The roots of Sudan’s current conflict can be traced to 2019, when a popular revolution removed the previous president (who had ruled for nearly three decades) and replaced him with a civilian government. Two armed groups, the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), collaborated to help bring down the president, but later pushed out the civilian government and instituted military rule. The two militias turned against each other in the years following, eventually leading to violent conflict erupting in Sudan’s capital Khartoum in April 2023. The violence has spread throughout the country, particularly in the western region Darfur due to RSF presence in the area. The fighting has taken place in densely populated civilian areas, resulting in mass killings, destruction of homes, and catastrophic levels of displacement. 

Millions of internally displaced persons (IDPs), mostly women, children, and the elderly, are being hosted by extended families or living in temporary shelters. Some have managed to go beyond the country’s borders, crossing into Chad, Central Africa Republic, Ethiopia, South Sudan, and Egypt. Often, however, people who have no other options remain displaced within the conflict zones. So little is acknowledged about the plight of those displaced, their day to day struggles remain invisible to global audiences. Sadly, the information that does reach international arenas is severely distorted by orientalist media reporting. 

The reporting of the current conflict in Sudan should not be seen as an opportunity to reproduce essentialist, racialized, and gendered representations of people’s lives in a way that validates apathy toward their suffering. There is a fear among human rights activists, however, that this is exactly what is happening in this case. The lack of a coordinated international response to the plight of Sudan’s most vulnerable groups indicates that those with the power to leverage an end to the conflict have not been pushed to moral panic. 

As two authors positioned across the Global South/North divide, who have for many years championed the rights of women globally and worked together in Sudan on programs focused on ending forms of violence such as female genital mutilation (FGM), we bring shared and critical perspectives to the issue of gendered inequality. In this review piece we argue that, at times of crisis, it is critical that the humanitarian and international media lens gender conflict in order to bring visibility to those most impacted. 

That said, certain contextual realities have to be acknowledged. The narratives that this gender lens extracts must be sensitive and nuanced, balancing the harsh realities of these women’s lives—life in Sudan is hard for women even outside of conflict—with their endless capacity for resilience. 

Social Upheaval

In Sudan, cultural, religious, and gendered values restrict the mobility of women and limit their social interactions. Girls are not allowed to travel or walk long distances for school or go alone to fetch firewood or water. Even in urban areas, girls are seldom allowed to go to school or university alone, limiting their access to education; when they are allowed, they are dependent on having male guardians escort them for safety. When it comes to decision making, domains of responsibility are still strictly and conservatively delineated. Women are responsible for domestic issues and men, who can interact freely in public, take the lead on all matters outside of the home. Mothers are accountable for the conduct of girls and primarily responsible for their upbringing while income and social networking (largely with other men) is a male preserve. 

After the conflict erupted last year, traditional norms were suddenly shaken as men were drawn into the conflict or left their families in search of work when income generation dried up at home. The cost of this gendered segregation in daily life is now being experienced disproportionately by women and girls. Women, who must now hold their families together, may not feel sufficiently experienced to make the life-or-death decisions now expected of them. Few women have skills in income generation outside of the home but now find themselves in a position of having to feed their entire family. These are the stories that are not being shared. 

Furthermore, one of the most disastrous consequences of the fighting has been that state institutions, infrastructure, and services have been wiped out, particularly in sectors relating to health and education. Prior to the outbreak of fighting in April 2023, most families were living in poverty and 70% of health facilities in Sudan lacked essential life saving drugs, particularly in suburban and rural areas. The majority of these are now sites where IDPs are being hosted, straining under the meager resources and significant shortage of health personnel. 

Most of the reproductive health needs of women and adolescent girls are not met. The few initiatives by the UN and international and national organizations continue to be hindered by the ongoing conflict. There is a widespread lack of safety and security at health facilities which puts health care providers, clients, and community volunteers at risk. The systematic attacks on and looting of health facilities, assets, and equipment has caused deep suffering and led to many deaths among those living with chronic illnesses. Maternal mortality rates have also increased dramatically as women have no health support and nowhere to go to give birth safely. 

Further worsening the catastrophe which has befallen Sudan’s most vulnerable is that after the majority of the banks closed, looting began and most formal public and private services were disrupted. This resulted in mass redundancies in employment and left some families mostly dependent on funds transferred from relatives outside Sudan. Not all families have such a network, however, and most are dependent on small-scale services that humanitarian agencies now provide in IDP shelters or host neighborhoods. In short, many families have shifted from a secure existence to extreme poverty in what must feel like a mere heartbeat.

Those who have remained in states where active conflict is ongoing live in desperate circumstances, facing huge shortages of food and water. Health services are not accessible in most areas and neighborhoods are not safe for anyone to move around, let alone women and girls who face the danger of abduction, harassment, and sexual violence.

This dire situation is exacerbated by the destruction of markets and industries, which has led to resource shortages, increased food prices, and dramatic upticks in rent. Meeting even basic needs is out of reach for many families who now have no choice but to live on the street or in public places like schools. Others have taken even more desperate measures to reduce the cost of living, giving or selling young daughters in marriage (a theme we pick up later). Meanwhile, concerns for the safety of loved ones creates deep, ongoing psychological distress for many. This is compounded by the fact that people no longer have the luxury to spend time deliberating where to live, or even to have options in the first place. 

So much of this suffering is invisible from outside of the country; the daily struggle for basic survival and the risks women and girls must take to conduct previously simple tasks, like collecting water, continue to be met with silence from international bystanders. 

As it stands, more than 4 million women and girls are at risk of gender-based violence (GBV) in Sudan. Protective spaces no longer exist; the closure of schools and poor access to health facilities means there is nowhere for girls and women to seek safe harbor. It is well documented that early marriage is often utilized, not just to reduce the food burden on families, but as a means of achieving some degree of security for young girls during conflict. Cases of child marriage have reportedly been on the rise in Sudan since the beginning of the war.

This situation has exacerbated the deeply rooted gender inequalities already described. These inequalities are perpetuated by religious, cultural, and social structures which were consolidated and legitimized through the policies of the ex-regime. The precedent of using sexual violence and exploitation against girls and women during conflict has long been thoroughly documented during the previous war in Darfur. It has become abundantly clear that the current conflict is no different; reports of both parties weaponizing sexual violence have been produced, but they are met by a muted international response. 

GBV, child abuse, and forced military recruitment are just some of the daily vulnerabilities many IDPs face. Schools have been shut down to be used as shelters for IDPs, resulting in many children roaming unsafe and potentially violent streets. The absence of social protections normally provided by familiar communities complicates the situation. A lack of privacy makes it hard for families to protect one another, an issue made more challenging by persistent overcrowding. In short, these conditions have heightened daily insecurity and triggered a massive spike in instances of violence against women and children. The UN Human Rights Commission recently published a report expressing grave concern about human trafficking in Sudan, particular with regard to children who have been kidnapped and forced into combat training by militia groups. Women and girls are also being increasingly sold into sex trafficking rings as a way to raise funds for these groups. 

Women Building Peace

After the conflict erupted in Khartoum State in April 2023, women-led organizations spearheaded the response to the war. Around 49 women-led peace initiatives, humanitarian groups, and civil society organizations came together and—supported by the UN Women’s Sudan office—formed “The Peace for Sudan Platform”. The platform is a network that includes representatives from different regions of the country and facilitates coordination, communication, and collaboration between members. Other Sudanese youth and women’s organizations operating in host states, in addition to those who had been working in those states even before the conflict started, are making great efforts in providing shelter, food, water, healthcare, and psychological and social support.

These civil society actors also monitor human rights violations and raise awareness in an attempt to lobby more international support to stop the war. Members are working hard to create inclusion and social harmony through dialogue among IDPs who have been forced to come together from different parts of Sudan. Youth participation in sports, drama, singing, and art have become critical activities offering safe spaces and respite from the ongoing traumas of war and poverty.  Some organizations provide psychosocial support for survivors of sexual and gender-based violence. These groups work with women to enhance their psychological resilience so they can continue to keep their children alive and safe. With the difficulty in organizing face-to-face meetings, many organizations have created WhatsApp groups, despite weak mobile communication networks. These groups have become vital in keeping support operations going and in pooling evidence of the horrific gendered impact of the war. Most of these groups are also supported technically and financially by Sudanese expatriates.

The description above paints a picture of many local organizations working to provide essential services, but most lack financial support and depend on volunteers. Additionally, most organizations have no formal safety or financial structures. This weak civil society infrastructure cannot meet the extensive needs of the displaced population. Meanwhile, the instability created by conflict means that international staff are frequently evacuated with little notice. Many Sudanese aid workers are forced daily to flee to safer parts of the country or across borders, resulting in what little provisions were available suddenly disappearing for those who remain. 

These realities require deep reflection by a range of stakeholders and global bodies. The situation in Sudan must be examined as one part of a much bigger political-economy analysis that recognises the ways in which the experiences and vulnerabilities of women and girls are rendered invisible during conflict.

Western Bias and Inaction

To date, these stories have emerged only in sporadic news items. The invisibility of women and girls in global media is inexcusable given the extent to which, as described above, such conflicts are highly gendered. The systematic targeting of women from marginalized groups is reflective of a global misogyny that fails time and time again to prioritize the needs of women and girls and enact protective measures. The World Bank’s statistics show that 30% of all women worldwide have experienced some form of sexual violence during their lifetime. 

“The data are clear: gender-based violence is a pandemic. Thirty years since the landmark UN CEDAW commitment to end all forms of violence against women and girls, the problem remains immense. Understanding the prevalence of sexual violence and associated risk factors, however, is only the first step in developing essential prevention and support services for survivors.”

Despite this evidence, political stakeholders and media consumers alike continue to be surprised when images emerge of the gendered impact of war. Yet the global data, such as a recent UN report on sexual violence published in 2023, makes the normative realities of violence in the lives of women and girls across the globe very clear. The critical issue is how to embed a gender-transformative approach into sustainable programs of preventative and responsive action. How can the local response on the ground, outlined above, be better supported for the long-term? How can we ensure that when conflict hits, local civil society is immediately resourced and bolstered?

Those of us who have researched and worked in the field of women’s rights for decades know that the patriarchal structures described above embed violence in the daily lives of women and girls. We also know that these inequalities and associated violence only intensify when communities and families come under stress. We have already shared, in the context of the Sudan crisis, that the rate of child marriage and FGM has increased—and commonly does during famine, drought, and conflict. The bodies of women and girls become highly commodified during periods of food insecurity and deep poverty. When families run out of ways to generate an income and resources run dry, they turn to the last remaining object to trade: unmarried daughters. Daughters in such extreme situations are given in marriage to alleviate food insecurity, fetching a bride-price either monetarily or materially through livestock, animal feed, or land. Growing research has generated strong evidence to highlight the cruel links between gender, sexual violence, and child marriage.

In Sudan, midwives have been at the forefront of national public health campaigns to convince families to end FGM. Many state-employed midwives were traditional cutters who made money from performing FGM on young girls. They also gained status from their position as circumcisers with families honoring them for years after. As the global drive to end FGM grew from the early 2000s, fueled by Western donors, training and awareness programs were introduced to encourage a change in mindset. 

As a result, many traditional midwives/cutters began to work in public health and received this new training which seemed to work in transforming their attitudes toward FGM. State training and employment meant these workers were able to derive an income from the health department rather than from families wishing to observe FGM. Now that most of the health infrastructure in Sudan has been destroyed—bar the most basic provisions—it is highly likely that FGM will resurge. Midwives who are no longer able to receive a salary working in the public health sector will likely return to their old income habits. Furthermore, laws finally ratified across the country’s federal system designed to criminalise FGM barely had any time to be implemented before the country collapsed into chaos.  While the legislation may endure, it is now unenforceable, making it easy for families with weak conviction to revert to the practice. Again, the fragility of the foundation on which much needed gendered transformation was built has been exposed. 

Yet, despite this robust data, humanitarian responses rarely include measures to mitigate or stop child marriage. Trauma relief programs are sometimes offered but more systematic preventative actions are often absent. Humanitarian stakeholders have developed a number of immediate interventions, including GBV prevention officers and case workers who are deployed as soon as crises hit. However, as already discussed, foreign humanitarian workers often flee when insecurity becomes too great, leaving facilities suddenly shut. This reality brings us back to the question: why is more support not given to grassroot civil society organizations run by local people who are much less likely to flee?

The extent of sexual violence and the shame it brings on individual women and their families means that many instances go unreported. The kind of responses humanitarian agencies deploy, while welcome, do not go far enough in tackling the root causes behind the increase in multiple forms of gendered violence. Civil society actors are much more likely to understand the localized complexities of these root causes and provide nuanced responses that, if resourced, can be sustained despite conflict or other crises. 

The reality of the conflict in Sudan is that decades of progress toward ending violence against women and children, such as FGM and child marriage, are likely to be wiped out as a result of the latest conflict. These rapid regressions reveal how fragile any shift toward gender equality actually is. The harsh realities outlined above reflect the failure of the international community to provide a strong and unified political response to the conflict in Sudan. Western media’s sporadic reporting on the gendered cost of the violence in Sudan is indicative of how the war may be perceived in households across the Global North: onlookers are momentarily horrified, but quickly forget the continuing carnage. Critical decolonial thinking is needed on why this seems to be the common response. 

It may be that the violence in Sudan is normalized by conscious or unconscious perceptions of the country which have long been shaped by colonial narratives that assert a western cultural superiority over such brutality. This brutality, however, is considered by many scholars as the direct result of the country’s colonial history. For those of us positioned in the Global North, who call ourselves feminist research-activists, further challenges arise.

Empowering Women’s Voices

How do we make visible the extreme global misogyny playing out in yet another country in a way that gives dignity and respect to those caught in the current gendered horrors? How, in our drive to speak about the lives of women and girls in Sudan, do we avoid reproducing voyeuristic and essentialist depictions of African women as voiceless victims? Maintaining the distinction between “giving a voice to” rather than “speaking for” these women continues to haunt those of us who work to end all forms of abuse against women and girls, including forms often mislabeled as “cultural” rather than simply as violence.  

The arguments of many early postcolonial scholars (one, two, three) still ring alarmingly true. Those that wrote about how the suffering of black women often creates (intentionally or otherwise) a binary between “modernized Western women” and “backward yet-to-be-liberated African women”, sit uncomfortably amidst the periodic silence with which the reporting on Sudan is met.

Critical analysis of the coverage of the conflict in Sudan is urgently needed and must take a frank look at the extent to which an orientalist gaze is still used by the media in its reporting on the sexual violence and unfolding genocide. Exploration is needed into the extent to which this gaze then feeds into a complacent reaction that allows those who should be acting to feel excused from doing so. To be clear, it is not the documenting of the violence that is the issue, nor is it a problem that empowered survivors are occasionally being given the space to speak. Instead, the problem is that Western viewers may perceive the stories of survivors merely as evidence that Sudan is destined to be in conflict and thus, it is a problem for the Sudanese people alone to handle. The extremities of violence in Sudan seem to be associated, in Western minds, not with a complex history involving imperialist struggles for power and empire, but instead an oversimplified national narrative focused on conveying how the country’s political actors alone are responsible for the current conflict. This interpretation makes the present horrors easy to shrug off as not the responsibility of anyone from the outside.