Sudan’s Shadow War: Why 11 Million Women and Girls Are Facing a Famine of Silence
For more than two years, the geographical and political fault lines of Sudan have not just been drawn on maps; they have been carved into the bodies, homes, and futures of the nation’s women and girls. As the conflict between warring factions continues to tear the country apart, a devastating new report from UN Women reveals that the humanitarian catastrophe has reached a tipping point, with gender serving as the most brutal predictor of survival. In a nation where every frontline represents a site of trauma, the latest gender alert, “Gender Dimensions of Food Insecurity in Sudan,” paints a harrowing picture of a population pushed to the absolute brink. Nearly 11 million women and girls are now experiencing acute food insecurity, a statistic that translates into a daily struggle for life in a landscape where “eating last and eating least” has become a lethal reality.
The crisis is no longer a looming threat; it is a lived nightmare. In regions like El Fasher and Kadugli, the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) officially declared famine in November 2025. This declaration follows months of escalating violence that has seen food systems collapse, markets looted, and agricultural cycles destroyed. But the hunger is not felt equally. According to the UN data, 73.7 per cent of Sudanese women are failing to meet the minimum dietary diversity required for health. This is not merely a shortage of calories; it is a systematic deprivation that signals heightened risks of chronic malnutrition, disease, and maternal mortality. In Sudan today, being a woman is a primary indicator of whether or not you will go to bed hungry—if you have a bed at all.
As the fighting has engulfed El Fasher, the capital of North Darfur, the situation has transitioned from a humanitarian emergency to a total collapse of human dignity. Women fleeing the city describe a gauntlet of horrors. For those who remain, the infrastructure of life has been systematically dismantled. The city’s last remaining maternity hospital—a sanctuary for the most vulnerable—was reportedly looted and destroyed, leaving pregnant women to face the agony of childbirth in the streets or in makeshift shelters under the shadow of bombardment. This destruction of reproductive healthcare is not an incidental byproduct of war; it is a central feature of the suffering being visited upon the civilian population.
The journey to perceived safety is often as dangerous as the conflict zones themselves. Thousands of women and girls have fled toward Tawila, Korma, and Malit, seeking refuge in areas where humanitarian services are agonizingly scarce. Along these routes, the threat of sexual and gender-based violence is omnipresent. Survivors report that every essential task—fetching water from a distant well, searching for firewood to cook meager rations, or even standing in line for hours at a food distribution point—is fraught with the risk of assault. There is mounting, chilling evidence that rape is being utilized deliberately and systematically as a weapon of war. In the words of UN observers, women’s bodies have become “crime scenes,” utilized by combatants to humiliate, displace, and break the spirit of entire communities.
The psychological toll of this systemic violence is immeasurable. Women fleeing the carnage in North Darfur speak of witnessing the summary execution of family members, the disappearance of their children into the chaos of the conflict, and the unrelenting fear of being targeted for their gender. Yet, in the face of this unprecedented trauma, mental health support is virtually non-existent. There are no safe spaces left where women can gather to grieve, seek counsel, or find protection. The collapse of these social and medical safety nets has left a generation of Sudanese women in a state of severe psychological distress, navigating the world’s most extreme gender crisis with almost no professional support.
The economic dimensions of this crisis further illustrate the impossible choices forced upon families. In North Darfur, the cost of basic necessities has soared beyond the reach of the average person. For instance, a single packet of sanitary pads now costs approximately USD 27. When one considers that families receiving humanitarian cash assistance are often granted less than USD 150 per month for a household of six, the math of survival becomes grim. A woman’s basic monthly hygiene necessity now consumes nearly a quarter of an entire family’s total aid package. When forced to choose between feeding a starving child or maintaining a woman’s health and dignity, the needs of women and girls are inevitably pushed to the bottom of the list. This “deprioritization of the feminine” is a quiet tragedy that deepens the suffering of millions every single day.
Amidst this darkness, the only flicker of hope comes from the women themselves. Women-led organizations (WLOs) have emerged as the bedrock of the humanitarian response in Sudan. While international agencies struggle with access and security, it is the local women’s groups who remain on the ground, sustaining essential services and delivering lifesaving support under fire. They are the ones operating secret clinics, organizing community kitchens, and documenting the atrocities that the rest of the world is often too slow to acknowledge. These organizations are not just providing aid; they are preserving the social fabric of a nation that is being torn apart.
The intergenerational impact of this crisis is also a growing concern for global health experts. Research indicates that up to 30 per cent of child malnutrition begins in utero. With millions of Sudanese mothers facing extreme hunger and lacking access to prenatal care, the current famine is seeding a future of stunted growth and developmental challenges for the next generation of Sudanese children. The “Last and Least” phenomenon is not just a present-day tragedy; it is a long-term assault on the country’s future viability.
The international community’s response has been criticized by many on the ground as being too little, too late. While the “Grand Bargain”—an international agreement to improve the effectiveness of humanitarian aid—commits 25 per cent of funding to local organizations, including women-led groups, the reality in Sudan is that these frontline heroes are often the least funded and the most at risk. UN Women continues to maintain a presence in the country, working to amplify the voices of these local partners and advocating for a response that recognizes the unique vulnerabilities of women. They argue that the war in Sudan is, in many ways, a war on women, and that any path to peace or recovery must have women’s leadership and protection at its core.
As the conflict shows no signs of abating, the message from the ground is clear: the women and girls of Sudan are not mere statistics in a news cycle. They are the measure of our shared global humanity. Every day that passes without significant international intervention or a cessation of hostilities is a day where another mother buries a child lost to hunger, another girl is subjected to the horrors of conflict-related sexual violence, and another family is forced to sacrifice its dignity for a handful of grain.
The situation in Sudan is a stark reminder that in modern warfare, the frontline is often the domestic sphere. When water, food, and medicine are weaponized, women—who traditionally bear the responsibility for these resources—become the primary targets. The world can no longer afford to look away from the “Gender Alert” emanating from Darfur and beyond. The crisis in Sudan demands an immediate and urgent shift in how the world approaches humanitarian aid, placing the safety, nutrition, and dignity of women and girls not at the bottom of the priority list, but at the very top. Justice for the women of Sudan is not just a moral imperative; it is the only way to ensure that the nation has a future left to rebuild when the guns finally fall silent. Until then, the women of Sudan remain the silent sentinels of a country in agony, waiting for a world that promised “never again” to finally act.
