After speaking out against FGM, I faced a backlash. That's why we all need to stand together

After coming out as a survivor of female genital mutilation, Nimko Ali heard from men who wanted to kill her and lost contact with people who she considered to be family. That's why we have to speak out on behalf of those who are still finding their voice

As we mark UN International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women I would like to take a moment and look at how far we have come this year in addressing female genital mutilation in the UK. We can truly say that the issue has been brought out of the shadows and into the mainstream. It has also been clearly categorised as violence against women and girls.

This was exactly my aim when I set up our anti-FGM organisation Daughters of Eve in 2010 along with Leyla Hussein and Sainab Abdi.

To some, it might seem that I have been talking about FGM for a long time, but in reality, it has been less than 12 months. I made the decision to stand up and talk about my experience because I knew that it was unfair to ask kids or others to come forward when I was too scared to do so myself. I also felt that if I talked openly, then the media would stop asking young women about their experiences, when they were clearly not ready to do so and might be putting themselves at risk of attack.

I had FGM at the age of seven, while on holiday in Dijbouti. When I told my teacher, she said that it was something that “happened to girls like me”. It was the first time I would experience the shocking fact that people did not see this form of abuse for what it was.

Growing up, I watched countless young British girls being failed, "othered" and sidelined – often by those whose job it was to safeguard from harm. I chose not to speak about FGM for a long time, as I knew that the pain of not being believed or understood would be almost impossible to bear.

I know how hard it is to speak out about FGM – not only because of the painful memory of reliving what happened to you, which can be overpowering in itself – but also the backlash. This is often what survivors are not fully prepared for.

We are told that by speaking up, you are "dishonouring your community, family and even yourself". Getting the courage to speak up to protect other girls is not enough – you also have to somehow muster up even more to defend yourself from attack.

In February, the Evening Standard published literally three lines about my experience of FGM, giving my name. The reaction I received was shocking. I found out that some men wanted to kill me and I lost contact with people who I considered to be family. There were some days this year when I cried so much, I did not think I would be able to get out of bed.

Following what has been a tremendous year of media advocacy on FGM, earlier this month, Channel 4’s The Cruel Cut, presented by Daughters of Eve’s Leyla Hussein, marked a watershed moment. Even before it aired, hundreds of people tweeted about how excited they were to see it. It was really exhilarating to be part of such a monumental national event and I could not wait to see how the conversation would develop.

Leyla used funny props such as our infamous "vagina cupcakes", a huge pink "vagina tent" and clay models to illustrate what really happens. She told her story along with other survivors. One woman spoke about how she had undergone FGM at the age of six and how, at 23, it is still an experience which affects her every single day.

Within minutes of the programme airing, the predictable stream of messages and emails to Daughters of Eve started to turn nasty. One message ended with the line: “Hope you die and painfully!”. The following morning I heard that one of the brave young women who spoke out was receiving the same type of abusive messages. While I am at least somewhat used to the backlash, every time I hear that the same thing is happening to other survivors, it breaks my heart.

The Met Police is sometimes given the blame for the fact there have been zero prosecutions for FGM in the UK, but they are really doing their best. As Keith Niven from Project Azure said at the launch of the Intercollegiate Recommendations on Tackling FGM in the UK in parliament in early November, there is no lack of intent; there is a huge lack of information. Without evidence, they cannot do anything.

However, while the Met Police has also been great in providing survivors with basic safety, if you are outside London, there is unfortunately little support available. And there is virtually no psychological or emotional support available anywhere, apart from that provided by survivors or survivor support groups like Leyla’s amazing Dahlia Project. This has to change.

We are now calling on the UK government to take charge once and for all. It needs to develop and implement a national action plan to prevent FGM; to orchestrate a national awareness-raising campaign to communicate risks and responsibilities; and to provide essential support for survivors, including psychological and emotional support – as well as adequate protection measures against any backlash for speaking out.

The Daughters of Eve and Equality Now petition will hopefully soon reach 100,000 signatories, so we can discuss the issue in parliament. There have already been some positive responses from eager MPs, so we are very hopeful that the political will is there to generate lasting change.

One of my mentors, Efua Dorkenoo from Equality Now, has been fighting this battle for more than 30 years. She knows that without government leadership, all the awareness-raising and mainstreaming efforts may not translate into real change. Systems have to be put in place, children at risk need to be fully protected and people have to be held accountable for their roles and responsibilities in safeguarding girls.

This has been an incredibly difficult year, but I am proud and know that we have already achieved a huge amount. The silence has been truly broken and my spirit is stronger than ever. I tell all survivors of FGM that nobody can take away their spirit. It is this spirit that keeps us fighting and growing stronger. I want survivors to know too that they are not alone and that I will continue to fight for them every single day.

There is no doubt that we have the quiet majority on our side – and the movement is growing, but I urge everyone to stand with survivors of FGM and speak out on behalf of those who are still finding their voice.

This is a fight for justice against those who use hatred and violence to silence and hold us back. It is a fight for British girls and women who desperately need your help.

This is your opportunity to be brave.

Salimata Knight, a survivor from Genital Mutilation, in 2004. Photo: Getty
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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.