You Don’t Have To Quit Your Job To Become A Human Rights Leader

The late American civil rights activist Rosa Parks may have met the standard of both statements just by living her life.

The term “human rights” has become somewhat of a buzzword among urban youths today. In the work that I do, it is not uncommon to encounter young promising Malaysians who express their desire to become human rights activists. With their well-meaning intentions and idealism, I often wonder how many will eventually become citizens who truly champion human rights?

I bet Parks did not wake up one morning and decide she would become a human rights leader. She worked as a seamstress and was an active member of a minority rights group. In 1955, she certainly didn’t expect or plan that historic moment where she stood up – pun unintended – for her right to remain seated on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Parks said she did it because she was “tired of giving in.”

A reality check

Parks’ story was told to illustrate that being a human rights leader is not a profession you check off on a box in a visa application form. Neither is it a dream or fantasy – you know, like how many of us once idolised some movie star from a distance and thought to ourselves: That is exactly who I want to be when I grow up.

Holding a human rights job and dreaming of becoming a human rights leader don’t make you one. I can tell you this because human rights is my job, and I once looked at Aung San Suu Kyi and dreamed of winning the Nobel Peace Prize, and yet, those are not the things that make me a human rights leader.

Now, when I say being a human rights leader is not something that is created out of a fantasy, I mean it in two different ways. One: it isn’t something you dream of as a child but know deep down that is probably out of your league; and two: it isn’t a fantasy because it is actually achievable in real life – much more so than becoming a movie star.

To be a movie star, you need talent, personality, charisma, good looks, and probably a bit of luck. This combination of qualities is not easily honed. Whereas, to be a human rights leader, you only need one thing – conviction. Conviction that comes from understanding what human rights is and believing in it.

Many of you are probably asking, if it is as simple as that, why are there not many human rights leaders in this country?

My take on this is that there are probably more human rights leaders out there than we think but because many of us may synonymise Malaysian human rights leaders with public personalities such as Ambiga Sreenevasan, Irene Fernandez, Maria Chin, Edmund Bon and Adam Adli, we downplay the conviction and work of ordinary people – people you have never seen or heard of but are championing human rights in their own individual ways.

A misconceived notion

The stereotyping of human rights leaders, visualising them as individuals who are public, fearless, influential, vocal, rebellious, political, hardcore and tortured is flawed. Such stereotypes should be discouraged as it prevents ordinary people from potentially becoming champions of human rights because they think it is political and dangerous, and should only be left to those who are brave and incalcitrant.

The notion propagated by many of our state leaders that human rights is political and a Western concept is fundamentally wrong. It shows their tremendous lack of understanding of the concept, and I want to dispel that misconception today because it is important in answering our questions.

Human rights date back to ancient civilisation when human beings began to form communities and understand that in order for them to survive and flourish, they needed to live by a code of behaviour. This code is what we call laws today. Laws are created to regulate our actions towards one another so that not only do we not harm one another, but we also empower ourselves to have better lives.

For example, murder is a crime because everyone has a right to life. Burglary is prohibited because we each have the right to own property. An employee cannot be sacked without reasonable cause because he or she has the right to livelihood. Many of us see these examples only as laws and do not connect them to human rights.

When we start to make the connection, we will see that human rights are common sense and only becomes political and perceived as a Western concept when local governments refuse to recognise rights and understand them as evolving concepts. When we start to understand that human rights are not something political but a fundamental essence of our natural being – that is to say, how we should treat one another so that we can sustain and flourish together – we will see it as necessary and a part of our everyday lifestyle.

What does it take to be a human rights leader?

My answer to that is conviction. That is what drives you to champion human rights as part of your everyday life. Also, recognising that it doesn’t have to be a profession or for you to be a public figure to manifest that conviction.

So for instance, if you are starting out as the owner of a café, think about how you can champion human rights in your role as an entrepreneur and employer. Who are the people you will be working with and serving? What rights do they have and why is it important for you to recognise and protect these rights? You may be fearful of granting your employees decent working hours because that would mean spending resources to hire more people. After all, you’re just starting up and every ringgit counts. What if by doing so, your business collapses within a year?

A human rights leader will ask him or herself: Should my business concern be a top priority at the expense of my employee’s well-being? Can I not reconcile my interest and their rights? If yes, how can I make it work?

The moment you have conviction that people around you have rights, that these rights cannot be compromised, and that you have a responsibility to work out a solution to protect these rights, you become a human rights leader.

A good teacher teaches his or her students the modules laid out by the school curriculum and makes sure they excel in their examinations. A human rights leader educates his or her students human rights values by incorporating them in everyday lessons.

A world-class cardiac surgeon saves lives by performing highly intricate surgical procedures on his or her patient. A human rights leader makes sure her dying patients are treated with dignity and respect by her team of staff.

An insightful editor-in-chief of a widely distributed news daily has the knack of identifying consumable stories but a human rights leader is not afraid to publish the truth even if it may land him in trouble.

A junior accountant who calls out on his senior male counterpart’s sexist and derogatory remarks about a female colleague during lunch break is not just an ordinary staff but a human rights leader.

A CEO of a multi-national corporation implementing a zero-tolerance policy against all forms of discrimination at the workplace is not only a business leader but also a human rights leader.

What it means to be a human rights leader?

So we have established that anyone can be a human rights leader as long as they have conviction, but what does it mean to be one?

Rosa Parks said, “Each person must live their life as a model for others.”

To me, that sums up what it means to be a human rights leader – someone who lives his or her life as a role model for others.

I have had the privilege of working with human rights activists for many years. While I acknowledge the efforts and sacrifices they make, it is extremely rare to come across a leader who has been an inspiring role model to me.

As a young human rights officer many years ago, I had the opportunity to work with an esteemed senior constitutional rights advocate. I recall an experience where this particular person took offence and reprimanded me when I offered polite suggestions because he perceived them as a challenge to his seniority. His egotistical nature was antithetical to what a human rights leader should be. Not only did I feel I was being shut down, shamed and left disempowered, but I was also not treated as equal.

I also had an experience where a senior human rights lawyer did not come to my defence when I was bullied by his peers. There were also those who had broken their promises and commitments to project deliverables, displaying a total lack of professionalism and respect for work ethics.

As a woman, I’ve encountered sexist human rights activists who disregard women rights and gender equality. They pride themselves for defending the rights of political detainees and death row prisoners, but cannot conceive of the idea that feminism is a valid and important human rights concept.

Hypocrisy and egotism are two terrible things but made worse when it is being practised by the very people who pride themselves as human rights defenders. We can all learn the principles and theories of human rights but to really understand, believe and practise them are what sets a human rights activist and a human rights leader apart.

I acknowledge that human beings are fallible and it may seem that I was conjuring up the image of a saint when I described the qualities of a human rights leader. On the contrary, my point is that all human beings make mistakes but a leader knows when and how to apologise for it.

In summary, your activism in the public’s eyes does not make you a human rights leader. How you treat every person in your daily life and being accountable for your actions, do.

*This article was published on The Star paper on 10 December 2016 in conjunction with World Human Rights Day. The original post can also be found here. 

The beauty and the beast of Harar - Part II

Due to negative stereotypes of hyenas conjured by cartoons and movies, I always thought that they were nasty and ugly-looking beasts. Surprisingly, they looked cute and adorable, especially their ears. They were round, fluffy and I assumed soft to the touch, not unlike the pandas’. Their spotted hairy coats looked clean and resembled those of tortoise-shell cats.

Balai and Solomon returned but they were not alone. They were followed by a pack of bigger hyenas. The hyenas were surprisingly a somber lot as none of them cackled as I thought they would. I guess feeding is serious business when it comes to the hyenas that have come to depend on the locals to fill their stomachs every day.

Solomon then took a weaved basket filled with long strips of raw red meat and sat cross-legged in the middle of the feeding site. The hyenas definitely knew the feeding protocol as none of them came rushing after the basket.

Solomon carefully balanced a strip of meat on a stick, called out a name and then handed it out. One hyena approached him cautiously and then as quick as lightning, snapped the meat away and chowed it down. He repeated this with the other hyenas until all of them were being fed. Sometimes, things would get a little bit out of control as one or two alpha hyenas turned greedy and tried to steal meat from the basket, only to be promptly chastised by Solomon with a loud spank on their haunches.

I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the image of a man spanking a hyena like a misbehaving child. I must say that such taming technique is by far more endearing than a whip used by circus folks.

It is also times like this when the cynicism in me vanished as I see the interaction and harmony between men and beasts.

Solomon then tried to spice up the feeding spectacle by feeding the hyenas directly from his mouth. This pleased the tourists a lot as they gaped and awed over it. The tourists were encouraged to do the same, guided carefully by Solomon. While only a few managed to brave it, others changed their minds at the very last second.

I personally didn’t try it, not because of fear. I was simply savouring the moment and for some reason, I was completely engrossed with my own thoughts to even notice how close I was to the hyenas and two had in fact brushed against my legs.

It was a chilling experience, sometimes I would wonder whether the hyenas might go on a wild rampage, but most of the time, just touched by the thought that human beings and wild animals can co-exist in harmony together, just the way nature has intended. I had tears brimming in my eyes.

The tears didn’t last long because unfortunately, this practice is now very much tourist-orientated.

Once every last strip of meat had been devoured by the hyenas, an overweight bald man stepped in to replace Solomon. For added value, the man gave several performances to demonstrate his chivalry and dominance over the hyenas, much to my disgust although to the delight of many other. He was forcing one of the hyenas to lie on the floor so that he could sit on it. In my mind, I thought there was no chivalry at all since the hyenas were all fed by then.

Adding salt to injury, in the middle of his performance, his mobile phone in his pocket went off and he answered it with a great sense of importance. For me, it just ruined the whole thing because then, it just proves how men will always want to dominate things. It also made a mockery out of the whole ritual by disturbing the elements of what had supposed to be a traditional practice in tune with nature. The co-existence and co-dependency between human beings and animals are being tossed out in the name of power and greed.

We left the site before the “show” ended in protest, believing that as tourists, we all have some level of responsibility. There are times when we should encourage the co-dependency and interaction between human beings and animals in order to preserve the latter’s existence. There are others when we shouldn’t and it was clear to me that the act of dominance and manipulation of animals by man just for the sheer pleasure of it is not one of them.

In the end, although disappointed by how the feeding had ended, I went home with a comforting thought. It is not often when we are touched by the act of human beings but sometimes that rare moments do come and it did come for me. When it comes, savour it and take the moment to see, listen and feel it with your heart. I didn’t even take any photos but what I saw that night will remain with me for as long as I live.

The author spent one year in Ethiopia and hated it in the beginning. She eventually learned to appreciate the country despite initial culture shocks and daily struggle to fan off stares by both men and women.

* The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the columnist.

- See more at: http://www.themalaysianoutsider.com/opinion/lim-ka-ea/article/The-beauty-and-the-beasts-of-Harar-Part-2-#sthash.iFyP32pC.dpuf

The beauty and the beast of Harar - Part I

As the sky bids farewell to the descending sun and welcomes the moonlight, Butar, Rajoo, Mimi, Kamer, Tika, Shimay, Deeish and the rest slowly appear out of nowhere. Like vampires, they only emerge when darkness falls upon the ancient city of Harar. It isn’t eerie but in fact, simply magical. They are hyenas, part of the local inhabitants that have roamed the city of Harar for centuries.

Like any other night, these hyenas make their way from the wild to the Fallana Gate, one of the designated feeding sites situated in the old city. At the site, they crouch and wait patiently to be fed by Hyena Men; Balai and Solomon, two brothers entrusted with the revered role of feeding the hyenas every night without fail.

Local legend has it that during the 19th century, a great famine hit the city of Harar. In order to make sure that the hyenas would not attack the local population and their valuable livestocks, continuous feeding of the hyenas during good times was thought to appease them. After more than 200 years, this tradition still exists today even though it may not be for the same purpose.

I’ve heard and read about the attractions and uniqueness of Harar many times and surprisingly, the daily ritual of hyena feeding was placed in a lower priority when compared to visiting the ancient walls of the old city of Harar, chat and coffee. I’ve been there, seen and tried them all but ultimately, hyena feeding was the one thing I will remember the most.

While doing some research about hyena feeding, I’ve noticed that most articles written about it failed to mention what made my own experience so magical and unforgettable; the calling of the hyenas. Unfortunately (or rather fortunately), most people who visit Harar to see the hyena being fed are never told about the enticing foreplay which leads up to the feast.

Before our visit to the feeding site that day, my photographer friend, Irada and I, walked around the old city; flapping our elbows around like mad women in an attempt to drive away the ubiquitous flies which would have otherwise congregated happily on the sight of any bare skin. What could be worse than the omnipresent stench of bodily wastes which seemed to permeate the air from all corners of the ancient wall? It took a lot of mind power to conquer the scent of the old city of Harar and it was definitely not for the faint-hearted.

One thing which I still appreciate about this Unesco World Heritage Site is how unashamedly primitive the city is; the Hararis still hang on to their traditional ways of life; including the method of waste disposal. It is dirty, smelly, crowded, noisy and completely devoid of any pretentious “tourist glitters”.

We were the first ones to arrive at Fallana Gate and our car was parked right at the front of the feeding site. I was delighted to see that the site was nothing more than any other regular residential area in Harar; simple and natural with the added value of a garbage dumpster by the side. I was a little apprehensive that the whole area would be “dolled up” to accommodate tourists.

While waiting, we also had the opportunity to interact with the local scruffy-looking children and their friendly mongrel pet, Sina, who was obviously excited from the looks of its wagging tail nineteen a dozen despite being used to the flocks of tourists arriving every year.

While sitting in our car waiting patiently for sundown, Balai came to greet us on his way to the cliff to start his faithful “courtship” with the hyenas. He was a surprisingly   young man in his twenties and all the time we thought that in order to earn the title of Hyena Man, one has to be elderly and distinguished. However, he did exude a certain calmness and maturity for someone that age.

After a very brief conversation with our driver, Balai walked away. Out of sheer curiosity and also boredom, Irada and I got off the car and followed him. After walking for about less than 100 meters, what appeared, but most importantly, what was heard before us truly tugged at the strings of our hearts.

First of all, the image was astounding. Balai and his younger brother, Solomon, both stood on two rock formations, which towered above what seemed to be a foliage of trees and corn plantations beneath. There were some small houses along the path leading deep into the forest. The sun was slowly setting and there was complete silence apart from the occasional indecipherable rhythmic calling of the hyenas. Balai and Solomon took turns to call for up to twenty names; apparently that was the size of the pack. We stood there, in a trance, listening to their voices.

Balai and Solomon ignored us but continued to perform this sacred ritual with full dedication and commitment. We became brazen by their oblivion towards us and took the liberty to get closer to them and subsequently climbed on top of the rocks. The view was simply breathtaking and the lighting from dusk had created a sense of romanticism which made the whole experience none other than a simple a love story between men and beasts.

After getting used to the sound of the hyena names, we couldn’t wait to see them. Being a cynic, I was waiting to witness whether any of these hyenas would actually answer to their names. We were told that the hyenas would travel a distance from as far as 10km! Occassionally, I saw a few locals walking unassumingly along the narrow path leading to the houses, completely oblivious to the sound of the men and unperturbed by the arrival of the hyenas at any time soon.

We waited with abated breath and after about 15 minutes, Solomon whispered to Balai and from his gentle gestures but urgent tone of voice, we knew they were coming. My heart started to throb with more frequency and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for something extraordinary to happen.

By then, Irada had left us by galloping down the hill towards the corn plantation, trying her luck to catch a close up photo of approaching hyenas. Only then, did Balai and Solomon become slightly agitated. In my heart, I thought, “Gosh, will it take only two stupid foreigners to mess up this ancient practice?”

As soon as I spotted a hyena slowly approaching from the corn plantation, I abandoned my thought immediately. I was so engrossed with seeing one in its natural surrounding, I had forgotten completely about the potential danger my friend faced! Then, another one appeared from a different direction as it slowly made its way to the top of the hill.

By then, Solomon quickly signalled Irada to come back. Soon enough, the sky was close to being dark and we were both asked to leave the site immediately. They had come and it was time for us to go.

We obediently left and waited by the side of our car. Other tourists were already gathered with their cameras ready for feeding time. As soon as it became dark, the headlights of our car were turned on to illuminate the site. Only then did I notice four sets of luminous eyes close by. They belonged to two hyena cubs crouching patiently not too far away, waiting quietly for the rest to arrive.

* The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the columnist.

- See more at: http://www.themalaysianoutsider.com/opinion/lim-ka-ea/article/The-beauty-and-the-beasts-of-Harar-Part-1#sthash.MABXUpzY.dpuf

Humanising Photography

This was written on 2 July 2008 but was never published. Since then, I've tweaked it. 

When you look at a beautiful portrait of a woman taken by a reputable photographer, what do you see? Do you see the woman and ask yourself who she is? Or do you see it as a work of art by someone whom you have great admiration for? Now that I've seen a photographer in action, I tend to see the subject rather than the creator and ask myself the question, at what price?

I am not a photographer but I think I know how to appreciate a good photograph when I see one. I could be wrong of course, but anyway, that's not the point of this article. I have tremendous respect for photographers because they seem to have that ability to make the things we wouldn't normally even pay attention to become visible and pronounced. And what about photojournalists? Taking pictures in conflict zones is by no way a small feat especially when one’s life is at risk but they do it anyway and that’s what I call true passion and love for the craft they do. 

Recently, I had a chance to travel with a photographer. We were doing a small project together on traditional tribes in Ethiopia. I must confess that it finally dawned on me the sort of challenges faced by a photographer. At the same time, I am completely in awe by how powerful a camera can be. Just imagine its ability to immortalise images, and therefore, I suppose part of the reasons why many human beings tend to change their natural state of being, by either pulling a funny face or just a mere sterile smile, whenever they are confronted by a camera. I believe it is a way to shield our vulnerability and nakedness. Hence, part of the challenges a photographer has to face is to try to capture portraits of people when they are completely oblivious of his or her presence. I could tell it wasn’t easy especially when a photographer is using a 24-70mm zooming lens.

While the photographer and I were passing by a village, we saw a young woman walking unassumingly along the street while balancing a basket on top of her head. This time, the photographer seized the moment. She yelled out to our driver frantically and ordered him to stop the car and she rushed out to her. As soon as the young woman saw her with a camera, she became nervous and agitated. She didn’t want to be photographed and protested profusely.

After some time of coaxing and an offer of payment, she finally relented albeit being utterly uncomfortable. The photographer then took to her task by instructing her to make several poses. By then, they were attracting attention from other villagers who had gathered to watch the whole fiasco, much to the woman’s mortification. I could see she was very shy and timid and I guess she didn't expect to be made a spectacle that day.

I remained in the car with the driver who was still recovering from the shock of being yelled at suddenly. While I appreciated the photographer’s passion and artistic vision, I couldn’t help but feel the objectification of a human being, all in the name of photography. It felt ugly and I didn’t like it.

Then there were occasions when the photographer had singled out a girl who is blessed with better looks than the rest of her group in order to make some aesthetic portraits. The looks of rejection and disappointment on the other girls were apparent but much to the oblivion of the photographer. For this part, I understood that the photographer had to pick the most appropriate subject according to her artistic vision, but perhaps it could have been done in a more sensitive manner; i.e. take photos of the other girls as well to make them feel appreciated and included.

One day, I decided to share my feelings with the photographer, much to her disappointment. She defended her actions by explaining to me that it is part of the profession. "If you want a take a good picture, you cannot afford to compromise your instinct", she said. Her justification was, she didn't become a good photographer by being polite or nice, but by submitting herself to her photographic instinct.

I argued that there is a difference between being a good photographer and one with social intelligence, quoting the example of Clint Eastwood and Stanley Kubricks’ directing methods which I have read from Karl Albrecht’s book called Social Intelligence: The New Science of Success. According to Albrecht, while both directors are extremely talented, Eastwood adopts a more humane approach by being respectful to his casts while Kubrick preferred to instill fear by screaming and maintaining a constant state of anxiety in them. The difference? Well, Eastwood’s staffs and casts are happier which makes production time shorter while Kubrick to the contrary.

In the end, the photographer and I agreed to disagree on the basis that we both have our justifications from two different perspectives; hers from an artistic point of view while mine, from a human angle. The good thing was, she was humble enough to admit that her behaviour towards the driver was uncalled for and subsequently apologised to him. For this, I have huge respect for her but how many other photographers though are willing to admit their own shortcomings?

As I read David Turton’s article entitled “Lip-Plates and the People Who Take Photographs” in Anthropology Today Vol. 20, I was hit with another disconcerting revelation about photography.

In his article, he wrote,

“On the one hand, then, the lip-plate is prized by Mursi men and women as a mark of their cultural identity and political autonomy. On the other hand, they recognize that outsiders see it as a mark of their backwardness, which must be abandoned if they are to gain the benefits of ‘development’. This ambivalence is heightened by another and, at first sight, contradictory message about the lip-plate which has been reaching the Mursi in recent years, through the activities of tourists. For, while tourists are presumed to share the general disdain for, not to say disgust at, the practice shown by outsiders, they nevertheless come great distances mainly, it seems, in order to photograph this symbol of Mursi backwardness.”

In his article, he also quoted an interview with three Mursi men shown in a television documentary made in 1991. When asked why they thought tourists were taking their photographs, they answered that they didn't know since most tourists just came, took their photographs and left without saying anything. While they were often perceived as uncivilised thieves, one of the men commented that the failure of tourists to pay what the Mursi regarded as a fair price for photographs, were in fact thieves themselves.

To what extent a photographer needs to go in order to defend his or her artistic integrity? What about the dignity of human beings? Can there ever be a compromise?

Perhaps I have been quick to generalise photographers based on one experience and if so, I do apologise. However, I do stand by my conviction that what defines an intelligent and talented photographer from simply a talented one is the one who manages to defend his artistic integrity without compromising the dignity of others. One who puts his subjects and those around him as the core essence of his artistic achievements.

Without the people, there won’t be a subject.

I think it is time for photographers and viewers to see portraits of people as the main subject and not just an object.

Four ways regional engagement can benefit a human rights defender

Early last year, I disclosed to a small group of people at work how unstimulated I have become. One of the terrifying words I had used at a group coaching session was “blasé”. I used it to describe my inability to be moved by the things that are happening around me. Identifying the reasons why was not exactly rocket science.

I have been working in the same non-profit organisation in Malaysia for close to six years. Serving in a senior management position inevitably means most of my worries revolve around grant applications, financial management and human resource development. It was only a matter of time before I put my concern over how my organisation is going to survive another year of budget cuts first before addressing real human rights violations.

My biggest suspicion of the real culprit, though, was how my worldview has become so insular as a result of working and socialising with the same like-minded people in the past six years. So much so that I have hit a plateau where three other terrifying words reside: “unstimulated”, “unchallenged” and “cynicism”. They toast with Cosmopolitans every morning when happy hour starts as soon as my alarm goes off. As I hit the snooze button and toss over, they plot against each other, competing to see who wins that morning.

Some days, they all win.

While these demons fight amongst themselves, I soon learned that another terrifying word (perhaps most terrifying of them all) has slowly crept in. It wasn’t until last July when I attended the internet governance workshop for women human rights defenders (WHRDs) organised by the Association for Progressive Communications (APC) and the Asia Pacific Regional Internet Governance Forum (APrIGF) 2016 in Taipei, that I began to realise that I could be harbouring a dangerous word within me – “radicalism”. The thought that “this is my view and since everyone around me agrees with me, therefore it must be the only right view to have” is unfortunately what many human rights defenders have succumbed to, without realising it. (Thank you, Jac sm Kee, for articulating this at one of your panel sessions at the APrIGF on radicalisation of the internet and how to counter online extremism.)

My worldview was rocked momentarily when more than 20 WHRDs from Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, the Philippines and Malaysia gathered for two days at the APC workshop to discuss how internet freedom is experienced and applied in the context of gender, which was then used by APC as an advocacy strategy at the APrIGF.

This experience was illuminating to say the least. Something I have always suspected about what has been missing in my work life but never confronted finally hit me – the joy and fulfilment of working with people from other countries.

I am forever grateful to EMPOWER for extending the invitation to my organisation to attend the workshop and forum, as it came at a time when I needed a stimulation boost. Although this blog post speaks of only four of the many ways I have benefited from my time in Taipei, I hope it is useful for other activists who may be going through the same phase as I am.

1. Being challenged by new people outside my own circle

Working in the field of human rights since 2000 would probably qualify me as an “old timer”. Most of my human rights knowledge and skills were first honed from an academic and Western Eurocentric perspective in the late 1990s. Most of my peers come from more or less the same background.

At the internet governance workshop, I met many WHRDs whom I would term as a “new breed” of human rights defenders – activists who see rights and freedom as absolute and any form of protectionism or restriction is to be rejected. I can understand why, because many come from a place of complete distrust for governments and state actors. Their unbridled idealism and passion amazed me and they forced me to ask myself whether I am outdated in my own understanding of human rights and its philosophy.

I may not have succumbed to this school of thought yet, but it shows me how important it is to engage with younger human rights defenders regularly to nurture and grow my worldview of human rights.

2. Being inspired by people who are optimistic and see the glass as being half full

I often feel beat, beaten and bitter. Lately, it has become more bitter than anything else. Bitter for working hard yet not having a secure retirement plan, and then resenting myself for feeling bitter about it.

At the workshop, it was refreshing to meet young women who aren’t burnt out, cynical or believe that the United Nations is an ineffective institution. They have energy, passion and thirst for a better world, and they are infectious too.

3. Being humbled by strong women who are working in worse conditions

Sometimes, it is easy to feel like I am the only person who is doing good when other people have failed to deliver on their promises and deadlines. The feeling of being a rescuer and victim all at the same time can certainly put me in a self-pitying but arrogant place where I’m convinced that I am the only person who has made sacrifices while the rest are doing nothing.

Guess what? After talking to the women from India and Pakistan, it dawned on me that what I’ve done so far and the challenges I’ve faced are nothing in comparison. NOTHING.

4. Learned new skills and strategies

I begin to see why donors are keen on local organisations that do regional engagement. At the APCworkshop, I picked up a few new strategies from the group of regional WHRDs on how to advocate issues at the APrIGF. The level of focus, direction, organisation and dedication these women demonstrated made me see what is lacking in some of the local NGOs in Malaysia. At the end of the day, it is easy for NGOs to want to do something, but it is the mapping out of the direction and actually going down the road map that is the challenge where many NGOs have failed.

Watching and learning these skills and strategies from other people confirm how little I know and how much more I have to learn, and here’s when I start to feel a little challenged.

*This post was written for the Association for Progressive Communications (APC) on 5 Sep 2016. The original post can be found here.