in association with

Speak Truth To Power (Courage without Borders) Series in KI Media

..... Fauziya Kassindja (Togo) Female Genital Mutilation and Immigration Abuse
Biography

mutilation by fleeing from her remote village in Togo under cover of night and making her way to the United States where, in December 1994, she sought political asylum. Instead of receiving

Fauziya Kassindja narrowly escaped female genital

this seventeen-year-old orphan with understanding and humanity, U.S. officials proceeded to strip her naked, put her in chains, imprison her, and send her through the Kafkaesque nightmare known as the U.S. immigration system. After extensive advocacy by a law student at

American University and an appearance on the front page of The New York Times, Kassindja became the first person to receive political asylum from the United

States based on the threat of female genital mutilation.

anesthesia is used. Often other parts of the external genitals are also excised, and the entrance to the vagina is commonly sewn almost completely shut. Infection, scarring, infertility, excruciating intercourse, complex childbirth, and almost unbearable pain are common side effects. Many women die in the aftermath of the procedure, which is performed with razor blades, sharp rocks, knives, and in some instances, scalpels. Despite
the trauma she suffered, Kassindja has spoken actively against the practice and about

Up to 130 million women worldwide, the vast majority concentrated in twenty-six African nations, have been subjected to female genital mutilation, and 2 million annually confront it. The procedure involves cutting off the clitoris. No

the difficulties she faced in the U.S. immigration system. She is currently on the advisory board for the Center for Gender and Refugee Studies based in California. She is the co-author of Do They Hear You When You Cry, a memoir of her experiences in Togo and her struggle to gain asylum in the United States.

Interview I have four sisters and two brothers; I was the sixth child, the last girl. I was a mischievous one, very close with my fatherhe was my best friend. All my sisters were encouraged by him to do whatever we wanted with our lives. Our parents didnt decide for us. They always said, "Its your decision. If its a positive one were going to help you make it come true. If its negative, were going to advise you not to do it, but if you think thats what you want, go ahead. Later on you have yourself to blame. You cant say your parents forced you." My father sent all of us to school, so that we could learn English and help with his business. This was unusual for girls in Togo.

When I was sixteen my father died and everything changed. My aunt

and my uncle, my fathers siblings, hated my mom right from the beginning because Mom was from Benin and they thought she didnt fit inshes not from their tribe. They tried to force my father to divorce her, but he didnt listen. They said my mother was behind all of us going to school. They thought she poisoned my fathers mind. After Fathers death, Aunt moved into our house. She told us that my mother had decided to go live with her family in Benin, which was untrue. She and my uncle I was allowed to go to school until the end of that year. When I turned seventeen she told me that I wasnt going back to school because there was no need to waste money and time, and besides, all my sisters had gone to school and had just ended up married. I had lost my father, I had lost my mom, and now school. I thought, "Oh my God, what is going to happen next?" Shortly after a gentleman started coming to the house. I thought maybe my aunt wanted to get remarried, so whenever he left I said, "Oh I think hes a great guy." She kept going on, praising him, how rich he was, how famous, how nice he can be. I thought she was in love. I didnt know that she was really saying that to get me interested. She didnt tell me that she wanted me to marry him until one time she mentioned, "I told him that you werent going back to school." I was surprised. "Why would you have to tell him Im not

made my mother leave, and my aunt became my new guardian.

going back?" So she said, "Remember how you always say hes a nice person? He wants to marry you." I thought she was kidding. She told me that he was forty-five years old. I said, "Fortyfive!!!" And she kept going, "Dont worry. He has three wives and they will help take care of you." I said, "I dont want to do this." So after that it was a huge fight in the house all the time. Then one day she said, "I know you dont love him now but once you get kakiya [genital mutilation], you will learn to love him." Soon after I woke up and she called me into her room and I saw all this beautiful clothing on the beddresses, jewelry, shoesand she said, "This is all from your

husband. He wants you today. So tomorrow will be the day of kakiya." I said, "What! I am going to get married today?" I had no

idea what to do. The marriage proceeded and, after, they gave me the marriage license to sign, but I refused. My older sisters and brothers came, and we talked about it. They apologized for not doing anything to prevent things so far. My older sister was so upset. She told me not to cryeverything would be okay. She would make sure that nobody would do kakiya to me. But I didnt believe her because there was nothing that she could do. I was somebody elses wife now. She says, "Dont worry. Amaray and I

will disguise you." Amaray is what we call my mom; it means "bright."

She told me not to sign the marriage license, told me not to worry. Everything would be fine. She came back in the middle of the night and we left the house

and crossed the border to Ghana. The next available plane was to Germany.

United States." I told her I wanted asylum. She told me I had to tell her what is the English.

My sister gave me three thousand dollars, all the money she had. I got on the plane from Germany to the United States by purchasing a passport. When the immigration officer at Newark Airport said, "Do you have any money?" I showed her the little money I had left and then told her that I wanted asylum. She said go sit over there, and she would be with me shortly. So I sat waiting until she checked everybody and came to me. She said, "Okay, tell me what you want from the problem. So I told her everything. Well, not everything, because it is so embarrassing. How could she understand? I didnt know the words even to say it in

mention kakiya because I knew she probably couldnt understand and she would also think I was crazy. Whether I got asylum was up to the

I didnt know what it was called. I told her my father was dead and my mother had vanished, and my aunt wanted me to marry somebody I dont want to marry and that I wanted to go back to school. That basically summarized everythingI didnt

judge, she said, so I would go to prison, then see the consular official from my country, and then I could go home and be with my family. I started crying and screamingtelling her that I was only seventeen, and I didnt do anything wrong, I didnt want to go to prison. Then they brought the cops to the waiting area where I was sitting. Her supervisor said if I didnt want to stay, then

I didnt know anyone in Germany, and Togo was the last place I wanted to go. They took my fingerprints and everything. A woman in uniform called me into her room, where she asked me to take off my clothes. I said, "Please, I am menstruating, can I keep my underwear on?" And she said to take it off. It was the most humiliating moment in my life. I took it off and just wished I could disappear into the wall. She gave me back my pants and

I either had to go back to Togo or to Germany.

my sweater and then she started putting the handcuffs on me. I felt

just like the criminals I had seen in movies. I started crying. I said, "Please, dont take me to prison." She ignored me and she put the chain around my waist. I couldnt walk very fast with the chains, but she kept pushing my back, saying, "Lets go. Lets go." So I was taken to this detention center in Elizabeth, New Jersey.

I was strip-searched again, and left in this huge cold room and this man came in and stared at me, as I was standing there naked. Then I was taken to this prison in Hackensack where I was sexually harassed by an inmate. I think she was a drug addict. They put me in the maximum security part,
Thats where the nightmares really began. with a cellmate convicted for I dont know what. She smoked, and I had terrible asthma. I told the doctor that I couldnt stay in that room and he just said, "I am sorry, maam, I cant help you." I started coughing and throwing up blood. But I was denied any medicine because of my immigration status. Then I had to go to Lehigh County Prison in Pennsylvania. A girl from Tanzania and I were handcuffed together. During all this process of transferring from one prison to another, we were chained, like criminals. First they sent us for a medical evaluation, where they thought I had tuberculosis. As a result, I was put in isolation.

They kept me in this room for eighteen days, and I lost thirty pounds. Before I could talk to anybody I had to put on a face mask, like the one doctors use for operations. When I needed something I had to stand in the other corner of the room, turn to the wall, and yell for a guard. The door had this small window in the middle where they passed my food. I couldnt come near the door. They treated me like an animal. I needed soap. I needed a toothbrush. I called and calledmost of the time, nobody would come.

I met Cecelia Jeffrey, another prisoner, in a detention center in New Jersey. She treated me like a daughter. When Id go to bed, she
would come and tuck me in. She has always been there for me ever since we met. When I started feeling sick againstomach, heartburnthey ignored me and wouldnt give me any medicine. So I thought, "If Im going to die, why dont I go back." I wrote the request form to the INS [Immigration and Naturalization Service], and wrote Cecelia a letter, telling her how much I really appreciated the way she took care of me and that I would never forget her. She got really upset, because she knew about my situation back home. She got furious. She wrote to the counselor that I was her daughter and that they should please transfer me to minimum security, because she could persuade me not to go back. They were so overcrowded they put a bunch of us in the maximum security part of the prison. The prison guards asked me, "Is Cecelia your mom?" and I said, "Yes." So I was transferred to minimum security, where she was, and she was so upset with me. She said, "Are you

crazy? Do you know what youre going back for?" And I said, "I just cant take it anymore." Next day she was in the shower and called, "Sweetheart, come here." (She always called me sweetheart.) I went to the bathroom and she was standing in there, and

she opened her legs apart and said, "Look. Is this what you want to go back to?" I didnt know what I was seeing.

"Do you know what this is?" I didnt know. It didnt look anything like female genitalia. Nothing. It was just like a really plain thing like the palm of my hand. And the only thing you could see was a scar, like a stitch. And just a little hole. Thats it, no lips, nothing. I said, "You live with this?" And she said, "All my life. I cry all the time when I see it. I cry inside. I feel weak, I feel defeated all the time."
stupid? Come back here! Come and look!" So I went back and she said,

It was so scaryterribleI didnt know how to explain it. I just saw it and ran away from the bathroom. And she screamed, "Come back here! You want to be

I look at her and I see the strongest woman on earth. Outside you cant person Ive ever met. After she said, "Well, if you want to go back, Ill help you write the request form. Its your stupidity. Fine." I introduced her to Karen [Masalo], my lawyer, and together they made me stay. judge was so rude, so mean to both Layli and me. Layli Miller Bashir was a law student from American University Law Clinic who had taken my case. Layli asked me a question and before I could answer the judge said, "Its not necessary, the court doesnt want to know this." And he asked me a question and before I answered, he answered for me. I
At my first hearing, the couldnt talk at all in the courtroom. He didnt believe that my mother couldnt protect me from the genital mutilation. And he didnt believe that my father protected my other four sisters, but not me. It was so scary. He yelled a lot and he said my really tell that shes suffering or in pain. I know shes not happy, but you couldnt tell from her appearance or the way she treated others. Shes the most loving

name and my countrys name wrong and when I corrected him, he got so upset. And he said something, and I spoke out, "No, thats not what I
said." And he yelled, "This will be the last time you interrupt the court." From

the way the hearing was going, I knew he wasnt going to grant my asylum. Even before he came into the court, he had made up his mind not to grant it. Layli told me that I shouldnt worry, that no matter what happened, she would make sure that justice was done. She begged me not to go back. I was in prison when I met with the reporter from The New York Times. At first I didnt want to do the interview. I had already done several, but none helped me get out of prison. So I said, "Whats the use? I feel like Im exposing my family. And who knows, I might be sent back to my country and that is going to be really terrible for me." They sent a list of the congressmen who signed a petition to

the district attorney to have me paroledit was denied. If twenty-

five congressmen couldnt get me out of prison, could an interview help?

But I finally agreed to talk to the Times, and to our surprise

on the front page. It was the eleventh and I got out the twenty-fourth. They said that the media was very powerful here in this country. More powerful than the Congress? It was scary, and I couldnt understand it.
Everything happens for a purpose and whatever happens is destined.

the story appeared

because it is God that made this possible. At that time I was going through all this suffering, I couldnt see it that way. I thought, "Why me, why doesnt it happen to somebody else?" But now when I look back I know that if I hadnt
been through all these things, the case wouldnt have reached the many people that it has today. This is the work of God. And it is truly unbelievable.

So I got out

- Kerry Kennedy, Speak Truth To Power, 2000 President of Robert F. Kennedy Center for Justice and Human Rights
* With my emphasis. - Theary C. Seng, CIVICUS Cambodia founding president ** Please contact us at CIVICUS Cambodia if your newspaper, website, Facebook etc. can carry this series.

The RFK Centers Speak Truth To Power (Courage Without Borders) project in Cambodia is funded by The Charitable Foundation (Australia). For more information, please visit: www.civicus-cam.org and www.rfkcenter.org/sttp. Next Martin OBrien (Northern Ireland) Human Rights in the Midst of Conflict