So on my way here, the passenger next to me and I had a very interesting conversation during my flight. He told me, "It seems like the United States has run out of jobs, because they're just making some up: cat psychologist, dog whisperer, tornado chaser."
Njiani kufika hapa, nilikuwa na mazungumzo mazuri na mtu aliyekuwa anakaa pembeni yangu kwenye ndege. Alinambia "Hamna kazi tena USA, yaani sasa wamebuni kazi mpya: mwanasaikolojia wa paka, mzungumzaji wa mbwa,msasi wa kimbunga."
A couple of seconds later, he asked me, "So what do you do?"
Punde, aliniuliza, "Kwani wewe unafanya kazi gani?"
And I was like, "Peacebuilder?" (Laughter)
Nikamjibu, "Mjenzi wa usalama?" (Vicheko)
Every day, I work to amplify the voices of women and to highlight their experiences and their participation in peace processes and conflict resolution, and because of my work, I recognize that the only way to ensure the full participation of women globally is by reclaiming religion.
Kila siku, nafanya bidii kuwazidishia wanawake sauti na kuoneysha maisha yao na michango yao katika hatua za kutafuta usalama na kutatua migogoro, na kwa sababu ya kazi zangu, natambua kwamba njia ya pekee kwa kuhakikisha ushirikiano kamili wa wanawake duniani ni kuchukua tena dini mikononi mwetu.
Now, this matter is vitally important to me. As a young Muslim woman, I am very proud of my faith. It gives me the strength and conviction to do my work every day. It's the reason I can be here in front of you. But I can't overlook the damage that has been done in the name of religion, not just my own, but all of the world's major faiths. The misrepresentation and misuse and manipulation of religious scripture has influenced our social and cultural norms, our laws, our daily lives, to a point where we sometimes don't recognize it.
Sasa, jambo hilo ni muhimu sana kwangu. Kama muislamu na mwanamke kijana, ninaijali dini yangu sana. Inanipa nguvu na msimamo katika kazi zangu kila siku. Ndiyo sababu inayoniwezesha kusimama hapa leo mbele yenu. Lakini siwezi kutojali hasara kubwa zilizofanyika kwa kutumia jina la dini, si dini yangu tu, lakini dini zote kubwa za dunia. Kuyatumia vibaya na kuyageuza maandiko ya kidini kumebadilisha desturi zetu za kijamii na kitamaduni, sheria zetu, kila siku zetu, hadi kumefikia tusipoweza kupagundua.
My parents moved from Libya, North Africa, to Canada in the early 1980s, and I am the middle child of 11 children. Yes, 11. But growing up, I saw my parents, both religiously devout and spiritual people, pray and praise God for their blessings, namely me of course, but among others. (Laughter) They were kind and funny and patient, limitlessly patient, the kind of patience that having 11 kids forces you to have. And they were fair. I was never subjected to religion through a cultural lens. I was treated the same, the same was expected of me. I was never taught that God judged differently based on gender. And my parents' understanding of God as a merciful and beneficial friend and provider shaped the way I looked at the world.
Wazazi wangu walihama Libya, Afrika ya Kaskazini kwenda Kanada mwanzoni mwa miaka 1980, na mimi niko katikati ya watoto 11. Ehee, 11. Lakini katika kukulia kwangu, niliwaona wazazi wangu, wote wacha Mungu na waumini wa Akhera, wakisali na kumshukuru kwa baraka zao, kama mimi, lakini zinginezo pia. (Vicheko) Walikuwa na huruma, wenye kuchekesha, na wenye subira, subira kubwa, aina inayofunzwa kwa kuwalea watoto 11. Pia walifanya haki. Sikuwahi kupaswa kuijua dini kwa mtazamo wa kitamaduni tu. Nilitendewa sawasawa na kaka zangu, na sisi sote tulikuwa tunatarijiwa kufanya sawasawa. Sikuwahi kuambiwa kwamba Mungu huhukumu tofauti kwa jinsia. Wazazi wangu walimwona Mungu kuwa Mwingi wa Rehema, Fadhila na rizki na mimi nilichukulia msimamo wao.
Now, of course, my upbringing had additional benefits. Being one of 11 children is Diplomacy 101. (Laughter) To this day, I am asked where I went to school, like, "Did you go to Kennedy School of Government?" and I look at them and I'm like, "No, I went to the Murabit School of International Affairs." It's extremely exclusive. You would have to talk to my mom to get in. Lucky for you, she's here. But being one of 11 children and having 10 siblings teaches you a lot about power structures and alliances. It teaches you focus; you have to talk fast or say less, because you will always get cut off. It teaches you the importance of messaging. You have to ask questions in the right way to get the answers you know you want, and you have to say no in the right way to keep the peace.
Kwa uhakika, malezi yangu yalikuwa na faida zake. kuwa katikati ya watoto 11 ni kama Diplomasia 101. (Vicheko) Mpaka leo, watu huniuliza wapi nilipokwenda skule, kama, “Ulienda Skule ya Kennedy ya Serikali?" na mimi huwatazama na kuwambia, “Hapana, Nimeenda Skule ya Murabit ya Mambo ya Kimataifa.” Ni maalum sana. Ungeongea na Mamangu kwa kujipatia nafasi Lakini kwa bahati yenu, yupo leo. Lakini kuwa miongoni wa watoto 11, na kuwa na ndugu 10, kunafundisha mengi kama mifumo ya mamlaka na muungano. Kama kuzingatia lengo; useme haraka au usiseme sana, kwa sababu utadakiwa mazungumzo kila mara. Kunafundisha umuhimu wa kuwa mjumbe mzuri. Uyaulize maswali kwa mpango kwa kupata jibu unalolitaka, na ujue kusema 'la' kwa mpango pia kwa kufuliza usalama.
But the most important lesson I learned growing up was the importance of being at the table. When my mom's favorite lamp broke, I had to be there when she was trying to find out how and by who, because I had to defend myself, because if you're not, then the finger is pointed at you, and before you know it, you will be grounded. I am not speaking from experience, of course.
Lakini funzo muhimu sana nililolipata kutoka utoto wangu lilikuwa umuhimu wa kuwa na nafasi kwenye meza. Taa yake ndogo mamangu ilipovunjika, alivyoipenda sana, ilinilazimu niwepo wakati alipochunguza ilikuwaje, ili nijitetee, kwa sababu kama hupo, lawama inakuangukia kwako, na kabla hujagundua, utakuwa umeadhibiwa. Kwa uhahika, sijapewa adhabu mimi mwenyewe.
When I was 15 in 2005, I completed high school and I moved from Canada -- Saskatoon -- to Zawiya, my parents' hometown in Libya, a very traditional city. Mind you, I had only ever been to Libya before on vacation, and as a seven-year-old girl, it was magic. It was ice cream and trips to the beach and really excited relatives.
Nilipokuwa na miaka 15 mwakani 2005, nikatimiza skule ya sekondari nikahamia Kanada-- Saskatoon -- Ila Zawiya, Libya, mji wa nyumbani wa wazazi wangu, mji wa kidesturi sana. Fikiri, muda huo niliwahi kufika Libya kwa ajili ya matembezi tu, na kama msichana wa miaka 7, ilipendeza sana. Ilikuwa aiskrimu na pwani na jamaa wenye furaha.
Turns out it's not the same as a 15-year-old young lady. I very quickly became introduced to the cultural aspect of religion. The words "haram" -- meaning religiously prohibited -- and "aib" -- meaning culturally inappropriate -- were exchanged carelessly, as if they meant the same thing and had the same consequences. And I found myself in conversation after conversation with classmates and colleagues, professors, friends, even relatives, beginning to question my own role and my own aspirations. And even with the foundation my parents had provided for me, I found myself questioning the role of women in my faith.
niligundua haiko vilevile kama msichana wa miaka 15. Nikakutana upesi na mambo ya dini ya kiutamaduni. Maneno ya "haramu" -- lenye maana ya kukatazwa kidini -- na "aibu" -- lenye maana ya kutofaa kimaadili -- yalibadilishanwa bila mpango. kama yalikuwa na maana moja na adhabu moja vilevile. Nikajikuta sana katika mazungumzo na wenzangu wa skule na wa kazi, profesa, rafiki zangu na hata jamaa zangu, nikaanza kujiuliza kuhusu desturi zangu na malengo yangu. Na hata na msingi mzuri niliopokea kutoka wazazi wangu, Nilijikuta nikajiuliza kuhusu nafasi ya mwanamke katika dini yangu.
So at the Murabit School of International Affairs, we go very heavy on the debate, and rule number one is do your research, so that's what I did, and it surprised me how easy it was to find women in my faith who were leaders, who were innovative, who were strong -- politically, economically, even militarily. Khadija financed the Islamic movement in its infancy. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. So why weren't we learning about her? Why weren't we learning about these women? Why were women being relegated to positions which predated the teachings of our faith? And why, if we are equal in the eyes of God, are we not equal in the eyes of men?
Kule kwenye Skule ya Murabit ya Mambo ya Kimataifa, tunapenda sana kufanya mjadala, na sheria ya kwanza ni fanya utafiti wako, na hivyo ndivyo nilivyofanya mimi, Ikanishangaza sana vipi ilikuwa rahisi kuwagundua wanawake katika Uislamu waliokuwa viongozi, wavumbuzi, wenye nguvu -- za kisiasa, za kiuchumi hata za kijeshi. Khadija aliziendesha fedha za harakati za Kiislamu katika siku zake za mwanzo. Tusingekuwepo hapa leo bila michango yake. Kwa nini tusifundishwe kisa chake? Kwa nini tusifundishwe visa vya hao wanawake? Kwa nini wanawake wapewe vyeo vilivyotoka zama zilizotangulia mafunzo ya dini yetu? Na kwa nini, kama sisi sote tuko sawasawa machoni mwa Mungu, hatuko sawasawa machoni mwa binadamu?
To me, it all came back to the lessons I had learned as a child. The decision maker, the person who gets to control the message, is sitting at the table, and unfortunately, in every single world faith, they are not women. Religious institutions are dominated by men and driven by male leadership, and they create policies in their likeness, and until we can change the system entirely, then we can't realistically expect to have full economic and political participation of women. Our foundation is broken. My mom actually says, you can't build a straight house on a crooked foundation.
Hayo yalinipeleka kufikiria mafunzo yangu ya utotoni. Anayeamua, na kuwa na mamlaka juu ya ujumbe, anayo nafasi kwenye meza, na kwa bahati mbaya, katika dini zote za kidunia, hao si wanawake. Taasisi za kidini zinatawaliwa na wanaume na kuendeshwa na viongozi vya kiume, na wanabuni sera zinazowafaa wanaume tu, na ila tunaweza kubadilisha mfumo huo kabisa, kwa kweli hatuwezi kutarajia wanawake kushiriki kwa ukamilifu katika uchumi au siasa. Msingi wetu umevunjika. Mamangu husema, "huwezi kujenga nyumba nzima juu ya msingi mbovu".
In 2011, the Libyan revolution broke out, and my family was on the front lines. And there's this amazing thing that happens in war, a cultural shift almost, very temporary. And it was the first time that I felt it was not only acceptable for me to be involved, but it was encouraged. It was demanded. Myself and other women had a seat at the table. We weren't holding hands or a medium. We were part of decision making. We were information sharing. We were crucial. And I wanted and needed for that change to be permanent.
Mwakani 2011, Mapinduzi ya Libya yaliripuka na aila yangu walikuwepo mistari ya mbele. Kuna jambo moja la kushangaza linalojitokeza katika vita, kama mageuzo ya kiutamaduni, kwa muda mfupi tu. Kwa mara ya kwanza nilijisikia ilikubaliwa, au hata ilisisitizwa kwa mimi kujihusisha na mambo. Ilihitajika. Mimi na wanawake wengine walipewa nafasi kwenye meza. Hatukuwa wasaidizi wa wanaume tu. Tulichangia katika uamuzi. Tulichangia katika kutoa taarifa. Tulikuwa muhimu sana. Na mimi nilitaka, nilihitaji mageuzo hayo kutoondoka.
Turns out, that's not that easy. It only took a few weeks before the women that I had previously worked with were returning back to their previous roles, and most of them were driven by words of encouragement from religious and political leaders, most of whom cited religious scripture as their defense. It's how they gained popular support for their opinions.
Lakini niligundua si rahisi kuwa nilivyotaka. Ilichukua wiki chache tu kabla hao wanawake niliowafanya nao kazi walikuwa wanarejea katika kazi zao za zamani, na wengi walipewa maneno ya kusisitizwa kutoka kwa viongozi wa kidini na vya kisiasa, wengi wao walijaribu kuthibitisha hoja zao kwa maandishi ya kidini. Ndivyo walivyojipatia mikono ya watu katika hoja zao.
So initially, I focused on the economic and political empowerment of women. I thought that would lead to cultural and social change. It turns out, it does a little, but not a lot. I decided to use their defense as my offense, and I began to cite and highlight Islamic scripture as well.
Mwanzoni, nilizingatia kuwapa wanawake nguvu katika siasa na uchumi. Nikafikiri ingeliongoza mabadiliko ya kiutamaduni na kijamii. Niligundua, ilifanikiwa kidogo tu, lakini sio sana. Nikaamua kuitumia njia yao wale viongozi wa kidini nikaanza kuthibitisha hoja zangu kwa maandishi ya kiislamu pia.
In 2012 and 2013, my organization led the single largest and most widespread campaign in Libya. We entered homes and schools and universities, even mosques. We spoke to 50,000 people directly, and hundreds of thousands more through billboards and television commercials, radio commercials and posters.
Katika miaka 2012 na 2013, shirika langu liliongoza kampeni ya pekee iliyokuwa kubwa na pana kuliko zote Libya. Tulipenyeza nyumbani, skuleni na vyuoni, hata misikitni. Tulizungumza na watu 50,000 uso kwa uso, na mamia ya maelfu zaidi kwa njia za matangazo ya kubandika, matangazo kwenye tv na kwenye radio.
And you're probably wondering how a women's rights organization was able to do this in communities which had previously opposed our sheer existence. I used scripture. I used verses from the Quran and sayings of the Prophet, Hadiths, his sayings which are, for example, "The best of you is the best to their family." "Do not let your brother oppress another." For the first time, Friday sermons led by local community imams promoted the rights of women. They discussed taboo issues, like domestic violence. Policies were changed. In certain communities, we actually had to go as far as saying the International Human Rights Declaration, which you opposed because it wasn't written by religious scholars, well, those same principles are in our book. So really, the United Nations just copied us.
Labda mnajiuliza, shirika la haki za wanawake waliweza kufanya hivyo vipi katika jamii ilyopingana na sisi kabisa mwanzoni. Niliyatumia maandishi ya kiislamu. Nilitumia aya za Korani na misemo ya Mtume Mohammed, Hadithi zake, misemo yake ambayo ni, kwa mfano, "Mtu bora ndiye anayefanya wema kwa familia yake." "Usimruhusu mtu kumdhulumu mwingine." Kwa mara ya kwanza, hotuba za Ijumaa kutoka kwa imamu wa kienyeji zilitangaza haki za wanawake. zilizungumzia masuala yasiyo kawaida, kama vurugu ya nyumbani. Sera zilibadilishwa. Katika jamii fulani, ilitubidi kusema lile Azimio la Kimataifa la Haki ya Wanadamu mlilopingana nayo kwa sababu haikuandikwi na watalaamu wa kidini, eti, misingi yote ile imo kitabu chetu. Yaani, Shirika la Umoja wa Mataifa lilituiga tu.
By changing the message, we were able to provide an alternative narrative which promoted the rights of women in Libya. It's something that has now been replicated internationally, and while I am not saying it's easy -- believe me, it's not. Liberals will say you're using religion and call you a bad conservative. Conservatives will call you a lot of colorful things. I've heard everything from, "Your parents must be extremely ashamed of you" -- false; they're my biggest fans -- to "You will not make it to your next birthday" -- again wrong, because I did. And I remain a very strong believer that women's rights and religion are not mutually exclusive. But we have to be at the table. We have to stop giving up our position, because by remaining silent, we allow for the continued persecution and abuse of women worldwide. By saying that we're going to fight for women's rights and fight extremism with bombs and warfare, we completely cripple local societies which need to address these issues so that they're sustainable.
Kwa kuubadilisha ujumbe wenyewe, tuliweza kuitoa sura mpya iliyotangaza haki za wanawake Libya. Ni jambo ambalo sasa limeigwa duniani, na sisemi ni rahisi--- niamini, si rahisi kabisa. 'Liberals' watasema unaitumia dini na kukuita 'conservative' mbaya. na 'conservatives' watakupa matusi mengi. Mimi mwenyewe nimeyapata mengi, kama "Wazazi wako hawaaibiki na wewe?" -- sio kweli; wao wananipenda kuliko wote -- au "Hutoishi kuona siku yako ya kuzaliwa tena" -- tena sio kweli, nimeshaiona. Na bado, ninaamini kabisa kwamba haki za wanawake na dini zinaweza kuendana. Lakini lazima tupewe nafasi kwenye meza. Tusiache kupigania nafasi yetu, kwa sababu kwa kukaa kimya, tunaruhusu mateso na dhuluma za wanawake duniani kuendelea. Kwa kudai tutapigania haki za wanawake na kupigania ugaidi kwa kutumia mabomu na vita, tunaharibu jamii za kienyeji zinazohitaji kuyashughulikia masuala hayo ili yawezekane kuendelea.
It is not easy, challenging distorted religious messaging. You will have your fair share of insults and ridicule and threats. But we have to do it. We have no other option than to reclaim the message of human rights, the principles of our faith, not for us, not for the women in your families, not for the women in this room, not even for the women out there, but for societies that would be transformed with the participation of women. And the only way we can do that, our only option, is to be, and remain, at the table.
Sio rahisi, kushindana na taarifa za dini za kupotosha. Utapata vyako vya matusi na dhihaka na vitisho. Lakini ni lazima ifanyike. Hatuna budi ila kuuchukua tena ujumbe wa haki za binadamu, maadili ya dini yetu, si kwa ajili yetu, na si kwa ajili ya wanawake wenu tu, si kwa ajili ya wanawake humu leo, hata si kwa ajili ya wanawake kule nje, bali kwa ajili ya jamii ambazo zingebadilika kuwa nzuri kwa mashirikiano ya wanawake. Na jinsi ya pekee sisi tunavyoweza kufanya hivyo, njia yetu moja tu, ni kupata nafasi na kukaa daima, kwenye meza.
Thank you.
Asante.
(Applause)
(Makofi)