There was a time when violence meant bruises, broken bones, or a scream in the night. Today, it can begin with a simple text, a shared photo, or a post gone wrong.
It can spread through WhatsApp groups, Facebook posts, and Twitter threads. It hides in private messages, fake profiles, and viral images. It is quiet but cruel. It is invisible but real. Technology has opened a new front in the fight against women and girls. The same tools that connect can also destroy.
In Kisumu, I have seen both the light and the darkness of this digital age. Girls walk into a cyber cafe or a digital hub with hope shining in their eyes. They come to learn, to speak out, to grow, to dream. Yet behind every glowing phone screen lies a risk.
A girl shares her opinion online and within minutes receives insults and threats. Another’s intimate photo is taken from her phone and shared in WhatsApp groups by strangers. Some are forced to send money after being blackmailed with edited pictures.
Others are followed by ex-partners using GPS trackers or spyware. And perhaps the deepest wound comes when those they trust most join in the abuse. Being in some of these WhatsApp or Facebook groups, many girls and young women end up being humiliated by the very people who are meant to protect them.
Messages spread through inboxes, mocking their pain, their photos, their stories. Some of these girls are already in different stages of recovery from trauma, abuse, or illness. This cruelty adds insult to injury. It breaks the fragile confidence they are trying so hard to rebuild. It turns support networks into traps of shame.
Technology Facilitated Gender Based Violence (TFGBV)is not new, but it is spreading fast. In Kenya, a 2024 study by UNFPA found that 39 percent of students in universities have experienced at least one form of online abuse. Among them, women and girls suffer the most, at nearly two out of every three cases.
The most common forms include online defamation at 21 percent, cyber bullying at 19 percent, and non-consensual sharing of intimate images at 18 percent. These numbers do not even capture what happens in private WhatsApp groups, secret Telegram channels, or through text messages meant to intimidate and control.
In Kisumu County, the Gender Based Violence Recovery Centre at Jaramogi Oginga Odinga Teaching and Referral Hospital (JOOTRH) recorded over 576 survivors between January and June this year. Many came with visible injuries, but more and more arrive with wounds no one can see.
Some had been blackmailed online, some stalked through phones, and others exposed on social media by people they once trusted. Behind many of these stories lies a screen that never forgets and a society that does not yet understand.
Our laws speak well on paper. The Data Protection Act of 2019 promises privacy, while the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act of 2018 forbids online harassment and the sharing of private images without consent.
Yet, very few perpetrators face punishment. A few arrests have been made in Nairobi, Kisumu, and Mombasa after reports of cyber stalking and image-based abuse, but most cases fade away for lack of evidence or trained officers. Survivors are often told to “move on” or are blamed for “inviting trouble.” Many never report because they have lost faith in justice.
Social media has become both a bridge and a battlefield. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and X give women platforms to run businesses and raise their voices, but they also give abusers endless reach. WhatsApp and SMS have turned into tools of manipulation and humiliation, used to spread lies, mock survivors, and even plan attacks.
In some cases, online abuse has ended in fatalities when humiliation, shame, and isolation pushed victims beyond their limits.
This year’s theme for the 16 Days of Activism calls on all of us to unite to end violence against women and girls. But how can we speak of unity when the internet, our new village square, has become a hunting ground? How can we end violence while ignoring the kind that travels through our phones every day?
In Kisumu, we must act with urgency. We must train police officers to handle online abuse seriously and respectfully. We must create safe digital spaces and county helplines for victims of cyber violence. We must teach digital safety in schools and communities.
We must also demand that technology companies make their platforms safer, faster, and fairer. And above all, we must protect and believe survivors.
The girl in Nyalenda whose image was shared without consent deserves justice. The young woman in Manyatta who was bullied in WhatsApp groups by people meant to support her deserves protection. The widow in Kondele who took her own life after digital blackmail deserves remembrance. These are not stories of the internet. They are stories of our people.
The screen has become a mirror of our society. It reflects our silence, our cruelty, but also our power to change. The same phone that spreads pain can spread healing. The same networks that carry hate can carry hope. The same messages that destroy can also defend.
The fight against gender based violence is no longer fought only in homes or streets. It is now fought in our inboxes, our group chats, and our news feeds. We must step into this new battlefield with courage and compassion. Because equality cannot exist where women and girls fear their own phones.
The screen is powerful. Let us make it safe. Let it become a space for justice, for dignity, and for life.
Erick Okioma is a TB HIV Advocate and the Vice Chairperson, Network of TB Champions Kenya.
