“Speaking Nearly Cost Us Our Lives; The Reward Is a Powerful Cry.”

Sexual violence is one of the worst war crimes committed against women, and Colombia is no exception.

The voices of women like Mayerlis Angarita and hundreds of other women human rights defenders are making a difference today, not only in my country but around the world. “Raising our voices”—this has become our motto and our mission.

That is why it is an honor for me to come to a city like Berlin, where many women began several years ago—for the first time in over five decades—to speak out about the violence and atrocities that German women were forced to endure during World War II.

In September 2009, I visited this city for the first time to meet with women survivors who, like me, had experienced sexual violence. It was almost like a conclave. The poignancy of the horrific experiences we discussed there reinforced my conviction that I could no longer remain silent. This was also confirmed to me by Greta Kaufmann, who, despite the scars that the war’s wounds had left on her soul, remained unbroken and full of courage and zest for life. Like hundreds of other women, she, too, became the “war booty” of the Allied troops in 1945. I asked her at the time why, after so many decades, she had decided to speak out, and she told me that a journalist had persuaded her to share her story.

Some time later, during an insightful conversation about the power of words and the voice with Svetlana Alexievich—the only journalist ever to have won the Nobel Prize in Literature—I finally learned that it was she who had persuaded Greta to speak about her rape.

I have tried to do the same with many women in various places in Colombia, in order to bring to light the cruelty of a crime. At the height of the armed conflict, an estimated two million women were sexually abused in Colombia. I was one of them. They tried to silence me through kidnapping, endless physical and psychological torture, and the most brutal rape. My spirit was broken, my body was battered, and my inner death seemed inevitable. At that time, I decided to take refuge in journalism and took a vow of silence for myself in an attempt to get back on my feet.

However, in September 2009, I confronted this and publicly shared my story in Madrid, Brussels, and London. After meeting Greta and other women here in Berlin, I decided to raise my voice and never, ever fall silent again. That’s how the “No es hora de callar” campaign—“Now is not the time to be silent”—was launched. This campaign is my life, and it has brought me back here to accept the Anne Klein Women’s Award, to honor Anne Klein, and to thank her friend Barbara for being an important part of Anne’s voice and her actions.

Anne’s legacy is also a great challenge. Countries like Colombia are gradually waking up to a reality that has kept us in chains for centuries. As in all wars, armed men—as those wielding the power of bullets and machismo—have used our bodies as leverage and as a supposed punishment against their enemies. We have just signed a peace agreement with the FARC guerrillas. It brings us some relief by partially curbing the armed conflict.

Yet we still face many problems: the growing drug trade, fueled by consumer demand in the United States and Europe; another guerrilla organization—the National Liberation Army (ELN)—that refuses to embrace this historic moment in Colombia; criminal gangs, as well as scattered former paramilitaries and FARC guerrilla fighters who have not yet found their way back to civilian life.

In this conflict, it is still women who are displaced, threatened, and sexually abused. To turn a blind eye to this reality is to deceive ourselves and to disregard the true peace we dream of for our country. That is why I firmly believe in the value and power of words. Our voice has the power to reshape realities and transform the lives of those who have suffered from violence.

My experience confirms this. I have made it my mission, through my work as a journalist, to give a voice to thousands of women who would otherwise certainly never be heard. I believe that we journalists—not only in Colombia but worldwide—must shoulder social responsibility today more than ever. Our proven journalistic practices can save the life of a woman who is being raped by her partner somewhere in a Latin American apartment, or that of a young Syrian woman in a refugee camp, or that of a minor who is being trafficked and sexually exploited somewhere in Amsterdam or Hong Kong.

And so this is my call: In this 21st century, silence cannot be an option. Speaking out has nearly cost us our lives; the reward is a powerful cry that many still refuse to hear. To remain silent, however, inevitably means a death that empowers the perpetrator.

Ladies and gentlemen, now is not the time to remain silent! No es hora de callar.