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows. The resort was named by the first white settlers who stumbled into the valley; they met a group of Native American women the settlers called squaws, and so they named it Squaw Valley. The consensus among Indigenous people today is that the term is a sexual slur that demeans and dehumanizes Indigenous women.  Related: Video of police beating Indigenous chief fuels ongoing anti-racism protests in CanadaRoughly a hundred years later, the world gathered in the same spot for the 1960 Winter Olympics. Squaw Valley was transformed into an elegant ski resort that, afterward, attracted generations of families.“Our guests — their grandparents skied here, their grandparents took their parents to learn to ski here when they were little kids,” Cohen said. “Those parents grew up and brought their kids here to learn to ski.”Some people are attached to the resort’s name because it’s connected to so many family memories, Cohen said. But after Floyd’s murder, he said he couldn’t ignore the emails he received from people offended by the name. And Cohen said that’s what led to a decision announced last month to change the resort’s name.“I think it’s entirely understandable that our announcement would kick off discussions elsewhere,” he said.The resort’s work to determine a new name began right away, and it will be implemented in 2021.More often than not, it’s Indigenous women leading the fight to rid the word squaw from public places.Related: Toronto's first black police chief resignsOne of them is Jude Daniels, from Alberta, Canada, who is Métis. She lives at the base of a mountain peak that white explorers named Squaw’s Tit.“So, I saw that peak every single day for the last 15 years,” she said. “And even though I have with one exception been treated with respect, I know that odiously named peak is part of the systemic discrimination that is one of the root causes of the huge rates of violence against Indigenous women across Canada.”Last year, a Canadian government report found that failures by law enforcement have led to systemic violence against Indigenous women and girls. They are three to five times more likely than other women to be victims of violence. Daniels first learned the harm of the word squaw when she was a child in school.“Kids would say things to me, like ‘dirty squaw,’ “dirty Indian,”” she remembered.In 2000, Canada’s British Columbia province eliminated the use of the word squaw from all its place names after receiving requests from local Indigenous leaders. But that’s not the case in neighboring Alberta.“So it happened right next door,” Daniels said. “And here we are in Alberta, and we still have to place names with the word squaw in it.”Related: Indigenous groups in Canada fight to stay closed as restrictions easeDaniels has waged a yearslong campaign to change the name of the mountain peak with the help of pro bono attorneys. Their fight got a sudden boost this summer after Floyd’s death. Daniels said now the local community is overwhelmingly supportive of getting rid of the name. It’s just a matter of choosing another one.Other communities have put up more resistance, as Mandy Steele found. She’s a borough council member in Fox Chapel, an affluent suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She learned what squaw meant this summer at a Black Lives Matter rally in a park.“The park happened to be called Squaw Valley Park,” Steele said. “And at that rally, a Native American woman spoke.”The woman, Michele Leonard, talked about what the word squaw means, and why it should be changed. She turned out to be one of Steele’s constituents, who happens to live on a street called Squaw Run Road. Steele put forward a motion to eliminate all the uses of squaw in names there.“And the council instead decided to put the task of determining whether or not the word is a slur to a committee of residents, in a community that's largely white and privileged,” Steele said.At that council meeting, on Zoom, Leonard had three minutes to comment.Related: Canadian activists say they’re being targeted by China“I don’t think you understand how painful it has been to hear you speak,” Leonard said, reminding council members that she has lived on Squaw Run Road for 30 years. “I am the Native American woman who has to send out greeting cards with a return address with that horrible word. … I had to get a post office box so I would not use that address for some of the Indian member organizations I belong to.”Leonard is on the committee that will decide whether the word warrants being removed. She said she’ll argue that while the early white settlers might not have not known they were using a slur, people should recognize that now, and take action.

This past Sunday, hundreds of far-right nationalists gathered at the gates of the University of Warsaw in Poland. They rallied against “LGBT aggression” and chanted taunts about a well-known activist known as Margot. Another group countered them, rainbow flags in hand, while a massive police presence kept them apart.Margot — Małgorzata Szutowicz — a 25-year-old nonbinary person who uses female pronouns, runs a radical, queer collective in Warsaw called Stop Bzdurom, or Stop the Nonsense, with her partner, Łania Madej, 21.Related: In Turkey, a conservative push to remove domestic violence protections is met with an uproarThe collective, and particularly Margot, have become the face of the LGBT rights movement in Poland in recent days. Margot is currently being held in two-month, pretrial detention for assault and property damage charges after a dispute with a van driver from an organization spreading anti-LGBT messages.Supporters inside the country and beyond continue to call for her release, and a range of celebrities — from the writer Margaret Atwood to the actor Stellan Skarsgaard — are calling for greater LGBT rights in Poland.Poland is considered the worst country in the European Union in terms of gay rights. The cultural divisiveness of the issue came through in the narrow reelection of Andrzej Duda for president in July. Duda, backed by the nationalist Law and Justice (PiS) party, campaigned on an anti-LGBT platform, calling it an "ideology worse than communism."According to an IPSOS poll in late 2019, 1 in 4 Poles said the LGBT movement is the country's greatest threat. Nearly a third of Polish towns and cities have declared themselves as “LGBT-free zones,” a move that resulted in the European Union denying funding to certain towns.Stop Bzdurom's name is a reference to a proposed, "Stop Pedophilia” bill that opened the door to legal action for teaching sexual education. The bill's supporters blamed what they call the “LGBT lobby” for promoting sexual discussions in schools and “grooming” children toward homosexuality.Related: As Poland's Duda seeks 'Trump bump,' Putin looks to revise historyThese are messages echoed by the anti-abortion, Pro-Right to Life Foundation, which sends vans around Polish cities — displaying banners of aborted fetuses and anti-gay messages that they also broadcast through megaphones. The organization is also against the so-called LGBT lobby.Their messages often connect homosexuality with pedophilia and child abuse.“A few hours every day, they ride around the city with huge speakers and just scream about us raping children and stuff like that, so we started spray painting the cars.” Łania Madej, Polish LGBT acvitist“A few hours every day, they ride around the city with huge speakers and just scream about us raping children and stuff like that, so we started spray painting the cars,” Madej said.Margot and Madej would also stand in the street to block them, sometimes remove the license plates, and one day in June, they fought with a driver. The drivers know the activists and often pass by where they live. That day, a fight broke out that resulted in Margot's later arrest and charges for property destruction and assault, though Margot says she only shoved the driver and he was not injured. She was released after a night in jail.Tensions around gay rights have been building in socially conservative Poland for years. Conservative governments in Europe have courted the right by scapegoating vulnerable minority groups.Related: Young people in Poland are rediscovering their Jewish rootsKarolina Gierdal, a lawyer with the organization Campaign Against Homophobia, says refugees used to be the target in Poland. In the past few years, queer people have emerged as the new boogeyman.“You can create an enemy that does not necessarily have to take away your money like the refugees are supposed to do, but they can take away you feeling Polish, you being Polish. They can take away your culture. Or they can destroy your family and hurt your children,” she explained via Skype.Gierdal says her organization works to improve rights for queer people through policy and by normalizing the issues. But this doesn't seem to be enough right now, she says.Margot and Madej say this is where they come in. Margot says they push the boundaries to make space for others to operate in.“We are too radical for everybody, but we support our supporters and our queer activists and they move the middle part,” she explained during an interview with The World prior to her detention.“We are the people who will destroy the van and bring attention to it and the other organizations are the people who are going to maybe take care of that with laws and stuff,” Madej said.Related: Berlin 'abortion aunts' help Polish women access safe abortionsEarlier this month, the two took another step. With other activists, they hung rainbow flags on monuments, including a statue of Christ. For many devout Catholics in the country, this was a highly provocative message. Margot, Madej and one other activist were briefly held on charges of offending religious sentiments.The next day, Margot was taken back into custody for the earlier charges related to the incident with the van driver, now to serve two-month pretrial detention. A crowd blocked the police car holding her and 48 people were arrested. Gierdal says both Margot's long detention and the seemingly random arrests were excessive.Madej says they don't expect to change the minds on the right but want to help queer Polish youth feel less alone.“We do it only for the queer kids who run with us and they have a little bit of fun and feel brave for 10 minutes.”Łania Madej, Polish LGBT acvitist“We do it only for the queer kids who run with us and they have a little bit of fun and feel brave for 10 minutes,” she said, referring to their activism around the anti-LGBT vans.A day later, on Aug. 8, thousands gathered at the city center in protest.Maria Kobus, a 69-year-old accountant, was one of them. Though she says she's not an activist, she feels queer people are being denied equal rights. Kobus' daughter lives outside the country with her wife.“She will never come back,” Kobus said.Smaller protests sprung up around Poland and even some other European cities. But not all Polish supporters think activism is the right way. From a park outside her Warsaw apartment, 78-year-old Helena Kośnicka remembers officiating the unofficial wedding of her gay neighbors. Gay marriage is not legal in Poland.Kośnicka supports LGBT rights. But she doesn't agree with protesting.“They shouldn't do silly things too much. Because that annoys people,” she said.But the activists say maybe it's time to start making more noise. Some are asking if this could be Poland's Stonewall, the 1969 riots in New York City that were a turning point for the gay rights movement in the US.“I believe we really want Polish Stonewall because we're so tired and we want something to change,” said Gierdal, the lawyer.

This past Sunday, hundreds of far-right nationalists gathered at the gates of the University of Warsaw in Poland. They rallied against “LGBT aggression” and chanted taunts about a well-known activist known as Margot. Another group countered them, rainbow flags in hand, while a massive police presence kept them apart.Margot — Małgorzata Szutowicz — a 25-year-old nonbinary person who uses female pronouns, runs a radical, queer collective in Warsaw called Stop Bzdurom, or Stop the Nonsense, with her partner, Łania Madej, 21.Related: In Turkey, a conservative push to remove domestic violence protections is met with an uproarThe collective, and particularly Margot, have become the face of the LGBT rights movement in Poland in recent days. Margot is currently being held in two-month, pretrial detention for assault and property damage charges after a dispute with a van driver from an organization spreading anti-LGBT messages.Supporters inside the country and beyond continue to call for her release, and a range of celebrities — from the writer Margaret Atwood to the actor Stellan Skarsgaard — are calling for greater LGBT rights in Poland.Poland is considered the worst country in the European Union in terms of gay rights. The cultural divisiveness of the issue came through in the narrow reelection of Andrzej Duda for president in July. Duda, backed by the nationalist Law and Justice (PiS) party, campaigned on an anti-LGBT platform, calling it an "ideology worse than communism."According to an IPSOS poll in late 2019, 1 in 4 Poles said the LGBT movement is the country’s greatest threat. Nearly a third of Polish towns and cities have declared themselves as “LGBT-free zones,” a move that resulted in the European Union denying funding to certain towns.Stop Bzdurom’s name is a reference to a proposed, "Stop Pedophilia” bill that opened the door to legal action for teaching sexual education. The bill’s supporters blamed what they call the “LGBT lobby” for promoting sexual discussions in schools and “grooming” children toward homosexuality.Related: As Poland's Duda seeks 'Trump bump,' Putin looks to revise historyThese are messages echoed by the anti-abortion, Pro-Right to Life Foundation, which sends vans around Polish cities — displaying banners of aborted fetuses and anti-gay messages that they also broadcast through megaphones. The organization is also against the so-called LGBT lobby.Their messages often connect homosexuality with pedophilia and child abuse.“A few hours every day, they ride around the city with huge speakers and just scream about us raping children and stuff like that, so we started spray painting the cars.” Łania Madej, Polish LGBT acvitist“A few hours every day, they ride around the city with huge speakers and just scream about us raping children and stuff like that, so we started spray painting the cars,” Madej said.Margot and Madej would also stand in the street to block them, sometimes remove the license plates, and one day in June, they fought with a driver. The drivers know the activists and often pass by where they live. That day, a fight broke out that resulted in Margot’s later arrest and charges for property destruction and assault, though Margot says she only shoved the driver and he was not injured. She was released after a night in jail.Tensions around gay rights have been building in socially conservative Poland for years. Conservative governments in Europe have courted the right by scapegoating vulnerable minority groups.Related: Young people in Poland are rediscovering their Jewish rootsKarolina Gierdal, a lawyer with the organization Campaign Against Homophobia, says refugees used to be the target in Poland. In the past few years, queer people have emerged as the new boogeyman.“You can create an enemy that does not necessarily have to take away your money like the refugees are supposed to do, but they can take away you feeling Polish, you being Polish. They can take away your culture. Or they can destroy your family and hurt your children,” she explained via Skype.Gierdal says her organization works to improve rights for queer people through policy and by normalizing the issues. But this doesn’t seem to be enough right now, she says.Margot and Madej say this is where they come in. Margot says they push the boundaries to make space for others to operate in.“We are too radical for everybody, but we support our supporters and our queer activists and they move the middle part,” she explained during an interview with The World prior to her detention.“We are the people who will destroy the van and bring attention to it and the other organizations are the people who are going to maybe take care of that with laws and stuff,” Madej said.Related: Berlin 'abortion aunts' help Polish women access safe abortionsEarlier this month, the two took another step. With other activists, they hung rainbow flags on monuments, including a statue of Christ. For many devout Catholics in the country, this was a highly provocative message. Margot, Madej and one other activist were briefly held on charges of offending religious sentiments.The next day, Margot was taken back into custody for the earlier charges related to the incident with the van driver, now to serve two-month pretrial detention. A crowd blocked the police car holding her and 48 people were arrested. Gierdal says both Margot’s long detention and the seemingly random arrests were excessive.Madej says they don’t expect to change the minds on the right but want to help queer Polish youth feel less alone.“We do it only for the queer kids who run with us and they have a little bit of fun and feel brave for 10 minutes.”Łania Madej, Polish LGBT acvitist“We do it only for the queer kids who run with us and they have a little bit of fun and feel brave for 10 minutes,” she said, referring to their activism around the anti-LGBT vans.A day later, on Aug. 8, thousands gathered at the city center in protest.Maria Kobus, a 69-year-old accountant, was one of them. Though she says she’s not an activist, she feels queer people are being denied equal rights. Kobus’ daughter lives outside the country with her wife.“She will never come back,” Kobus said.Smaller protests sprung up around Poland and even some other European cities. But not all Polish supporters think activism is the right way. From a park outside her Warsaw apartment, 78-year-old Helena Kośnicka remembers officiating the unofficial wedding of her gay neighbors. Gay marriage is not legal in Poland.Kośnicka supports LGBT rights. But she doesn’t agree with protesting.“They shouldn’t do silly things too much. Because that annoys people,” she said.But the activists say maybe it’s time to start making more noise. Some are asking if this could be Poland’s Stonewall, the 1969 riots in New York City that were a turning point for the gay rights movement in the US.“I believe we really want Polish Stonewall because we’re so tired and we want something to change,” said Gierdal, the lawyer.

In early July, Deb Perelman, the food blogger behind Smitten Kitchen and a mom of two kids, penned an op-ed for The New York Times with a provocative title about life during COVID-19: “You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can't Have Both.” Perelman described the struggle of caring for children while still trying to keep up with her work, a problem ultimately “solved” when her husband was furloughed and then laid off from his job. But research shows that in the majority of American households, women have shouldered more child care during the pandemic. And for working mothers, that has meant some hard choices.According to research from Syracuse University, more than 80% of adults in the country who were not working because they were caring for children — who would be in school or daycare if not for COVID-19 — were women. A paper published in the academic journal Gender, Work & Organization found that mothers of young children reduced their working hours four to five times more than fathers, widening the gender gap in hours from 20% to 50%. Just a few months ago, women in the workforce had reached a historic milestone: excluding farm labor and self-employment, the number of women on payrolls in the United States exceeded the number of men. But now, that progress has been put on hold and is in jeopardy, according to Betsey Stevenson, professor of economics and public policy at the University of Michigan. “There is a rot that's at the core of women's employment right now, and that's child care and elder care, and how women are going to maintain their place in the labor force when we're really having a crisis of care in the country,” Stevenson said.Related: Israel's hurried school reopenings serve as a cautionary taleCOVID-19 has upended the “patchwork” system of care in the US — from formal programs such as schools, day cares, and summer camps, to informal solutions such as relying on relatives and friends to help out. The virus' prevalence and way of spreading largely renders those resources unsafe.Parents and caregivers are now taking care of and entertaining their kids 24/7 — on top of working or searching for a job. These conflicting demands require all parents to make difficult choices, but it is mothers who are most frequently making career sacrifices for their children.‘Untenable' arrangementsAlthough younger men today are much more likely to profess their belief in gender equality, they are not significantly more likely to divide most household tasks equitably, from child care to grocery shopping.Some might argue that social distancing and isolation would act as an equalizer for couples; if both parents are now home all the time, perhaps the partner who generally does less housework would start to absorb the burdens of running a household and finally do their share. However, according to Stevenson, who served as the chief economist at the US Department of Labor under former President Barack Obama, that is not always how it works out. Women often find it untenable to put off child care or housework.If the guy is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, and the woman is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, she pulls off first and she feeds the children ... and the problem is that if he knows that she's going to pull off first, then he wins the game of chicken.Betsey Stevenson, University of Michigan professor“If the guy is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, and the woman is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, she pulls off first and she feeds the children,” she explains. “And the problem is that if he knows that she's going to pull off first, then he wins the game of chicken.” Instead, the oversized demands on women lead to an impossible juggling act, which often forces them to cut back on their careers. The fact that women already tended to choose more flexible jobs before the pandemic facilitates this adjustment. And cutting back during the pandemic or leaving the workforce altogether can have negative consequences for gender equality in the future.‘Child care is just essential'This spring, employment rates for women fell to around where they were in the 1980s. Although they have been rising as the economy reopens, Stevenson doesn't expect an immediate rebound and warns that the impact of this setback will be far-reaching.Taking time off from work now puts future promotions and jobs in jeopardy. “[Fewer hours] will then reduce [women's] earnings as a share of the household income, which will make them a less important labor market player in their household,” Stevenson explains. According to Stevenson, one of the main drivers for greater household equality in the past has been increasingly comparable incomes between men and women. If men make much more money, it makes more sense to prioritize their jobs over their spouses' when it comes to figuring out child care and housework.Related: Why do so few women work (for pay) in Jordan?However, Stevenson suggests that the spotlight placed on childcare by the pandemic has the potential to lead to lasting change. “We've revealed that child care is just essential for just a giant share of the workforce, and to just ignore it and keep pretending it's just a personal problem is a mistake in thinking about the macro economy.” This summer marks 100 years since the 19th Amendment was ratified, guaranteeing women the right to vote in the US. There's still a long way to go to achieve equality though, and Stevenson urges Americans to use this opportunity to reimagine the post-COVID-19 balance between work and care.“What does a world look like where we make space for people to do the caregiving they need to do and move seamlessly back into their career?” Stevenson asked. “If you don't lean in the whole time, you don't make it to the top. But leaning in is really, really hard if you want to take time to really engage with your children. And that's true for men and for women, and so we just need a very different conversation about, what does life look like when you make space for both?”Teresa Lawlor is an intern at Innovation Hub. You can follow her on Twitter: @tmlawlor

In early July, Deb Perelman, the food blogger behind Smitten Kitchen and a mom of two kids, penned an op-ed for The New York Times with a provocative title about life during COVID-19: “You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can’t Have Both.” Perelman described the struggle of caring for children while still trying to keep up with her work, a problem ultimately “solved” when her husband was furloughed and then laid off from his job. But research shows that in the majority of American households, women have shouldered more child care during the pandemic. And for working mothers, that has meant some hard choices.According to research from Syracuse University, more than 80% of adults in the country who were not working because they were caring for children — who would be in school or daycare if not for COVID-19 — were women. A paper published in the academic journal Gender, Work & Organization found that mothers of young children reduced their working hours four to five times more than fathers, widening the gender gap in hours from 20% to 50%. Just a few months ago, women in the workforce had reached a historic milestone: excluding farm labor and self-employment, the number of women on payrolls in the United States exceeded the number of men. But now, that progress has been put on hold and is in jeopardy, according to Betsey Stevenson, professor of economics and public policy at the University of Michigan. “There is a rot that’s at the core of women’s employment right now, and that’s child care and elder care, and how women are going to maintain their place in the labor force when we’re really having a crisis of care in the country,” Stevenson said.Related: Israel's hurried school reopenings serve as a cautionary taleCOVID-19 has upended the “patchwork” system of care in the US — from formal programs such as schools, day cares, and summer camps, to informal solutions such as relying on relatives and friends to help out. The virus’ prevalence and way of spreading largely renders those resources unsafe.Parents and caregivers are now taking care of and entertaining their kids 24/7 — on top of working or searching for a job. These conflicting demands require all parents to make difficult choices, but it is mothers who are most frequently making career sacrifices for their children.‘Untenable’ arrangementsAlthough younger men today are much more likely to profess their belief in gender equality, they are not significantly more likely to divide most household tasks equitably, from child care to grocery shopping.Some might argue that social distancing and isolation would act as an equalizer for couples; if both parents are now home all the time, perhaps the partner who generally does less housework would start to absorb the burdens of running a household and finally do their share. However, according to Stevenson, who served as the chief economist at the US Department of Labor under former President Barack Obama, that is not always how it works out. Women often find it untenable to put off child care or housework.If the guy is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, and the woman is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, she pulls off first and she feeds the children ... and the problem is that if he knows that she’s going to pull off first, then he wins the game of chicken.Betsey Stevenson, University of Michigan professor“If the guy is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, and the woman is driving toward the cliff of not feeding the children, she pulls off first and she feeds the children,” she explains. “And the problem is that if he knows that she’s going to pull off first, then he wins the game of chicken.” Instead, the oversized demands on women lead to an impossible juggling act, which often forces them to cut back on their careers. The fact that women already tended to choose more flexible jobs before the pandemic facilitates this adjustment. And cutting back during the pandemic or leaving the workforce altogether can have negative consequences for gender equality in the future.‘Child care is just essential’This spring, employment rates for women fell to around where they were in the 1980s. Although they have been rising as the economy reopens, Stevenson doesn’t expect an immediate rebound and warns that the impact of this setback will be far-reaching.Taking time off from work now puts future promotions and jobs in jeopardy. “[Fewer hours] will then reduce [women’s] earnings as a share of the household income, which will make them a less important labor market player in their household,” Stevenson explains. According to Stevenson, one of the main drivers for greater household equality in the past has been increasingly comparable incomes between men and women. If men make much more money, it makes more sense to prioritize their jobs over their spouses’ when it comes to figuring out child care and housework.Related: Why do so few women work (for pay) in Jordan?However, Stevenson suggests that the spotlight placed on childcare by the pandemic has the potential to lead to lasting change. “We’ve revealed that child care is just essential for just a giant share of the workforce, and to just ignore it and keep pretending it’s just a personal problem is a mistake in thinking about the macro economy.” This summer marks 100 years since the 19th Amendment was ratified, guaranteeing women the right to vote in the US. There’s still a long way to go to achieve equality though, and Stevenson urges Americans to use this opportunity to reimagine the post-COVID-19 balance between work and care.“What does a world look like where we make space for people to do the caregiving they need to do and move seamlessly back into their career?” Stevenson asked. “If you don’t lean in the whole time, you don’t make it to the top. But leaning in is really, really hard if you want to take time to really engage with your children. And that’s true for men and for women, and so we just need a very different conversation about, what does life look like when you make space for both?”Teresa Lawlor is an intern at Innovation Hub. You can follow her on Twitter: @tmlawlor

Access to abortion in Spain is sacrosanct. The procedures are free — covered by the public national health care system — and allowed up until the 14th week of pregnancy for any reason; until the 22nd week with a doctor's note; and sometimes after 22 weeks if there are issues with either the fetus' or the mother's health.Since abortion become legal in 1985, right-wing politicians have periodically made feeble attempts to limit or ban access to it. Each time it happens, though, the action is met with strong pushback from the public.But this past January, shortly before the country went into a three-month lockdown in response to the coronavirus pandemic, the Spanish government banned a nonprofit organization, Women on Web, which for 15 years has offered medically approved information about abortions in 22 different languages, along with contraceptives and abortion pills.Related: Centuries ago, Spanish writers challenged gender norms and barriersThe organization's website has two main parts. The “I had an abortion” section aims to normalize or destigmatize abortions through the real-life stories of those who have had them. The second, and arguably most important, part is the “I need an abortion” section. Women on Web will mail the pills for a medical abortion to anyone who needs them and provides the needed medical consultation online with a strong emphasis on protecting users' privacy.Leticia Zenevich, a human rights lawyer representing Women on Web, says issues with censorship are not new. What is new is that Spain is the first country in Europe to block the site and one of the few countries to block Women on Web that also deems abortion a protected right. The Spanish government has now joined the ranks of Saudi Arabia, Turkey, South Korea, Iran, Poland, Indonesia and Brazil in forcibly blocking access to a website that, according to its founders, empowers women to make their own health care choices.There are many reasons someone might choose to go through a site like Women on Web, and over the last 15 years, more than half a million people have used the service. According to the Center for Reproductive Rights, 90 million women (5% of the global population) live in a country where abortion is outright banned, no matter the circumstances. Another 359 million (22% of the global population) live in a country where abortions are only allowed if the mother's life is in jeopardy. Even in countries where abortion is legal, there are numerous other barriers that could prevent someone from going to their doctor such as distance or wanting to protect their privacy. No matter the reason, Zenevich says women must have the option to choose what is right for them.Related: In Spain after lockdown, soccer resumes for men — but not for womenAccording to Zenevich, Women on Web didn't receive any warnings that their site would be blocked. They only noticed something was wrong after Spain went into quarantine in March when they saw the number of users there decrease by 63% compared to the same month last year. At the same time, neighboring countries like France and Italy were seeing a notable increase in users as they, too, faced lockdowns from the coronavirus pandemic.Women on Web partnered with a local cyberactivist who confirmed the site was down in Spain.“We didn't know who blocked us. We had to go to the UN special procedures to pressure them to know what was going on because there was no due process of law. We were just blocked overnight.”Leticia Zenevich, human rights lawyer representing Women on Web“We didn't know who blocked us,” Zenevich said. “We had to go to the UN special procedures to pressure them to know what was going on because there was no due process of law. We were just blocked overnight.”Zenevich says they had no idea if the censorship was from private actors, internet service providers, or the government.Related: From Minneapolis to Madrid, racial profiling, harassment cost livesSilvia Aldavert, a coordinator at the Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights in Barcelona, says this wasn't a good move on the Spanish government's part.“Censoring this website isn't very strategic, it's meaningless,” Aldavert said. “And also very symbolic because you are censoring a website of an organization that has had a very important history.”Especially, she adds, because there are still dozens of other websites, including a few mirror sites of Women on Web, where you can still easily buy the same drugs.In an email to The World, a press person for Spain's Health Ministry said that the site was blocked because Women on Web provides medication that is not authorized in Spain without a prescription. They say taking these pills without a doctor present is dangerous and not justifiable in a country where, they claim, there are no legal barriers to abortion.Yet the two medications that Women on Web mails out — Mifepristone and Misoprostol — are the same drugs used in Spain for medical abortions.Aldavert says there are in fact many barriers for women accessing abortion in Spain — for example, undocumented women don't have access to the public health care system, and teenagers under 18 must have parental permission. But legal barriers are just the tip of the iceberg. Some women might need to keep it secret from their family or from an abusive partner, which was exacerbated during the nationwide lockdown. Or, they might face mobility or travel obstacles like having to travel long distances, not having a car or not being able to afford or access public transportation.A study conducted by the World Health Organization found that between 2010 and 2014, roughly half of the 55.7 million abortions that took place were considered unsafe. While WHO classifies medical abortions without supervision to be unsafe, they said that if women access the pills through a telemedicine service like Women on Web, it is classified as a safe abortion.“As an institution, your obligation is to give information to women, never to censor. The problem is not that sites like this exist, but rather that women aren't informed about their basic rights surrounding abortions.”Silvia Aldavert,  Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights“As an institution, your obligation is to give information to women, never to censor,” Aldavert said. “The problem is not that sites like this exist, but rather that women aren't informed about their basic rights surrounding abortions.”Related: The first talking film made by a woman in Spain resurfacesAldavert says that at the Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights, they have to clear up misconceptions or false information about abortions with their patients every day.“It shows that this information isn't reaching many women,” Aldavert said. “If the government really wanted to stop women from using these kinds of sites, they would create a comprehensive campaign to educate the public.”There has never been that kind of educational campaign from the Spanish or regional governments, Aldavert says.While this can be a problem for anyone facing an unwanted pregnancy, it is particularly challenging for migrants, those who don't speak the language or those who don't understand or have access to the country's health care system. Zenevich says that in 2019, Women on Web received requests in 22 different languages in Spain alone.Aldavert says that she doesn't believe this was an intentional move to suppress abortion rights, but rather a political response to local news outlets warning about the online sale of abortion pills. But, she says, this is part of a bigger trend all over Europe and the United States where abortion rights are slowly being chipped away by blocking sites or introducing clauses like that of “conscientious objectors,” doctors who deny abortion services based on moral, religious or personal grounds. This can be particularly tricky as some public hospitals in Spain operate in partnership with the Catholic Church.“If the government really wanted to keep women from ordering pills online, they should fill the gaps and ensure no one in Spain would even be in a situation where they need to order a pill online,” Aldavert said. 

Access to abortion in Spain is sacrosanct. The procedures are free — covered by the public national health care system — and allowed up until the 14th week of pregnancy for any reason; until the 22nd week with a doctor’s note; and sometimes after 22 weeks if there are issues with either the fetus’ or the mother’s health.Since abortion become legal in 1985, right-wing politicians have periodically made feeble attempts to limit or ban access to it. Each time it happens, though, the action is met with strong pushback from the public.But this past January, shortly before the country went into a three-month lockdown in response to the coronavirus pandemic, the Spanish government banned a nonprofit organization, Women on Web, which for 15 years has offered medically approved information about abortions in 22 different languages, along with contraceptives and abortion pills.Related: Centuries ago, Spanish writers challenged gender norms and barriersThe organization’s website has two main parts. The “I had an abortion” section aims to normalize or destigmatize abortions through the real-life stories of those who have had them. The second, and arguably most important, part is the “I need an abortion” section. Women on Web will mail the pills for a medical abortion to anyone who needs them and provides the needed medical consultation online with a strong emphasis on protecting users’ privacy.Leticia Zenevich, a human rights lawyer representing Women on Web, says issues with censorship are not new. What is new is that Spain is the first country in Europe to block the site and one of the few countries to block Women on Web that also deems abortion a protected right. The Spanish government has now joined the ranks of Saudi Arabia, Turkey, South Korea, Iran, Poland, Indonesia and Brazil in forcibly blocking access to a website that, according to its founders, empowers women to make their own health care choices.There are many reasons someone might choose to go through a site like Women on Web, and over the last 15 years, more than half a million people have used the service. According to the Center for Reproductive Rights, 90 million women (5% of the global population) live in a country where abortion is outright banned, no matter the circumstances. Another 359 million (22% of the global population) live in a country where abortions are only allowed if the mother’s life is in jeopardy. Even in countries where abortion is legal, there are numerous other barriers that could prevent someone from going to their doctor such as distance or wanting to protect their privacy. No matter the reason, Zenevich says women must have the option to choose what is right for them.Related: In Spain after lockdown, soccer resumes for men — but not for womenAccording to Zenevich, Women on Web didn’t receive any warnings that their site would be blocked. They only noticed something was wrong after Spain went into quarantine in March when they saw the number of users there decrease by 63% compared to the same month last year. At the same time, neighboring countries like France and Italy were seeing a notable increase in users as they, too, faced lockdowns from the coronavirus pandemic.Women on Web partnered with a local cyberactivist who confirmed the site was down in Spain.“We didn’t know who blocked us. We had to go to the UN special procedures to pressure them to know what was going on because there was no due process of law. We were just blocked overnight.”Leticia Zenevich, human rights lawyer representing Women on Web“We didn’t know who blocked us,” Zenevich said. “We had to go to the UN special procedures to pressure them to know what was going on because there was no due process of law. We were just blocked overnight.”Zenevich says they had no idea if the censorship was from private actors, internet service providers, or the government.Related: From Minneapolis to Madrid, racial profiling, harassment cost livesSilvia Aldavert, a coordinator at the Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights in Barcelona, says this wasn’t a good move on the Spanish government’s part.“Censoring this website isn’t very strategic, it’s meaningless,” Aldavert said. “And also very symbolic because you are censoring a website of an organization that has had a very important history.”Especially, she adds, because there are still dozens of other websites, including a few mirror sites of Women on Web, where you can still easily buy the same drugs.In an email to The World, a press person for Spain’s Health Ministry said that the site was blocked because Women on Web provides medication that is not authorized in Spain without a prescription. They say taking these pills without a doctor present is dangerous and not justifiable in a country where, they claim, there are no legal barriers to abortion.Yet the two medications that Women on Web mails out — Mifepristone and Misoprostol — are the same drugs used in Spain for medical abortions.Aldavert says there are in fact many barriers for women accessing abortion in Spain — for example, undocumented women don’t have access to the public health care system, and teenagers under 18 must have parental permission. But legal barriers are just the tip of the iceberg. Some women might need to keep it secret from their family or from an abusive partner, which was exacerbated during the nationwide lockdown. Or, they might face mobility or travel obstacles like having to travel long distances, not having a car or not being able to afford or access public transportation.A study conducted by the World Health Organization found that between 2010 and 2014, roughly half of the 55.7 million abortions that took place were considered unsafe. While WHO classifies medical abortions without supervision to be unsafe, they said that if women access the pills through a telemedicine service like Women on Web, it is classified as a safe abortion.“As an institution, your obligation is to give information to women, never to censor. The problem is not that sites like this exist, but rather that women aren’t informed about their basic rights surrounding abortions.”Silvia Aldavert,  Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights“As an institution, your obligation is to give information to women, never to censor,” Aldavert said. “The problem is not that sites like this exist, but rather that women aren’t informed about their basic rights surrounding abortions.”Related: The first talking film made by a woman in Spain resurfacesAldavert says that at the Association for Reproductive and Sexual Rights, they have to clear up misconceptions or false information about abortions with their patients every day.“It shows that this information isn’t reaching many women,” Aldavert said. “If the government really wanted to stop women from using these kinds of sites, they would create a comprehensive campaign to educate the public.”There has never been that kind of educational campaign from the Spanish or regional governments, Aldavert says.While this can be a problem for anyone facing an unwanted pregnancy, it is particularly challenging for migrants, those who don’t speak the language or those who don’t understand or have access to the country’s health care system. Zenevich says that in 2019, Women on Web received requests in 22 different languages in Spain alone.Aldavert says that she doesn’t believe this was an intentional move to suppress abortion rights, but rather a political response to local news outlets warning about the online sale of abortion pills. But, she says, this is part of a bigger trend all over Europe and the United States where abortion rights are slowly being chipped away by blocking sites or introducing clauses like that of “conscientious objectors,” doctors who deny abortion services based on moral, religious or personal grounds. This can be particularly tricky as some public hospitals in Spain operate in partnership with the Catholic Church.“If the government really wanted to keep women from ordering pills online, they should fill the gaps and ensure no one in Spain would even be in a situation where they need to order a pill online,” Aldavert said. 

Professional women's soccer players from around the world laced up in Paris last summer for the 2019 FIFA Women's World Cup. A record 1.1 billion people watched the tournament, according to FIFA — a 30% increase from the 2015 event in Canada. Athletes on the field became household names, and players' jerseys hit record sales worldwide.Related: Two Berlin soccer teams now kept apart by COVID-19Off the field, momentum was also rising. As women's soccer was drawing more and more fans, the players were stepping up their fight against gender discrimination in the sport. World Cup tournaments have historically been a platform for athletes to raise awareness of inequities in soccer. In 2019, pay parity took the stage as chants for “equal pay” reverberated around the stadium.But just a year later, the game's visibility — and its journey toward equity — has been stopped in its tracks.“Up until coronavirus, we saw that the game was absolutely exploding,” said Amanda Vandervort, chief women's football officer at FIFPRO, an organization that supports professional soccer players.Without games and tournaments, many of the factors contributing to the rise of women's soccer and the athletes' fight for equality have dissipated. In a recent report examining COVID-19's impact on professional women's soccer, FIFPRO said the pandemic could “present an almost existential threat to the women's game if no specific considerations are given to protect the women's football industry.” Related: 'I still get tweets to go back in the kitchen' – the enduring power of sexism in sports mediaOne reason is that only 18% of female soccer players are considered professional by FIFA, Vandervort said. Players without contracts are considered amateurs and are therefore unable to join players' unions.“The downstream implications of that at a moment like coronavirus means they might not be getting the support that they need, or have contractual status that might prove absolutely critical when we're talking about labor negotiations and we're talking about people keeping their job,” Vandervort said.According to FIFPRO's most recent statistics, 47% of female players didn't have a contract with their clubs, while only 8% of male players faced the same reality.According to FIFPRO's most recent statistics, 47% of female players didn't have a contract with their clubs, while only 8% of male players faced the same reality.The unique impact that the coronavirus is having on women's teams is already being felt. In Colombia, the soccer club Independiente Santa Fe suspended work contracts for its women's team. But its men's team is still being partially paid  — even though the women's team is ranked higher than the men's team in their respective groups. International games being canceled and postponed is another loss that can't be underestimated, said Sarah Gregorius, who played in the 2019 World Cup for New Zealand, but now works for FIFPRO's policy team.“So often, players have used the World Cups in particular to raise issues pertaining to off-field incidents. So, they're really critical,” she said.International showings are also important for players' career trajectories.Related: What will a post-coronavirus world look like?“What I find an interesting predicament about international football is that it's often a bit of a shop window for individual players to put themselves forward to the world and put themselves forward to future employers,” she added.Following the success of the 2019 Women's World Cup, FIFA pledged a $1 billion investment in the women's game. Since the coronavirus crisis, they've reiterated their commitment to the investment. But Gregorius says it may not be enough, as the sports industry is “hemorrhaging money” during the pandemic. For example, in the UK, the pandemic could cost the country's soccer, cricket and rugby union a total of more than $850 million, officials have warned.At the moment, Gregorius says, men's teams are actually losing more money than women's teams because their overall ad revenue was higher to begin with, so resources are being poured into preparing men's teams to resume playing as soon as possible.“And the women — they get, I guess a little bit shafted. And that's what we're trying to fight against.”Sarah Gregorius, FIFPRO “And the women — they get, I guess a little bit shafted,” Gregorius said. “And that's what we're trying to fight against.”The Football Association's former director, Dame Heather Rabbatts, says from a financial point of view, it actually makes a lot of sense to prioritize getting women's teams back on television before men's teams. Women's games, she says, could be a more appealing option for advertisers who are facing tighter budgets.Related: Women leaders eschew ‘macho-man' politics in COVID-19 response“If you are a media platform, a broadcaster, or a sponsor, women's sport is still commanding way less premiums than their male counterparts,” Rabbatts said, adding that she also sees women's ticket sales increasing post-pandemic.“There's a real sense of the passion and professionalism of women's football without the same tribalism we have in some of the men's game. And therefore, [it] has proven to be very attractive to families,” she said.Vandervort and Gregorius, both of FIFPRO, say they're “optimistic” that women's soccer — and women's sport, in general — will emerge from the pandemic with the same momentum that athletes and advocates worked for years to build.“I think there's a real opportunity to escalate the game beyond even where we were headed to before,” Vandervort said. “But that takes work. I don't think that we can say today that that's manifest destiny, by any stretch.”

Professional women’s soccer players from around the world laced up in Paris last summer for the 2019 FIFA Women’s World Cup. A record 1.1 billion people watched the tournament, according to FIFA — a 30% increase from the 2015 event in Canada. Athletes on the field became household names, and players' jerseys hit record sales worldwide.Related: Two Berlin soccer teams now kept apart by COVID-19Off the field, momentum was also rising. As women’s soccer was drawing more and more fans, the players were stepping up their fight against gender discrimination in the sport. World Cup tournaments have historically been a platform for athletes to raise awareness of inequities in soccer. In 2019, pay parity took the stage as chants for “equal pay” reverberated around the stadium.But just a year later, the game’s visibility — and its journey toward equity — has been stopped in its tracks.“Up until coronavirus, we saw that the game was absolutely exploding,” said Amanda Vandervort, chief women’s football officer at FIFPRO, an organization that supports professional soccer players.Without games and tournaments, many of the factors contributing to the rise of women’s soccer and the athletes’ fight for equality have dissipated. In a recent report examining COVID-19’s impact on professional women’s soccer, FIFPRO said the pandemic could “present an almost existential threat to the women’s game if no specific considerations are given to protect the women’s football industry.” Related: 'I still get tweets to go back in the kitchen' – the enduring power of sexism in sports mediaOne reason is that only 18% of female soccer players are considered professional by FIFA, Vandervort said. Players without contracts are considered amateurs and are therefore unable to join players' unions.“The downstream implications of that at a moment like coronavirus means they might not be getting the support that they need, or have contractual status that might prove absolutely critical when we’re talking about labor negotiations and we’re talking about people keeping their job,” Vandervort said.According to FIFPRO's most recent statistics, 47% of female players didn't have a contract with their clubs, while only 8% of male players faced the same reality.According to FIFPRO's most recent statistics, 47% of female players didn't have a contract with their clubs, while only 8% of male players faced the same reality.The unique impact that the coronavirus is having on women’s teams is already being felt. In Colombia, the soccer club Independiente Santa Fe suspended work contracts for its women’s team. But its men’s team is still being partially paid  — even though the women’s team is ranked higher than the men’s team in their respective groups. International games being canceled and postponed is another loss that can’t be underestimated, said Sarah Gregorius, who played in the 2019 World Cup for New Zealand, but now works for FIFPRO’s policy team.“So often, players have used the World Cups in particular to raise issues pertaining to off-field incidents. So, they’re really critical,” she said.International showings are also important for players' career trajectories.Related: What will a post-coronavirus world look like?“What I find an interesting predicament about international football is that it’s often a bit of a shop window for individual players to put themselves forward to the world and put themselves forward to future employers,” she added.Following the success of the 2019 Women’s World Cup, FIFA pledged a $1 billion investment in the women’s game. Since the coronavirus crisis, they’ve reiterated their commitment to the investment. But Gregorius says it may not be enough, as the sports industry is “hemorrhaging money” during the pandemic. For example, in the UK, the pandemic could cost the country’s soccer, cricket and rugby union a total of more than $850 million, officials have warned.At the moment, Gregorius says, men’s teams are actually losing more money than women’s teams because their overall ad revenue was higher to begin with, so resources are being poured into preparing men’s teams to resume playing as soon as possible.“And the women — they get, I guess a little bit shafted. And that’s what we’re trying to fight against.”Sarah Gregorius, FIFPRO “And the women — they get, I guess a little bit shafted,” Gregorius said. “And that’s what we’re trying to fight against.”The Football Association's former director, Dame Heather Rabbatts, says from a financial point of view, it actually makes a lot of sense to prioritize getting women’s teams back on television before men’s teams. Women’s games, she says, could be a more appealing option for advertisers who are facing tighter budgets.Related: Women leaders eschew ‘macho-man’ politics in COVID-19 response“If you are a media platform, a broadcaster, or a sponsor, women’s sport is still commanding way less premiums than their male counterparts,” Rabbatts said, adding that she also sees women’s ticket sales increasing post-pandemic.“There’s a real sense of the passion and professionalism of women’s football without the same tribalism we have in some of the men’s game. And therefore, [it] has proven to be very attractive to families,” she said.Vandervort and Gregorius, both of FIFPRO, say they’re “optimistic” that women’s soccer — and women’s sport, in general — will emerge from the pandemic with the same momentum that athletes and advocates worked for years to build.“I think there’s a real opportunity to escalate the game beyond even where we were headed to before,” Vandervort said. “But that takes work. I don’t think that we can say today that that’s manifest destiny, by any stretch.”

The day Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern imposed a strict nationwide lockdown in March, no one in New Zealand had died from the coronavirus. Compare that to the United Kingdon: 335 people had already died by the time Prime Minister Boris Johnson ordered the British public to stay home. Like many world leaders, Ardern held daily press conferences where she appealed to New Zealanders to unite in their battle against the virus. “We are all in this together,” she told them. Ardern streamed Facebook live videos from her sofa at home, apologizing for her casual attire. Now, New Zealand is “halfway down Everest,” Ardern said last week as she announced measures to ease New Zealand's lockdown. Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that? Her “go hard and go early” strategy combined with a warm empathetic manner worked. New Zealand recorded zero new cases of the coronavirus in a series of days last week and Ardern's popularity rating is at an all-time high. But Zoe Marks, a lecturer in public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School says there's nothing inherently female about this style of leadership.“The fireside chat approach originated with Franklin Roosevelt in the United States. The problem is not that only women can pull it off, it's that men are afraid to really let their guard down and be relatable,” Marks said.Denmark's Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen has not been afraid to show a more human side either. Frederiksen posted a video of herself and her partner doing the dishes and singing along during a weekly TV lockdown singalong show.  Norway's Prime Minister Erna Solberg speaks during a news conference on reopening society after the coronavirus disease (Covid-19) outbreak, in Oslo, Norway, May 7, 2020. Credit: Fredrik Hagen/NTB Scanpix via Reuters Like New Zealand, Denmark moved quickly to close its borders, then its schools and businesses. Other Nordic countries led by women, like Norway and Finland, did likewise, and have seen relatively low death rates from COVID-19. Sweden's Prime Minister Stefan Löfven, by contrast, took a gamble and shunned the idea of a lockdown, instead trusting the public to maintain social distancing themselves. It remains to be seen if his strategy pays off but currently Sweden's death toll is by far the highest in Scandinavia.Suze Wilson, who teaches leadership at Massey University in New Zealand, says the evidence is mixed on whether men and women govern differently. Some research shows female leaders can be more participative in their approach, she says. “Research shows women are more willing to listen to advice and include different perspectives and try to weigh them up when making decisions,” Wilson said.Related: Fiona Hill: Putin has become ‘wild card' for Russia's political systemBut Wilson says it's unhelpful to place too much emphasis on gender differences. Jennifer Tomlinson, professor of gender and employment relations at the University of Leeds, agrees. Tomlinson says the theory that men and women have distinctly different leadership styles is an outdated concept. She agrees that there is some evidence suggesting women in power are more open to accepting ideas and working with others but argues that there is nothing to stop men from doing the same.  “There is some evidence, slightly mixed, that maybe women are more collaborative in their style and that may be quite an effective approach to take. But it's not to say that men can't do collaborative leadership,” Tomlinson said.Countries where leaders have listened to scientists' advice early in the crisis appear to have gained an upper hand in containing the virus.In countries where leaders have listened to scientists' advice early in the crisis, they appear to have gained an upper hand in containing the virus. Iceland's Prime Minister Katrín Jakobsdóttir and German Chancellor Angela Merkel introduced widespread testing early. Merkel, who has a Ph.D. in quantum chemistry, isn't known for having a warm approachable manner of the likes of Ardern — though she has earned the nickname mutti, or mommy. Merkel's approach is more stern and pragmatic. She warned Germans early on that 70% of the population may become infected, and in her press briefings, used simple scientific facts to explain her government's strategy. But her direct approach is paying off. Germany's death toll has stayed remarkably lower than neighboring France, or Spain and Italy.Countries with male leaders, like South Korea, Vietnam and Greece, have certainly succeeded too in keeping infection rates down. And there are countries with women at the helm that haven't fared so well, like Belgium, where the fatality rate is notably high, although Belgian officials argue that they are collating the figures differently than the rest of the world.  Related: Is Vietnam the coronavirus-fighting champ of the world?Rosie Campbell, professor of politics at King's College London, says that while the pandemic may have highlighted the success of female leaders, it has also more importantly shone a spotlight on the failed macho style of governance of some more populist leaders."We've had this tide of populist, macho strongmen leaders who have deliberately chosen to portray themselves that way, to be invulnerable.”Rosie Campbell, King's College London“We've had this tide of populist, macho strongmen leaders who have deliberately chosen to portray themselves that way, to be invulnerable. You know, it's an extreme leadership style,” Campbell said. “And I don't think in a crisis it's a very effective one because actually you need to be able to have people speaking truth to power.” Related: How coronavirus exposes weaknesses of US health systemCampbell says leaders who are proving to be most effective are those who have shown some humility and vulnerability in the last few months. These traits tend to bring people together in support of their government. The hyper-masculine approach adopted by the likes of the US President Donald Trump and Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is failing to unite people behind their governments' strategies, she added. Bolsonaro has repeatedly downplayed the virus, saying for most people, himself included, it would be nothing more than “just a little flu.” Brazil has by far the highest death rate in South America. In the US, Trump said the government had the situation “completely under control” in February, and that everything would work out fine by April, when the weather gets warmer. Instead, America now has the highest death toll in the world with over 80,000 deaths.Related: Bolsonaro's ‘so what' response to coronavirus deaths is the latest in his spiraling political crisisWith so much attention being paid to women leaders, it's easy to forget that they lead less than 7% of UN countries. Wilson said the challenges facing women just accessing positions of power remain considerable. Those that make it often have to reach a far higher standard than their male counterparts, she added.“It's a little bit easier for a relatively average man to slip through, but it's very, very difficult for a relatively average woman just to slip through.”Suze Wilson, Massey University“The chances of an average, kind of mediocre woman getting into power is very, very low indeed because the kinds of testing of their ability that they will be subjected to is so much greater,” Wilson said. “It's a little bit easier for a relatively average man to slip through, but it's very, very difficult for a relatively average woman just to slip through.” Harvard lecturer Zoe Marks said society does not not have a good record in celebrating achievements by women. Credit: Courtesy of Zoe Marks Related: Coronavirus postponed Russia's Victory Day. That could be a problem for Putin.Whether the praise many female leaders are receiving right now will have any impact on the numbers of women rising to the top remains to be seen. Harvard lecturer Zoe Marks said society does not have a good record in celebrating achievements by women.“It's often the case — and research has demonstrated this — that we're more likely to credit a team than an individual woman who's leading a team than we are if it was a man in charge,” Marks said. “And we are also quicker to blame women for any failures.”Marks says its contingent on everyone right now to recognize the success of these female leaders and also to upend the gender stereotype that women are less decisive and less confident than men. This pandemic has clearly shown that not to be the case, she said. Wilson is optimistic that the example women leaders are setting will have a positive impact on future generations.“The fact that there are so many examples of women leading very well in this crisis will, I think, help offer more stories to tell little girls that are growing up, to give them the confidence and the ambition to aim for leadership.”Above all, Wilson says she hopes it will show voters of both genders that women are more than capable of handling a global crisis. “In fact, women are actually pretty damn good at it,” she said.

The day Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern imposed a strict nationwide lockdown in March, no one in New Zealand had died from the coronavirus. Compare that to the United Kingdon: 335 people had already died by the time Prime Minister Boris Johnson ordered the British public to stay home. Like many world leaders, Ardern held daily press conferences where she appealed to New Zealanders to unite in their battle against the virus. “We are all in this together,” she told them. Ardern streamed Facebook live videos from her sofa at home, apologizing for her casual attire. Now, New Zealand is “halfway down Everest,” Ardern said last week as she announced measures to ease New Zealand’s lockdown. Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that? Her “go hard and go early” strategy combined with a warm empathetic manner worked. New Zealand recorded zero new cases of the coronavirus in a series of days last week and Ardern’s popularity rating is at an all-time high. But Zoe Marks, a lecturer in public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School says there’s nothing inherently female about this style of leadership.“The fireside chat approach originated with Franklin Roosevelt in the United States. The problem is not that only women can pull it off, it's that men are afraid to really let their guard down and be relatable,” Marks said.Denmark’s Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen has not been afraid to show a more human side either. Frederiksen posted a video of herself and her partner doing the dishes and singing along during a weekly TV lockdown singalong show.  Norway's Prime Minister Erna Solberg speaks during a news conference on reopening society after the coronavirus disease (Covid-19) outbreak, in Oslo, Norway, May 7, 2020. Credit: Fredrik Hagen/NTB Scanpix via Reuters Like New Zealand, Denmark moved quickly to close its borders, then its schools and businesses. Other Nordic countries led by women, like Norway and Finland, did likewise, and have seen relatively low death rates from COVID-19. Sweden’s Prime Minister Stefan Löfven, by contrast, took a gamble and shunned the idea of a lockdown, instead trusting the public to maintain social distancing themselves. It remains to be seen if his strategy pays off but currently Sweden’s death toll is by far the highest in Scandinavia.Suze Wilson, who teaches leadership at Massey University in New Zealand, says the evidence is mixed on whether men and women govern differently. Some research shows female leaders can be more participative in their approach, she says. “Research shows women are more willing to listen to advice and include different perspectives and try to weigh them up when making decisions,” Wilson said.Related: Fiona Hill: Putin has become ‘wild card’ for Russia's political systemBut Wilson says it’s unhelpful to place too much emphasis on gender differences. Jennifer Tomlinson, professor of gender and employment relations at the University of Leeds, agrees. Tomlinson says the theory that men and women have distinctly different leadership styles is an outdated concept. She agrees that there is some evidence suggesting women in power are more open to accepting ideas and working with others but argues that there is nothing to stop men from doing the same.  “There is some evidence, slightly mixed, that maybe women are more collaborative in their style and that may be quite an effective approach to take. But it's not to say that men can't do collaborative leadership,” Tomlinson said.Countries where leaders have listened to scientists' advice early in the crisis appear to have gained an upper hand in containing the virus.In countries where leaders have listened to scientists' advice early in the crisis, they appear to have gained an upper hand in containing the virus. Iceland’s Prime Minister Katrín Jakobsdóttir and German Chancellor Angela Merkel introduced widespread testing early. Merkel, who has a Ph.D. in quantum chemistry, isn't known for having a warm approachable manner of the likes of Ardern — though she has earned the nickname mutti, or mommy. Merkel's approach is more stern and pragmatic. She warned Germans early on that 70% of the population may become infected, and in her press briefings, used simple scientific facts to explain her government’s strategy. But her direct approach is paying off. Germany’s death toll has stayed remarkably lower than neighboring France, or Spain and Italy.Countries with male leaders, like South Korea, Vietnam and Greece, have certainly succeeded too in keeping infection rates down. And there are countries with women at the helm that haven’t fared so well, like Belgium, where the fatality rate is notably high, although Belgian officials argue that they are collating the figures differently than the rest of the world.  Related: Is Vietnam the coronavirus-fighting champ of the world?Rosie Campbell, professor of politics at King’s College London, says that while the pandemic may have highlighted the success of female leaders, it has also more importantly shone a spotlight on the failed macho style of governance of some more populist leaders."We've had this tide of populist, macho strongmen leaders who have deliberately chosen to portray themselves that way, to be invulnerable.”Rosie Campbell, King's College London“We've had this tide of populist, macho strongmen leaders who have deliberately chosen to portray themselves that way, to be invulnerable. You know, it's an extreme leadership style,” Campbell said. “And I don't think in a crisis it’s a very effective one because actually you need to be able to have people speaking truth to power.” Related: How coronavirus exposes weaknesses of US health systemCampbell says leaders who are proving to be most effective are those who have shown some humility and vulnerability in the last few months. These traits tend to bring people together in support of their government. The hyper-masculine approach adopted by the likes of the US President Donald Trump and Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is failing to unite people behind their governments’ strategies, she added. Bolsonaro has repeatedly downplayed the virus, saying for most people, himself included, it would be nothing more than “just a little flu.” Brazil has by far the highest death rate in South America. In the US, Trump said the government had the situation “completely under control” in February, and that everything would work out fine by April, when the weather gets warmer. Instead, America now has the highest death toll in the world with over 80,000 deaths.Related: Bolsonaro’s ‘so what’ response to coronavirus deaths is the latest in his spiraling political crisisWith so much attention being paid to women leaders, it’s easy to forget that they lead less than 7% of UN countries. Wilson said the challenges facing women just accessing positions of power remain considerable. Those that make it often have to reach a far higher standard than their male counterparts, she added.“It's a little bit easier for a relatively average man to slip through, but it's very, very difficult for a relatively average woman just to slip through.”Suze Wilson, Massey University“The chances of an average, kind of mediocre woman getting into power is very, very low indeed because the kinds of testing of their ability that they will be subjected to is so much greater,” Wilson said. “It's a little bit easier for a relatively average man to slip through, but it's very, very difficult for a relatively average woman just to slip through.” Harvard lecturer Zoe Marks said society does not not have a good record in celebrating achievements by women. Credit: Courtesy of Zoe Marks Related: Coronavirus postponed Russia’s Victory Day. That could be a problem for Putin.Whether the praise many female leaders are receiving right now will have any impact on the numbers of women rising to the top remains to be seen. Harvard lecturer Zoe Marks said society does not have a good record in celebrating achievements by women.“It's often the case — and research has demonstrated this — that we're more likely to credit a team than an individual woman who's leading a team than we are if it was a man in charge,” Marks said. “And we are also quicker to blame women for any failures.”Marks says its contingent on everyone right now to recognize the success of these female leaders and also to upend the gender stereotype that women are less decisive and less confident than men. This pandemic has clearly shown that not to be the case, she said. Wilson is optimistic that the example women leaders are setting will have a positive impact on future generations.“The fact that there are so many examples of women leading very well in this crisis will, I think, help offer more stories to tell little girls that are growing up, to give them the confidence and the ambition to aim for leadership.”Above all, Wilson says she hopes it will show voters of both genders that women are more than capable of handling a global crisis. “In fact, women are actually pretty damn good at it,” she said.

While in lockdown, Betina, a young woman in São Paulo, Brazil, stays busy cooking and working. She tries to stay calm by meditating. But Betina, who identifies as a lesbian, faces another challenge. Her parents are homophobic, she said, and she doesn't feel comfortable being herself while working from home because of the pandemic. “My parents make sure I know they are not OK with my ‘choices' every day. And being a lesbian made them so disappointed in me that no matter what I do, it's never enough,” said Betina, who asked that her surname not be used to protect her identity. “I feel like I'm watching my life go by through somebody else's eyes — because I'm not who they want me to be, but I also can't be myself when I'm in their house.”Betina is not alone. Many people who identify as LGBTQ are experiencing lockdown differently than their heterosexual peers — especially those stuck in homophobic homes. And LGBTQ organizations around the world are seeing significant upticks in calls for help.  Related: COVID-19: The latest from The WorldSwitchboard, the UK's leading LGBT+ helpline, says it's receiving 20% more calls, emails and instant messages than they did before the pandemic — and those numbers continue to rise.“It's really, really staggering,” said Natasha Walker, Switchboard's co-chair. “I know we've spoken to people who've come out to their family as transgender or who've come out to their family as homosexual and the parents aren't dealing with that very well. Those callers are contacting us because they think they're about to be kicked out.”Transgender and gender-nonconforming people are calling and messaging at an even higher rate, Walker said.     View this post on Instagram         Switchboard is a safe space to talk. We are here to listen from 10am to 10pm, 365 days a year ☎️

While in lockdown, Betina, a young woman in São Paulo, Brazil, stays busy cooking and working. She tries to stay calm by meditating. But Betina, who identifies as a lesbian, faces another challenge. Her parents are homophobic, she said, and she doesn’t feel comfortable being herself while working from home because of the pandemic. “My parents make sure I know they are not OK with my ‘choices’ every day. And being a lesbian made them so disappointed in me that no matter what I do, it’s never enough,” said Betina, who asked that her surname not be used to protect her identity. “I feel like I’m watching my life go by through somebody else’s eyes — because I’m not who they want me to be, but I also can’t be myself when I’m in their house.”Betina is not alone. Many people who identify as LGBTQ are experiencing lockdown differently than their heterosexual peers — especially those stuck in homophobic homes. And LGBTQ organizations around the world are seeing significant upticks in calls for help.  Related: COVID-19: The latest from The WorldSwitchboard, the UK’s leading LGBT+ helpline, says it's receiving 20% more calls, emails and instant messages than they did before the pandemic — and those numbers continue to rise.“It’s really, really staggering,” said Natasha Walker, Switchboard’s co-chair. “I know we’ve spoken to people who’ve come out to their family as transgender or who’ve come out to their family as homosexual and the parents aren’t dealing with that very well. Those callers are contacting us because they think they’re about to be kicked out.”Transgender and gender-nonconforming people are calling and messaging at an even higher rate, Walker said.     View this post on Instagram         Switchboard is a safe space to talk. We are here to listen from 10am to 10pm, 365 days a year ☎️

The archbishop of the Church of Uganda has broken with tradition to publicly urge women to use birth control to avoid getting pregnant during the pandemic.Stephen Kazimba Mugalu, who was enthroned as archbishop on March 1, put the onus on women to prevent unwanted pregnancies. “I am really concerned [that] after [this] coronavirus situation, we will have many, many women who will be pregnant. Actually, we need to be careful. I want to call upon you women — don't forget to use your contraceptives because we don't want [you] to have unwanted pregnancies,” Kazimba said. “These guys are there; they are eating and doing things [having sex]. Be careful because these men, they don't care. You women [must] be careful.”Related: South Korea reels from latest high-tech, online sex trafficking caseUganda has one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in East Africa and sex education and access to contraceptives is limited.The World's Marco Werman spoke with Primah Kwagala, a human rights lawyer in Uganda who focuses on the health rights of womenMarco Werman: What was your reaction, Primah, when you heard the archbishop's comments?Primah Kwagala: My reaction was a bit of shock. I could not believe that an archbishop could come out in support of the use and provision of contraceptives to women and girls in Uganda. For the longest time, religious entities have been the roadblock to access to contraceptives.So, you're encouraged. What about the Ugandan public? How did they react?It is not easy to tell what the public is thinking right now because of a lockdown. We have a mandatory curfew beginning at 7 p.m. to 6:30 a.m., so most of us are home.Related: COVID-19 interrupts fertility plans for hopeful couples in the United Kingdom So, are you surprised that the archbishop chose the pandemic lockdown as a time to promote birth control in Uganda?I am not particularly surprised because he's very new in the system. So, his message, that came when the Easter weekend was, I must say, received with mixed reactions. Because then there are people thinking: Are we sure he meant what he said? We are studying him. Because then, you know, they have meetings and protocol. So, it's not clear if he just said it in the heat of the moment or if it's something that he actually prepared to speak about because everyone was at home. And Ugandans are very religious people. Almost 80% of Ugandans subscribe to some Christian religion. So, the archbishop is actually held in very high regard. So, for him to say that was received with mixed reactions. Of course, for the rest of us health rights activists who are very excited about the message, we're promoting it. But then we don't know what will happen after.Related: How groups are helping domestic violence survivors during coronavirus lockdowns Yeah, what do you think will happen? Do you think this message from the archbishop will kind of take hold and be impactful?I think so. Because as activists, we tend to use it as an advocacy tool to encourage the government to avail and provide access to contraceptives for all women and girls of reproductive age, including those between the ages of 12 to 17 so that we can be able to prevent teenage pregnancies.Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that?  Yeah. So, it sounds like faith makes a teen pregnancy and birth control generally a particularly thorny issue in Uganda. How does Uganda compare to other countries in East Africa on these issues?Compared to Kenya and Tanzania, Uganda's teenage pregnancy rates are quite high. Having a mind shift, I think, is really something we are struggling with. Amid this, the religious communities are in charge of the health and education sector in the region.Related: Women in Mexico take to the streets to protest femicide Primah, I hear children in the background. Are kids in classes? How are you able to practice as a lawyer?Currently, even legal services have been rendered nonessential, so we are not working, except for very emergency cases, say if someone needs bail. Because there are lots of people being arrested for breaking the curfew.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

The archbishop of the Church of Uganda has broken with tradition to publicly urge women to use birth control to avoid getting pregnant during the pandemic.Stephen Kazimba Mugalu, who was enthroned as archbishop on March 1, put the onus on women to prevent unwanted pregnancies. “I am really concerned [that] after [this] coronavirus situation, we will have many, many women who will be pregnant. Actually, we need to be careful. I want to call upon you women — don’t forget to use your contraceptives because we don’t want [you] to have unwanted pregnancies,” Kazimba said. “These guys are there; they are eating and doing things [having sex]. Be careful because these men, they don’t care. You women [must] be careful.”Related: South Korea reels from latest high-tech, online sex trafficking caseUganda has one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in East Africa and sex education and access to contraceptives is limited.The World's Marco Werman spoke with Primah Kwagala, a human rights lawyer in Uganda who focuses on the health rights of womenMarco Werman: What was your reaction, Primah, when you heard the archbishop's comments?Primah Kwagala: My reaction was a bit of shock. I could not believe that an archbishop could come out in support of the use and provision of contraceptives to women and girls in Uganda. For the longest time, religious entities have been the roadblock to access to contraceptives.So, you're encouraged. What about the Ugandan public? How did they react?It is not easy to tell what the public is thinking right now because of a lockdown. We have a mandatory curfew beginning at 7 p.m. to 6:30 a.m., so most of us are home.Related: COVID-19 interrupts fertility plans for hopeful couples in the United Kingdom So, are you surprised that the archbishop chose the pandemic lockdown as a time to promote birth control in Uganda?I am not particularly surprised because he's very new in the system. So, his message, that came when the Easter weekend was, I must say, received with mixed reactions. Because then there are people thinking: Are we sure he meant what he said? We are studying him. Because then, you know, they have meetings and protocol. So, it's not clear if he just said it in the heat of the moment or if it's something that he actually prepared to speak about because everyone was at home. And Ugandans are very religious people. Almost 80% of Ugandans subscribe to some Christian religion. So, the archbishop is actually held in very high regard. So, for him to say that was received with mixed reactions. Of course, for the rest of us health rights activists who are very excited about the message, we're promoting it. But then we don't know what will happen after.Related: How groups are helping domestic violence survivors during coronavirus lockdowns Yeah, what do you think will happen? Do you think this message from the archbishop will kind of take hold and be impactful?I think so. Because as activists, we tend to use it as an advocacy tool to encourage the government to avail and provide access to contraceptives for all women and girls of reproductive age, including those between the ages of 12 to 17 so that we can be able to prevent teenage pregnancies.Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that?  Yeah. So, it sounds like faith makes a teen pregnancy and birth control generally a particularly thorny issue in Uganda. How does Uganda compare to other countries in East Africa on these issues?Compared to Kenya and Tanzania, Uganda's teenage pregnancy rates are quite high. Having a mind shift, I think, is really something we are struggling with. Amid this, the religious communities are in charge of the health and education sector in the region.Related: Women in Mexico take to the streets to protest femicide Primah, I hear children in the background. Are kids in classes? How are you able to practice as a lawyer?Currently, even legal services have been rendered nonessential, so we are not working, except for very emergency cases, say if someone needs bail. Because there are lots of people being arrested for breaking the curfew.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Thousands of women may lose out on their chance to have a baby because of COVID-19. Fertility clinics across Britain shut their doors in mid-April, pausing in vitro fertilization (IVF) treatment for many women midcycle. The decision has left thousands in limbo. No one knows when the clinics will open up again and for those who have spent years trying to conceive — the closure is a cruel blow.As lockdowns began, jokes were made about the baby boom in nine months' time. But it's hard for some to see the funny side if they've been trying for a baby for years. Anita Brien in Hull, in northeast England, has tried to conceive for five years; Sian Brindlow in southern England has tried to conceive for 12 years. For these women, the quips can wear them down. Brien who's 34, blocked some social media accounts because it was too upsetting to read the jokes. Comments by parents on Facebook about the trials of home-schooling have left her feeling empty, too. Related: Mourning in the midst of a pandemic“I'd love to be getting annoyed with my children right now. I'd love to be not understanding the work that the school has sent home, but I can't because I don't have those children,“ she said.    Brien was only three days into her first IVF treatment when she received a text last month telling her to stop taking her medication. Her fertility clinic was closing down because of the coronavirus. Even though she was in the early stage of the cycle, Brien was heartbroken. After so many negative pregnancy tests, the IVF treatment had been the first positive step in her hope of having a baby.  “This was really positive, something really practical was going to happen. So, I was completely devastated,” she said.But Brien, an events fundraiser, is practical, too. Her partner Matt is a paramedic and he's seen the close-up impact of the virus.As women across Britain began to receive the news that their treatments were being canceled, the Fertility Network, a national charity for people dealing with fertility issues, was inundated with calls. The organization's chief executive, Gwenda Burns, said women were distressed not just because their IVF was stopped, but because nobody could offer any guidance on what the next stage would be. But she thinks the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority, the British regulatory body, made the right call to order the clinics' closure.“I think for the safety of patients, the safety of embryos and of NHS [National Health Service] staff, there was no other actual way this could be done,” Burns said.“We don't know how many months we're going to have to wait now and, you know, we hear all these miracle stories of people conceiving well into their 40s. But that's what they are. They are miracles. They don't happen to everybody."Sian Brindlow,  teacher, West Sussex, EnglandIn Britain, women are entitled to a number of free fertility treatments under the NHS but it varies depending on age and where they live. Sian Brindlow, a teacher in West Sussex, was on her third IVF cycle when she got the call saying her treatment needed to be postponed.Like Brien, Brindlow understands the need to pause treatment, but worries about the time passing.  “We don't know how many months we're going to have to wait now and, you know, we hear all these miracle stories of people conceiving well into their 40s. But that's what they are. They are miracles. They don't happen to everybody,” she said. Related: Many people aren't putting love on hold during COVID-19 Sian Brindlow and her husband Nick have struggled with fertility.  Credit: Courtesy of Sian Brindlow  Brindlow says trying to have a baby has dominated her life and that of her husband Nick for over a decade. She says they naively thought it would just happen. Undergoing IVF treatment, she said, also gradually takes over your life.“You know, your evenings are injections, your hormones are not your own. You can't plan any weekend breaks, you can't plan any holidays." Kirsty Duncan, 32, who lives in Cheshire, understands how all-consuming the experience can be. She says she is at the stage where many of her friends are getting pregnant, and she can't help wondering when her time will come.“It's an incredibly lonely place to be as a couple because, you know, you've got friends that are announcing pregnancies left, right and center. And you think why is it so easy for them? And it's not for us?”Duncan, an early career manager and her husband, Adam, are open about their difficulties trying to conceive. Duncan posts updates on her Instagram account of their journey so far and says the community is hugely supportive. But she says some couples are very reluctant to discuss their fertility issues and wonders if it might come down to being British.“I think there's this kind of British uneasiness about talking about something to do with sex, especially if your sex organs don't work. It's like well, if they're talking about IVF, that means they must have had sex at some point in their life. And that's just that's too distasteful for us to talk about."Kristy Duncan, early career manager, Cheshire, England “I think there's this kind of British uneasiness about talking about something to do with sex, especially if your sex organs don't work. It's like, well, if they're talking about IVF, that means they must have had sex at some point in their life. And that's just that's too distasteful for us to talk about,” she laughed.     It might also have to do with the advice people seem determined to dish out. Duncan says she's heard countless suggestions about how she just needs to calm down and everything will work out fine.“There's so many people that I know will just say, 'You just need to go on holiday. Get a dog, get drunk.' I would say the worst thing is when people say just relax.”Related: Countries herald lifting of coronavirus lockdowns, but UK says not yet Anita Brien and her partner Matt's fertility plans got interrupted by COVID-19.  Credit: Courtesy of Anita Brien  Trying to remain calm while dealing with fertility issues during a pandemic is a challenge. But it's not the biggest issue on Brien's mind right now. She has another slightly unexpected concern. Chocolate.“My biggest worry is how much chocolate I'm going to eat over the next few months,” she said. It might sound frivolous, but there is a good reason for this. The NHS in Britain only funds your IVF treatment if your body mass index is under a certain number, and Brien, like most people right now, is trying not to comfort eat her way through the lockdown.For many women, the pandemic is a reminder of just how little control they have over their lives. Brindlow says she is now leaving it up to fate to decide whether she'll be a mother someday. If it's not meant to be, that's OK, too, she said.“We've had a lot of time just us two. You know, I only want kids with him, I don't want them with anyone else. And I know it sounds twee, but, you know, I'm really lucky I do have the love of my life. ... Not everyone has that.”

Thousands of women may lose out on their chance to have a baby because of COVID-19. Fertility clinics across Britain shut their doors in mid-April, pausing in vitro fertilization (IVF) treatment for many women midcycle. The decision has left thousands in limbo. No one knows when the clinics will open up again and for those who have spent years trying to conceive — the closure is a cruel blow.As lockdowns began, jokes were made about the baby boom in nine months' time. But it’s hard for some to see the funny side if they've been trying for a baby for years. Anita Brien in Hull, in northeast England, has tried to conceive for five years; Sian Brindlow in southern England has tried to conceive for 12 years. For these women, the quips can wear them down. Brien who’s 34, blocked some social media accounts because it was too upsetting to read the jokes. Comments by parents on Facebook about the trials of home-schooling have left her feeling empty, too. Related: Mourning in the midst of a pandemic“I'd love to be getting annoyed with my children right now. I'd love to be not understanding the work that the school has sent home, but I can't because I don't have those children,“ she said.    Brien was only three days into her first IVF treatment when she received a text last month telling her to stop taking her medication. Her fertility clinic was closing down because of the coronavirus. Even though she was in the early stage of the cycle, Brien was heartbroken. After so many negative pregnancy tests, the IVF treatment had been the first positive step in her hope of having a baby.  “This was really positive, something really practical was going to happen. So, I was completely devastated,” she said.But Brien, an events fundraiser, is practical, too. Her partner Matt is a paramedic and he’s seen the close-up impact of the virus.As women across Britain began to receive the news that their treatments were being canceled, the Fertility Network, a national charity for people dealing with fertility issues, was inundated with calls. The organization's chief executive, Gwenda Burns, said women were distressed not just because their IVF was stopped, but because nobody could offer any guidance on what the next stage would be. But she thinks the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority, the British regulatory body, made the right call to order the clinics’ closure.“I think for the safety of patients, the safety of embryos and of NHS [National Health Service] staff, there was no other actual way this could be done,” Burns said.“We don't know how many months we’re going to have to wait now and, you know, we hear all these miracle stories of people conceiving well into their 40s. But that's what they are. They are miracles. They don't happen to everybody."Sian Brindlow,  teacher, West Sussex, EnglandIn Britain, women are entitled to a number of free fertility treatments under the NHS but it varies depending on age and where they live. Sian Brindlow, a teacher in West Sussex, was on her third IVF cycle when she got the call saying her treatment needed to be postponed.Like Brien, Brindlow understands the need to pause treatment, but worries about the time passing.  “We don't know how many months we’re going to have to wait now and, you know, we hear all these miracle stories of people conceiving well into their 40s. But that's what they are. They are miracles. They don't happen to everybody,” she said. Related: Many people aren’t putting love on hold during COVID-19 Sian Brindlow and her husband Nick have struggled with fertility.  Credit: Courtesy of Sian Brindlow  Brindlow says trying to have a baby has dominated her life and that of her husband Nick for over a decade. She says they naively thought it would just happen. Undergoing IVF treatment, she said, also gradually takes over your life.“You know, your evenings are injections, your hormones are not your own. You can't plan any weekend breaks, you can’t plan any holidays." Kirsty Duncan, 32, who lives in Cheshire, understands how all-consuming the experience can be. She says she is at the stage where many of her friends are getting pregnant, and she can’t help wondering when her time will come.“It's an incredibly lonely place to be as a couple because, you know, you've got friends that are announcing pregnancies left, right and center. And you think why is it so easy for them? And it's not for us?”Duncan, an early career manager and her husband, Adam, are open about their difficulties trying to conceive. Duncan posts updates on her Instagram account of their journey so far and says the community is hugely supportive. But she says some couples are very reluctant to discuss their fertility issues and wonders if it might come down to being British.“I think there's this kind of British uneasiness about talking about something to do with sex, especially if your sex organs don't work. It’s like well, if they're talking about IVF, that means they must have had sex at some point in their life. And that's just that's too distasteful for us to talk about."Kristy Duncan, early career manager, Cheshire, England “I think there's this kind of British uneasiness about talking about something to do with sex, especially if your sex organs don't work. It’s like, well, if they're talking about IVF, that means they must have had sex at some point in their life. And that's just that's too distasteful for us to talk about,” she laughed.     It might also have to do with the advice people seem determined to dish out. Duncan says she’s heard countless suggestions about how she just needs to calm down and everything will work out fine.“There's so many people that I know will just say, 'You just need to go on holiday. Get a dog, get drunk.' I would say the worst thing is when people say just relax.”Related: Countries herald lifting of coronavirus lockdowns, but UK says not yet Anita Brien and her partner Matt's fertility plans got interrupted by COVID-19.  Credit: Courtesy of Anita Brien  Trying to remain calm while dealing with fertility issues during a pandemic is a challenge. But it’s not the biggest issue on Brien’s mind right now. She has another slightly unexpected concern. Chocolate.“My biggest worry is how much chocolate I'm going to eat over the next few months,” she said. It might sound frivolous, but there is a good reason for this. The NHS in Britain only funds your IVF treatment if your body mass index is under a certain number, and Brien, like most people right now, is trying not to comfort eat her way through the lockdown.For many women, the pandemic is a reminder of just how little control they have over their lives. Brindlow says she is now leaving it up to fate to decide whether she’ll be a mother someday. If it's not meant to be, that’s OK, too, she said.“We've had a lot of time just us two. You know, I only want kids with him, I don't want them with anyone else. And I know it sounds twee, but, you know, I'm really lucky I do have the love of my life. ... Not everyone has that.”

Five years ago on a summer day, Michelle said goodbye to her sister who told her she found a job in Austria. Her sister had a friend there, so it wasn't completely out of the blue.“When I hugged her, it didn't feel like I was going to hug her for the last time,” said Michelle, who asked that her full name not be used and that her sister not be identified because she fears backlash against herself and her family.Related: Policymakers rush to stave off economic collapse on the African continentMichelle's sister sent some pictures after she arrived in Austria, but then she went silent. Michelle said her sister was going through a rough patch. She grew up in a Christian family in Canada, but had converted to Islam. She had been through several unsuccessful marriages and struggled with her mental health.“I could tell she was kind of cycling, like she's going to do something because things weren't going so well for her,” Michelle said. “I had some concerns about her when she did leave, but I thought, ‘Well, OK, maybe this will do her some good.'”The next time that Michelle and her family heard about her sister was from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. They told them she was in Raqqa, Syria, the capital of the so-called ISIS caliphate. Michelle's sister had married a man online who was a member of ISIS, and she'd gone to Syria to join him.Michelle never imagined her sister would take such actions. “What could I have done differently, and how did it ever get to be to this extent?” she wondered.Today, Michelle is in touch with her sister and claims to have proof that she wasn't involved in fighting for ISIS, but whether she'll be allowed to return to Canada is unclear.  Since the fall of ISIS, countries have grappled with the question of what to do with individuals who left to join the group. Those suspected of having ties with ISIS face stigma back home. And now, there's a new threat: the coronavirus. Michelle worries that her sister, now a mother of three, is especially vulnerable to the coronavirus in a camp in Syria. “She is malnourished. She's got broken teeth, and her hair and skin is a very strange texture. She is already in a fragile state.”Related: Detroit needs Canadian nurses. But coronavirus threatens their cross-border travel.Already dire circumstances As of Monday, 39 COVID-19 cases and three deaths have been reported in Syria. Health experts and aid workers warn that once the pandemic hits the area, it will spread through the camps very quickly.The coronavirus pandemic has made it difficult to get aid to the camps in northern Syria. Borders are closed. Airports have shut down. Aid workers themselves have to take precautions so as to not spread the disease.The Syrian civil war has severely impacted the health care infrastructure, and the camps especially, are not prepared to deal with an outbreak, said Sonia Khush, Syria response director for Save the Children. Crowded conditions will accelerate the spread of the virus, Khush added.These concerns prompted the US-led coalition to deliver $1.2 million worth of medical supplies, such as latex gloves and masks, as well as surgical kits, defibrillators and oximeters to hospitals and detention facilities in northeastern Syria in late March.Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that? There are now only 28 intensive care unit beds and 11 ventilators in all of northeastern Syria, according to Khush.“I mean the population of al-Hol camp is four times the density of New York City. So, the idea that all these social distancing measures can be easily put in place is just not realistic.”Sonia Khush, Save the Children“I mean the population of al-Hol camp is four times the density of New York City,” Khush said. “So, the idea that all these social distancing measures can be easily put in place is just not realistic.”Already, the circumstances in the camps were dire. Last summer, representatives from Human Rights Watch visited the al-Hol camp three times. They found “overflowing latrines, sewage trickling into tattered tents, and residents drinking wash water from tanks containing worms. Young children with skin rashes, emaciated limbs, and swollen bellies sifted through mounds of stinking garbage under a scorching sun or lay limp on tent floors, their bodies dusted with dirt and flies.”Aid groups and camp managers told Human Rights Watch that children were dying from acute diarrhea and flulike infections. Now, with the threat of the coronavirus looming, human rights watchers and local doctors are urging the international community to act to prevent an outbreak. Foreigners flocked to Syria and IraqIn 2014, with the rise of ISIS, an increasing number of foreigners flocked to Syria and Iraq to join the group as fighters or to live under its rule. Among them were young women from Europe, Canada and the US. Some, like Michelle's sister, got married online. Others married once inside the caliphate. Many became mothers.Related: Documenting the toll of coronavirus on New York City's ChinatownBy 2017, the US-led coalition and local forces drove out ISIS from most of its territory. ISIS fighters were either killed or taken to prisons. In Syria, most of the women and children who survived the fighting ended up in camps in the Kurdish-held territory in the northeastern part of the country. Al-Hol and Roj are two of these camps.Elizabeth Tsurkov, a fellow at the Foreign Policy Research Institute, explained that before the offensives against ISIS, al-Hol held displaced Syrians and Iraqis. Some were victims of the group's brutal campaign to create a caliphate. These residents still live in the camp, Tsurkov said.In early 2019, al-Hol became a holding place for families suspected of having ties with ISIS. The camps are administered by Kurdish authorities in northeast Syria.“In the screening process, in most cases, children above the age of 12 were separated from their family and taken to prison,” she said. “Those who are at the camp are overwhelmingly women and children and are not suspected of carrying out any activities on behalf of ISIS. If such information reaches the Kurdish authorities, then they are arrested.”According to a recent report by the International Crisis Group, al-Hol and Roj hold 66,000 and 4,000 women and children, respectively. Most are relatives of ISIS militants, but some are former affiliates of the group themselves. The majority are either Syrians or Iraqis, with the numbers roughly split, and around 13,500 are from other countries.What to do with ISIS families Both the United States and the United Kingdom have revoked the citizenship of women who left to join ISIS. But they have also taken back some of their citizens. France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and Norway have repatriated some citizens, most of them children. Canada is an outlier so far.“Some countries are not interested in having any children back or anyone from the camp, no matter their age, due to political considerations essentially,” Tsurkov said.“At the moment, we have 45 Canadians in al-Hol, camp Roj and the prisons in northeast Syria,” said Alexandra Bain, director of Families Against Violent Extremism, who adds that 27 of these Canadians are children.Bain's organization works mostly Canadian families who have had someone caught up in violent extremism. She wants the Canadian government to bring back all of its citizens, but especially the children.“I think we owe it to ourselves to make sure that Canadian citizenship means something,” she said. “People have fought wars before. There have been camp followers before. We're big enough to do this.”“Each person's story is different,” Bain said. “We've had cases where mental health has been a prominent factor; we have young women who went off in search of love and idealism; and we have a young man who was a sniper.” She believes they should all be brought back to Canada and properly investigated.Investigating and prosecuting individuals with suspected ties to ISIS is one possible solution put forward by Brian Michael Jenkins, a terrorism expert and author of several books on the issue. But there are challenges.“Ordinary courtroom requirements are difficult to meet in conflict zones.” Brian Michael Jenkins, errorism expert and author“Ordinary courtroom requirements are difficult to meet in conflict zones,” Jenkins writes in a piece for the Combating Terrorism Center at West Point.“The countries from which ISIS children originate are confronted with a grave humanitarian crisis,” Mia Bloom writes in an essay. Bloom is a communication professor at Georgia State University and author most recently of “Small Arms: Children and Terrorism.”She describes how ISIS took advantage of children to further advance its ideological goals.“Given that ISIS indoctrination in many cases started at a very young age, the children have to unlearn their knowledge of the Islamic faith that was profoundly distorted by ISIS and re-learn basic life skills. They also should participate in vocational training to facilitate their transition to everyday life,” she writes in the essay.The World contacted the Canadian Security Intelligence Service and asked about the repatriation of Canadian citizens, including Michelle's sister, but did not receive a response.Still, Michelle remains hopeful that her sister will be able to return to Canada — and that one day, she'll be able to hug her once again.  “I don't condone anything that ISIS has done. They have done awful, awful things. I hate what they have done [...] but it's not humane to keep somebody captive without letting them know when they can get out or give them access to legal help.”Michelle, whose sister married a man who was an ISIS member and went to Syria to join him “I don't condone anything that ISIS has done. They have done awful, awful things,” Michelle said. “I hate what they have done [...] but it's not humane to keep somebody captive without letting them know when they can get out or give them access to legal help.”

Five years ago on a summer day, Michelle said goodbye to her sister who told her she found a job in Austria. Her sister had a friend there, so it wasn’t completely out of the blue.“When I hugged her, it didn’t feel like I was going to hug her for the last time,” said Michelle, who asked that her full name not be used and that her sister not be identified because she fears backlash against herself and her family.Related: Policymakers rush to stave off economic collapse on the African continentMichelle’s sister sent some pictures after she arrived in Austria, but then she went silent. Michelle said her sister was going through a rough patch. She grew up in a Christian family in Canada, but had converted to Islam. She had been through several unsuccessful marriages and struggled with her mental health.“I could tell she was kind of cycling, like she’s going to do something because things weren’t going so well for her,” Michelle said. “I had some concerns about her when she did leave, but I thought, ‘Well, OK, maybe this will do her some good.’”The next time that Michelle and her family heard about her sister was from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. They told them she was in Raqqa, Syria, the capital of the so-called ISIS caliphate. Michelle’s sister had married a man online who was a member of ISIS, and she’d gone to Syria to join him.Michelle never imagined her sister would take such actions. “What could I have done differently, and how did it ever get to be to this extent?” she wondered.Today, Michelle is in touch with her sister and claims to have proof that she wasn’t involved in fighting for ISIS, but whether she’ll be allowed to return to Canada is unclear.  Since the fall of ISIS, countries have grappled with the question of what to do with individuals who left to join the group. Those suspected of having ties with ISIS face stigma back home. And now, there's a new threat: the coronavirus. Michelle worries that her sister, now a mother of three, is especially vulnerable to the coronavirus in a camp in Syria. “She is malnourished. She's got broken teeth, and her hair and skin is a very strange texture. She is already in a fragile state.”Related: Detroit needs Canadian nurses. But coronavirus threatens their cross-border travel.Already dire circumstances As of Monday, 39 COVID-19 cases and three deaths have been reported in Syria. Health experts and aid workers warn that once the pandemic hits the area, it will spread through the camps very quickly.The coronavirus pandemic has made it difficult to get aid to the camps in northern Syria. Borders are closed. Airports have shut down. Aid workers themselves have to take precautions so as to not spread the disease.The Syrian civil war has severely impacted the health care infrastructure, and the camps especially, are not prepared to deal with an outbreak, said Sonia Khush, Syria response director for Save the Children. Crowded conditions will accelerate the spread of the virus, Khush added.These concerns prompted the US-led coalition to deliver $1.2 million worth of medical supplies, such as latex gloves and masks, as well as surgical kits, defibrillators and oximeters to hospitals and detention facilities in northeastern Syria in late March.Related: Rohingya women are traditionally kept out of leadership roles. Will the coronavirus change that? There are now only 28 intensive care unit beds and 11 ventilators in all of northeastern Syria, according to Khush.“I mean the population of al-Hol camp is four times the density of New York City. So, the idea that all these social distancing measures can be easily put in place is just not realistic.”Sonia Khush, Save the Children“I mean the population of al-Hol camp is four times the density of New York City,” Khush said. “So, the idea that all these social distancing measures can be easily put in place is just not realistic.”Already, the circumstances in the camps were dire. Last summer, representatives from Human Rights Watch visited the al-Hol camp three times. They found “overflowing latrines, sewage trickling into tattered tents, and residents drinking wash water from tanks containing worms. Young children with skin rashes, emaciated limbs, and swollen bellies sifted through mounds of stinking garbage under a scorching sun or lay limp on tent floors, their bodies dusted with dirt and flies.”Aid groups and camp managers told Human Rights Watch that children were dying from acute diarrhea and flulike infections. Now, with the threat of the coronavirus looming, human rights watchers and local doctors are urging the international community to act to prevent an outbreak. Foreigners flocked to Syria and IraqIn 2014, with the rise of ISIS, an increasing number of foreigners flocked to Syria and Iraq to join the group as fighters or to live under its rule. Among them were young women from Europe, Canada and the US. Some, like Michelle’s sister, got married online. Others married once inside the caliphate. Many became mothers.Related: Documenting the toll of coronavirus on New York City's ChinatownBy 2017, the US-led coalition and local forces drove out ISIS from most of its territory. ISIS fighters were either killed or taken to prisons. In Syria, most of the women and children who survived the fighting ended up in camps in the Kurdish-held territory in the northeastern part of the country. Al-Hol and Roj are two of these camps.Elizabeth Tsurkov, a fellow at the Foreign Policy Research Institute, explained that before the offensives against ISIS, al-Hol held displaced Syrians and Iraqis. Some were victims of the group’s brutal campaign to create a caliphate. These residents still live in the camp, Tsurkov said.In early 2019, al-Hol became a holding place for families suspected of having ties with ISIS. The camps are administered by Kurdish authorities in northeast Syria.“In the screening process, in most cases, children above the age of 12 were separated from their family and taken to prison,” she said. “Those who are at the camp are overwhelmingly women and children and are not suspected of carrying out any activities on behalf of ISIS. If such information reaches the Kurdish authorities, then they are arrested.”According to a recent report by the International Crisis Group, al-Hol and Roj hold 66,000 and 4,000 women and children, respectively. Most are relatives of ISIS militants, but some are former affiliates of the group themselves. The majority are either Syrians or Iraqis, with the numbers roughly split, and around 13,500 are from other countries.What to do with ISIS families Both the United States and the United Kingdom have revoked the citizenship of women who left to join ISIS. But they have also taken back some of their citizens. France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and Norway have repatriated some citizens, most of them children. Canada is an outlier so far.“Some countries are not interested in having any children back or anyone from the camp, no matter their age, due to political considerations essentially,” Tsurkov said.“At the moment, we have 45 Canadians in al-Hol, camp Roj and the prisons in northeast Syria,” said Alexandra Bain, director of Families Against Violent Extremism, who adds that 27 of these Canadians are children.Bain’s organization works mostly Canadian families who have had someone caught up in violent extremism. She wants the Canadian government to bring back all of its citizens, but especially the children.“I think we owe it to ourselves to make sure that Canadian citizenship means something,” she said. “People have fought wars before. There have been camp followers before. We’re big enough to do this.”“Each person’s story is different,” Bain said. “We’ve had cases where mental health has been a prominent factor; we have young women who went off in search of love and idealism; and we have a young man who was a sniper.” She believes they should all be brought back to Canada and properly investigated.Investigating and prosecuting individuals with suspected ties to ISIS is one possible solution put forward by Brian Michael Jenkins, a terrorism expert and author of several books on the issue. But there are challenges.“Ordinary courtroom requirements are difficult to meet in conflict zones.” Brian Michael Jenkins, errorism expert and author“Ordinary courtroom requirements are difficult to meet in conflict zones,” Jenkins writes in a piece for the Combating Terrorism Center at West Point.“The countries from which ISIS children originate are confronted with a grave humanitarian crisis,” Mia Bloom writes in an essay. Bloom is a communication professor at Georgia State University and author most recently of “Small Arms: Children and Terrorism.”She describes how ISIS took advantage of children to further advance its ideological goals.“Given that ISIS indoctrination in many cases started at a very young age, the children have to unlearn their knowledge of the Islamic faith that was profoundly distorted by ISIS and re-learn basic life skills. They also should participate in vocational training to facilitate their transition to everyday life,” she writes in the essay.The World contacted the Canadian Security Intelligence Service and asked about the repatriation of Canadian citizens, including Michelle’s sister, but did not receive a response.Still, Michelle remains hopeful that her sister will be able to return to Canada — and that one day, she'll be able to hug her once again.  “I don’t condone anything that ISIS has done. They have done awful, awful things. I hate what they have done [...] but it’s not humane to keep somebody captive without letting them know when they can get out or give them access to legal help.”Michelle, whose sister married a man who was an ISIS member and went to Syria to join him “I don’t condone anything that ISIS has done. They have done awful, awful things,” Michelle said. “I hate what they have done [...] but it’s not humane to keep somebody captive without letting them know when they can get out or give them access to legal help.”

While cases of COVID-19 in Bangladesh have surpassed 1,200, none so far have been reported in overcrowded Rohingya refugee camps. Still, one refugee there, a mother named Chekufa Ra, speaking through an interpreter, described a feeling of overwhelming dread about what happens if there's an outbreak.Ra said clinics and schools have closed, and many volunteers are gone. It's difficult to find food. And fear is rampant. The internet has been blocked, so many people don't have basic information about the disease. There have been lots of rumors and misinformation about how the virus is spread.Related: Racing to develop a drug to fight COVID-19If there is an outbreak, the success of the response may depend in part on the status of women in the camps. That's because women are the main caregivers when people fall ill — but they don't usually have leadership roles in their communities.“Within the overall structures in the camps, women are often not in decision-making positions. There are only 10 women police in the whole camp. But then at the same time, we see that there can be disproportionate impacts on women and girls.”Marie Sophie Pettersson, United Nations Women“And for that, we're particularly concerned because the Rohingya community as a whole is quite conservative and patriarchal,” said Marie Sophie Pettersson of United Nations Women. “Within the overall structures in the camps, women are often not in decision-making positions. There are only 10 women police in the whole camp. But then at the same time, we see that there can be disproportionate impacts on women and girls.”Even before the coronavirus, she said, girls and women were trafficked and forced into marriage. Since the lockdown, levels of domestic violence have spiked. And now, because women are the caregivers, they'll likely be among the first infected.“This COVID-19 crisis could have devastating impacts if we don't prevent or mitigate the risks,” Pettersson said.Related: Bolsonaro's denial of coronavirus puts the country at riskGenocide forced Rohingya to flee Myanmar in 2017. Nearly 900,000 people are packed into camps across Bangladesh. Ra was pregnant when she and her 4-year-old daughter walked for days to reach the camps in neighboring Bangladesh. She's lived there now for three years with her husband and two daughters.Ra said that before the genocide, many people in her family served as social workers and government officals, and she learned how to organize from them. Now, those skills have helped her take matters into her own hands. She's leading a grassroots response to the COVID-19 crisis, building a network of 400 refugee women who are going door to door to educate people about the virus, and recruiting more women to help.They've put together makeshift health clinics, and arranged transportation for people who might get sick. If an outbreak hits, Ra said, her group of women will be prepared to respond, no matter what the men say. Related: Mutual aid groups respond to double threat of coronavirus and climate changeHumanitarian workers are also working to frantically produce videos and podcasts about how the infection spreads. Louise Donovan, of the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees in Bangladesh, explained, “Not everybody is literate and there isn't a written Rohingya language, also — so, it's quite challenging.”She said they're also expanding medical and isolation facilities as much as possible, and taking steps to improve hygiene. “So, just huge distributions of soap across the camps, establishing hand-washing facilities at all distribution centers and every communal facility in the camp.”“Everybody is looking for additional capacities and resources at the moment. I think at this time, it's very clear that this is a global problem and no population can be excluded from that.”Louise Donovan, spokesperson, Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees in BangladeshThere's some capacity for COVID-19 testing, Donovan said, but more medical equipment and resources are needed. “Everybody is looking for additional capacities and resources at the moment,” she said. “I think at this time, it's very clear that this is a global problem and no population can be excluded from that.”

While cases of COVID-19 in Bangladesh have surpassed 1,200, none so far have been reported in overcrowded Rohingya refugee camps. Still, one refugee there, a mother named Chekufa Ra, speaking through an interpreter, described a feeling of overwhelming dread about what happens if there’s an outbreak.Ra said clinics and schools have closed, and many volunteers are gone. It’s difficult to find food. And fear is rampant. The internet has been blocked, so many people don’t have basic information about the disease. There have been lots of rumors and misinformation about how the virus is spread.Related: Racing to develop a drug to fight COVID-19If there is an outbreak, the success of the response may depend in part on the status of women in the camps. That’s because women are the main caregivers when people fall ill — but they don’t usually have leadership roles in their communities.“Within the overall structures in the camps, women are often not in decision-making positions. There are only 10 women police in the whole camp. But then at the same time, we see that there can be disproportionate impacts on women and girls.”Marie Sophie Pettersson, United Nations Women“And for that, we're particularly concerned because the Rohingya community as a whole is quite conservative and patriarchal,” said Marie Sophie Pettersson of United Nations Women. “Within the overall structures in the camps, women are often not in decision-making positions. There are only 10 women police in the whole camp. But then at the same time, we see that there can be disproportionate impacts on women and girls.”Even before the coronavirus, she said, girls and women were trafficked and forced into marriage. Since the lockdown, levels of domestic violence have spiked. And now, because women are the caregivers, they’ll likely be among the first infected.“This COVID-19 crisis could have devastating impacts if we don't prevent or mitigate the risks,” Pettersson said.Related: Bolsonaro’s denial of coronavirus puts the country at riskGenocide forced Rohingya to flee Myanmar in 2017. Nearly 900,000 people are packed into camps across Bangladesh. Ra was pregnant when she and her 4-year-old daughter walked for days to reach the camps in neighboring Bangladesh. She’s lived there now for three years with her husband and two daughters.Ra said that before the genocide, many people in her family served as social workers and government officals, and she learned how to organize from them. Now, those skills have helped her take matters into her own hands. She’s leading a grassroots response to the COVID-19 crisis, building a network of 400 refugee women who are going door to door to educate people about the virus, and recruiting more women to help.They’ve put together makeshift health clinics, and arranged transportation for people who might get sick. If an outbreak hits, Ra said, her group of women will be prepared to respond, no matter what the men say. Related: Mutual aid groups respond to double threat of coronavirus and climate changeHumanitarian workers are also working to frantically produce videos and podcasts about how the infection spreads. Louise Donovan, of the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees in Bangladesh, explained, “Not everybody is literate and there isn't a written Rohingya language, also — so, it's quite challenging.”She said they’re also expanding medical and isolation facilities as much as possible, and taking steps to improve hygiene. “So, just huge distributions of soap across the camps, establishing hand-washing facilities at all distribution centers and every communal facility in the camp.”“Everybody is looking for additional capacities and resources at the moment. I think at this time, it's very clear that this is a global problem and no population can be excluded from that.”Louise Donovan, spokesperson, Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees in BangladeshThere’s some capacity for COVID-19 testing, Donovan said, but more medical equipment and resources are needed. “Everybody is looking for additional capacities and resources at the moment,” she said. “I think at this time, it's very clear that this is a global problem and no population can be excluded from that.”

In some religions, chanting helps to settle the mind and prepare it for meditation. As much of the world lives in isolation due to the coronavirus outbreak, many have suggested using the time to meditate and be in the here and now.  Buddhists believe the path to enlightenment requires periods of detachment from the world — so self-quarantine offers an opportunity.Karma Lekshe Tsomo is a Buddhist nun and social activist who splits her time between India and the US. She is from California and was an avid surfer growing up — a practice that she says helped prepare her to embrace Buddist teachings. After being ordained in 1977, she has worked on nonprofits focused on Buddhist women and education.Lekshe is also a professor of Buddhism and world religions at the University of San Diego. She spoke with The World's Marco Werman about the role of meditation and reflection during the spread of COVID-19.Related: 'Kung Fu' nuns empower women at risk of climate-caused traffickingMarco Werman: Was there a moment in your life that prepared you for this pandemic?Karma Lekshe Tsomo: It happened to me in India about 30 years ago when I got bitten by a viper, a poisonous snake, and my whole world changed in that one moment. I faced death head-on for three months, not knowing from day to day whether I would be alive tomorrow. This really taught me the value of these teachings on how to be completely in the present moment. Let go of the past. Let go of the future, and focus completely on this precious, present moment.So the teachings on impermanence, for example, teach that all things change. Why are we surprised? The Buddha taught that beings encounter unpleasantness and suffering in life. It's unavoidable. So again, why are we surprised? Clinging to our expectations that life is supposed to be a bowl of cherries only makes us unhappy and dissatisfied. If we accept the reality of the human condition, then we can accept these things. We can understand.Related: How American Buddhism evolved into something distinct and its ownThe narrative of many religions is one turns to God or Allah or Yaweh. What does Buddha tell you to do right now, as a Buddhist leader?There are so many different teachings and so many of them apply to this situation. Like, for example, a lot of people are feeling restricted. They're feeling angry. They're not liking confinement. And yet, our situation, whatever it may be, can't be compared to the sufferings of refugees in the camps, who are struggling even for water and food. So loving kindness is an excellent method for cutting through our own anger and aversion. Also, the teaching on compassion for the sufferings of others — not to turn away, but [use] whatever resources we have to try to contribute to relieve the sufferings of others.Another teaching would be contentment. The Buddha said that contentment is the greatest wealth. So, no matter what inconveniences or sufferings that we are personally experiencing right now, contentment helps us to cope with unfulfilled situations and unfulfilled expectations. And it's a real remedy for dissatisfaction, the kinds of dissatisfactions that people are feeling by having to stay inside.Right in the moment, though, for people who are facing death of a loved one or have just experienced that, what solace or guidance can Buddhism give them?Well, the Buddhist teachings give us lots of practices for how to calm the mind. So it may seem a bit idealistic, on the other hand, it could be survival, to cultivate a calm and quiet mind. If we're frantic, if we're panicked, we can't really be a resource for those around us. So they have a practice of mindfulness, of breathing. It's a very simple practice that can be done by anyone of any religion or no religion, just simply to be aware of the gentle flow of our breath as it flows in and flows out. In other words, to just calm down, be completely in the moment and be aware of our own breathing.Another practice would be to be flexible, to be able to flow with the circumstances, pleasant or unpleasant. This is called the practice of equanimity. You know, usually we reel from, you know, highs and lows, and we're on a roller coaster of emotions. And in this case, we bring a suffering to ourselves and also disturb those around us. So if we can handle any circumstance calmly, then we'll be happier campers. And the people around us will certainly appreciate it, too.Related: When does life begin? It might depend on your faith. I just want to point out that your childhood was spent in Southern California and you're a surfer — were, anyway. I think surfers, it's a lifelong thing. You were top-ranked in your teens, though. Do you still surf? What is the connection to Buddhism?Well, when I was young, my whole life was surfing. I mean, I dreamed surfing. So I am very grateful for being in touch with the ocean, having this opportunity to be in solitude. It gave me a kind of perspective. You know, when you're out in the ocean waiting for a set, you see the world from a different viewpoint. You recognize that you're basically alone in the universe, but also that you're not the most important thing in the universe. So I'm really grateful for that. You learn to be quiet in the present moment, to be prepared for any situation.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

In some religions, chanting helps to settle the mind and prepare it for meditation. As much of the world lives in isolation due to the coronavirus outbreak, many have suggested using the time to meditate and be in the here and now.  Buddhists believe the path to enlightenment requires periods of detachment from the world — so self-quarantine offers an opportunity.Karma Lekshe Tsomo is a Buddhist nun and social activist who splits her time between India and the US. She is from California and was an avid surfer growing up — a practice that she says helped prepare her to embrace Buddist teachings. After being ordained in 1977, she has worked on nonprofits focused on Buddhist women and education.Lekshe is also a professor of Buddhism and world religions at the University of San Diego. She spoke with The World's Marco Werman about the role of meditation and reflection during the spread of COVID-19.Related: 'Kung Fu' nuns empower women at risk of climate-caused traffickingMarco Werman: Was there a moment in your life that prepared you for this pandemic?Karma Lekshe Tsomo: It happened to me in India about 30 years ago when I got bitten by a viper, a poisonous snake, and my whole world changed in that one moment. I faced death head-on for three months, not knowing from day to day whether I would be alive tomorrow. This really taught me the value of these teachings on how to be completely in the present moment. Let go of the past. Let go of the future, and focus completely on this precious, present moment.So the teachings on impermanence, for example, teach that all things change. Why are we surprised? The Buddha taught that beings encounter unpleasantness and suffering in life. It's unavoidable. So again, why are we surprised? Clinging to our expectations that life is supposed to be a bowl of cherries only makes us unhappy and dissatisfied. If we accept the reality of the human condition, then we can accept these things. We can understand.Related: How American Buddhism evolved into something distinct and its ownThe narrative of many religions is one turns to God or Allah or Yaweh. What does Buddha tell you to do right now, as a Buddhist leader?There are so many different teachings and so many of them apply to this situation. Like, for example, a lot of people are feeling restricted. They're feeling angry. They're not liking confinement. And yet, our situation, whatever it may be, can't be compared to the sufferings of refugees in the camps, who are struggling even for water and food. So loving kindness is an excellent method for cutting through our own anger and aversion. Also, the teaching on compassion for the sufferings of others — not to turn away, but [use] whatever resources we have to try to contribute to relieve the sufferings of others.Another teaching would be contentment. The Buddha said that contentment is the greatest wealth. So, no matter what inconveniences or sufferings that we are personally experiencing right now, contentment helps us to cope with unfulfilled situations and unfulfilled expectations. And it's a real remedy for dissatisfaction, the kinds of dissatisfactions that people are feeling by having to stay inside.Right in the moment, though, for people who are facing death of a loved one or have just experienced that, what solace or guidance can Buddhism give them?Well, the Buddhist teachings give us lots of practices for how to calm the mind. So it may seem a bit idealistic, on the other hand, it could be survival, to cultivate a calm and quiet mind. If we're frantic, if we're panicked, we can't really be a resource for those around us. So they have a practice of mindfulness, of breathing. It's a very simple practice that can be done by anyone of any religion or no religion, just simply to be aware of the gentle flow of our breath as it flows in and flows out. In other words, to just calm down, be completely in the moment and be aware of our own breathing.Another practice would be to be flexible, to be able to flow with the circumstances, pleasant or unpleasant. This is called the practice of equanimity. You know, usually we reel from, you know, highs and lows, and we're on a roller coaster of emotions. And in this case, we bring a suffering to ourselves and also disturb those around us. So if we can handle any circumstance calmly, then we'll be happier campers. And the people around us will certainly appreciate it, too.Related: When does life begin? It might depend on your faith. I just want to point out that your childhood was spent in Southern California and you're a surfer — were, anyway. I think surfers, it's a lifelong thing. You were top-ranked in your teens, though. Do you still surf? What is the connection to Buddhism?Well, when I was young, my whole life was surfing. I mean, I dreamed surfing. So I am very grateful for being in touch with the ocean, having this opportunity to be in solitude. It gave me a kind of perspective. You know, when you're out in the ocean waiting for a set, you see the world from a different viewpoint. You recognize that you're basically alone in the universe, but also that you're not the most important thing in the universe. So I'm really grateful for that. You learn to be quiet in the present moment, to be prepared for any situation.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Since the coronavirus outbreak began earlier this year, millions of people across the world have been ordered to stay home under the assumption that home is the safest place for them. But what if home itself isn't safe? That's the case for many survivors of domestic violence who are now stuck with their abusers for long periods of time, unable to get help. Some countries are trying to step in. France, for example, is funding hotel rooms for survivors of domestic violence.In China, domestic violence cases reported to police in one county tripled during Feburary. Europe is also now seeing a surge of cases. Laura Albu is the vice president of the European Women's Lobby, a network of women's associations across the European Union. She spoke to The World's host Marco Werman about what organizations are doing to protect people made vulnerable to abuse because of lockdowns. Related: COVID-19: The latest from The WorldMarco Werman: What new challenges is COVID-19 presenting to your work supporting survivors of domestic violence?Laura Albu: The number of calls to the helpline are dropping. Usually women are calling these lines while being safe, while their abuser is not at home. And with the abuser at home, I suspect the victim is far less likely to pick up the phone and call for help. Aside from leaving home and ending up possibly homeless, what options do survivors have to seek help when they're at home with their abuser? Actually, we're trying this campaign related to pharmacies. Women going in for medicine can ask for the "Mask 19," which is a code for the pharmacies to know that the women is in danger. She cannot talk because she is accompanied by the abuser, usually, so [pharmacists] can call the emergency 112 for them. Related: Three sisters' case highlights domestic violence in Russia So the woman — the victim, in this case — would go to the pharmacy and tell the pharmacist, "I want Mask 19." And they would know what that means. They would know that they're at home with an abuser. Yes. We know that the abuser is not only controlling their life, their daily life, in a normal way, but also their phones, their computers. We tried to see right now how to reach them through messages in tampon boxes or detergent boxes. This kind of information — because we know usually men are not willing to wash clothes or do anything — laundry — in the house. I mean, these sound like innovative and smart solutions. But I would think ultimately women and girls would most benefit from strong government policies and reforms. You focus on Europe. What type of legislation would you like to see in place that would address the dilemma of women and girls who might find themselves in isolation with an abuser? When we have only men around the table discussing women's issues and how is COVID affecting women — and that's a topic discussed by men. And we see that also on the news, and we have seen also on the television shows, and all the time the experts who are there are men discussing women's problems. So it's funny, but, so, you see that women are holding [up] and supporting the society right now. But they are not the ones in charge of allocation of resources, and they are not in charge of coordination of emergency services. Related: These Argentine women fight against a justice system 'written by men'Right. The World Health Organization says that women make up 70% of health and caretaking roles. So do you think women and girls are disproportionately affected by COVID-19? I can't say that it's a good moment. It's just an awakening moment for society because people say they want to go back to normal. But what was normal before, for the women, it was something which was not seen in terms of inequalities. And it's just right now much more obvious how much women are taking care of our economy and how much women are taking care of the entire society. So actually, I think the disproportionate burden on women needs to be tackled. Maybe other crises in the future could be better coordinated if women are also in the teams who are working on that. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Since the coronavirus outbreak began earlier this year, millions of people across the world have been ordered to stay home under the assumption that home is the safest place for them. But what if home itself isn't safe? That's the case for many survivors of domestic violence who are now stuck with their abusers for long periods of time, unable to get help. Some countries are trying to step in. France, for example, is funding hotel rooms for survivors of domestic violence.In China, domestic violence cases reported to police in one county tripled during Feburary. Europe is also now seeing a surge of cases. Laura Albu is the vice president of the European Women's Lobby, a network of women’s associations across the European Union. She spoke to The World's host Marco Werman about what organizations are doing to protect people made vulnerable to abuse because of lockdowns. Related: COVID-19: The latest from The WorldMarco Werman: What new challenges is COVID-19 presenting to your work supporting survivors of domestic violence?Laura Albu: The number of calls to the helpline are dropping. Usually women are calling these lines while being safe, while their abuser is not at home. And with the abuser at home, I suspect the victim is far less likely to pick up the phone and call for help. Aside from leaving home and ending up possibly homeless, what options do survivors have to seek help when they're at home with their abuser? Actually, we're trying this campaign related to pharmacies. Women going in for medicine can ask for the "Mask 19," which is a code for the pharmacies to know that the women is in danger. She cannot talk because she is accompanied by the abuser, usually, so [pharmacists] can call the emergency 112 for them. Related: Three sisters' case highlights domestic violence in Russia So the woman — the victim, in this case — would go to the pharmacy and tell the pharmacist, "I want Mask 19." And they would know what that means. They would know that they're at home with an abuser. Yes. We know that the abuser is not only controlling their life, their daily life, in a normal way, but also their phones, their computers. We tried to see right now how to reach them through messages in tampon boxes or detergent boxes. This kind of information — because we know usually men are not willing to wash clothes or do anything — laundry — in the house. I mean, these sound like innovative and smart solutions. But I would think ultimately women and girls would most benefit from strong government policies and reforms. You focus on Europe. What type of legislation would you like to see in place that would address the dilemma of women and girls who might find themselves in isolation with an abuser? When we have only men around the table discussing women's issues and how is COVID affecting women — and that's a topic discussed by men. And we see that also on the news, and we have seen also on the television shows, and all the time the experts who are there are men discussing women's problems. So it's funny, but, so, you see that women are holding [up] and supporting the society right now. But they are not the ones in charge of allocation of resources, and they are not in charge of coordination of emergency services. Related: These Argentine women fight against a justice system 'written by men'Right. The World Health Organization says that women make up 70% of health and caretaking roles. So do you think women and girls are disproportionately affected by COVID-19? I can't say that it's a good moment. It's just an awakening moment for society because people say they want to go back to normal. But what was normal before, for the women, it was something which was not seen in terms of inequalities. And it's just right now much more obvious how much women are taking care of our economy and how much women are taking care of the entire society. So actually, I think the disproportionate burden on women needs to be tackled. Maybe other crises in the future could be better coordinated if women are also in the teams who are working on that. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

In Mexico, women are having a historic moment. On Sunday, International Women's Day, tens of thousands took to the streets to demand an end to gender-motivated violence. Many are also following up this past weekend's action by another form of protest Monday — staying home, not going to work, disappearing from public life.The idea of women striking has existed for years in different parts of the world, but this year in Mexico, it's taken on a new life with the horrific, back-to-back murders of a young woman and a 7-year-old girl.Related: Women's shelters in Mexico struggle to survive amid rise in femicidesVéronica Berber Calle is a criminal attorney who works on human rights topics in Mexico City. She says the strike is meant to show just how exasperated women are by the daily aggressions and violence they suffer, and the lack of attention to these issues.Support for the strike has cut across class lines. Government and business officials stood behind it. The mayor of Mexico City told the city's 150,000 female workers they could stay home although they wouldn't be paid. Walmart said it would allow its female workers time off to join the strike. So did other big companies.One business group said the strike would cost Mexico's economy more than a billion dollars.Related: 'Die, bacteria, die': Mexican nurses croon in hand-washing PSA videoAnd if Monday's strike is about showing what life in Mexico looks like without women, Sunday was the opposite. Tens of thousands of women took to the streets in Mexico City and across the country for International Women's Day.There were young women like Mariana Hernández. She's 23 and a college student.She says she wants to feel safe and for her parents not to worry if something bad will happen to her after class. And like a lot of young women, she was here with her mom — Raquel Rochalo, who says the growing feminist movement is creating change even at home.She says her son and husband are more aware, sensitive. This is the first time Rochalo has participated in a march on International Women's Day.“I feel very proud to be here,” she said. “Emotional. For the girls who have been raped and killed, we have to unite.”To listen to the full story, click the audio player above. 

In Mexico, women are having a historic moment. On Sunday, International Women's Day, tens of thousands took to the streets to demand an end to gender-motivated violence. Many are also following up this past weekend’s action by another form of protest Monday — staying home, not going to work, disappearing from public life.The idea of women striking has existed for years in different parts of the world, but this year in Mexico, it’s taken on a new life with the horrific, back-to-back murders of a young woman and a 7-year-old girl.Related: Women's shelters in Mexico struggle to survive amid rise in femicidesVéronica Berber Calle is a criminal attorney who works on human rights topics in Mexico City. She says the strike is meant to show just how exasperated women are by the daily aggressions and violence they suffer, and the lack of attention to these issues.Support for the strike has cut across class lines. Government and business officials stood behind it. The mayor of Mexico City told the city’s 150,000 female workers they could stay home although they wouldn’t be paid. Walmart said it would allow its female workers time off to join the strike. So did other big companies.One business group said the strike would cost Mexico’s economy more than a billion dollars.Related: 'Die, bacteria, die': Mexican nurses croon in hand-washing PSA videoAnd if Monday’s strike is about showing what life in Mexico looks like without women, Sunday was the opposite. Tens of thousands of women took to the streets in Mexico City and across the country for International Women’s Day.There were young women like Mariana Hernández. She’s 23 and a college student.She says she wants to feel safe and for her parents not to worry if something bad will happen to her after class. And like a lot of young women, she was here with her mom — Raquel Rochalo, who says the growing feminist movement is creating change even at home.She says her son and husband are more aware, sensitive. This is the first time Rochalo has participated in a march on International Women’s Day.“I feel very proud to be here,” she said. “Emotional. For the girls who have been raped and killed, we have to unite.”To listen to the full story, click the audio player above. 

The morning after Colombia's Constitutional Court upheld a restrictive abortion law this week, two Congress members from opposing parties phoned into one of the country's most popular radio shows and debated the decision.Rep. Juanita Goebertus, a member of the left-leaning Green Alliance party, favored expanding women's access to abortion procedures, while Sen. Jhon Milton Rodríguez, a member of the evangelical Free and Just Colombia party, favored further restricting access.Goebertus and Rodríguez answered questions from the hosts of radio station La W's morning program about abortion access in Colombia. But when they were asked about it legally being a right, the conversation quickly devolved into an almost indiscernible crossfire of Goebertus saying Rodríguez was entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts, and Rodríguez telling her he just wanted to explain things to her.Related: 'Maternity jail': Women in US, Argentina, finds ways around restrictive abortion lawsJust before the hosts wrapped up the segment, Goebertus read from an earlier court ruling: It referred to abortion as a "right."Debate over abortion rights across Latin America, as in other parts of the world, has often been adversarial, and supporters and opponents from across the continent followed the Colombian court's decision. They are looking forward to pending legislation that would legalize elective abortions in Argentina.On Monday night, Colombia's Constitutional Court voted to uphold a previous ruling that allows the procedure when a woman's life is at risk, the fetus is malformed or the pregnancy is a result of rape.Tens of thousands of women in both countries have been taking to the streets to demand legal access to reproductive health rights, but have faced opposition, as public opinion is mixed in their largely Catholic and often conservative societies. In Colombia, less than half the people polled by the magazine Semana in 2017 believed a woman should not go to jail for having an abortion.Related: Photos: The women of Argentina's abortion debate"When you talk about abortion, it becomes very heated, very fast," said Dr. Maria Vivas, a physician who directs the Bogotá-based Fundación Oriéntame, which provides women's health services, including abortions.Some 400,000 induced abortions are performed in Colombia every year, and only a fraction of them are done legally, according to the US-based Guttmacher Institute. About a third of women who have illegal procedures experience complications that require medical attention, according to the institute."If you pay attention to the arguments to decriminalize, to totally decriminalize abortion, they're robust, public health-based arguments," Vivas said.In Argentina, President Alberto Fernández said on Sunday that he will send a bill to Congress to legalize abortion. The pending legislation follows years of demonstrations that have been led by feminist groups across the country, said Victoria Freire, who runs the Observatory for Gender and Public Policy, a think tank in Buenos Aires."The law is possible not only because of this new political willpower," Vivas said.Similarly to how the #MeToo movement in the United States or protests against femicide in Mexico have gotten some response from lawmakers in those countries, Vivas said, feminist movements are transforming life across the continent.

The morning after Colombia’s Constitutional Court upheld a restrictive abortion law this week, two Congress members from opposing parties phoned into one of the country’s most popular radio shows and debated the decision.Rep. Juanita Goebertus, a member of the left-leaning Green Alliance party, favored expanding women’s access to abortion procedures, while Sen. Jhon Milton Rodríguez, a member of the evangelical Free and Just Colombia party, favored further restricting access.Goebertus and Rodríguez answered questions from the hosts of radio station La W’s morning program about abortion access in Colombia. But when they were asked about it legally being a right, the conversation quickly devolved into an almost indiscernible crossfire of Goebertus saying Rodríguez was entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts, and Rodríguez telling her he just wanted to explain things to her.Related: 'Maternity jail': Women in US, Argentina, finds ways around restrictive abortion lawsJust before the hosts wrapped up the segment, Goebertus read from an earlier court ruling: It referred to abortion as a "right."Debate over abortion rights across Latin America, as in other parts of the world, has often been adversarial, and supporters and opponents from across the continent followed the Colombian court’s decision. They are looking forward to pending legislation that would legalize elective abortions in Argentina.On Monday night, Colombia’s Constitutional Court voted to uphold a previous ruling that allows the procedure when a woman’s life is at risk, the fetus is malformed or the pregnancy is a result of rape.Tens of thousands of women in both countries have been taking to the streets to demand legal access to reproductive health rights, but have faced opposition, as public opinion is mixed in their largely Catholic and often conservative societies. In Colombia, less than half the people polled by the magazine Semana in 2017 believed a woman should not go to jail for having an abortion.Related: Photos: The women of Argentina's abortion debate"When you talk about abortion, it becomes very heated, very fast," said Dr. Maria Vivas, a physician who directs the Bogotá-based Fundación Oriéntame, which provides women’s health services, including abortions.Some 400,000 induced abortions are performed in Colombia every year, and only a fraction of them are done legally, according to the US-based Guttmacher Institute. About a third of women who have illegal procedures experience complications that require medical attention, according to the institute."If you pay attention to the arguments to decriminalize, to totally decriminalize abortion, they’re robust, public health-based arguments," Vivas said.In Argentina, President Alberto Fernández said on Sunday that he will send a bill to Congress to legalize abortion. The pending legislation follows years of demonstrations that have been led by feminist groups across the country, said Victoria Freire, who runs the Observatory for Gender and Public Policy, a think tank in Buenos Aires."The law is possible not only because of this new political willpower," Vivas said.Similarly to how the #MeToo movement in the United States or protests against femicide in Mexico have gotten some response from lawmakers in those countries, Vivas said, feminist movements are transforming life across the continent.

Women in cities across Mexico have been protesting almost daily in response to two horrific murders in Mexico City this month. Ingrid Escamilla, who was 25, was reportedly murdered and mutilated by her boyfriend, and Fátima Cecilia Aldrighett, who was 7, was abducted as she left school and found dead in a rural area. Related: Instagram art project spreads awareness about femicides in Mexico They are among the victims of an astonishing level of violence against women in Mexico — an average of 10 women were killed every day last year, according to official government figures. And among many activists responding is Estefanía Vela Barba, an attorney who directs Intersecta, a Mexico City-based nongovernmental organization working to end gender discrimination. Vela Barba spoke with The World's host Marco Werman.Marco Werman: President Andrés Manuel López Obrador says this is not about gender violence. He, instead, says it fits within overall violence in Mexico. What do you make of that?Estefanía Vela Barba: There is a part of what the president says that is true. The murders of women in Mexico started rising at the same time the murders of men in Mexico started rising at the end of 2007, when the so-called war on drugs began. So, on that point, what the president says is true. The problem, though, is that when you say only that, you ignore important differences in the way men and women are killed.What would you say are the aspects of violence against Mexican women today that you believe makes what we are seeing femicide? For example, it is much more common for women to be strangled than men. It is much more common for women to be killed with a knife or with a blunt object. It is also more common for women to be victims of sexual violence, either before, during or after their murder. It is also more common for women to be killed at home, and it is more common for women to be killed by their intimate partners. And I think the cases that have been mediatized in the last few months are examples of this.There is the case of Ingrid, who was killed by her partner, and who months before her killing had filed an intimate partner violence complaint with authorities. But authorities did not do enough to help her get out of that relationship, and the result was that this man killed and tortured her. We saw another case this past weekend with Fátima, a 7-year-old girl who was abducted, raped and then killed and left in a trash bag. It is important for us to see these important ways in which women are killed. We need to take everything into account and design policies that are able to give women a way out and not experience this violence.You see that distinction, but it appears many people across Mexico share López Obrador's opinion that this really is all just part of the context of overall violence in Mexico. Why do you think that is such a common perspective?This is something we see not only in Mexico, but in other countries. In the United States, the battle over Black Lives Matter and the Blue Lives Matter response is an example of how when groups try to draw attention to the fact that some groups don't actually enjoy equal rights, there is a formulaic idea of equality that kicks in. People think that by pointing out differences, you are somehow saying that men's lives don't matter. But what we're saying is that these are the facts. And if we don't recognize that murders don't just happen in the street, but they also happen in the home, you're never going to arrive at solutions that address both problems.You've been a very visible advocate for women's rights in Mexico for years. You're a researcher, but you also have the video blog "Estereotipas" and you've written for several of Mexico's mainstream publications. Have you yourself faced harassment because of your work and how do you deal with it?Whenever you try to challenge the way things are, there will be a reaction. Most women I know that have raised their voice have, in one way or another been questioned about why they're putting forth these issues, or the issues themselves have been disqualified. Every time there is a protest, there is a reaction.Have you been protesting? Do you plan on taking part in future protests?Yes. As you know, the 8th of March will be the International Women's Day. It's an important day to reflect on what is the status of women's rights. And we need to demand more, especially considering that the authorities' response has been to focus on criminalization, increasing penalties that are high already. I think that that's also part of the problem, not just the violence, but the way authorities handle the murders and the supposed solutions that they propose, which are punitive solutions that do nothing to change the reality of what is happening. So, I think that, yes, protests are necessary protests in every way possible and fighting together to demand more.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Women in cities across Mexico have been protesting almost daily in response to two horrific murders in Mexico City this month. Ingrid Escamilla, who was 25, was reportedly murdered and mutilated by her boyfriend, and Fátima Cecilia Aldrighett, who was 7, was abducted as she left school and found dead in a rural area. Related: Instagram art project spreads awareness about femicides in Mexico They are among the victims of an astonishing level of violence against women in Mexico — an average of 10 women were killed every day last year, according to official government figures. And among many activists responding is Estefanía Vela Barba, an attorney who directs Intersecta, a Mexico City-based nongovernmental organization working to end gender discrimination. Vela Barba spoke with The World’s host Marco Werman.Marco Werman: President Andrés Manuel López Obrador says this is not about gender violence. He, instead, says it fits within overall violence in Mexico. What do you make of that?Estefanía Vela Barba: There is a part of what the president says that is true. The murders of women in Mexico started rising at the same time the murders of men in Mexico started rising at the end of 2007, when the so-called war on drugs began. So, on that point, what the president says is true. The problem, though, is that when you say only that, you ignore important differences in the way men and women are killed.What would you say are the aspects of violence against Mexican women today that you believe makes what we are seeing femicide? For example, it is much more common for women to be strangled than men. It is much more common for women to be killed with a knife or with a blunt object. It is also more common for women to be victims of sexual violence, either before, during or after their murder. It is also more common for women to be killed at home, and it is more common for women to be killed by their intimate partners. And I think the cases that have been mediatized in the last few months are examples of this.There is the case of Ingrid, who was killed by her partner, and who months before her killing had filed an intimate partner violence complaint with authorities. But authorities did not do enough to help her get out of that relationship, and the result was that this man killed and tortured her. We saw another case this past weekend with Fátima, a 7-year-old girl who was abducted, raped and then killed and left in a trash bag. It is important for us to see these important ways in which women are killed. We need to take everything into account and design policies that are able to give women a way out and not experience this violence.You see that distinction, but it appears many people across Mexico share López Obrador's opinion that this really is all just part of the context of overall violence in Mexico. Why do you think that is such a common perspective?This is something we see not only in Mexico, but in other countries. In the United States, the battle over Black Lives Matter and the Blue Lives Matter response is an example of how when groups try to draw attention to the fact that some groups don’t actually enjoy equal rights, there is a formulaic idea of equality that kicks in. People think that by pointing out differences, you are somehow saying that men’s lives don’t matter. But what we’re saying is that these are the facts. And if we don't recognize that murders don't just happen in the street, but they also happen in the home, you’re never going to arrive at solutions that address both problems.You've been a very visible advocate for women's rights in Mexico for years. You're a researcher, but you also have the video blog "Estereotipas" and you’ve written for several of Mexico’s mainstream publications. Have you yourself faced harassment because of your work and how do you deal with it?Whenever you try to challenge the way things are, there will be a reaction. Most women I know that have raised their voice have, in one way or another been questioned about why they’re putting forth these issues, or the issues themselves have been disqualified. Every time there is a protest, there is a reaction.Have you been protesting? Do you plan on taking part in future protests?Yes. As you know, the 8th of March will be the International Women's Day. It's an important day to reflect on what is the status of women's rights. And we need to demand more, especially considering that the authorities’ response has been to focus on criminalization, increasing penalties that are high already. I think that that's also part of the problem, not just the violence, but the way authorities handle the murders and the supposed solutions that they propose, which are punitive solutions that do nothing to change the reality of what is happening. So, I think that, yes, protests are necessary protests in every way possible and fighting together to demand more.This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Alyona Savranenko grew up in a small village in central Ukraine. She had a modest upbringing, one she loved — featuring unpaved roads, cows grazing in the field and mushroom picking in the forests. She enjoyed swimming in the lake throughout the summer and ice skating on it during the winter. When Savranenko turned 6, she started writing poetry, and when she was a bit older, she would write pop songs.Then she turned 12, and hip-hop found her. “The first raps I heard were probably American — Eminem. I started translating them.”Alyona Alyona“The first raps I heard were probably American — Eminem. I started translating them,” she said. “I looked for his texts, memorized them, and he influenced my flow the most. I liked his style. And I started translating lots of other rappers that I listened to. I was curious what they were rapping about. But I'd always rap about something of my own.”Today, Savranenko, a former kindergarten teacher, is the biggest rapper in Ukraine. Her music videos — which touch on subjects ranging from body positivity to bullying and female empowerment — rack up millions of views on YouTube, and she has been on multiple European tours. The hugely popular 28-year-old prides herself on defying the stereotype of what rappers look like in Eastern Europe and the rest of the world.Something about hip-hop clicked with Savranenko. There was space and freedom to express herself — like the poetry she used to write, but without all the rigid rules.Related: Ukrainian folk punk band DakhaBrakha sings a decidedly feminist messageUkrainian rap, gangsta styleHip-hop in Ukraine became popular by the late 1990s. It largely emerged from Kharkiv, a city in eastern Ukraine not far from the Russian border, says Adriana Helbig, an associate professor of music at the University of Pittsburgh. “That was the home of a group called Tanok na Maidani Kongo ["Dance on Congo Square"], and they had won a Ukrainian-language festival competition with their rap, 'Make me a hip, make me a hop,'” said Helbig, author of “Hip Hop Ukraine: Music, Race and African Migration.” “That's what sort of established hip-hop as a genre — a legitimate genre, a Ukrainian-language genre. Until then, anything that was coming into Ukraine was English language and also it was much more dominated by the Russian-language sphere.” As Savranenko got older, writing rap lyrics became part of her life.“I started writing first not about some fantasy stories or made-up fairy tales, but about what was happening around me,” she said. “Some of the stuff that I was rapping about, though, wasn't even very truthful. I really wanted the Ukrainian rap community to accept me, so I rapped about using drugs and some of the street life that I saw around me — the kind of lifestyle that wasn't really mine.” Early hip-hop in Ukraine was hugely influenced by African American and Russian rap, Helbig said, where violence and drugs are major themes.  “And the reason was, in part, because [Ukrainian rappers] were growing up in the sort of impoverished urban areas on the outskirts of cities,” she said. “These guys are reacting to the videos that they're seeing coming out of the United States, so they were very much replicating and connecting with this form of poverty, alienation, everything else.”Related: Ukraine's Eurovision 2016 entry is about Stalin's repression, and Russia isn't thrilledWhen she first started rapping, Savranenko also embraced American gangsta-style rap because she thought that's what hip-hop was supposed to be about.“But I wasn't gangster and criminal. I was just a teacher in the kindergarten, but all the rappers respected me.”Alyona Alyona“But I wasn't gangster and criminal. I was just a teacher in the kindergarten, but all the rappers respected me,” she said.Savranenko kept her job as a kindergarten teacher, but she also kept rapping and getting more attention. Eventually, she took on the rap name Alyona Alyona, writing lyrics in Russian because many of the rappers she listened to were Russian.  The popular 28-year-old Alyona Savranenko prides herself on defying the stereotype of what rappers look like in Eastern Europe and the rest of the world. Credit: Courtesy of Alyona Alyona/Instagram Language politics During the Soviet period, the Russian language dominated the official political and cultural sphere. But after Ukraine became independent from the Soviet Union in 1991, there was a rise in Ukrainian language use. Still, when it comes to rap, the politics around language have been more practical, Helbig said. Related: This Ugandan rapper was ‘miseducated,' Lauryn Hill-style“For instance, a lot of the musicians that I would talk to just said that it was easier to rap in Russian because you could curse,” Helbig said. Russian-language profanities are commonly used throughout the former Soviet Union, and some artists say it sounds more aggressive.The politics between Russian and Ukrainian language have now started to soften, Helbig said, partially because younger people have more access to learning and using Ukrainian. But in 2014, Ukraine went through the Revolution of Dignity, where Ukrainians started expressing a stronger sense of pride in Ukrainian language. Savranenko said she felt the same. She read more Ukrainian literature, and she was teaching mostly in Ukrainian.“My vocabulary in Ukraine language was bigger and bigger, and I start[ed] rapping in Ukrainian language.”Alyona Alyona“My vocabulary in Ukraine language was bigger and bigger, and I start[ed] rapping in Ukrainian language,” she said. It's a linguistic trend that's playing out across Ukrainian hip-hop. “There's much more of a wide range of ideas that you can express in Ukrainian and also the hip-hop itself is changing, which might account for Alyona Alyona a little bit,” Helbig said. “Ukraine has sort of been blossoming and really moving into its revival of folk, and it has all these very interesting dynamics that they're trying to push into their own identities. And women have a very important role.”Ukrainian has also been historically gendered, she added. “Russian tends to be more of a masculine way, and Ukrainian tends to be positioned as the more the feminine way,” Helbig said, adding that Ukraine is often figuratively depicted as a woman taken captive by Russian soldiers.That might be evident in Savranenko's music, too. 'I just accepted myself'The song “Ribky,” which translates as “fish,” was Alyona Alyona's first hit, with more than 2 million views on YouTube.At face value, the song is simply about the title animal — the way they look, and the way they swim. But a deeper listen reveals more — and the song is really about how powerful fish can be, Savranenko said.“Most people understood what the song was about. That it's not about fish and water, but about girls,” she said.At the time Savranenko was growing up, Ukraine had a “very gendered division of society” — a backlash to the “gender neutrality” presented in the Soviet Union, Helbig said. “The reaction to that in the early 1990s is you have this hypermasculinity of this machismo mafia type [and] the women were being pushed into the hypersexualization of, like, prostitution,” Helbig said. “There's a lot of violence against women. There's a lot of rape. … This is very much playing out, especially in the villages.”Alyona Alyona's music looks at girls and their place in society — girls who are bullied because they're different, and girls who face abuse for their weight or their style. Body positivity is also a big theme in her music. “One of the things I was thinking of is really just how powerful [Alyona Alyona] is and what kind of statement she's making.” Adriana Helbig, University of Pittsburgh “One of the things I was thinking of is really just how powerful [Alyona Alyona] is and what kind of statement she's making,” Helbig said. The track “Pushka,” which roughly translates to “the bomb,” takes on the subject as well. In it, Alyona Alyona calls herself a “pishka,” a Ukranian word used as an insult for people who are overweight.But Alyona Alyona appropriates the word — she makes it her own, and carries herself with swagger.“That's part of my life. I've encountered a lot of body shaming, fat shaming, bullying in my life. But mostly it's people who motivate me because they keep asking, 'How can you be so cool?'” she said. “I tell them I'm like everyone else, I just accepted myself the way I am. I realized people need my experience and I started sharing it. With some — in messages, with others — in songs.” Alyona Alyona embraces a positive message in her music.  Credit: Courtesy of Alyona Alyona And Alyona Alyona hasn't wavered from that positive message. She rarely curses in her music, and that gangsta-rap style from her early days is long gone.One of her recent tracks is all about standing up to bullies.“We decided to make a music video where I play different characters: a goth, a basketball player and others — showing this way that every person has a second half of themselves,” she said. “We shouldn't be afraid to be ourselves, shouldn't be afraid to resist, to stand strong against bullying. We shouldn't be silent about it. It's necessary to pull out that other half and fight.”In Ukraine, Alyona Alyona is one of the country's top artists, and she's toured all over Europe.“So, I thank God that I have [the] possibility to introduce my country and my music in European countries, and I will be do[ing] this in the future because I don't want to rap in other languages,” she said. “I'm not ready, I don't have so many words to sing in English or in Russian. I want to do it in Ukrainian.” Helbig says Alyona Alyona is also helping combat Ukraine's history of generational trauma. In Ukraine, “anxiety among everyday people is extremely high, and here you've got this kid that's, you know, happy. … 'Let's smile. Let's rap about fish. Life's great.' And it's like, what is this person doing?” Hebig said. “But on the other hand, you almost can't help but embrace it.” 

Alyona Savranenko grew up in a small village in central Ukraine. She had a modest upbringing, one she loved — featuring unpaved roads, cows grazing in the field and mushroom picking in the forests. She enjoyed swimming in the lake throughout the summer and ice skating on it during the winter. When Savranenko turned 6, she started writing poetry, and when she was a bit older, she would write pop songs.Then she turned 12, and hip-hop found her. “The first raps I heard were probably American — Eminem. I started translating them.”Alyona Alyona“The first raps I heard were probably American — Eminem. I started translating them,” she said. “I looked for his texts, memorized them, and he influenced my flow the most. I liked his style. And I started translating lots of other rappers that I listened to. I was curious what they were rapping about. But I’d always rap about something of my own.”Today, Savranenko, a former kindergarten teacher, is the biggest rapper in Ukraine. Her music videos — which touch on subjects ranging from body positivity to bullying and female empowerment — rack up millions of views on YouTube, and she has been on multiple European tours. The hugely popular 28-year-old prides herself on defying the stereotype of what rappers look like in Eastern Europe and the rest of the world.Something about hip-hop clicked with Savranenko. There was space and freedom to express herself — like the poetry she used to write, but without all the rigid rules.Related: Ukrainian folk punk band DakhaBrakha sings a decidedly feminist messageUkrainian rap, gangsta styleHip-hop in Ukraine became popular by the late 1990s. It largely emerged from Kharkiv, a city in eastern Ukraine not far from the Russian border, says Adriana Helbig, an associate professor of music at the University of Pittsburgh. “That was the home of a group called Tanok na Maidani Kongo ["Dance on Congo Square"], and they had won a Ukrainian-language festival competition with their rap, 'Make me a hip, make me a hop,'” said Helbig, author of “Hip Hop Ukraine: Music, Race and African Migration.” “That's what sort of established hip-hop as a genre — a legitimate genre, a Ukrainian-language genre. Until then, anything that was coming into Ukraine was English language and also it was much more dominated by the Russian-language sphere.” As Savranenko got older, writing rap lyrics became part of her life.“I started writing first not about some fantasy stories or made-up fairy tales, but about what was happening around me,” she said. “Some of the stuff that I was rapping about, though, wasn’t even very truthful. I really wanted the Ukrainian rap community to accept me, so I rapped about using drugs and some of the street life that I saw around me — the kind of lifestyle that wasn’t really mine.” Early hip-hop in Ukraine was hugely influenced by African American and Russian rap, Helbig said, where violence and drugs are major themes.  “And the reason was, in part, because [Ukrainian rappers] were growing up in the sort of impoverished urban areas on the outskirts of cities,” she said. “These guys are reacting to the videos that they're seeing coming out of the United States, so they were very much replicating and connecting with this form of poverty, alienation, everything else.”Related: Ukraine's Eurovision 2016 entry is about Stalin’s repression, and Russia isn't thrilledWhen she first started rapping, Savranenko also embraced American gangsta-style rap because she thought that’s what hip-hop was supposed to be about.“But I wasn’t gangster and criminal. I was just a teacher in the kindergarten, but all the rappers respected me.”Alyona Alyona“But I wasn’t gangster and criminal. I was just a teacher in the kindergarten, but all the rappers respected me,” she said.Savranenko kept her job as a kindergarten teacher, but she also kept rapping and getting more attention. Eventually, she took on the rap name Alyona Alyona, writing lyrics in Russian because many of the rappers she listened to were Russian.  The popular 28-year-old Alyona Savranenko prides herself on defying the stereotype of what rappers look like in Eastern Europe and the rest of the world. Credit: Courtesy of Alyona Alyona/Instagram Language politics During the Soviet period, the Russian language dominated the official political and cultural sphere. But after Ukraine became independent from the Soviet Union in 1991, there was a rise in Ukrainian language use. Still, when it comes to rap, the politics around language have been more practical, Helbig said. Related: This Ugandan rapper was ‘miseducated,’ Lauryn Hill-style“For instance, a lot of the musicians that I would talk to just said that it was easier to rap in Russian because you could curse,” Helbig said. Russian-language profanities are commonly used throughout the former Soviet Union, and some artists say it sounds more aggressive.The politics between Russian and Ukrainian language have now started to soften, Helbig said, partially because younger people have more access to learning and using Ukrainian. But in 2014, Ukraine went through the Revolution of Dignity, where Ukrainians started expressing a stronger sense of pride in Ukrainian language. Savranenko said she felt the same. She read more Ukrainian literature, and she was teaching mostly in Ukrainian.“My vocabulary in Ukraine language was bigger and bigger, and I start[ed] rapping in Ukrainian language.”Alyona Alyona“My vocabulary in Ukraine language was bigger and bigger, and I start[ed] rapping in Ukrainian language,” she said. It's a linguistic trend that's playing out across Ukrainian hip-hop. “There's much more of a wide range of ideas that you can express in Ukrainian and also the hip-hop itself is changing, which might account for Alyona Alyona a little bit,” Helbig said. “Ukraine has sort of been blossoming and really moving into its revival of folk, and it has all these very interesting dynamics that they're trying to push into their own identities. And women have a very important role.”Ukrainian has also been historically gendered, she added. “Russian tends to be more of a masculine way, and Ukrainian tends to be positioned as the more the feminine way,” Helbig said, adding that Ukraine is often figuratively depicted as a woman taken captive by Russian soldiers.That might be evident in Savranenko's music, too. 'I just accepted myself'The song “Ribky,” which translates as “fish,” was Alyona Alyona's first hit, with more than 2 million views on YouTube.At face value, the song is simply about the title animal — the way they look, and the way they swim. But a deeper listen reveals more — and the song is really about how powerful fish can be, Savranenko said.“Most people understood what the song was about. That it’s not about fish and water, but about girls,” she said.At the time Savranenko was growing up, Ukraine had a “very gendered division of society” — a backlash to the “gender neutrality” presented in the Soviet Union, Helbig said. “The reaction to that in the early 1990s is you have this hypermasculinity of this machismo mafia type [and] the women were being pushed into the hypersexualization of, like, prostitution,” Helbig said. “There's a lot of violence against women. There's a lot of rape. … This is very much playing out, especially in the villages.”Alyona Alyona's music looks at girls and their place in society — girls who are bullied because they’re different, and girls who face abuse for their weight or their style. Body positivity is also a big theme in her music. “One of the things I was thinking of is really just how powerful [Alyona Alyona] is and what kind of statement she's making.” Adriana Helbig, University of Pittsburgh “One of the things I was thinking of is really just how powerful [Alyona Alyona] is and what kind of statement she's making,” Helbig said. The track “Pushka,” which roughly translates to “the bomb,” takes on the subject as well. In it, Alyona Alyona calls herself a “pishka,” a Ukranian word used as an insult for people who are overweight.But Alyona Alyona appropriates the word — she makes it her own, and carries herself with swagger.“That’s part of my life. I’ve encountered a lot of body shaming, fat shaming, bullying in my life. But mostly it’s people who motivate me because they keep asking, 'How can you be so cool?'” she said. “I tell them I’m like everyone else, I just accepted myself the way I am. I realized people need my experience and I started sharing it. With some — in messages, with others — in songs.” Alyona Alyona embraces a positive message in her music.  Credit: Courtesy of Alyona Alyona And Alyona Alyona hasn’t wavered from that positive message. She rarely curses in her music, and that gangsta-rap style from her early days is long gone.One of her recent tracks is all about standing up to bullies.“We decided to make a music video where I play different characters: a goth, a basketball player and others — showing this way that every person has a second half of themselves,” she said. “We shouldn’t be afraid to be ourselves, shouldn’t be afraid to resist, to stand strong against bullying. We shouldn’t be silent about it. It’s necessary to pull out that other half and fight.”In Ukraine, Alyona Alyona is one of the country’s top artists, and she’s toured all over Europe.“So, I thank God that I have [the] possibility to introduce my country and my music in European countries, and I will be do[ing] this in the future because I don’t want to rap in other languages,” she said. “I’m not ready, I don’t have so many words to sing in English or in Russian. I want to do it in Ukrainian.” Helbig says Alyona Alyona is also helping combat Ukraine's history of generational trauma. In Ukraine, “anxiety among everyday people is extremely high, and here you've got this kid that's, you know, happy. … 'Let's smile. Let's rap about fish. Life's great.' And it's like, what is this person doing?” Hebig said. “But on the other hand, you almost can't help but embrace it.” 

Flutist and composer Nathalie Joachim first came up with the idea for her debut album in late 2015. She was in Haiti, exploring her Haitian heritage and wanted to know about female artists from the island. Together with her parents, she could only come up with a dozen or so."I was really inspired to make an album centered around the voices of female artist from Haiti largely because they're left out of Haiti's musical history.""I was really inspired to make an album centered around the voices of female artists from Haiti largely because they're left out of Haiti's musical history," she said.Some women on the list included singer Emerante de Pradines, Milena Sandler (daughter of Toto Bissainthe), and vodou revolutionary Carole Demesmin.Joachim's Grammy-nominated album, "Fanm d'Ayiti," sets out to correct some of the omissions of women underrepresented in Haitian history. She thinks this is "a beautiful way to represent the women of Haiti." "Fanm d'Ayiti" translates into "Women of Haiti." On the album, Joachim features new song arrangements and snippets from recorded interviews with some of the women. One voice heard is that of Joachim's own musical hero and maternal grandmother, Ipheta Bellegarde, because "her voice was one that was quite important to me throughout the course of her life." The song featuring Bellegarde's voice is also one her grandmother wrote. It's called "Madan Bellegarde." Bellegarde died in 2015. Joachim says her grandmother was "criticized her whole life because she became a widow when my mother was still an infant, quite young, and never remarried. She really chose to live a life independently of her own design."Joachim would often hear her grandmother share stories about what life was like as a single mom in Haiti in the late 1940s and early '50s. She says her grandmother wrote the song because she was being "judged by all of the sinners around her, people who committed much grander sins than being an unmarried woman, but that she knew at the end of the day she would not be judged by God. And so she wrote this song and would sing it." Now, Joachim sings it.  Video of "Madan Bellegarde" - An Excerpt from Nathalie Joachim's "Fanm d'Ayiti" Joachim also recorded with a girls' choir in her family's farming village Dantan. "[It's] a very small place with just one street that has a church and a school and that's it," she said. "And I hope that any one of them, if not all of them, are inspired by how we've been able to spread their voices from this small spot in Haiti across the world." Joachim says she hopes her album touches young women everywhere and that they will "take away the strength and the power and continue to lift each other up ... [and to] look to your elders and find strength in their stories and to be sure to leave a pathway for those coming up behind you. We're all connected." 

Flutist and composer Nathalie Joachim first came up with the idea for her debut album in late 2015. She was in Haiti, exploring her Haitian heritage and wanted to know about female artists from the island. Together with her parents, she could only come up with a dozen or so."I was really inspired to make an album centered around the voices of female artist from Haiti largely because they're left out of Haiti's musical history.""I was really inspired to make an album centered around the voices of female artists from Haiti largely because they're left out of Haiti's musical history," she said.Some women on the list included singer Emerante de Pradines, Milena Sandler (daughter of Toto Bissainthe), and vodou revolutionary Carole Demesmin.Joachim's Grammy-nominated album, "Fanm d'Ayiti," sets out to correct some of the omissions of women underrepresented in Haitian history. She thinks this is "a beautiful way to represent the women of Haiti." "Fanm d'Ayiti" translates into "Women of Haiti." On the album, Joachim features new song arrangements and snippets from recorded interviews with some of the women. One voice heard is that of Joachim's own musical hero and maternal grandmother, Ipheta Bellegarde, because "her voice was one that was quite important to me throughout the course of her life." The song featuring Bellegarde's voice is also one her grandmother wrote. It's called "Madan Bellegarde." Bellegarde died in 2015. Joachim says her grandmother was "criticized her whole life because she became a widow when my mother was still an infant, quite young, and never remarried. She really chose to live a life independently of her own design."Joachim would often hear her grandmother share stories about what life was like as a single mom in Haiti in the late 1940s and early '50s. She says her grandmother wrote the song because she was being "judged by all of the sinners around her, people who committed much grander sins than being an unmarried woman, but that she knew at the end of the day she would not be judged by God. And so she wrote this song and would sing it." Now, Joachim sings it.  Video of "Madan Bellegarde" - An Excerpt from Nathalie Joachim's "Fanm d'Ayiti" Joachim also recorded with a girls' choir in her family's farming village Dantan. "[It's] a very small place with just one street that has a church and a school and that's it," she said. "And I hope that any one of them, if not all of them, are inspired by how we've been able to spread their voices from this small spot in Haiti across the world." Joachim says she hopes her album touches young women everywhere and that they will "take away the strength and the power and continue to lift each other up ... [and to] look to your elders and find strength in their stories and to be sure to leave a pathway for those coming up behind you. We're all connected." 

In May, Chantal Monté sat down with her husband to celebrate her 72nd birthday. He killed her exactly one month later. The tragedy made Monté the 78th victim of femicide in France in 2019. While the definition of femicide varies around the world, in France, it typically means when a woman is killed by a partner or ex-partner. There have been 116 femicides in France so far in 2019, according to Agence France Presse, a French press agency. Meanwhile, the advocacy group Femicides by Companions or Ex brings the total to 138. Related: These Argentine women fight against a justice system 'written by men, for men'In France, one woman is killed every three days. Women ages 65 and over make up about a quarter of all victims of femicide, but they've largely been left out of the discussion — or their deaths have been misclassified as mercy killings and suicide pacts. “People don't care,” said Nadia Neubacher, the daughter of Monté. Neubacher lives in Michigan with her family, but in May, she traveled more than 4,000 miles to southern France so she could join the celebrations for her mom's birthday. She said everything seemed normal. Nadia Neubacher (left) with her mom, Chantal Monté, during a visit to Michigan in 2003.   Credit: Courtesy of Nadia Neubacher “I figured if something was wrong she would have left, but she never hinted ... we didn't see anything,” she said.In late June, Monté's husband killed her using a shotgun as she was sleeping. Then he killed himself. She was 72. He was 89. They had been together for 20 years. Neubacher said she didn't know what motivated the murder.Related: This Turkish filmmaker uses wedding dresses to discuss femicide“I don't know if it's because of the way they were raised [as a] a generation and that's something they don't talk about? I have no idea.”Particularly in the case of older women, it's not uncommon for abuse to go on for decades in secret.  “They're paralyzed by the thought that nobody will believe them. ... On top of that, elderly women become convinced that if they speak up, people will respond with skepticism..."Annie Guilberteau,  director, National Federation of Information Centers on Women's and Families Rights “They're paralyzed by the thought that nobody will believe them,” said Annie Guilberteau, the director of the National Federation of Information Centers on Women's and Families Rights, an association that provides support for domestic violence victims in France. Guilberteau said perpetrators often use manipulation tactics to convince victims that the abuse is their fault. In elderly cases, this grip has often been sustained for decades. “On top of that, elderly women become convinced that if they speak up, people will respond with skepticism,” she said. “They'll ask something like, ‘Well, if this has been going on for thirty years, why did you wait until now to say anything?'” Related: ‘We're not scared': Thousands of women march despite crackdown on protests in TurkeyAccording to a government poll that surveyed women from 2012-2018, around 219,000 women are victims of domestic abuse every year in France. But it's difficult to know to what extent elderly women are affected because the poll only surveyed women between the ages of 18-75 years old. The lack of statistics has led some in France to refer to older women as the “forgotten victims” of domestic violence.When speaking about her mother, Neubacher's eyes light up. She loves talking about her mom.“I could talk about my mom for hours and still come nowhere close to doing her justice,” she said.She added that Monté was smart and had a contagious smile. She also loved to travel and take care of animals. She had cats, dogs and, at one point, she even adopted two donkeys. “My sister and I were like, ‘Why are you doing this mom?!' And she would just say, ‘I love donkeys.'”Her mom was full of life “in every way,” Neubacher said. “So, for her husband to decide to kill her ... it was not my mom's choice.”But that's exactly what some people suggested in the aftermath of the murder. At one point, there were rumors in the village of Bardos that Monté had died as part of a suicide pact with her husband. Neubacher believes people downplayed her death because she was an older woman.“I understand my mom was 72 years old, but it does not make it OK to throw her life away like that ... to sweep it under the rug,” she said.Related: Instagram art project spreads awareness about femicides in MexicoEarlier this month, investigators in Normandy were criticized for classifying a similar case of a couple in their 80s as a suicide pact.And in July, there were headlines about an 83-year-old anesthesiologist who killed his 81-year-old ailing wife. In a letter, the husband wrote it had become too difficult for him to look after his wife, who was suffering from Alzheimer's. These cases have generated debate about the issue of mercy killings and lack of support for older couples. But Neubacher said none of that makes what happened to her mother acceptable.“Labeling any murder a mercy killing is absolutely idiotic. ... It's a murder, let's call it what it is. You can put a fancy word in front of it and it's still a killing.”Nadia Neubacher, daughter of femicide victim Chantal Monté “Labeling any murder a mercy killing is absolutely idiotic,” she said. “It's a murder, let's call it what it is. You can put a fancy word in front of it and it's still a killing.”On Monday, Nov. 25, French Prime Minister Edouard Philippe announced the government would invest an additional $396 million in domestic violence prevention efforts, including the creation of 1,000 new women's shelters and a 24-hour domestic abuse hotline. Activists have criticized the government's response as “not up to par,” with some expecting the government to put forth $1.1 billion in the fight against domestic violence.Neubacher said she didn't even know her mom was a victim of femicide until she got a call from “Femicides by Companions or Ex,” the group that tracks femicides across the country.“And they told us it doesn't matter how old the woman is,” Neubacher said. “It does not matter, she's still a victim of femicide.” Shortly after the murder, members of the association organized a march in Bardos, the town where Monté lived. On Nov. 25, a nationwide march against femicide drew in tens of thousands of people, including 49,000 in Paris alone. It was the city's largest march against domestic violence to date.As for Neubacher, she's just holding onto things that keep her mom's memory close, such as her favorite pair of glasses.“... I refused to clean them. They were found on the table next to her. So...that is her.”