‘Making history’: The fight to end female genital mutilation in Colombia

'Support, not persecution'

Now a staunch proponent of eradicating female genital mutilation, Pepe Batesa has spent over a decade advocating for change.

But that position, she said, was initially met with opposition from her own community. As a result of her activism, she received threats and insults.

"At the beginning, when I started working, it was a difficult struggle," Pepe Batesa said. "They said that this should not be, that this is a violation of cultural rights, that our culture cannot be abandoned."

But Pepe Batesa said that community attitudes have changed with increased dialogue around the issue. "After listening to everything, they came around."

Organising those community discussions could be difficult, though. Many Embera villages are remote. Some lie six hours or more from the nearest population centre and are only reachable by foot, mule or boat.

Colombia's ongoing armed conflict has also contributed to the isolation some communities face.

Juliana Domico holds a placard promoting the 'Niñas sin Ablación' campaign outside Colombia's Congress [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera] Juliana Domico, the senior leader of the National Confederation of the Peoples of the Great Embera Nation of Colombia, said that previous initiatives lacked the resources to overcome those barriers.

“If you don't even have money for a bottle of water, you can't travel to the community where you're going to give a workshop,” Domico said.

But she's hopeful that Wednesday's legislation will help address the problem.

Bill 440 gives the Colombian government 12 months to create a permanent, nationwide public policy for the eradication of female genital mutilation.

Its approach, however, will be non-punitive. The legislation is centred on raising public awareness about female genital mutilation, and it is slated to fund educational campaigns, provide healthcare training and improve case tracking.

Representative Jennifer Pedraza, one of the authors of the bill, argues that a punitive approach would have risked driving the practice further underground.

She also worries the spectre of punishment could deter families from seeking medical treatment when victims are suffering.

"We are talking about something very intimate," said Pedraza. "It requires support, not persecution."