Understanding of technology-facilitated gender-based violence beyond social media-centred analysis
In late February, the Feminist Internet Research Network (FIRN), alongside the Association of Progressive Communications (APC), hosted a satellite event at RightsCon 2025, in Taipei, Taiwan. RightsCon is an annual gathering where activists, feminists, technologists, academics, journalists, and business and government representatives from around the world engage in discussions around contemporary issues of digital human rights. The satellite event, titled “Expanded Notions of Technology-facilitated Gender-based Violence (TFGBV)”, was an extension of FIRN’s efforts to broaden the current framing of TFGBV by forefronting the current socio-political realities, particularly in contexts of war, conflict and repression, in the larger part of the world.
In our reflection for the AWID International Forum, we argued that “TFGBV manifests itself in the form of extreme silencing, propaganda and gendered disinformation, to legistimise the violence and dehumanise the minoritised, and silence those who dissent and speak up.” At the RightsCon event too, along with about 100 participants from diverse backgrounds and countries, we (a) explored the timeline of activism and recognition of online GBV/TFGBV over the past two decades, (b) discussed a TFGBV framework that goes beyond a social media-centred analysis, and (c) shared policy and advocacy opportunities for 2025.
The session was grounded in our resistance towards the idea of a global definition of TFGBV given that violence is experienced differently, and it is always contextual. The attempt to categorise what is and what is not TFGBV could inadvertently exclude experiences or realities of minoritised communities who are often excluded from information and access to advocacy spaces. In addition to the urgency to include multiple perspectives and realities in which TFGBV is framed in our advocacy space, along with our partners, advisors and friends, we seek to complicate the normative Western discourse and white body through which technology, power and violence are theorised.
The session was grounded in our resistance towards the idea of a global definition of TFGBV given that violence is experienced differently, and it is always contextual.
Mapping TFGBV-related activism over the past 15 to 20 years
In our first session, we set out to map the activism and efforts against TFGBV over the past years with archival work and reflective intentions. On large sheets of paper, participants contributed a tapestry of stories, drawings and hashtags, weaving together a powerful narrative of gender, harassment and the fight for justice across different countries represented in the room, majorly from the Global South. This collective reflection naturally connected to threads of various campaigns and moments of activism against TFGBV, highlighting key moments of resistance, structural violence, and the ongoing struggle for safety and accountability, both online and offline.
As participants jogged their memories and recalled past violence in digital spaces, the conversation expanded beyond well-documented cases like #MeToo and #GamerGate to include more personal and less-publicised experiences of harassment and abuse. The discussion moved from social media platforms to private digital spaces such as chat boxes in mobile banking apps, closed forums, and encrypted messaging services, all illustrating how TFGBV is multilayered and intersectional. This resonated with FIRN’s findings: experiences of TFGBV are shaped by different social locations, producing unique standpoints and vulnerabilities. Yet, historicising and locating our activism was a humbling reminder of our collective resilience in reimagining a feminist internet.
A major finding from this activity was how feminist movements challenging gendered power structures face immediate and coordinated TFGBV. Campaigns such as #MeToo, #NiUnaMenos and #MeuPrimeiroAssédiohave been met with doxxing, cyberstalking, and death threats aimed at silencing survivors and activists. The #GamerGate controversy exemplified how women advocating for inclusivity in gaming became prime targets of large-scale harassment. Similarly, the #EleNão movement in Brazil faced digital abuse as women journalists and activists opposing Jair Bolsonaro’s misogyny were relentlessly attacked. The LASTESIS performance in Chile, denouncing sexual violence, also triggered severe online and offline threats. Meanwhile, #AskForConsent, advocating for digital accountability, sparked backlash from those resistant to discussions about consent. These cases underscore how feminist activism in digital spaces often provokes aggressive counterattacks, reinforcing the need for stronger protective mechanisms and resistance strategies.
At the same time, institutional and political opposition to feminist movements is frequently amplified by digital spaces, where governments and power structures weaponise online platforms to suppress dissent. The #BringBackOurGirls movement in Nigeria, which exposed gendered violence by Boko Haram, became a target of misinformation campaigns[1] aimed at discrediting people who spoke up. In the Philippines, the #BabaeAko campaign, which challenged Rodrigo Duterte’s sexist remarks,[2] faced a surge in online abuse, highlighting how political leaders and their supporters mobilise TFGBV to maintain dominance. Similarly, Spain’s #SeAcabó movement, which shed light on gendered violence in women’s football following the Luis Rubiales case, triggered a wave of online attacks against those advocating for justice. In Brazil, the #QuemMandouMatarMarielle campaign, which sought justice for the assassination of Marielle Franco, encountered digital smear campaigns attempting to undermine her legacy. These cases demonstrate how feminist activism often faces societal backlash and state-driven digital suppression, illustrating the intersection of political power and TFGBV in efforts to silence feminist resistance.
Additionally, online misogyny thrives on the fear of feminist progress, with technology frequently weaponised to silence those advocating for change. The backlash against #MyLifeIsNotYourPorn in South Korea saw women activists facing digital threats, reflecting how men’s entitlement over digital spaces mirrors offline misogyny. Similarly, Iraq’s #NoToForcedHijab movement encountered severe online harassment aimed at discrediting and intimidating activists. In Pakistan, the #MeraJismMeriMarzi movement, which championed bodily autonomy, faced coordinated cyberattacks from conservatives. India’s Pink Chaddi Campaign, protesting moral policing, was met with trolling and threats, illustrating how patriarchal control extends into digital spaces. Additionally, online abuse campaigns emerged in response to #DigitalEsReal in Chile and #SLETDET in Denmark, with resistance from groups defending harmful online cultures. The Sulli Deals Scandal in India further exemplified how TFGBV intersects with systemic discrimination, as Muslim women were deliberately targeted through an online marketplace.
Across different regions, TFGBV intensifies where feminist protests challenge deeply ingrained societal structures. In Latin America, movements like #NiUnaMenos, LASTESIS and #MeuPrimeiroAssédio have fought against femicide, gender-based violence and sexual harassment, facing pushback from conservative groups. In South Asia, campaigns such as the Pink Chaddi Campaign, #MeraJismMeriMarzi and the Sulli Deals Scandal have confronted moral policing and bodily autonomy issues, encountering heavy digital backlash. Similarly, in the Middle East, feminist protests like #NoToForcedHijab have been met with intense online and offline resistance, reflecting the broader struggle for women's rights in authoritarian and religiously conservative societies. In Africa, feminist movements have increasingly faced digital retaliation as they challenge systemic gender-based violence and patriarchal norms. In Nigeria, the #BringBackOurGirlsmovement, and the #MarketMarch protests, which denounced sexual harassment in marketplaces, sparked online abuse and backlash. In Kenya, #MyDressMyChoice, a movement that emerged after a woman was publicly stripped for wearing a short skirt, faced widespread digital harassment, with victim-blaming narratives flooding online spaces. These cases highlight how digital platforms are weaponised to suppress feminist resistance while reinforcing patriarchal control.
The intersection of TFGBV and feminist protests mentioned in this session suggests a clear trend: the more visible and disruptive a movement is in challenging patriarchal norms, the more aggressively it is targeted through TFGBV and other forms of violence.
The intersection of TFGBV and feminist protests mentioned in this session suggests a clear trend: the more visible and disruptive a movement is in challenging patriarchal norms, the more aggressively it is targeted through TFGBV and other forms of violence.
Expanding the notions around TFGBV in the context of war, conflict and repression
The second session started off with sharing from our discussants from Ethiopia, Myanmar, India, Pakistan and Yemen on their observation of how TFGBV manifests in the context of war, conflict zones and repression. Discussants spoke of how artificial intelligence (AI)-generated content is drastically polluting and spamming our information ecosystem, significantly exacerbating the threat of mis- and disinformation. The lower barrier to AI-powered tools has rendered it quicker and cheaper to churn out misleading content, and it is getting increasingly difficult to differentiate facts and lies. For instance, in Myanmar, an altered image showing a woman with a sword confronting an armed vehicle in Myanmar was shared on social media as the crackdown against anti-coup protesters intensified.
Speakers from Pakistan raised a critical insight on the need to expand the current notion of TFGBV beyond social media and to the use of AI and big data in militarised violence. We are living in an unprecedented time where technology is abused to enable mass killing and genocide. In addition to holding governments accountable, more than ever, we should investigate and articulate the culpability of big tech companies who, whether knowingly or unknowingly, develop and supply the tools, data and infrastructure that enable the operations of these technologies during war and genocide.
We are living in an unprecedented time where technology is abused to enable mass killing and genocide. In addition to holding governments accountable, more than ever, we should investigate and articulate the culpability of big tech companies
Most notably, during the ongoing war on Gaza, an AI-powered targeting system, “Lavender”, marked as many as 37,000 Palestinians as targets in the first week of war, a process that led to approval of killing with no requirement for due diligence or to examine the source of intelligence data on which decisions were based.[3]Another system named “Where’s Daddy” was built to track down the targeted individuals and their family residences, where bombings would be carried out at night, killing mostly women and children and without verifying whether the target was at home.
During the session, one of the discussants shared the drone attack by the Ethiopian Defense Force, killing 16 civilians, including a 12-year-old boy in Ethiopia’s Amhara region. Just like that, with no reasons or justification by the government. The government has used these drone attacks as a “collective punishment”[4] making the country a test ground for a trial exercise of drone technology.[5]
These AI-powered targeting systems, whether used in Gaza or elsewhere, to boost their offence or defence, rely on big data that is collected through mass surveillance and across a range of intelligence sources. This includes metadata, physical data, social media connections and activities, and data such as photos, videos, documents, etc. stored in the cloud. The ubiquitousness of networked technology is trapping us all in the continuous invisible cycle of data collection and surveillance which we did not consent to.[6]
Who knew that the little chips in our mobile phone, or liking a poem on Facebook, or calling out genocide in a group chat, or giving care to a stranger could put one’s name on an AI-generated kill list. No data is ever flawless. Our datasets are as prejudiced, discriminatory and oppressive as the world we lived in. Entrusting AI systems to decide who lives and who should be killed based on pre-programmed labels and identities will only reinforce structural oppression.
Our datasets are as prejudiced, discriminatory and oppressive as the world we lived in.
We are at a reckoning moment where humanity is being commodified for the pursuit of efficiency, where human lives and relationships are callously reduced into cold, sterile datasets; where killings are delegated to a soulless machine that has no capacity for remorse; where we see people and corporations escaping accountability and moral responsibility for the destruction of lives. It is even more frustrating when AI and weapon systems are designed and developed with the very intention to repress, control and terrorise.
What’s next for policy advocacy
Building on the two sessions, the last session focused on thinking about how to expand and reshape policy advocacy. Discussants shared the challenges they face in navigating the discourse of AI in law and technology regulation policy frameworks. These challenges relate not only to the requirement for some technical knowledge, but also the fact that the policy-making spaces around AI-powered weapons are often classified as “national defence” and therefore remain inaccessible to many. Moreover, it remains true that the global policy spaces continue to reflect the same power inequality by sidelining those who are most affected by these technologies. There is also a troubling dissonance between the way global policy is centred around the voices of white bodies while being detached from the real struggles faced by the larger world. This is further intensified by the global financial crisis, with civil society groups experiencing funding cuts, people losing jobs and communities losing access to life-saving resources.
Moreover, it remains true that the global policy spaces continue to reflect the same power inequality by sidelining those who are most affected by these technologies.
More than ever, we cannot talk about inequality, discrimination and violence without addressing colonialism as not just mere history but a living thing that continues to reinforce and reshape itself into different aspects of our lives. Dismantling the interconnectedness of colonialism to our advocacy would mean asking the uncomfortable question of how coloniality of power manifests in the way we have been doing our advocacy, what we gain from accessing advocacy spaces, what we are willing to risk in exchange for new possibilities, and how we can find ways to support one another to take bold and non-apologetic stances at global policy spaces.
One approach shared by participants is to resist a global and top-down approach to policy making and let local communities self-lead and determine the policy that would directly affect their rights. The ongoing struggle for a universal definition for TFGBV is a tell-tale sign of the need for context-responsive regulations, actions and recommendations that can only be achieved by centring the voices of communities at local level.
We left RightsCon with mixed emotions and experiences. The anxiety of having to navigate racial and gender profiling at the airport, breastfeeding while travelling for work, juggling work deadlines and care duty at home while being present at Rightscon − we asked ourselves, what’s next? If anything, the timeline exercise perfectly demonstrates that movement building is not linear; it is messy and laden with invisible and unappreciated labour that disproportionately falls on marginalised groups. Yet, we did it, and we will do it all again − because to hope, to build, to listen, to speak, is itself a form of active resistance.
[1] Hassan, I. (2024, 8 August). Outlaws Are Weaponizing Disinformation in Northern Nigeria. CIGI. https://www.cigionline.org/articles/outlaws-are-weaponizing-disinformation-in-northern-nigeria/
[2] Palatino, M. (2018, 27 June). Duterte’s Anti-Women Behavior Sparks the Philippines’ Own #MeToo Moment. The Diplomat. https://thediplomat.com/2018/06/dutertes-anti-women-behavior-sparks-the-philippines-own-metoo-moment/
[3] Abraham, Y. (2024, 3 April). ‘Lavender’: The AI machine directing Israel’s bombing spree in Gaza. +972 Magazine.https://www.972mag.com/lavender-ai-israeli-army-gaza/
[4] Zelalem, Z. (2023, 29 December). ‘Collective punishment’: Ethiopia drone strikes target civilians in Amhara. Al Jazeera. https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2023/12/29/collective-punishment-ethiopia-drone-strikes-target-civilians-in-amhara
[5] Evans, M., & Flanagan, J. (2021, 31 December). Ethiopia’s war turns into a testing ground for the deadliest drones. The Times. https://www.thetimes.com/world/asia/article/civilians-are-drone-warfare-guinea-pigs-in-ethiopia-r5x50b230
[6] hvale. (2017, 27 April). The internet of things: Smart devices, quantified self, dolls and vibrators. GenderIT. https://genderit.org/feminist-talk/internet-things-smart-devices-quantified-self-dolls-and-vibrators