Around the world, one out of every three women experiences some form of gender-based violence. And every year, the United Nations runs an international campaign to bring attention –and funds – to this universal cause. The campaign is called ’16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence’ and takes place between November 25 and December 10.

Why these two particular dates? Because November 25 is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, and December 10 is marked as Human Rights Day. Every year, governments, UN agencies, and civil society organisations utilise these 16 days to campaign for public awareness, action, and fund-raising towards all forms of violence against women.

This year’s global theme is ‘Orange the World’, highlighting orange as a bright and optimistic colour to signal a future free of gender-based violence. Female Genital Cutting (FGC) is also a form of violence against women, and Sahiyo is excited to announce its own 16-day “orange” campaign to raise awareness about the issue. Read on to know what we will be doing, and how you can participate:

1) ‘STOP FGC’ badges:

 If you feel strongly about bringing an end to Female Genital Cutting or Khatna, get hold of Sahiyo’s new ‘Stop FGC’ badge and pin it proudly on your Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp, Instagram or Snapchat profiles. The message is simple, orange and eye-catching, and will serve as a great way to begin conversations about khatna with those around you during – and even after – the 16 Days of Activism.

Here is a downloadable version of the pin:

 We also encourage you to pin these badges offline: simply print out the image above, cut around the orange circle and pin it on your shirt or bag! If you’re in Mumbai and can make it to Friday’s screening of A Pinch of Skin (see below), you could also request a physical badge from the Sahiyo members present.

2) Screening + discussion of ‘A Pinch of Skin’:

On Day 1 of the 16 Days campaign, those in Mumbai can attend a screening of A Pinch of Skin – a National Award-winning 2013 documentary by Sahiyo co-founder Priya Goswami. This was the first film to highlight the practice of Female Genital Cutting in the Bohra community.

The film will be screened at the two-day SAMABHAV film festival organised by Men Against Violence and Abuse, an NGO doing crucial work to sensitise boys and men about gender violence. And after the screening, don’t miss the opportunity to discuss FGC and the film with Sahiyo members!

WHAT: A Pinch of Skin, a documentary by Priya Goswami
WHEN: November 25, Friday. 12.15 pm to 1.15 pm
WHERE: Dr. BMN College of Home Science (SNDT Matunga), Matunga Central (behind Maheshwari Udyan bus depot, near Aurora Talkies)
The screenings are open to all but don’t forget to register your name with  MAVA’s Project Coordinator Darshan by calling him on 0-9833733048

SAMABHAV is a film festival celebrating the rights of all genders, and the two-day event will include a host of other short films, features, and documentaries on the theme of Gender, Sexuality, Masculinity, and Relationships. Check out the details here.

3) 16 Days, 16 Stories:

Sahiyo’s website, as many of you know, is a story-sharing platform for anyone who feels strongly about bringing the practice to an end. In the past year, we have shared scores of personal stories and narratives of women who have been circumcised, or whose loved ones have been cut; women who felt traumatised and violated, or those who didn’t, but still believe that there is no place for FGC in the world. We have also published heartfelt stories by Dawoodi Bohra fathers who don’t want their daughters cut anymore.

From November 25 to December 10, Sahiyo will publish 16 such personal stories – one story each day – to raise awareness and remind survivors that they are not alone. Some are new, while others are powerful stories that we published in the past.

Check out Sahiyo’s website, Facebook, and Twitter to read and share these stories. And if you would like to submit your own story, mail us at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. 

4) US Summit to End FGM/C:

From November 30 to December 1, Sahiyo co-founders Mariya Taher and Insia Dariwala will participate in the US Summit to End FGM/C in Washington DC. This unique conference has been organised by Equality Now, Safe Hands for Girls, and a host of other organisations.

The Summit will bring together anti-FGC activists, survivors, religious leaders, government heads, and other stakeholders from around the world, and discussions will have a special focus on strategies to bring an end to FGC among diaspora communities in the United States. Stay posted on Sahiyo’s social media for Summit updates from Mariya and Insia! There will also be a live stream from the Summit itself, click here to tune into the conference! 

(This article was originally published in English on November 5, 2016. Read the English version here.)

उम्र: 64

देश: संयुक्त राज्य अमेरिका

महिला जननांग विकृति या FGM के खिलाफ खड़े होने का समय आ गया है। यह लंबे समय से बाकी है। यह तब भी सही नहीं था जब मेरी माँ इससे गुज़री, यह तब भी सही नहीं था जब मैं इससे गुज़री और यह तब भी सही नहीं था जब मैंने अपनी बेटी के साथ यह होने दिया (मेरे माता-पिता के दबाव में)।

जिस दिन भारत में मेरे साथ एफजीएम किया गया था, मुझे उस दिन की याद है। मैं लगभग छह या सात साल की थी। मेरे भाई, जो मुझसे उम्र में बड़ा था, उसको एक दोस्त के घर पर खेलने के लिए दूर भेज दिया गया था एक महिला, जिसे मैंने पहले कभी नहीं देखा था, वह आयी और मुझे मेरे माता-पिता के बेडरूम में ले जाया गया जहां एफजीएम किया गया था।

मुझे लगता है कि उस घटना और उस दिन की असहज स्मृति को मैंने दबा दिया है – बस उस महिला और मुझे नीचे लिटाए रखने वाली मेरी माँ की तस्वीर को छोड़कर। मुझे याद नहीं है कि खतना के पीछे का कौनसा कारण मुझे बताया गया था। लेकिन मुझे याद है कि मेरी अनुमति के बिना मेरे शरीर के सबसे गुप्त अंग के साथ जो किया गया था, उससे मैं बहुत नाराज़ थी। यह मेरे जिस्म पर अतिक्रमण था। सबसे अधिक, मुझे इस बात पर नाराजगी है कि जिस व्यक्ति पर मैंने उस छोटी उम्र में जीवन में सबसे अधिक भरोसा किया था, उनहोंने मेरे साथ ऐसा होने दिया। हो सकता है, इसीलिए, मेरा एक हिस्सा है जो मेरी माँ को माफ नहीं कर सकता है और मुझे आश्चर्य है कि मेरी बेटी ने मुझे उसी काम को करने के लिए माफ कर दिया है।

एफजीएम को सही दिखाने के लिए इसे धर्म के लिबास में ढका जा रहा है। पर जल्द ही साहियो जैसे संगठन इस क्रूर प्रथा को बंद कर देंगे। जब तक सैयदना एफजीएम की निंदा नहीं करते हैं, और अपनी बात अमल नहीं करते हैं, तब तक मुझे खुद को दाउदी बोहरा कहने में शर्म आएगी।

Age: 64

Country: United States

(Read the Hindi translation of this article here.)

It’s time to take a stand against Female Genital Mutilation. It’s long overdue. It wasn’t right when my mother went through it (I assume she did but I never asked her about it), it wasn’t right when I went through it and it wasn’t right when I put my daughter through it (under pressure from my parents).

I have a hazy recollection of the day the FGM was performed on me back in India. I was approximately six or seven years old. My brother, who was older than me, was sent away for the day to play at a friend’s house. A lady, who I’d never seen before, came over and I was taken to my parents’ bedroom where the FGM was performed.

I seem to have blocked the uncomfortable memory of that event and day – except for that image of the lady and my mom holding me down. I’m not sure what explanation was given to me about the reason why this had to be done. I remember deeply resenting what was done to the most intimate part of my body without my permission – akin to being violated. Most of all, I resent the fact that the person whom I trusted the most in life at that young age, allowed it to happen. Maybe, that is why, there is a part of me that cannot forgive my mom and I am amazed that my daughter has forgiven me for doing the exact same thing that I resented being done to me.

FGM is an insidious custom using the cloak of religion to appear correct. It’s only a matter of time when the untiring work of organizations like Sahiyo will stop this barbaric tradition rooted in a twisted interpretation of Islamic traditions. Till the Syedna denounces FGM, and puts his words into action, I will be ashamed to call myself a Dawoodi Bohra.

(Cover photo courtesy: ‘A Pinch of Skin’)

By Anonymous 

Age: 26

Country: United States 

(Read the Hindi translation of this article here.)

I remember hearing about it for the first time in my Saturday school class. A male teacher was taking our class that Saturday morning, and the topic was circumcision. At the ripe age of 14, I didn’t really know what that meant, but I did know it involved something that was related to sex-ed. I awkwardly sat with the girls in my class on the right side of the room, separated from the boys by a wide space, who sat on the left side of the room. The teacher began to speak about male circumcision; that skin was surgically removed from a boy for hygienic reasons. He then went on to explain female circumcision; that it was done to curb a girl’s sexual desire. Girls were meant to be chaste, quiet, and obedient. Circumcising little girls was the only way to keep them from being promiscuous. It was the only way to stop them from bringing shame to their families.

I remember sitting there, having no idea what my teacher was talking about. I was sure I had never undergone this procedure, or whatever my 14-year- old brain could comprehend from the Gujrati he was speaking – it was not my first language. I felt extremely uncomfortable and unsettled as I sat in that room that day.

I remember going to a sleep-over at an older girl’s house that same Saturday, where the topic inevitably turned to what we had heard at Saturday school earlier that day. I sat quietly as one girl, a bit of a know-it-all, explained why this procedure was done on girls, and how it made us better Muslims and better Bohris – because circumcision ensured that we would never be tempted by sexual desires and pre-marital sex; it cleaned us, purified us. I listened intently as other girls relayed their circumcision stories, all the while feeling like a fraud because I knew that I had never undergone this “rite of passage”. I know now that I still didn’t understand then, what this rite of passage truly meant. All it meant to me was that I didn’t fit in, that I was a “bad girl”, that I was dirty, and that I was just pretending to be a good Muslim. 

I remember finally working up the courage to ask my mom about it a few weeks later. I watched awareness dawn in her eyes, as I relayed what we had learned in class. I saw the look on her face when I hopefully asked her if I had had this procedure done, and just didn’t remember. She shook her head. She had always meant to take me to get it done, when we were in India but had just never gotten around to it. I told her the stories I had heard from my friends and asked her if she could explain this procedure to me since I had had trouble understanding it in my class. She proceeded to explain the process of khatna to me; the removal of skin from a girl’s clitoris, to make her clean and pure. As I heard the explanation, I cringed. She watched me for a few minutes and then stated with authority that the next time we went to India she would take me to my aunt, a doctor, who would perform the procedure on me. I sank to my knees in front of her, begging her not to do this to me, begging her not to make me undergo what sounded like an unimaginably painful procedure. I promised her that I would be good, I would be clean, I would do anything she wanted if she would just forget this whole thing. She exhaled, saying “we’ll see” in a soft, resigned voice.

I remember getting older, doing more research on what khatna even meant, listening to my cousin passionately talk about how wrong it was, and realizing what a monumental loss my mother had spared me from. As an adult, I view the practice of khatna very differently than I did as an impressionable teenager. So many young girls have had this choice stolen from them.

No one has asked them if this is something that they want. Their families have decided to steal a part of who they are, without any regard for what it will do to them, and often times make the decision to bring their precious little girls to unsterile and inexperienced hands to do something so serious to their bodies. 

I remember seeing a huge Facebook discussion break out months ago, where a very outspoken girl I know accused people who work to stop khatna of “airing the dirty laundry” of the Bohri community in such a public way. In that moment I had never felt so much shame at someone in my community. This practice is wrong, and the non-consensual nature of it makes it even more heartbreaking and deplorable, to me. When your community is doing something questionable and touting it as a religious practice revered by the Prophet (PBUH), you don’t close ranks and hide deeper in the shadows. You open the floor to debate and discuss how we can become better as a community. You discuss how we can protect the young girls and young women of our community and give them the chance to make their own choices, rather than taking their choices away from them.

We can do better as a global community to stop this. My mother saved me. She put her love for me first, and I am the woman I am today because of her. I am forever grateful for her protection and guidance. All young women deserve the same protection, the same love, the same respect, and the same autonomy over their bodies. It’s the least we can do. 

(Originally posted by BEYONDHIJABSG on 6 FEBRUARY, 2016. Republished here with permission.)

Country: Singapore

Community: Malay

By: Nurul Fadiah Johari

I have a memory of my little sister going through circumcision. It is all vague to me now. I was 4, and she was a baby. I only remember being brought over to the house of an old masseuse who provided my mother with post-natal care. I remember hearing my sister, who was 8 months old at the time, wailing loudly and then something was buried in a pot of soil outside my home. I had naively thought that my sister was born with a penis and had to be circumcised, just like male babies. Later, I learnt that this was not the case.

In The Hidden Face of Eve, El Saadawi documents the gory and painful practices of FGM in the Arab world. This can be compared to findings from the Malay world. Though the practices here are slightly different, it is still done with the oft-quoted intent of controlling female sexuality, or the presumption that it is a religious obligation. This is ironic, given that the term sunat, in Islamic textual traditions, actually means “something that is not obligatory”.

In Islam, the body is sacred. It is neither a source of temptation nor sin. It is an amanah, or trusteeship from God. It simply just means that as souls, we humans have been entrusted to honour and beautify the body. It means that any form of harm contravenes Islamic principles. Muslims celebrate beauty of creation by preserving and protecting it. Hence, as a Muslim woman, I believe that my body is sacred and thus I honour it by exercising my full agency as a human being.

There are too many taboos and misunderstandings which have been perpetuated within an increasingly conservative Muslim community. Nonetheless, I choose to remain optimistic through the work I do and the voices of young Muslims (especially women) that I hear from many parts of the world. Social media has made it easier to hear the voices of women, which has traditionally been silenced. We are living in the 21^st century after all. It is the age of youth and where the disempowered demand their voices be heard. One day, our collective prayers will be heard. And for that, I am thankful that changes will happen, one step at a time.