Every morning, before they have even had their first cup of coffee, thousands of women journalists across the African continent perform a grim ritual: they log into their social media accounts to see if they have been targeted for another wave of digital execution. It is not their reporting that is being critiqued, but their bodies, their families, and their right to exist in the public sphere. For these women, the digital landscape has transformed from a tool of liberation and information into a battlefield where the primary weapon is technology-facilitated gender-based violence (TFGBV).
The statistics are as staggering as they are sobering. According to a landmark global study conducted by UNESCO, a staggering 73 percent of women journalists—nearly three out of every four—have experienced some form of online violence in the course of their work. Even more chilling is the fact that one in four has received threats of physical harm, including explicit death threats. In East and Southern Africa, these numbers are not merely data points in a report; they represent a daily occupational hazard that is fundamentally reshaping the media landscape and threatening the very foundations of press freedom.
Digital violence is far more than “mean comments” or “trolling.” It is a coordinated, weaponized effort to intimidate, discredit, and ultimately silence women reporters. By using digital platforms to launch sexually explicit threats, body-shaming campaigns, and coordinated harassment, perpetrators aim to drive women out of the profession. As this abuse intensifies, understanding the lived experiences of those on the front lines has become a critical necessity for anyone concerned with the future of democracy and the free flow of information.
For Kgomotso Modise, a seasoned South African journalist who covers the high-stakes world of courts and criminal justice for Eyewitness News (EWN), the digital onslaught has become an inseparable part of her professional life. Modise, who is often tasked with breaking down complex legal proceedings and reporting on some of South Africa’s most sensitive criminal cases, notes that the abuse she faces is inherently gendered.
“The insults are very sexual,” Modise explains, highlighting a disparity that many of her female colleagues know all too well. She observes that while her male colleagues might be criticized for their views or called “stupid” for their analysis, they are never subjected to the same level of vitriol or the specific types of slurs reserved for women. “For me, it’s always: ‘Oh, she’s sleeping with the investigations officer.’ Any opinion I share is sexualized.”
This pattern of abuse reached a fever pitch during Modise’s coverage of the high-profile Senzo Meyiwa murder trial. In a case that has gripped the South African public and sparked intense polarization, Modise and her female peers found themselves in the crosshairs of vicious online mobs. While the accuracy of their reporting remained unchallenged, their physical appearance and sexuality became the primary targets of attack. This distinction is vital: when criticism focuses on a journalist’s work, it is part of a healthy democratic discourse. However, when it weaponizes gender to delegitimize a reporter’s voice, it crosses the line into systemic abuse designed to force a retreat from the public eye.
The escalation from digital harassment to real-world fear often happens with terrifying speed. Modise recalls a specific instance after she posted content criticizing extrajudicial killings. A digital predator went through her personal Facebook archives, retrieved photos of her as a child, and reposted them alongside explicit threats of sexual violence directed at both her and her underage niece.
“That, for me, just went too far,” she recalls. “It wasn’t just an attack on my views—it was a violation involving children.” This tactic, known as “doxing” or the weaponization of personal data, is a hallmark of digital violence. It sends a clear message to the journalist: “We know who you are, we know where your family is, and you are never safe.” The psychological impact of such a violation is immense, turning a professional social media presence into a source of constant anxiety.
The consequences of this sustained abuse extend far beyond the individual journalist; they create a “chilling effect” that threatens the public’s right to know. Many women journalists have begun to practice self-censorship as a survival mechanism. Modise admits that she has become more hesitant to share her insights on sensitive cases, fearing the inevitable backlash. “Sometimes you think, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t tweet this,’ even though it’s a view that could inform others,” she says.
Cecilia Maundu, a prominent Kenyan journalist and the host of the *Digital Dada* podcast, has dedicated her career to documenting this phenomenon. Through her work, Maundu has identified a disturbing trend of coordinated trolling and “pile-ons” intended to overwhelm a journalist’s mental defenses. She argues that when women journalists are forced into silence, society as a whole suffers. “When journalists self-censor, society loses. Freedom of information is jeopardized,” Maundu warns.
The stories Maundu hears on her podcast are a testament to the severity of the crisis. One television news anchor confessed that she began to withhold her reporting due to the fear of being victimized yet again. Another journalist shared that the stress of extreme trolling forced her into therapy, while others have watched helplessly as the attacks expanded to include their husbands and children. For many, the only way to safeguard their mental well-being is to disappear entirely, deactivating their social media accounts and losing their primary connection to their audience.
At its core, online harassment is a digital manifestation of entrenched gender inequality and harmful social norms. It is rooted in the belief that women do not belong in positions of authority or in high-stakes professional roles. Modise points out that even “compliments” can be loaded with bias. The phrase “beauty with brains,” she notes, reveals a deep-seated assumption that physical appearance and intellectual capacity are somehow mutually exclusive in women.
Despite the overwhelming pressure, women journalists across Africa are refusing to be silenced. They are calling for institutional accountability and systemic change. In 2023, at the African Women in Media Conference in Kigali, a landmark declaration was adopted. Media organizations, journalists, and regional partners committed to confronting the full spectrum of violence against women—ranging from physical threats like rape and femicide to digital threats like surveillance, intimidation, and smear campaigns.
Institutional support is proving to be a lifeline. Modise credits her newsroom for taking her safety seriously, providing access to psychological support, and implementing safety protocols, such as pairing women with male colleagues for high-risk physical assignments. However, she is adamant that newsroom policies are only one piece of the puzzle. The digital platforms themselves and law enforcement agencies must step up.
“We need stronger collaboration with law enforcement and cyber experts to unmask perpetrators,” Modise insists. “Once people face consequences, the message will be clear.” Currently, the anonymity of the internet provides a shield for abusers, allowing them to operate with near-total impunity. Without legal ramifications for digital terror, the cycle of violence is likely to continue.
Solutions to this crisis require a multi-pronged approach. UN Women and other international bodies advocate for comprehensive digital safety training, more robust moderation policies from social media companies, and the enactment of laws that specifically address technology-facilitated gender-based violence. The goal is to create a digital world that empowers women rather than one that serves as a minefield of harassment.
The “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence” campaign, running from November 25 to December 10, serves as a critical period for raising awareness about these issues. Under the theme #NoExcuse, the campaign highlights the urgent need to end digital abuse and ensures that the digital world becomes a safe space for women to lead, report, and express themselves.
For women like Kgomotso Modise and Cecilia Maundu, the fight for a safe digital space is also a fight for the future of their profession. Protecting women journalists is not just an act of individual advocacy; it is a prerequisite for a healthy democracy. When diverse voices are silenced, the collective narrative of a nation is diminished.
What keeps these women going in the face of such hostility? For Modise, it is the fundamental mission of journalism. “My love for informing and educating outweighs the hate,” she says. “When someone says, ‘Thank you for sharing this’—that keeps me going.” It is this resilience that continues to fuel the pursuit of truth across Africa, even as the digital storm rages on. The challenge now lies with society to ensure that these brave voices are not left to weather that storm alone.
