It is not an issue which is at the top of the liberal agenda. In fact many Irish people may barely be aware of it. And yet it is estimated that around 3,000 women in Ireland have undergone female genital mutilation (FGM).
FGM is practised across parts of Africa, the Middle East and Asia. It tends to be regionally-based in the various countries in which it is practised and varies in its levels of aggression. The age at which it is carried out also varies but the victims are often young girls. By any standards, even at its most basic, it is a barbaric tradition. Often referred to as female circumcision, in fact the practice is far more invasive than the procedure which is carried out on boys.
In the commonest form of female ‘circumcision’, the clitoris is held between the thumb and forefinger of the person carrying out the procedure, pulled out and sliced off.

Gruesome and bloody as this is, there are other more aggressive versions. In Type 2 circumcisions, the labia majora and minor may be partly or totally removed. The vaginal passage is then closed, using thorns or stitches, leaving only a tiny opening for urination and menstruation. Inevitably there are severe consequences for the victim, in relation to both sexual intercourse, and childbirth.
There are other even more severe forms, an intimate description of which is unnecessary here. Even reading about it is not for the faint-hearted.

EDUCATION IS IMPORTANT
Female Genital Mutilation is, of course, illegal in Ireland. However, up to now it was possible for those for whom it is a matter of standard religious-cultural practice to take their children elsewhere to carry out the procedure, before returning to Ireland. Now, legislation which is currently before the Dáil will make it illegal to remove a child from the State for the purposes of FGM. This, say activists, is an important first step towards protecting immigrant women and children at risk.
“What we are hearing anecdotally, through NGOs working with communities that practice FGM, is that the greatest pressure is for children to undergo FGM when they are brought home,” says Eilís Ní Chaithnía of Amnesty International (Ireland).
“It could be the family at home or communities that strongly believe in FGM putting pressure on parents. The legislation will act as a tool for those mothers and fathers to say, ‘No. If my child undergoes FGM over here, I can be prosecuted when we go back to Ireland and face up to 14 years’ imprisonment’.”

One of Ireland’s most vocal anti-FGM activists, Ifrah Ahmed of United Youth Of Ireland, was a victim of the practice. She has been working with affected communities for five years.
“Some of the young people, they would say things like, ‘Oh my neighbour was telling my mam she is taking her daughters home to do FGM’. I thought – if there was a law in Ireland to make it illegal, then that would really help.”
The new legislation will make anyone and everyone involved in assisting FMG guilty of a crime, says Eilis Ní Chaithnía.
“Whoever brings the child home for FGM will be prosecuted. Not only that, but it is a prosecutable offence to aid or abet the removal of the child from the State for the purposes of undergoing FGM.”

Of course, legislation alone will not curb the practice in affected communities.
“It is really important,” Ní Chaithnía adds, “that preventative measures are taken, such as education within affected communities, so that they know (a) the legislation exists, and, more importantly, (b) that they understand the full health consequences of FGM and why Ireland is making this statement. It is a practice that can leave women not only physically harmed, but psychologically harmed, for the rest of their lives.
“It is about attitudinal change in the communities. Parents are not practising FGM because they want to cause harm; they believe they are doing the right thing for their children. You can’t just walk into a community and tell people FGM is wrong; there is no cultural practice that can immediately be solved by a piece of legislation prohibiting it.”

LEARNING TO BE STRONG
Ahmed, originally from Somalia, felt compelled to start her campaign after arriving in Ireland and discussing FGM with other immigrants from around the world who had undergone the practice.
“When I first came to Ireland, I was 17 and under social care,” she recalls. “When you come to Ireland, you can’t just stay. You have to be checked for AIDS, hepatitis, TB. We were in hospital, and all the girls who had undergone FGM, it can be really difficult to do the smear test because of the way you are circumcised.
“It was so difficult for me, because I didn’t speak the language. I had a male translator, but it was hard to explain and the doctors were shocked. It is very difficult when you come to a new country and I thought, ‘What can we do to help? For people to hear our stories?’”
Ahmed’s experiences show that it can be difficult to change community attitudes. Just 23, Ahmed has had to deal with numerous threats as a result of her campaigning.

“When I first started, we had a group discussion between men and women of all different ages,” she recounts. “One man was saying that if he didn’t do it he wouldn’t get the bride price for his daughters. We invited one of the African newspapers and I was interviewed and I discussed my own experiences. I was saying that some people believe this is culture and tradition and if they don’t do it, their daughters won’t get married. Afterwards, the newspaper headline was ‘Culture Clash’, but that wasn’t it. It was a discussion on different perspectives. After that I got so many enemies in my community – and even outside the community.”
Ahmed was little more than a teenager at the time.
“I didn’t want to die. I left my own country to be safe,” she says. As a result, she felt that she couldn’t stay in Dublin.

Based in Drogheda, she attended classes there, and took part in an RTÉ documentary about adult literacy. The documentary-makers supported her and Ahmed decided to return to campaigning.
“I said to myself, ‘I have to be strong. I’m living in this country, I have to do something’. I was 20 years old. My circumcision can’t be changed. Whatever happened to me, happened to me. But there are beautiful girls being born and they need to be supported. If I don’t do something, they’ll have to go through the same pain.”
Ahmed underwent a severe form of FGM when she was eight, involving the removal of the clitoris, the genital tissue and infibulation. The doctor used the same instrument on all the girls, she says, and the unsanitary way the procedure was done led to the death of one young girl.

“Afterwards they tied my legs together for weeks,” Ahmed explains.
The binding makes movement almost impossible and everyday activities such as urination are incredibly painful.
“It is like putting lemon juice on a wound,” she says.
A second operation took place as a teenager when it was noticed that Ahmed’s vaginal opening was not as small as it could be.
“The second time was the worst. The first time I was with other girls and we were all going through the pain together. That time I wanted to know, ‘Why me? Why do I have to go through this again?’ I don’t want to blame anyone. I don’t want to blame my grandmother or the doctor who did it.”
Ahmed is visibly upset discussing her experiences, but she believes that revealing what happened to her will help educate people.
“It used to be really difficult for me to talk about and I would cry. I still feel like crying at times, but discussing it is important.”

LEGISLATION IS JUST THE START
In the long run, Ahmed has found listeners, in the communities affected, in Irish political circles and across Europe, where she also campaigns. One yearly event she arranges is a fashion show, believing it is important to give young people entertainment along with education. The show attracts hundreds, including community members, activists and politicians.
“I’ve worked with Joe Costello for three years,” she says. “He comes to the events and talks about the problems with FGM.”
As France’s attempts to ban the burqa shows, countries making certain cultural practices illegal can be met with strong resistance from immigrant communities. Even where FGM is concerned, some of the weaker-kneed cultural relativists argue that Western nations are imposing their values on immigrants.
“At Amnesty, we look at it from a human rights perspective,” says Ní Chaithnía. “Our point of view is that the right to life, the right to bodily integrity and the right to dignity for a woman trump any claims to practice it because of culture. If someone’s life is going to be put at risk because of any practice, we must legislate against that. That would apply with any cultural practice.”
While the legislation is a tool to stop the practice of FGM in affected communities, it is also provides guidelines for medical practitioners, the police and others who come into contact with communities affected by FGM.
“One of the positions of the bill is that it will be illegal for medical practitioners to carry out re-infibulation after childbirth. There will have to be medical treatment of the individual,” says Ní Chaithnía.

“The other part is that the legislation is making a political statement and it is providing clarity for the Gardaí and the judiciary. There is also an explanatory memorandum attached to the legislation that includes an explanation about FMG being a human rights violation and a form of gender-based violence.”
Just recently, the controversial asylum-seeker Pamela Izevbekhai was deported to Nigeria. The Izevbekhai case is complicated, given the presence of falsified documents, but she did base much of her asylum claim on the FGM risk to her two young daughters.
Ifrah Ahmed and Amnesty have been calling for more transparent gender guidelines for the asylum process, so that gender-based claims like Izevbekhai’s can be viewed with an appropriate sense of gravity. The new legislation, however, does not change anything in that regard.

“The upcoming legislation is a criminal justice bill so it is not going to affect the asylum rights of individuals. But as FGM is a form of gender-based violence it is already considered a basis to apply for asylum,” says Ní Chaithnía.
The law is certainly a step in the right direction. Community education is working too, but it is a long process.
“I still have problems,” says Ahmed. “I get phone calls every day from people telling me to leave their daughters alone.”