The digital landscape across Latin America has become a new and volatile battlefield. For women who dare to occupy public space—politicians, journalists, human rights defenders, and activists—the internet is no longer just a tool for connection; it has been weaponized into a mechanism for silencing. This surge in digital violence is not a series of isolated incidents or mere "trolling." It is a systemic, coordinated effort to drive women out of the public eye, and as recent data reveals, the scars it leaves are far from virtual.
In a landmark 2023 study by UN Women, the chilling reality of this trend was laid bare. Examining the experiences of women in public life across Latin America, the research found that half of the women interviewed had been subjected to severe digital harassment. These attacks ranged from the dissemination of deepfake pornography and doxing—the malicious leaking of private addresses—to direct threats of physical violence. Among the most frequent threats reported was the promise of sexual assault. This violence, though originating behind a screen, rapidly bleeds into the physical world. For many, the "online" abuse serves as a precursor to real-life stalking, groping in public spaces, and physical confrontation. For too long, this culture of aggression has been dismissed by institutions as "the rules of the game" for any woman seeking a voice in politics or media. However, a growing movement of survivors is now refusing to play by those rules, demanding instead a complete overhaul of the digital and legal systems that allow such abuse to flourish.
Mexico stands at the epicenter of this legislative and social revolution. The scale of the problem is staggering: data from the National Institute of Statistics and Geography (INEGI) indicates that in 2024 alone, more than 10 million women and girls over the age of 12 experienced some form of cyberbullying. Behind these numbers are human stories of profound trauma and eventual triumph.
Olimpia Coral Melo’s name has become synonymous with the fight for digital justice, but her journey began in a place of deep personal pain. In 2013, an intimate video recorded with a partner was shared online without her consent. In an instant, her world fractured. She was met not with support, but with social stigma and official indifference. When she attempted to seek legal recourse, she was told by authorities that because no physical "touching" had occurred, no crime had been committed. At that time, Mexican law was blind to the realities of the digital age.
"As a survivor of digital violence, I have seen how this violence does not stay on screen," Melo reflects. "It crosses into your life, your surroundings, your presence, your body, and your memory." She describes a system that gaslights survivors, making them believe they are at fault for the violations they endure, while the perpetrators operate with total impunity.
Melo’s experience is echoed by Marion Reimers, one of Mexico’s most prominent sports journalists. Reimers has spent years navigating a barrage of coordinated online harassment designed to punish her for challenging the male-dominated status quo of sports media. The attacks were not merely insults; they were strategic campaigns to damage her reputation and ruin her career. The psychological toll—depression, anxiety, and the constant fear of physical escalation—was immense. Reimers notes that the impact of a digital assault is often indistinguishable from a physical one. "If someone hacks my account or assaults me on the street, the result is very similar," she explains. Both women found themselves hitting the same wall: a legal system that lacked the vocabulary to understand digital aggression and a tech industry that refused to take accountability.
Rather than retreating, these women organized. Between 2013 and 2021, a grassroots movement led by survivors successfully lobbied for what is now known as the "Olimpia Law." This pioneering legislative framework reformed the Mexican Criminal Code to recognize digital violence as a specific crime, particularly the unauthorized distribution of intimate sexual content. The impact of the Olimpia Law has resonated far beyond Mexico’s borders, sparking a legislative domino effect across the region. Today, countries including Argentina, Ecuador, Paraguay, and Uruguay have amended their laws to include digital violence, while several Caribbean nations have enacted statutes to criminalize specific forms of online harassment.
The fight in Mexico has now entered a more sophisticated phase. With the support of UN Women and the Spanish Agency for International Development Cooperation (AECID), the country is launching a National Observatory on Digital Violence to track emerging trends and provide data-driven policy recommendations. Furthermore, a new AI-driven tool called "OlimpiA," designed by survivors, now offers 24/7 support in 30 languages, helping victims navigate the immediate aftermath of an attack.
While Mexico has made significant legislative strides, the situation in Bolivia highlights the ongoing challenges in regions where the legal framework remains underdeveloped. Here, the battle is being fought through data and documentation. Grecia Tardío, a feminist data activist with La Lupa Digital, is at the forefront of documenting how political violence against women has migrated to the digital sphere.
Tardío’s commitment is deeply personal. Her own Facebook account, containing years of digital history and records, was hacked from the very building where she worked. The experience taught her that individual vigilance is not enough. "Building safe digital environments requires protocols, responsible sharing, and constant learning about risks," she says. For Tardío, data is a form of resistance. By documenting every attack, she is making the invisible visible.
In Bolivia, the obstacles are largely institutional. The country currently lacks specific laws dedicated to digital rights and cybercrime. This legal vacuum means that judges, prosecutors, and police officers often lack the technical expertise to handle digital evidence. "There is a clear lack of gender sensitivity among the actors who should be guaranteeing protection," Tardío explains. This lack of specialized knowledge leads to low sentencing rates and reinforces a dangerous cultural narrative: that what happens online doesn’t count.
The consequences of this inaction are a direct threat to democracy. When women are hounded off social media or forced to self-censor to avoid attacks, the public discourse is impoverished. In Bolivia, despite high levels of political parity on paper, many women in office face relentless pressure to resign or stay silent. "When women in public office are silenced, society as a whole loses," Tardío warns. "What is not named does not exist. If digital violence is not named and punished, it will continue to silence the very voices that the country needs to hear."
To address these gaps, UN Women launched the "Connected and Free from Violence" project in Bolivia in 2024. This initiative produced the country’s first national survey on women’s digital experiences, titled "Conectando Bolivia." The survey has provided a much-needed roadmap, identifying the most common forms of aggression and highlighting the gendered "digital divide" that leaves women more vulnerable to tech-based abuse. The project has also developed a comprehensive "toolbox" for public officials, training over 500 members of the judiciary and the Public Prosecutor’s Office on how to handle digital violence cases with a survivor-centered, gender-sensitive approach.
The overarching goal of these movements in Mexico and Bolivia is to move beyond reactive measures and toward a future where the digital world is inherently safe for women. This requires a two-pronged approach: strengthening the State’s ability to prosecute offenders and forcing massive technology platforms to adopt more rigorous content moderation standards. Experts argue that until tech giants are held legally and financially accountable for the violence facilitated by their algorithms, the burden of safety will continue to fall unfairly on the survivors themselves.
As the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence approach, Mexico is preparing to launch its latest campaign, "#ItIsDigitalViolence." The message is simple but transformative: the harm done behind a screen is real, it is damaging, and it will no longer be tolerated.
The journey from survivor to changemaker is a difficult one, but the women of Latin America are proving that collective action can dismantle even the most pervasive systems of abuse. Through legislative reform, data activism, and unyielding solidarity, they are rewriting the "rules of the game," ensuring that the digital future belongs to everyone—not just those who use violence to dominate it. The fight to end digital violence is not just about protecting individual women; it is about protecting the very foundations of free expression and democratic participation in the 21st century.
