The launch of the #16daysofActivism by Leading Ladies Africa on November 28, 2025, in partnership with TechHer NG, brought together women who live and breathe the fight for digital safety. I didn’t expect the conversation to hit me as deeply as it did, but from the moment the session began, I felt myself leaning in. I joined the webinar thinking I already understood tech-facilitated gender-based violence (TFGBV), but by the end, I realised how much I had overlooked, how much I had normalised, and how much we still needed to confront.
Francesca Uriri, Founder and Executive Director of Leading Ladies Africa, moderated the session with her characteristic clarity. She grounded the conversation firmly by calling TFGBV what it truly is: not a side effect of technology, but a compounded, deeply rooted form of violence that has found new ways to grow because digital spaces allow it to spread faster, louder, and more aggressively than ever before. Hearing her describe it this way made something shift in me. It became impossible to see TFGBV as an abstract “online problem.” It is violence—real, targeted, and devastating.
Then came Sigi Waigumo Mwanzia, Founder and CEO of the Digital Rights and Freedoms Regional Hub and a UNFPA Consultant, and her presentation opened my eyes even wider. I have always imagined abusers as faceless individuals hiding behind screens, but Sigi broke that illusion completely. She explained that perpetrators can be anyone: ex-partners, family members, organised groups, or even institutions. She gave examples like doxing, spyware, GPS tracking, and hidden cameras, and all of these made the conversation feel painfully real. What struck me most was her reminder that while frameworks help us categorise violence, they often fail to capture the messy, lived realities women face daily. It made me think about how easily digital harm can go unnoticed because we lack the language to fully describe it.
Faridah Nyagah, Acting Executive Director of Coalition on Violence Against Women (COVAW), shifted the conversation into the Kenyan context, but everything she said felt familiar across Africa. With over 70 million smartphones in Kenya, she said, women now live in “expanded worlds,” where their work, dreams, and activism exist online as much as offline. But the rise of these opportunities comes with new forms of attacks—attacks designed to silence, shame, intimidate, and exhaust women until they retreat. Listening to her speak about what women endure just to exist online reminded me how urgently we need technology that does more than connect us; it must also protect us.
When Chioma Agwuegbo, Founder and Executive Director of TechHer NG, began to speak, it felt like she was naming things many of us had personally experienced but never fully articulated. She talked about how TechHer works to ensure women and girls can access and use tech safely, but what stayed with me most was her insistence that online and offline violence are inseparable. “We can’t address online violence without addressing the patriarchal systems that enable offline violence,” she said. That sentence has been replaying in my mind since. It explained perfectly why digital harm feels so familiar: it is built on the same foundations of gender inequality we see everywhere else.
Chioma also highlighted how cultural norms shape the digital abuse women face. In Nigeria, she said, women’s sexuality is treated as taboo. Society demands silence, modesty, and compliance, and when women step outside those boundaries, abusers weaponise shame. Public figures, activists, journalists, and women in politics are all vulnerable to sexualized attacks, AI-generated imagery, and gendered disinformation campaigns. The more vocal a woman becomes, the more vicious the attempts to silence her. And because shame is such a powerful social tool, survivors often withdraw quietly rather than seek justice in systems that already fail them.
Peninah Kimiri, Co-founder of Gender Job, added another layer that lingered with me long after the event. She pointed out that the social rules that limit women offline don’t just show up online; they intensify. Girls are conditioned to behave in very specific ways, and when they don’t, they face backlash instead of protection. Faridah expanded on this, describing the culture of impunity across African communities. Informal justice systems often prioritise “keeping peace” over ensuring justice, which means survivors are left unsupported while perpetrators face little consequence. When women in leadership roles are attacked online, the abuse usually has nothing to do with their competence; it targets their bodies, their sexuality, and their personal lives. It is designed to silence and intimidate.
Throughout the session, one truth became undeniable: the consequences of TFGBV go far beyond the screen. Survivors face mental health struggles, job losses, stalled careers, disrupted education, and isolation. Chioma pointed out that current classifications of TFGBV don’t capture the full spectrum of harm, while Faridah reminded us that even with widespread internet access, many women still feel unsafe online. This shows just how urgently we need survivor-centred systems, community support, and digital platforms that take responsibility for user protection—not just laws written on paper.
As I listened, I found myself returning again and again to the same thought: this could be any of us.
Key Takeaways
Here are the insights that stayed with me long after I logged out of the session:
TFGBV is evolving and deeply entrenched, amplified by the reach and speed of digital technology.
Perpetrators weaponise shame and societal norms to attack women, especially those who are vocal or visible.
Online and offline violence are intertwined—neither can be addressed in isolation.
Legislation alone is not enough; protection requires enforcement, platform accountability, and community support.
Women in leadership and public spaces face specific and targeted forms of digital attack.
Survivor experiences vary widely across contexts, reinforcing the need for localised, nuanced interventions.
For us at Shades of Us, the stark realities shaping digital engagement across Africa are something we always consider, especially as 90% of our work is online. The insights shared during the webinar highlight the urgent need for survivor-centered approaches, stronger accountability mechanisms, and cultural shifts that prioritize women’s safety in every space, online and offline. Building safer digital spaces goes beyond technology; it requires challenging entrenched norms, addressing systemic inequalities, and amplifying voices that are often targeted or silenced. We remain dedicated to equipping our audiences with the knowledge and tools needed to navigate these spaces safely and confidently, while continuing to advocate for a society where everyone can participate fully and freely.
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