formerly known as
Womens Liberation Front


Welcome to, formerly known as.Womens Liberation Front.  A website that hopes to draw and keeps your attention for  both the global 21th. century 3rd. feminist revolutution as well and a selection of special feminist artists and writers.

This online magazine will be published evey six weeks and started February 1st. 2019. Thank you for your time and interest.

Gino d'Artali
indept investigative journalist
and radical feminist











                                                                                                            CRYFREEDOM 2019/2020

'I will resist': Afghan female journalists defy taliban pressure.

MAY 2022
28-9 MAY 2022
9 - 2 MAY 2022

 <I am both father and mother to my daughters. I am the man and woman of my household. I need to go out to care for my family. Where do I get a mahram from?>
Translation mahram:
The function of a 'traditional i.e Islamic' mahram (a male) is to protect and accompany his wife.
Gino d'Artali

APRIL 2022
23 APRIL - 9 MARCH 2022

MAR 2022
26 Mar - 3 Feb 2022

FEB 2022
21 Feb - 31 Jan 2022


Click here for an overview of 2021


International media about atrocities
against women worldwide.

MAY 2022
25 - 22 MAY 2022
11 - 1 MAY 2022

APRIL 2022
29 - 18 APR 2022

MAR 2022
25 - 15 Mar 2022
15 Mar - 3  Mar 2022

FEB 2022:
25 - 18 Feb 2022   16 - 1 Feb 2022

   JAN 2022:
27-18 Jan 2022   17-10 Jan 2022
07 jan 2022-29 Dec 2021






When one hurts or kills a women
one hurts or kills hummanity and is an antrocitie.
Gino d'Artali
and: My mother (1931-1997) always said to me <Mi figlio, non esistono notizie <vecchie> perche puoi imparare qualcosa da qualsiasi notizia.> Translated: <My son, there is no such thing as so called 'old' news because you can learn something from any news.>
Gianna d'Artali

The Guardian
25 May 2022
Supported by
<<Rights and freedom
‘To survive, I must appear fearless’: the former nun helping India’s garment workers fight sexual violence.'
By Annie Kelly
Many years ago, when Thivya Rakini was working as a domestic violence activist helping women to escape abusive husbands across the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, she took a pair of scissors and cut her long black hair back to the nape of her neck. <Without my hair, I suddenly looked very frightening to a lot of people who couldn’t believe a woman would cut away her femininity like that,> she says. <I was sending a signal that that those men shouldn’t try to mess with me. Inside, I am really a very tender-hearted person but to survive I have learned that I must appear fearless.>
Rakini – a former nun, divorcee, domestic violence survivor and now union leader – has done a lot with her 42 years. She smashed cultural taboos and became a social pariah for choosing to leave her marriage and bring up her son as a single mother in a remote part of a deeply traditional and caste-bound state. Now, in her role as president of the Tamil Nadu Textile and Common Labour Union (TTCU), Tamil Nadu’s only female-led garment workers union, she has turned her attention to the multibillion-pound global fashion industry. Such is her reputation locally that, despite her hair growing long again, her appearance is often enough to strike fear into the hearts of garment factory owners across the Dindigul district of Tamil Nadu where the TTCU is based. <When they see me, they turn pale and run inside,> she laughs. <They tell their workers: ‘Don’t you be talking to her – she’s trouble.’ They try to shut their gates against me but I’ll always find a way in if there are women inside that need our help.> Since 2015, Rakini and the TTCU have been fighting what she describes as a “plague” of rape, harassment and sexual violence that has infested global garment supply chains and is being perpetrated on poor women making clothing destined for high streets across the UK. <As a woman, everything I have done with my life is a source of shame to someone,> she says. <But it has given me freedom to fight on issues such as gender-based violence that are still covered in silence and stigma. I am not afraid to take it out of the shadows and say: 'This is wrong.'> Tamil Nadu, a major centre of Indian textile production, is one of the country’s economic powerhouses and home to tens of thousands of garment factories and cotton mills. It is also notorious for the poor wages and bleak conditions imposed on its largely female workforce. When Rakini joined the TTCU in 2014, it was a nascent organisation with just a few union leaders trying to help women organise and call for better conditions in their factories. She came on board to help deal with the huge levels of domestic violence that workers were facing. The union office soon become a makeshift shelter for women and their children who had nowhere else to go. <At that time, we were blocked from most workplaces because many factories didn’t allow workers to join unions and the unions that were active were all run by men,> says Rakini. <Yet women suffering from domestic violence were also telling us about the terrible things they were experiencing in the workplace at the hands of their supervisors and male employees. So it became our mission to try and put a stop to this.> In her seven years at the TTCU, Rakini has seen enough to pour scorn on the insistence of many global fashion brands that they do everything in their power to protect the millions of poor black and brown women working in garment supply chains. <The truth is that sexual harassment, rape, even murder has become part and parcel of the lives of women working in garment factories in my district,> she says. <International brands who buy from Tamil Nadu know very well that women in their supply chains are exploited to the core, they know the impact that their production targets and their poverty wages have on the workers' lives. Their auditors know their inspections are meaningless. Their whole system is a lie.> The TTCU began taking on cases of sexual harassment and abuse that none of the larger unions would touch. <In those factories, the women have no power. They are often the main breadwinners for their family and although their pay is meagre, they must keep their jobs at all costs. They feel they have to do whatever their bosses demand of them,> Rakini explains. <When we first started going to the factories to complain, the management would just kick us out. They didn’t care.> >>
Read more here:

The Guardian
22 May 2022
The Observer
Amber Heard
#MeToo is over if we don’t listen to ‘imperfect victims’ like Amber Heard.
By Martha Gill
<<The backlash to the #MeToo movement was always coming. We know this because a backlash has followed every single step forward feminists have ever made. This backlash was always going to be big, too. Not only did #MeToo threaten a status quo that props up powerful men, it threatened these men personally, and – as it seemed to some – with reckless caprice. <If somebody can be brought down by accusations like this,> a White House lawyer said shortly after Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations against Brett Kavanaugh were made public, <then you, me, every man certainly should be worried.> It wasn’t just men who were worried. The idea that systems that previously treated only women, minorities and lower-class men unfairly might be capable of doing the same to high-status men was deeply unsettling to everyone. After all, when a man is treated badly it lands with a double sense of burning injustice. Women’s stories of woe are so common that they can leave us comparatively unfazed. We feel bad, but we already know women are treated unfairly. It is priced in. <[Women’s stories were] all the same story, which is not to say it wasn’t important. But it was boring,> writes Taffy Brodesser-Akner in her novel Fleishman Is in Trouble. <The first time I interviewed a man, I understood we were talking about something more like the soul.> When something bad happens to a powerful man, it has not happened to a statistic. It has happened to a human soul. For these reasons, #MeToo struck many men – and women – as deeply unfair. Yet it was merely an attempt to correct a bias that still exists. Female accusers are still routinely treated as if they are lying, both by the public and the courts – more so than other alleged victims of crime. It took the testimony of more than a hundred women to bring down Harvey Weinstein. Brett Kavanaugh was not brought down.>>
Read more here:

The Guardian
22 May 2022
Supported by
By Annie Kelly
<<Murder, rape and abuse in Asia’s factories: the true price of fast fashion.
Jeyasre Kathiravel had always dreamed of a life beyond the garment factories of Dindigul, a remote corner of the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Despite the meagre wages she was earning – about £80 a month – Kathiravel knew she was lucky to have a job at Natchi Apparels, a local factory making clothes for H&M and other international brands. Like many Dalit women in her community, a job at the factory had provided her family with a stable salary. Yet she wanted more. So, with dreams of escaping the deprivation and caste discrimination that had stalked her family for generations, the 20-year-old studied for the civil service exams by night before leaving her home each morning to work long shifts sewing clothes for other, luckier, young women thousands of miles away. Kathiravel never escaped the factory floor. On 1 January 2021, she failed to return home from work. Despite her family’s frantic attempts to find her, four days later her decomposing body was discovered by farmers just a few miles from her village. When her supervisor, a man named by Indian media as V Thangadurai, was arrested for her murder, few of her intimate circle were surprised. Thangadurai has since been charged with her murder and is in jail awaiting trial. For months before Kathiravel’s death, her family and co-workers say that Thangadurai was perpetrating a relentless campaign of sexual harassment towards her, which she felt powerless to report or stop. <She said this man was torturing her but she didn’t know what to do because she was so scared of losing her job,> says her mother, Muthuakshmi Kathiravel.
<She was such a good girl, she was the best of all of us. She was always helping me and supporting the family, but wanted to do different things with her life.> Workers at Natchi interviewed by the Observer in the weeks after her murder say Thangadurai was known to be a sexual predator operating with impunity at the factory. <We all knew what he was doing to Jeysare but nobody in management cared,> says one woman who worked alongside Kathiravel. <If she complained she was scared she would lose her job or that men from the factory would visit her family and say she was a troublemaker.>
A year later, Kathiravel’s family are still deep in grief. In their home, Kathiravel’s face smiles down at them from a photo on the wall and they say they can never fill the hole she has left behind. Yet they now believe her death has not been in vain.>>
Read more here:

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