By Maryan Abdikadir

Why did you want to attend the workshop and share your story?

I love storytelling and I come from a long line of storytellers and poets. I believe stories have a way of capturing the minds, leaving lasting impressions and/or education. Being a survivor of Female Genital Mutilation and an activist/educator, I know that storytelling is powerful in passing information on this otherwise painful ordeal. I have always wanted to tell my story so that I can tell another survivor “you are not alone,” and I hope by educating others, by extension I can help save their daughters. After watching a couple of Sahiyo stories, I knew I needed to be one of the storytellers. I am so grateful for the opportunity accorded to me.

What story did you choose to tell and create into a digital story?

I chose to tell the story of the verbal cut, which is very much part and parcel of this practice of Female Genital Mutilation. Over and above the physical pain of being cut is the name-calling, belittling, insulting and demeaning of the genitalia that a girl gets to know from an early age. The uncut genitalia is frowned upon in my community, and there are names to describe it. Untrue perceptions about the genitalia are believed and passed on to young girls. Where I come from, organs like the clitoris are said to grow long and dangle, making the owner get sexually aroused with the slightest touch of the thighs. It is also believed that the genitalia will smell and become odorous. The genitalia is not mentioned or named. Kintir, which is the clitoris in my language, is such an abhorrent thing to say out loud. They would use other ways to refer to it like, “the it,” “that thing,” “the woman's thing,” “the place for urinating,” or bahal (which literally means an organism). All these naming and shaming make girls hate their bodies. I faced it and so did so many others. I could not watch as my daughter was subjected to the same. Words are powerful and sharp just like the razor used, and thus the reason I called this story the verbal cut.

What have you learned or most enjoyed during the workshop and by meeting others who shared their stories?

I learnt so many things. One of the biggest take homes was how our stories are made up of so many different pieces, and how powerful every piece is. At first I was skeptical about telling a story in 3 minutes. I knew I had an ocean of a story, and how I could tell that in so few minutes was looking impossible. In less than 400 words, they said, making it sound unattainable. But as I listened to the facilitators and past stories, I chose what I wanted to tell and indeed, it was possible. That little piece I picked is a full story on its own.

I also learnt how to do editing and weaving a story together. I am one of the most nontech savvy people around, but I still enjoyed and learnt this skill. 

Meeting other survivors and listening to their stories, I felt at ease as I told mine. I knew I was in a safe space. I could see myself in each and every story told by others, young enough to be my daughters. I saw the younger me in most of them.

I learnt that it takes courage to tell your story as a survivor and every day is different. I learnt that our bodies never forget the trauma and have a way of bringing it up every time we talk about our ordeal. And that each person’s journey is very personal. I now know that even though I am not afraid to tell my story of FGM, my body is because of how sick I became.

What kind of impact would you like your story to have? 

My story will paint the hurtful words that are as lethal as the physical pain of Female Genital Mutilation. I have also told my personal struggle to save my daughter and I am hopeful that it can give courage to another mother who wants to save her own daughter. My story shows the struggles I endured and the decisions I had to make, which I also hope can inspire others to tell their story. Every story is different and unique, yet the same as the next one. Mine is similar to many, but also different and unique. I want people to appreciate the fact that it is a real struggle to save even one girl, but that saving one girl is as important as saving many. Every girl counts. 

By telling my story I am adding my voice to the growing discourse on Female Genital Mutilation, a much needed venture especially here in North America. I am hopeful other survivors will be able to come up and add their voice so as to get the services they so deserve. It is through such stories that we can even inform policy. 

Is there anything in your digital story that you would like to share?

My story is a reflection of my struggles. I was scared at one time that my daughter may be cut behind my back. It shows that fear is real and must never be ignored. When my mum asked me what I would do if my daughter was cut, I took it as a wake up call. I could not take that lying down. My daughter’s concerns about what was being said to her was real and I had to act on it.  My story says: every concern is important, every fear is valid, and never disregard your gut feeling as concerns the safety of the next girl.

Maryan Abdikadir is a survivor and an independent activist against female genital mutilation. Maryan Is the co-author of “Delinking Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting from Islam” and the “A Religious Oriented Approach to Addressing FGM/C among the Somali Community of Wajir, Kenya”. Maryan is involved in end FGM agenda and uses her personal story to educate many. She has undertaken FGM abandonment programs (community dialogues, religious scholars engagement, research, documentation, working on policy and legal framework), and she participated in the drafting of the Prohibition of FGM Bill in Kenya. Maryan holds two Masters; one in Anthropology from Memorial University, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada and another Masters in Development Studies from the University of Nairobi, Kenya. Maryan is a Co-Chair of the board of End FGM Canada Network.

By Zahra Qaiyumi

In the process of creating a video as part of the Voices to End FGC project, I was able to pull scattered thoughts and memories into a clear and concise picture. The workshop allowed me to contemplate the different aspects of my experience as a survivor and helped me focus in on the common thread that ties it all together. In my video, I explore the cultural nuances of the community I grew up in, as well as the reclaiming of my body for myself. Aside from getting to tell my story in my own words, connecting with others who have had similar experiences and learning from their perspectives was powerful. Witnessing others be vulnerable and open in telling their stories helped to validate my experience and reaffirm my decision to both talk about my experience with FGC and use it as a tool to create social change.

Zahra Qaiyumi is a 4^th year medical student at Quinnipiac University in Connecticut. Zahra grew up in a community in which girls and women are impacted by FGM/C. She is interested in the role of health care providers in caring for those affected by the practice, and as such is involved with developing training for resident physicians on surgical care that improves quality of life and health outcomes in the most severe forms of FGM/C. She has also designed and implemented curriculum that introduces physicians in training to the cultural nuances surrounding FGM/C with the goal of increasing cultural humility. Zahra has been involved with Sahiyo since 2018, assisting on projects focused on community engagement as a tool to bring an end to FGM/C.

By Anonymous

Attending the digital storytelling workshop was an opportunity that came by and seemed interesting. After the first meeting and learning more about the Voices To End FGM/C program, I was even more intrigued. I wanted to be able to create a story that people would feel deeply and find some sort of hope when it came to addressing the issue of  female genital cutting (FGC).

I chose to tell a personal story on how my trauma from undergoing female genital cutting was hidden away until it came up during a lesson in a college class. The end point was: if people are willing to learn and change then there definitely is a sense of hope.

I’m not sure if my experience at this Voices  workshop resulted in learning something, but I really appreciated people sharing their stories through their perspectives. It was interesting to see how different people from different parts of the world took this common experience of undergoing female genital cutting and handled it in a different way.

In my story, the art may seem simple, but know that these pictures play a huge part in the visual aspect. I also want to emphasize how important having an open mind is when hearing stories by those impacted by FGC, because everyone’s experience is different.

By Nevin Sulthan

I am a survivor of female genital mutilation (FGM), and I have met many others from my community who have undergone the same violation. Even though there are many  survivors of FGM, the community hardly acknowledges its existence.

The digital storytelling workshop Voices To End FGM created a platform for sharing and listening to the experiences of FGM survivors from across the globe. It helped me to regain the strength to fight against FGM.

The videos that will emerge from our workshop will enable us and others from the community to create a network and conversations around FGM. I believe with time and effort these conversations will bring a stronger impact and change.

Nevin Sulthan is from the state of Kerala, India. She is currently pursuing her PhD from Delhi School of Social Work, University of Delhi.

By Trisha Kini

On June 23rd, Sahiyo hosted their webinar A Quiet Violence: Navigating Female Genital Cutting as an LGBTQ+ Survivor in honor of LGBTQ+ pride month. The event was moderated by Sahiyo U.S. Advisory Board chair, internal medicine physician, and chief medical editor of EverydayHealth.com Dr. Arefa Cassoobhoy. Panelists included poet, playwright, filmmaker, and producer Dena Igusti (they/them), End FGC Singapore volunteer Afiqa (she/they), lawyer, activist, and writer Umme Kulsoon Arif (she/they), and pelvic and gynecologic surgeon Dr. Marci Bowers (she/her). 

Oftentimes, LGBTQ+ and non-binary survivors of FGC are underrepresented and silenced in FGC activism, statistics, academic literature, and healthcare settings. Health organizations and anti-FGC advocacy movements frequently use gender binary terms when referring to FGC survivors, further propagating the harmful idea that FGC only impacts women. Panelists who identified as non-binary FGC survivors, Dena, Afiqa, and Umme, all shared stories of their own journey in understanding sexuality and gender as survivors of FGC, along with the harms of a false assumption that every survivor of FGC identifies as a woman. While it is true that FGC impacts those assigned female at birth, not all survivors identify with being a woman, womanhood, and heteronormative culture. Ascribing cisgender-heterosexual labels and expectations to non-binary survivors not only dismisses one’s identity and personhood, but also negatively impacts a survivor’s mental and physical health. Members of the panel advocated for the needs of unheard LGBTQ+ survivors, and raised awareness about steps anti-FGC organizations can take to be more inclusive, respectful, and welcoming to survivors of all gender identities. 

The event began with two powerful videos from our 2022 Voices to End FGM/C cohort, which were recently released to the public. Dena Igusti’s On being a Nonbinary Survivor of FGM/C highlighted that the use of non-inclusive language and terminology in FGC-related statistics has led them to question whether their experiences can be validated as a gender non-conforming individual. This was followed by Afiqa’s eye-opening video Conversations with my Mother, which shared their experience of learning about FGC as a young girl. Afiqa often questioned why circumcision was celebrated for men versus women, and as they continued to question FGC and heterosexual norms, they realized their reality of gender and sexuality did not match what society demanded of them.

The lack of LGBTQ+ inclusive resources available in healthcare settings, therapy, and anti-FGC organizations has actively limited the amount of care non-binary FGC survivors can benefit from. Dena, Afiqa, and Umme often found they had to create their own language for themselves, as their experiences were not considered in the resources sought for their own healing. They also found that their experiences were often downplayed by society through invalidation and ignorance. 

Following this discussion, Dr. Bowers stressed the importance of gender affirming care, which refers to medical interventions that support an individual's gender identity. With anti-FGC bills in Texas and Idaho that prohibit gender affirming care, healthcare as a right has been denied to trans individuals, which further deters LGBTQ+ individuals from seeking care. This has put LGBTQ+ youth at risk of facing wider health complications and neglect from the system. In addition, the reversal of Roe V. Wade has turned back the clock and denied rights to bodily autonomy. Trans people, just like cis people, deserve the right to safe spaces for healthcare, gender affirming care, and the right to choose what happens with their bodies. 

The webinar ended on an important note: how allies can be supportive of LGBTQ+ survivors. Some of the many steps we can take as allies are as easy as amplifying voices, even if it just means adding your pronouns to your social media, or making public statements showing solidarity, such as “trans rights are human rights.” In terms of anti-FGC initiatives, it is essential to actively make an effort to utilize gender inclusive language and include non-binary folks, rather than restricting FGC to a woman’s issue. This applies to medical care as well. Healthcare providers can actively stand with their LGBTQ+ patients by implementing inclusivity in intake forms, wearing pronoun buttons, unlearning assumptions, educating each other, and making an effort to meet the patient where they are, thereby cultivating an open-minded and respectful environment. 

One of the big takeaways I gathered from this webinar is the harmful impact of assuming one’s experience with gender-based violence (GBV). Not all LGBTQ+ survivors of GBV share similar experiences, as these are also shaped by intersectional factors such as culture, value, and religion, among others. In order to make an effort to understand one’s experience with survivorship, asking questions, showing support, and speaking up can make all the difference in helping LGBTQ+ survivors feel safe and welcomed. LGBTQ+ individuals, like cisgender, heterosexual ones, are well within their rights to expect respect, healthcare, and inclusion in order to facilitate their own healing and growth. 

Watch the webinar here. Read the transcript from the webinar here.

July 31, 2022 – After five years of supporting survivors of female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C) in sharing their stories, Sahiyo and StoryCenter announce the launch of a new website dedicated to highlighting this underrecognized human rights violation.

"As a survivor of female genital cutting, I have experienced the frustration of being reduced to a statistic: one of the 200 million women and girls worldwide to have undergone the cut. As an activist working to end the practice, I have felt indignation at the often sensationalized ways in which survivors' stories are depicted in the media. This is why Voices to End FGM/C is such an important, game-changing platform. It provides both survivors and activists with a safe and supportive environment and gives them the tools to share their stories with their own voices, words, and perspectives. Over 50 storytellers have benefitted from Voices over the past five years, and I am grateful to be one of them." ~ Aarefa Johari, co-founder and trustee, Sahiyo India 

This website, voicestoednfgmc.org, features stories from dozens of survivors who have taken part in the Voices to End FGM/C project over the years. This project brings together cohorts of survivors and activists every year, and empowers each participant to tell their own story by creating a short video. Voices to End FGM/C has facilitated the creation of 55 such stories from over 19 countries, including the United States, Canada, India, Singapore, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, United Kingdom, Tanzania, Chad, and more. The storytellers represent a range of ages, economic statuses, cultural backgrounds, and gender identities.

"We're really excited to have this new platform which pulls all the Voices content together and showcases the courage and creativity of the many storytellers we've worked with over the years." ~ Amy Hill, StoryCenter Silence Speaker Director 

After years of feedback and demand for such resources, this new website is a centralized platform, not just for the videos and blogs by survivors and activists, but also for educational and informational content created over the past five years. 

“In the struggle to end FGM/C, it is imperative to center the voices of activists with lived experience. These videos are used to help educate legislators and convince them to pass legislation banning FGM/C such as occurred in Massachusetts in the United States in August 2020.” ~ Mariya Taher, Sahiyo U.S. Cofounder & Executive Director

The highlights of the website are the Voices to End FGM/C videos found on the Storyteller Video page. Behind-the-scenes footage of the workshops is also available, as are blogs written by storytellers about their experiences. Visitors can also keep up with upcoming events and workshops, including the Fall 2022 Voices to End FGM/ workshop. 

Contact Sahiyo: 1-857-209-4160

Email Kristel Mendoza Castillo: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

About Sahiyo

Founded in 2015, Sahiyo’s mission is to empower Asian and other communities to end female genital cutting and create positive social change through dialogue, education, and collaboration based on community involvement.

About StoryCenter

Mission Statement: We create spaces for listening to and sharing stories, to help build a just and healthy world. Our public and custom workshops provide individuals and organizations with skills and tools that support self-expression, creative practice, and community building.

By Amena Ali

This was my second time participating in the Activists Retreat, and my first Retreat on the planning committee. I thoroughly enjoyed this year, and especially the shift from last year compared to this year. Last year was very focused on people relating to each other in sympathy, and this year it was more about being able to release anger and your anger being validated. I think that shift is really nice to see, because it also portrays how far people have come, in regards to their process for coping, for accepting, and fighting against this. I was really lucky to be a part of that, and I hope in the future, we’re able to do this in person!

Read Amena’s reflection on participating in the 2021 Activists Retreat here.

Read the report on this year's Activists Retreat.

By Umme Kulsoom Arif

When I was first invited to join the 2022 Sahiyo Activists Retreat I was… terrified. I almost didn’t sign up. I wanted to be an activist and I wanted to do more with Sahiyo, but I was scared of both..

Being both non-binary and a survivor of FGM/C, I always thought of myself as being in limbo — did my identity as a non-binary individual somehow invalidate the pain of my cutting? Was I less valid within the LGBTQIA+ community because of the trauma I had endured that shaped the way I viewed my gender and sexuality? Was I less valid within the Sahiyo community because I was only perceived by others to be a woman, as opposed to actually feeling like one myself? What did gender and sexuality even mean in the context of being a survivor, an activist, a Dawoodi Bohra, both in the closet and outside of it?

I was scared.

Every step of signing up — from filling out the interest form to creating my bio to sending my first message in the groupchat — was something I procrastinated, almost dreaded doing, because it cemented the feeling of walking into a den of lions. I wondered if I would be judged as harshly as I feel I am by the Bohra community I know, by my extended family, by myself.

I don’t know what compelled me to take every step, but I’m glad that I did. The moment I logged onto that Zoom call and faced the community waiting for me, I realized: this was what being safe truly felt like. I sat, listened, and heard my thoughts, fears, and emotions echoed back to me in the voices of those who — like me — had either gone through or knew someone who had endured an injustice the likes of which I still struggle to properly name.

Grief is a strange, frustrating thing. I never know what to grieve — does one mourn the moment one learns about the loss or the moment of the loss? Do I mourn the teenager tentatively coming out to their mother, and learning suddenly just how little their family valued their autonomy over the words of a man they had never met, or do I mourn the frightened five year old girl-who-one-day-would-not-be, laying on a cold metal table and feeling gloved hand wipe away her tears in an operating room? Or is it both, embracing all that fear, anger, and agony that comes from not knowing and needing to know at the same time?

Even before the Retreat, I had been grieving. I went to therapy, I laid in bed and wallowed in my depression; I bargained with a God I almost didn’t believe in anymore for a justice that did not come; I denied the magnitude of what had been done to me, insisting that others had it so much worse and that I needed to just move on; I accepted the things I could not change and resolved to use my law degree to help others just like me; and… I raged. Quietly, internally, I burned with fury I could not share. As an activist, I knew I had to take a measured response because those who were for FGM/C would use anything, including the tone of activists, to decry and deny the validity of the campaign. But pain is not measured, it is not reasonable; it is a cruel, burning thing, and I found myself repeatedly wondering if I was even ready to do this activism thing if I couldn’t control my emotions.

I felt like a bad person for being angry until the Retreat, until I heard the same emotions in the voices of others and realized the bottled up and tamped down anger was not an aberration, but a reasonable response. While it needed to be edited and pared down and softened to be shared with the world at large, it could be shared here, amongst others who knew the truth. It can feel isolating and infuriating to go against the grain of one’s own community, to be ostracized and judged and feel betrayed by one’s own family to the point where one loses faith. I felt alone, until I didn’t, until I realized there were others who felt as alone as I did. Which is a weird thing to feel, I think.

What the Retreat offered me was a confirmation that I was not alone or an aberration, and that I was enough simply for wanting to speak up and speak about my story. I made friends. I was invited to speak about my identity as a non-binary survivor — which in itself was terrifying, but I did it and found myself feeling even more validated through that experience — and realized both the value of having a global community of people with whom I could be my most authentic (and slightly odd) self and of forgiving myself for the things I could not do in that moment.

Read the report on this year's Activists Retreat.