Refugee Youth Use Film to Champion Women’s Rights at Nairobi Screening

Across the globe, women and girls are facing a hidden yet pervasive threat—digital violence. From stolen photos and non-consensual intimate images to deepfakes, cyberbullying, online harassment, stalking, and impersonation, the digital world has become a minefield where abuse can quickly spill into real life. No country or community is immune. Every day, millions of women experience harassment that undermines their dignity, safety, and freedom. Digital violence is not just an online problem—it is a human rights crisis with real-world consequences.
On 26 November 2025 – Yesterday, stories that often go unheard found a voice in Nairobi. The Italian Embassy in Kenya, the Italian Agency for Development Cooperation (AICS), and the Italian Cultural Institute Nairobi, under the Activate Nairobi Campaign, hosted Voices Without Borders. It was more than a screening. It was a window into the lives of refugee women and girls.
The films were created by The Kamp, a group of young Sudanese refugees from Kakuma Refugee Camp, in collaboration with Historia Sin Kilómetros. Through the lens of the camera, they captured hope. They captured courage. They captured the harsh realities of displacement and gender inequality.
A discussion followed. Filmmakers, youth, and partners spoke about the power of stories. About how film can shift minds. About how art can spark action. Nira Ismail, a lead producer, explained how social media unites communities. How it amplifies voices that are often ignored.
The documentaries told real stories. Mama Bunga she said showed a woman rebuilding her life against all odds. Ha shed light on digital harassment and the silent victims it creates. Stories of interfaith love, cultural resilience, and survival emerged. Refugee youth showed that their communities are not only vulnerable. They are creative. They are strong. They can change the world.
“We tell refugee stories to the world—not just to be seen, but to inspire action, understanding, and solidarity,” said Nira Ismail.
From the camp to the city, from silence to screen, these films remind us: women’s rights matter. Every voice matters. Every story matters.
During the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence, these stories are more than art. They are a call to action. A challenge to injustice. And a beacon of hope for all who have been silenced.

Mary Tariku a refugee girl in Kakuma, never imagined that a photo could become a weapon. Someone, somewhere, had taken her pictures, created a social media page, and used it to deceive people. Husbands were charmed by messages that weren’t hers. Friends were fooled. Strangers trusted her. And then, one afternoon, reality collided violently with her life.

A knife flashed before her eyes. A woman, furious, screamed at her doorstep, convinced Mary had ruined her marriage. Mary froze. Her mother stepped between them. Calm but firm, she stopped Mary from leaving for work, from going to church—the only places Mary still found a semblance of peace. Suddenly, the walls of her world closed in. The things she loved became dangerous. Happiness became a risk.

She cried in silence for days, suffering for a lie she never created, a deceit she never even knew existed. Every attempt to report the impersonation to the police seemed like a brick wall. Calls, emails, visits—nothing. The shadow behind the fake account still lurked, faceless, untouched, unpunished.

Mary learned to live in fragments. She found small pockets of solace in quiet mornings, in her mother’s protective embrace, in moments when the world didn’t know her name had been weaponized. But the fear lingered. The anger simmered. And the truth—that she was innocent—was a story the world had yet to hear.

Her reflection in the mirror sometimes felt like a stranger. She wondered how long she could live like this, how long she could be blamed for another person’s cruelty. And still, every day, she survived. She waited. She hoped. She held on to the faint possibility that one day, justice would find her name.

But until then, Mary’s life was a battlefield painted with smiles no one believed, doors she dared not open, and prayers whispered in shadows. The person who had stolen her identity had not yet been caught, and the wound remained raw, silent, and relentless.

Digital violence is not confined to any one community, nor is it restricted to a particular group of women. In Kenya, we’ve seen women in urban centers, rural areas, and refugee camps face similar harassment—online threats, bullying, and manipulation that chip away at their dignity, safety, and freedom.
When Mary discovered that someone had used her photos to create a fake social media profile, she thought it would stay online—an abstract violation. She could never have imagined how it would cross into her real life. This story mirrors a broader truth: digital violence is pervasive. Women, whether activists, journalists, students, or refugees, experience harassment that turns virtual threats into real-world danger. In refugee camps, the effects are just as devastating. Girls and women may be targeted on social media, threatened for their expression, or coerced into unsafe situations. Evidence is often hard to collect, and justice can be slow—or absent altogether.
In Kakamega, digital violence is a growing threat, silently preying on girls and young women across the county. Many girls are manipulated into relationships, only to be scammed, harassed, or humiliated through leaked nudes, videos, or deepfake content.
The consequences are devastating. Trust is shattered, safety is compromised, and daily life is disrupted. Victims live in fear, their homes, schools, and communities no longer feeling safe.

Communities, youth groups, and authorities must act. Awareness, evidence preservation, and timely reporting are crucial to protect digital rights and ensure technology empowers rather than endangers. In Kakamega, the fight against online harassment and digital exploitation is urgent and ongoing.
What survivors like Mary and countless others have shown is that vigilance, documentation, and awareness are crucial. Reporting harassment, preserving evidence, and educating communities about online rights can save lives. Governments, through departments like the Communication Authority and the Data Protection Commission, must act decisively against any digital threat. But real change also comes from the community—supporting victims, protecting spaces where women can freely express themselves, and ensuring that online violence does not go unpunished.
Digital spaces should not be a battleground for women. The fight against online harassment is urgent, inclusive, and ongoing. And until perpetrators are held accountable, women everywhere—whether in Nairobi, Kisumu, or a refugee camp—continue to bear the burden of a violence they never asked for, a danger that follows them from the screen into real life.
Journalists too are central to this fight. Their reporting exposes systemic failures, highlights survivor stories, and pushes authorities to respond. However, they are also increasingly targeted. Women journalists, in particular, face trolling, coordinated smear campaigns, doxxing, impersonation, and threats. Many are attacked simply for doing their jobs. Protecting journalists is therefore critical. Safety mechanisms, digital security training, legal support, and strong newsroom policies are essential to ensure they continue informing the public without fear.
In the global arena, Kenya’s Universal Periodic Review (UPR) recommendations have repeatedly emphasized the need to address online violence, strengthen data protection, and ensure safety for human rights defenders—including journalists and women’s rights advocates. The UPR calls on states to adopt stronger legislation, improve law enforcement responsiveness, and enhance collaboration with tech companies to prevent online harm.