Nearly twenty years later, Méndez and other survivors continue to fight together for justice and accountability, becoming prominent human rights defenders against sexual torture and impunity in Mexico.

“It is impossible to explain this struggle in the singular, because my process and that of my companions has been collective,” Méndez said.

“We have a binding judgment and yet we still have not been able to access even the most basic thing, which is dignified and specialised medical care,” Méndez said.

“When we were in prison, the only thing the prison clinic offered me was paracetamol,” she said. “Now, when I go to the health centre to receive specialised treatment for the consequences of the torture, the only thing they offer me is paracetamol.”

Méndez said the women continue speaking out so the violence they endured does not repeat itself.

“I believe all the advocacy and struggle we can carry out to try to reverse these practices is essential,” she said.

Edwards said prevention is not only about prohibiting torture; it is also about how societies respond afterwards.

“Recognition, rehabilitation and participation are not secondary issues — they are central to recovery,” she added.

The fight for justice

For survivors, the end of captivity rarely means the end of the fight.

For Khudeeda, justice begins with recognising the suffering of a community still waiting for answers.

“People need justice to be healed from the genocide,” she said.

Even when answers finally arrive, they can reopen the trauma. After escaping captivity, Khudeeda had been almost certain her father — who had also been abducted — was dead. But when the forensic department called to say they had identified his remains, the confirmation brought a new wave of grief. Seeing only a few bones of his body, she said, was deeply painful.

More than a decade after ISIS attacked Sinjar, many Yazidi families are still searching for missing relatives and waiting for mass graves to be identified.

Méndez said impunity has also shaped the long struggle for justice in Mexico.

“The pact of impunity that exists in Mexico today is an open invitation for these abuses to continue,” she said.

Méndez and the other Atenco survivors have spent nearly two decades pushing for accountability. "We are still litigating for our right to access justice," she said.

Donatien Ndabigeze is a Burundian survivor of political violence linked to the 2015 crisis in Burundi. After surviving an attack that killed members of his family, he turned to international mechanisms to pursue justice, including the UN Committee Against Torture (CAT), which recognised Burundi's responsibility for violations in his case.

“My case is not only personal; it reflects the situation of many Burundians who are victims of torture and other serious violations,” Ndabigeze said. “If justice does not exist in Burundi, it means I have to seek it elsewhere.”

The recognition from CAT was an important moment for him. Ndabigeze said the decision confirmed that what he experienced was atrocious and that it was neither normal nor acceptable. For him, international justice is not a favour, it is a right.

Edwards said survivors repeatedly told her that justice systems often become another barrier rather than a path to recovery.

“Survivors have not asked for performative sympathy — they have asked for legal recognition, for rehabilitation that actually reaches them, and for justice that does not become another form of harm,” she said.

“Accountability rarely happens through a single dramatic moment. It is usually cumulative — built through documentation, persistence and multiple avenues,” Edwards added.

The Survivors' Charter aims to ensure survivors themselves help shape those justice processes.

Survivors as agents of change

“Survivors are not merely witnesses to atrocity. They are rights-holders, advocates and architects of positive change in their societies,” Edwards said.

“Too often, survivor participation is treated as symbolic — a testimony at an event or a story used to illustrate a report," she said. "Survivors told us very clearly that this is not enough.”

For Méndez, the Charter represents something her group has been working towards for nearly two decades.

“This charter is extremely important because the voice of survivors is heard, their experiences and their expertise,” she said. “We hope that our suffering will have meaning beyond our own bodies and families, so that others do not have to go through what we did.”

Ndabigeze sees survivor participation as essential to dismantling the silence around torture.

“It helps to break the silence and reminds people that behind statistics are broken human lives,” he said.

Khudeeda, too, believes speaking out is essential.

“Because we lost everything, there is nothing else to lose. It was the moment to raise our voices and demand our rights,” Khudeeda said.

“The Charter was made based on survivors' voices and experiences,” she added. “I hope that in five years it will be implemented fully.”

Edwards said recognising the unique experience of survivors is not only a matter of dignity but also helps strengthen policy, improve prevention and build institutions that people can trust.

“The Charter addresses truth, accountability and justice, participation in decision-making, rehabilitation, measures to prevent recurrence and protection from re-traumatisation,” Edwards said.

She believes the Charter, if implemented, could strengthen anti-torture efforts by centring survivors' experiences — ensuring that justice, reparations, and prevention strategies reflect what those who lived through it need and believe works.

“If the Charter were implemented, survivors would no longer feel invisible,” Edwards said. “They would have timely access to rehabilitation, meaningful recognition, and a real voice in shaping the systems meant to protect others.”