Beyond the Screen: How Ljubica Fuentes is Turning the Tide Against the Global Scourge of Digital Misogyny
The lecture hall at Ecuador’s largest public university was supposed to be a place of intellectual discovery, a sanctuary for the next generation of legal minds. But for Ljubica Fuentes, then a young law student, it became the site of a profound awakening. The catalyst was a single, jarring declaration from her professor: women, he told the room, were not “real” lawyers. According to him, they were merely occupying space in the program to “pick up some guy.”
Fuentes did what many would consider an act of basic dignity, but what the university culture at the time deemed an act of rebellion: she raised her hand and objected. In that moment, her life shifted. The intellectual debate she sought was met with a smear campaign. Almost overnight, she was labeled a “feminazi”—a derogatory term designed to silence and dehumanize women who demand equality. But the harassment did not stay confined to the four walls of the classroom. It migrated, with terrifying speed and intensity, into the digital ether.
What began as sneers in a hallway transformed into a relentless digital nightmare. Fuentes’ Instagram inbox became a repository for warnings, telling her to abandon her advocacy for women’s rights. On Facebook, anonymous accounts flooded the campus pages with threats that blurred the line between the virtual and the physical. Whispers of sexual violence circulated in campus group chats, and eventually, the threat became tangible: Fuentes received word that someone had been hired to physically assault her.
“I realized that I needed to be outside of the campus for my sanity and integrity,” Fuentes recalls. The weight of the digital siege forced her to flee in the middle of the night, seeking a semester abroad just to breathe. Today, Fuentes is no longer a student under fire; she is a human rights lawyer and the founder of an organization dedicated to dismantling gender-based violence within higher education. Her story, while harrowing, is a window into a global epidemic that many institutions are still struggling to name, let alone solve.
The reality of digital violence is often dismissed as “just words on a screen,” yet for the millions of women who experience it, the impact is visceral. Statistics suggest that between 16 and 58 percent of women globally have been victims of technology-facilitated gender-based violence. A comprehensive study by the Economist Intelligence Unit revealed that 38 percent of women have personally navigated online abuse, while a staggering 85 percent have witnessed it directed at others. This is not a series of isolated incidents; it is a structural phenomenon that uses technology to enforce ancient patriarchal hierarchies.
The COVID-19 pandemic acted as a massive accelerant for this crisis. As the world retreated into the safety of their homes, the digital world became the primary arena for human interaction. For abusers, this was an opportunity. “Patriarchy understood how to change in order to reach people inside homes,” Fuentes explains. The perceived anonymity of the internet provided a shield for cowards. Behind fake user IDs and glowing screens, the barriers to harassment dropped. The “bravery” of the anonymous troll became a weapon that could penetrate the most private spaces of a woman’s life.
For Fuentes and many others, the hallmark of digital violence is the theft of peace. It creates a state of perpetual hyper-vigilance. When your abuser lives in your pocket, via your smartphone, there is no “getting away.” The constant scrutiny forces women to curate their lives with an exhausting level of precision. “If you are a feminist, if you are an activist, you don’t have the right to be wrong,” Fuentes says. “You are not allowed to even have a past.” This demand for “perfection” from victims is a common tactic used to discredit women who speak out. If a woman makes a single mistake, the digital mob uses it as a justification for the abuse, effectively silencing her before she can even begin her work.
The demographics of this abuse are particularly concerning. Young women and girls are on the front lines, with 58 percent reporting some form of online harassment. For women in public-facing roles, the numbers are even more dire. A 2020 UNESCO report found that 73 percent of women journalists had experienced online violence as a direct result of their work. This is not merely an issue of “mean comments”; it is a concerted effort to drive women out of the public square. When women journalists, politicians, and activists are harassed into silence, the democratic fabric of society is weakened.
The consequences of this digital onslaught are far-reaching. It leads to the “chilling effect,” where women and girls restrict their online presence, abandon their education, or suffer from debilitating mental health crises. In the most extreme cases, digital abuse is a precursor to physical violence. The path from online stalking to offline femicide is a documented reality that law enforcement agencies often fail to recognize until it is too late.
This brings us to the “justice gap.” Despite the prevalence of digital violence, the legal systems of the world are lagging behind. Less than half of all countries have specific laws on the books to prosecute online abuse. When survivors do seek help, they are often met with apathy or incompetence. Fuentes points out that public defenders frequently discourage victims, citing five-year wait times for case resolutions. This normalization of the justice gap sends a clear message to survivors: your safety is not a priority, and your abuser is protected by the slow wheels of bureaucracy.
Furthermore, tech companies—the architects of the platforms where this violence occurs—have been criticized for their slow response. While they profit from the engagement generated by controversial and often toxic content, they have been hesitant to implement the robust safety protocols necessary to protect their most vulnerable users.
In the face of this systemic failure, grassroots feminist organizations have become the primary line of defense. Fuentes’ organization now works with 600 individuals annually, focusing on early prevention and helping universities develop the safety protocols that were absent during her own time as a student. They provide the legal and emotional scaffolding that survivors need to reclaim their lives.
Fuentes is also a key voice in the ACT Programme, a collaborative initiative between UN Women and the European Commission. This program is designed to ensure that global policies are informed by the ground-level realities of women and girls. However, these vital movements are currently facing an existential threat. Despite the proven effectiveness of independent feminist movements in driving policy change, funding for women’s rights organizations is being slashed globally.
A recent UN Women survey conducted in mid-2025 revealed the devastating impact of these cuts: 34 percent of organizations have had to suspend programs, and 89 percent reported a severe reduction in access to support services for survivors. When funding is cut, the safety net for women like Ljubica Fuentes disappears. The ACT Programme is currently working with over 500 organizations to reverse this trend, but the need for sustained, political, and financial commitment has never been more urgent.
As we look toward the future, the “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence”—running from November 25 to December 10—serves as a rallying cry. The theme #NoExcuse highlights that there is no justification for online abuse. Digital spaces should be tools for empowerment, not minefields of control.
For women currently navigating the storm of digital violence, Fuentes offers a message of resilience. She eventually became the legal representative in a case against the very professor who had once told her she didn’t belong in the courtroom. It was a full-circle moment of justice that took years to achieve.
“I will endure everything again,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, “just to know that someone is not going to go through what I went through.” Her fight is a testament to the fact that while digital violence is a modern weapon, the courage of women like Ljubica Fuentes is an ancient and unstoppable force. The battle for human rights now has a digital front, and it is one we cannot afford to lose.
