For many survivors of abuse, the act of leaving—physically removing oneself from a dangerous environment—is supposed to be the final step toward safety. But for Ljubica Fuentes, a human rights lawyer who has spent years navigating the intersection of gender-based violence and technology, the reality is far more haunting. “When you get away from your abusers, you feel kind of safe,” she observes, “but digital violence is following you around everywhere you go.” This sentiment serves as the foundation for a movement that is finally recognizing that the “virtual” world is where some of the most devastating human rights violations of the 21st century are taking place.
The trajectory of Fuentes’ life changed in a single afternoon at Ecuador’s largest public university. At the time, she was a law student, sitting in a lecture hall where a professor made a declaration that would go unchallenged by most: women, he claimed, were not “real” lawyers. According to him, they were merely in the program to find a husband. When Fuentes raised her hand to object, she wasn’t just defending her career; she was inadvertently painting a target on her back. From that moment forward, she was branded with the derogatory term “feminazi,” a label that served as a catalyst for a campaign of harassment that quickly spilled from the classroom into the digital ether.
What began as localized academic bullying rapidly evolved into a sophisticated digital nightmare. Her social media accounts, once tools for connection and study, became conduits for terror. Anonymous users flooded her Instagram with warnings to cease her advocacy for women’s rights. On Facebook, her university’s community pages were hijacked by threats of physical violence and rape. The harassment wasn’t limited to the screen; it manifested in the physical world through whispers and notes circulated on campus, culminating in a credible report that someone had been hired to assault her. Faced with the reality that her university could no longer guarantee her safety, Fuentes fled her home in the middle of the night for a semester abroad. It was a tactical retreat that would eventually lead to a global mission.
Fuentes’ ordeal is a microcosm of a global epidemic that experts call technology-facilitated gender-based violence (TFGBV). Statistics from UN Women and the Economist Intelligence Unit reveal a harrowing landscape: between 16 and 58 percent of women worldwide have experienced some form of digital violence. A staggering 85 percent of women have witnessed online abuse directed at others, creating a chilling effect that discourages women from participating in public discourse. The COVID-19 pandemic acted as an accelerant for this crisis. As the world moved online for work, education, and socializing, the “manosphere”—a network of online spaces promoting misogyny—found new ways to infiltrate the private sanctity of the home. As Fuentes notes, “Online, everyone becomes braver. People were able to hide behind the screen and a fake user ID.”
The psychological toll of this constant surveillance is profound. For activists like Fuentes, digital violence forces a state of hyper-vigilance. Every post, every shared opinion, and every online interaction is scrutinized by bad actors looking for a perceived weakness. “The constant scrutiny takes away your peace,” Fuentes explains. “You always have to be 120 percent prepared to make an opinion online. If you are a feminist, if you are an activist, you don’t have the right to be wrong. You are not allowed to even have a past.” This “perfection trap” serves to silence women, as the cost of a minor error is often a coordinated “pile-on” of abuse that can last for weeks or months.
The risks are even higher for those in the public eye. A 2020 UNESCO report found that 73 percent of women journalists had experienced online violence in the course of their work. This is not merely about “hurt feelings” or “mean comments.” Digital abuse frequently escalates into offline stalking, physical assault, and in the most extreme cases, femicide. The digital world acts as a precursor and an amplifier, providing abusers with the tools to track, dox, and dehumanize their targets before ever laying a hand on them.
Despite the clear and present danger, the global legal infrastructure remains woefully behind the curve. According to the World Bank, less than half of the countries in the world have specific laws designed to prosecute online abuse. When survivors do attempt to seek justice, they are often met with apathy or systemic delays. “If you go to a public defender, they are going to say to you, you have to wait five years for this to be solved. Are you sure you want to start it?” Fuentes says, highlighting the “justice gap” that leaves millions of women unprotected. This lack of accountability extends to tech companies, which have historically been slow to implement safety protocols that prioritize the protection of women over engagement metrics.
In response to this vacuum, Fuentes founded “Ciudadanas del Mundo,” an organization dedicated to combating gender-based violence within higher education. Her work is a testament to the power of grassroots feminist organizing. Her team works with roughly 600 individuals annually, focusing on early prevention and helping universities develop robust safety protocols. They provide the legal and psychological support that the state often fails to offer, mobilizing over 1,000 advocates each year to push for policy changes.
Fuentes’ work is now part of a larger global effort known as the ACT Programme. A partnership between the European Commission and UN Women, the ACT Programme is designed to strengthen feminist movements and ensure that the voices of grassroots leaders are heard at the highest levels of policy-making. However, this work is currently under threat. Despite evidence that strong feminist movements are the single most important factor in driving policy change to end violence against women, funding for these organizations is being slashed. A 2025 UN Women survey revealed that 34 percent of feminist organizations have had to suspend programs due to funding cuts. Even more alarming, 89 percent of respondents reported a severe reduction in access to support services for survivors in their communities.
The fight against digital violence requires a multi-pronged approach. For governments, it means enacting and enforcing laws that recognize digital harassment as a criminal offense. For universities and workplaces, it means creating clear, enforceable protocols to protect students and employees from online stalking and doxxing. For tech companies, it requires a fundamental redesign of platforms to include “safety by design.”
For the individual woman or girl facing digital abuse, Fuentes offers a message of resilience and practical action. She emphasizes the importance of documenting everything—screenshots, links, and timestamps—and seeking out communities of support rather than retreating into isolation. Her own journey came full circle when she served as 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 victory not just for her, but for the principle that no one should be bullied out of their dreams.
As the global community prepares for the “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence,” which runs from November 25 to December 10, the focus on digital spaces has never been more urgent. The #NoExcuse campaign highlights that there is no justification for online abuse, whether it takes the form of non-consensual image sharing, cyber-stalking, or coordinated harassment.
Fuentes continues her advocacy with a sense of weary but unwavering determination. “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 story is a reminder that while the digital world can be a minefield, it is also a site of resistance. By closing the justice gap and properly funding the feminist organizations that stand on the front lines, we can ensure that the internet becomes what it was always meant to be: a space for empowerment, connection, and the advancement of human rights for all.
