CT Survivors Push to Ban Female Genital Mutilation

Simenesh Comollo has sat before Connecticut’s Judiciary Committee three years in a row now, describing something she has spent years trying to heal from. She hopes this will be the last time she has to do it.

“It is heartbreaking to know that there is still no clear law in place here in our state addressing this. I have lived in Connecticut for over 15 years. This is my home,” Comollo told the committee last week, testifying in support of legislation that would criminalize female genital mutilation in Connecticut.

Connecticut is one of only nine states without a law explicitly banning the practice. The current bill would make genital mutilation of a girl under 18 a class D felony. It would allow children under 12 to testify outside the courtroom with a trusted adult present. It would give survivors the right to sue a parent who subjected them to the practice, and it would extend the civil statute of limitations so that individuals who experienced FGM as children could file a lawsuit within 30 years of turning 18.

The proposal has drawn bipartisan support. Sen. John Kissel, a Republican from Enfield who has backed the bill in previous sessions, said publicly during the hearing that he does not understand why Connecticut has not yet acted. But support alone has not been enough to move the legislation to the governor’s desk.

Connecticut’s history with FGM legislation stretches back to 2018, when the first bill on the subject failed to get out of committee. A 2019 proposal requiring a state study of the practice was rejected by the Senate. Then-Sen. Marilyn Moore of Bridgeport argued at the time that federal law already criminalized FGM and that there was no reason to believe it was a significant problem in the state. Bills in 2020 and 2021 also stalled in committee. Last year, a bill passed the Senate but was never called for a vote in the House.

Sen. Gary Winfield, the New Haven Democrat who co-chairs the Judiciary Committee, acknowledged the legislature’s slow movement on the issue. He described an “evolution” in how lawmakers have approached FGM over the years. Early on, he said, some legislators were reluctant to engage, in part because of concerns about the bill’s connection to certain cultural and religious practices. That resistance began to soften once survivors like Comollo started appearing before the committee to speak from direct experience.

But Winfield was candid about the bill’s uncertain prospects this year. The session is short, and competing legislative priorities have repeatedly pushed FGM legislation aside. He said he supports the bill but cannot guarantee it will pass.

For Comollo and other survivors, that uncertainty carries a real cost. Testifying is not simply an act of civic participation. It requires them to revisit experiences they have worked to process and move past.

“It’s been incredibly frustrating, to be honest, and emotionally exhausting,” Comollo said. “Each time I give a testimony, I have to revisit something I worked so very hard to heal from.”

The argument that federal law makes a state ban unnecessary has largely faded from the debate. Advocates for the bill point out that a state law would create clearer enforcement mechanisms, extend specific civil remedies to survivors, and send an unambiguous signal that Connecticut will not tolerate the practice within its borders.

Forty-one states have already passed their own laws. Connecticut is not a state that typically lags on questions of civil rights or child welfare, which makes its absence from that list harder to explain. The legislature has now had eight years to act. Survivors have shown up, shared their stories, and asked for something concrete in return.

Whether this session will finally deliver that is a question Winfield himself could not answer with confidence. For Comollo, the answer matters. She has made Connecticut her home. She should not have to come back next year and explain, again, why that home ought to protect children the way 41 other states already do.