African women are online – but at what cost?
African women are online – but at what cost?
Big Tech’s global boom fuelled a rise in the varieties of violence African women suffer. Our governments have yet to figure out how to protect us.
Maya Misikir
Moroccan norms about sex outside marriage, abortion or same sex relations are often attributed to its being a Muslim-majority country – but are in fact rooted in its colonial-era criminal code, which was copied from the French penal code first drafted during the time of Napoleon in 1810. That criminal code, still in effect today, is a threat to the safety of Moroccan women, local lawyer and women’s rights activist Ghizlane Mamouni told The Continent.
“In one case, a woman came to report that an intimate partner was threatening to broadcast her intimate videos. She was advised not to confess that she has had sex outside wedlock, or that the prosecutor would be forced to arrest her first,” Mamouni said. “We could only offer her psychological support.”
Because of those archaic laws on sex, the woman could not take advantage of more modern Moroccan legislation: a 2018 law that criminalises capturing and broadcasting private images of others.
Such legal absurdities repeat in many formerly-colonised countries, making the law a double-edged sword for vulnerable groups, especially as technology changes the volume and nature of gender-based violence, according to a new study led by the Dutch NGO Rutgers.
But they are just one example of the gaps in our understanding and reactions to what the researchers call “technologyfacilitated gender-based violence”.
For her work advocating for gender equality in Morocco, Mamouni has received death threats from people who in the analogue world might not have had access to her. A list of 22 people, including herself, was posted online, naming them “enemies of Islam”, and calling for them to be killed. In her experience, authorities tend to treat such threats as trivial.
“The authorities think that what happens online is virtual and not real but when you get a message telling you that they know where your kids go to school, believe me, this is very real,” she said.
The study led by Rutgers, in collaboration with Abaad, Equimundo, and Sonke Gender Justice, looked at technology-facilitated gender-based violence across seven countries including Morocco, Rwanda, South Africa, and Uganda. It affirms that this type of violence is not yet widely recognised, and many legal gaps and inconsistencies frustrate women’s protection. It finds reporting mechanisms are often lengthy and complicated, which leads to under-reporting, making it hard to see the full picture of the harm. There is little understanding on how this violence presents.
There are cases where women do not see the interactions as violence, said Namuma Mulindi of the South Africabased Sonke Gender Justice. “We see it happen a lot to younger people, high school students, and they don’t open cases. We’re doing community education on issues, like [that] sharing others’ intimate photos is a criminal act.”
Sometimes, the victimised people don’t even know it’s being done to them, especially when it takes the form of what Sandra Aceng, of the Women of Uganda Network, calls “spouse-ware”: spyware or surveillance software to monitor one’s intimate partner without their consent.
When the relationships go sour, some have then punitively broadcast this private information in what is commonly known as “revenge porn”. This is the most common form of online violence that Ugandans face, according to the Women of Uganda Network.
But even when women recognise the violence and speak up, social ideas of morality, gender roles and patriarchal views shape the response they get even from peers and the general public.
When Ethiopian singer Igitu went public about sexual violence she experienced at the hands of a ride-hailing driver, anonymous online accounts blamed and ridiculed her. Such reactions validated an earlier report that said online harassment of women in Ethiopia was “normalised to the point of invisibility”.
While authorities, peers, the general public or even victims struggle to react appropriately to or even name technologyfacilitated violence, its impacts are undeniable: it shames and silences women, and restricts their participation in public life.