Two years into Sudan war, displaced Sudanese women face ongoing gendered violence in Egypt with limited support

The winter cold gripped the distant mountains under a clear sky spotted with bright stars. Between their peaks, a frigid wind swept through, enveloping a group of Sudanese people fleeing the war. Their truck had broken down in the middle of the desert, along the route used by smugglers transporting migrants towards the border with Egypt.

"We were just sitting there, we didn’t know if the truck would move," says Emadh Mufadal Mostafa, a 21-year-old student and activist who had been part of the Resistance Committees during the 2019 revolution. She fled Khartoum after the war broke out two years ago, moving within Sudan to escape violence before eventually deciding to migrate to Egypt.

In the wake of escalating violence and intensified military repression, personal safety became a daily negotiation. “If they [the military] saw a woman without a headscarf, or wearing pants,” she recalls, “they would assume you were an activist. They would stop you, check your phone, your bags — everything.”

The lack of freedom of movement and the impossibility of continuing her studies pushed Emadh to a difficult decision: "I’m going to Egypt. I’m going illegally. I’m going alone," she told her family. "I packed my things and travelled to the border."

After ten hours waiting in the Sudanese desert for the truck to be fixed, the wheels finally began kicking up dust from the road again. Emadh and the family beside her struggled to absorb the jolts from the potholes. Meanwhile, the young man who had fixed the truck started inching closer.

"Sometimes he would come, sit, and leave after a while. It got really cold, so we wrapped ourselves in the blankets. He kept getting close to me; he was touching me. I was stuck, thinking that they were the owners of the vehicle, and if I complained, they might drop me off there," recalls Emadh.

She grabbed her water bottle and began banging it against the vehicle. "Listen, either you take him away from me, or I get off here," she told the driver when he finally stopped, knowing full well that if she got off the truck, she would have nowhere to go.

Violence against women 

“In the context of war, women are facing all sorts of violence — including killings, arrests, and numerous cases of rape,” says Khadega El Dewehi, a women’s rights activist who was actively involved in Sudan in the years before the war — especially during the 2019 revolution.

She was involved in organising awareness sessions for women about their rights. “There is a strong women's movement there. We fought for our rights. We didn't accept the rules,” Khadega explains. 

"Since the war began, the number of enforced disappearances has increased significantly, especially among women, young girls, and children. People are often afraid to report these cases to the police, as they may end up reporting to those responsible for the disappearances," she says.

The activist explains that in Sudan, women face many forms of violence — legal violence, domestic violence, and violence in public life, including from the wider community. This is a major reason many choose to flee to Egypt.

In some cases, the violence directed against women has had extreme consequences. Last October, over 130 women in Ardamata, West Darfur, reportedly committed mass suicide to avoid being raped by members of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), according to the Darfur Women Action Group.

“We are now seeing more cases of rape,” says Khadega. “A woman is raped in Sudan and then comes here. In most cases, their families, or the men in their families, don’t know what happened, so it’s a shock for them."

Khadega continues, “One of the women [that I met] was raped by the RSF. When she arrived in Egypt, she found out she was pregnant and went to the hospital to get an abortion, without her father, who lives in Saudi Arabia, knowing. However, abortion is not permitted by law here. Even for medical reasons, it’s not allowed under Egyptian law.

"I learned from staff working with organisations that it is possible to get an abortion, but it has to be done secretly — under the table. You have to reach out to specific people to arrange it. But in hospitals, it’s strictly forbidden, and doctors refuse to perform the procedure,” she explains. 

“Eventually, [this woman] decided to keep the baby and go through with the birth. However, before her delivery appointment, I believe she was slapped, which caused her to miscarry. After that, her entire family found out she had been pregnant, and she experienced a great deal of violence from them,” Khadega shares. 

“She was so depressed... I was in contact with her until before Ramadan, but after that she stopped responding.”

According to Khadega, there are many cases where women become pregnant as a result of rape, but even when they decide to keep the baby and give birth, they continue to face challenges — such as registering the child. Authorities often ask them to present the father or provide official documents from him to complete the registration.

Another major challenge that women face is the lack of shelters for those experiencing domestic violence.

“We are now facing many cases of domestic violence,” Khadega continues. “I think it has increased since the war, because the situation has changed. There are many reasons: most family members are no longer working, there’s no access to education or employment. People are just staying at home, doing nothing. They’re dealing with severe depression or similar issues, and they can’t find help.”

She continues, “Entire families are suffering: they lost everything since they left Sudan. Even those who do have jobs often work long hours without pay.

"I think a lot of problems are happening within families, some of whom already have a history of violence. Many women talk about their experiences with violence from their fathers, mothers, brothers, and others. They’re facing many different forms of abuse. Some say they’re not even allowed to leave the house [and] it's so difficult for ladies to go to the police and report this.”

Even before the war erupted in Sudan, 20-year-old Sama Tarig had already embarked on a journey of survival.

Fleeing Khartoum with her Eritrean refugee mother to Egypt, she sought refuge from the domestic abuse inflicted by her father. “Here in Egypt, my dad can’t harm us,” she says.

Khadega explains, however, that women often contact her asking if she knows of any safe place for them to go, but she hasn’t been able to find any institution or organisation that provides women with a shelter or a temporary apartment.

Threats and violence continue in Egypt

According to the Egyptian Centre for Women’s Rights, in Egypt, 31% of women are subjected to domestic violence.

Sudanese women and girls who have fled to the country to escape the war back home are also facing an alarming surge in gender-based violence, according to a February 2025 report by Refugees International.

Egyptian law addresses domestic violence through general provisions in the Penal Code, such as those covering assault, destruction of property, or theft within the family context.

However, there is no comprehensive, standalone law specifically targeting domestic violence or providing tailored protections for women, as the legal framework is designed to apply equally to all individuals, regardless of gender.

The Refugees International report states that many Sudanese women arrive having already endured sexual violence during the conflict, only to encounter continued threats in Egypt — from street harassment to assault, particularly in public spaces and informal workplaces.

“Once in Abdeen, a guy on a motorcycle grabbed me by my arm and hurt me. No one helped,” says Shahinaz Ahmed Mohamed, a 45-year-old woman who arrived in Cairo a year ago with her three-year-old child and her father, who suffers from bipolar disorder, after enduring violence at the hands of the RSF.

“In another incident, a taxi driver tried to harass me. Even when I screamed, no one responded.”

Khadega explains, Many ladies share the same experience of harassment in the street and public transportation… even if you request [a private trip] through an application, like Didi or Uber. Most women are afraid to move freely, especially in popular areas, like Faisal or Haram.” 

Shahinaz confirms this, “Our movements are limited. Even something simple like riding a scooter is a risk. It’s safer not to go to certain areas.

"Hadayek Helwan was the worst place I've lived. Maadi was much better: I lived there before, and people were used to a Sudanese-friendly, familiar environment. In Faisal, it’s a mix. Some good, some bad.”

How do we protect ourselves?  

The Refugees International report states that Egypt’s lack of a “specific domestic legislation” has led to the delegation of refugee matters to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) — currently facing severe shortages in funding and staffing — and a limited number of “overwhelmed” NGOs.

As a result, many asylum seekers and refugee women are left in a precarious position. Without legal documentation, they often live in fear of detention or deportation, which discourages them from reporting violence or seeking protection.

“When it comes to migrant women, we have a general legal rule: if a crime happens in a specific country, the law of that country applies — whether the person is foreign or not,” says Manal Mossad, an Egyptian lawyer who has been working in the field of women rights for 25 years.

“The problem isn’t the law — it’s the implementation. Refugees and foreigners are often mistreated because they don’t understand how to navigate the Egyptian system. Most people avoid the problem — they want to stay out of trouble,” she continues.

“Refugees fear going to the police because they don’t know what will happen, so they lose their rights. They avoid filing complaints because they don’t know how to talk to the police. Egyptian police are very harsh, unfortunately.”

The lawyer adds, “Even though the police stations have informative posters everywhere, the reality is very different. Ask what a refugee is — they think it’s just someone with a yellow or blue ID card. But when that person enters the police station, no one takes them seriously. They aren’t seen as people with real problems.”

According to the Refugees International report, the shortage of non-governmental organisations offering critical services — such as sexual and reproductive healthcare and psychological support — adds another layer of urgency.

In Cairo, where the majority of Sudanese refugees are concentrated, access to these resources is especially sparse.

"Accessibility to organisations is so difficult. Most people don’t know about them,” says Khadega.

“Even in organisations that have a hotline, it's not accessible, it's not easy. When you go to the UN office, they hand you a list of NGOs. But you have to chase them down for help. That’s your right — they should offer it to you," she continues.

“Maybe the system is broken or outdated. Maybe they just don’t want to help us. Even the mail system has issues,” says Shahinaz. “So, how do we protect ourselves? We bury our heads in the sand until things improve.”

The Refugees International report states that access to mental health and psychosocial support (MHPSS) remains severely limited, deepening the trauma for survivors of gender-based violence. This is why Sudanese-led grassroots groups and civil society initiatives are trying to fill the gap.

One such initiative is the Hawa Initiative for Holistic Healing, coordinated by Omaima El Zubair, a 48-year-old activist and women’s rights defender who arrived in Egypt in 2005.

With a focus on psychological support, the initiative offers a combination of psychological and legal assistance.

Backed by a team of 50 psychologists and supported by the Egyptian lawyer Manal, Omaima helps women rebuild their self-confidence.

“They are people who can do something, but they are locked in a paradigm that says refugees have no agency, or just somebody who just needs help, needy people,” Omaima tells The New Arab. 

Sama, the Sudanese young girl who fled to Egypt with her Eritrean mother before the war erupted, was also once a beneficiary of Hawa.

Now, she has transformed her personal struggle into a mission of empowerment, founding her own initiative dedicated to supporting refugee women, many of whom share similar stories of displacement due to gender based violence.

Simultaneously, Emadh, who is now studying her degree in Cairo, also frequently joins spaces and debates in Sudanese-led circles where — among other women like Khadega and Shaninaz — they try to support each other, come up with solutions and continue their advocacy for women’s rights from Egypt.

“We’ve worked in child and women protection, fighting violence in the community,” says Shahinaz.

“But it’s a hard road: changing minds, the absence of parents, societal thinking — that’s what needs to change. And that only happens through education, advocacy, and creating strong laws. The process is long and harsh.”

Alejandro Matrán is a journalist, actor, and musician. He is also the founder of @thenewmidd

Follow him on X: @AlejandroMatran

Javier Jennings Mozo is an audio-visual freelance journalist based in Cairo who specialises in social issues. He has previously covered the Balkans and Spain

Follow him on X: @javierjenningsm