Ethiopian Women Fight Femicide Despite Death Threats

These statistics underscore what Ethiopian digital activists confront daily: deeply entrenched systems of violence against women and girls. While family members are the primary perpetrators in most African regions, the activists emphasize that the violence extends beyond domestic spheres into institutional and digital spaces.

“The brutality, the sheer inhumanity of the act—it was unimaginable,”Misikir told OkayAfrica in August. “And the fact that she was a seven-year-old girl… that’s what people are responding to. Outrage was the only answer."

The public was horrified to learn that Heaven had been raped, mutilated, and murdered by her mother’s landlord, Getnet Baye. His initial conviction and 25-year sentence were widely condemned as inadequate. Baye’s subsequent appeal, coupled with his temporary escape from prison, further enraged the public and underscored systemic flaws in Ethiopia’s justice system.

Over 300,000 people signed a petition demanding justice within days of Heaven's story resurfacing. The campaign, propelled by the hashtag #JusticeForHeaven, was led by digital activists who have long fought for systemic change to protect women and children.

Social media platforms like TikTok and Twitter have been instrumental for activists like Betelehem Akalework, who uses herTikTok following of over 85,000 to amplify the stories of Ethiopian women and children –including Heaven– who have faced gender-based violence. Akalework’s social media campaigns often garner hundreds of thousands—and sometimes millions—of views.

“On regular days, we get about 20,000 views daily,” she explains, adding that this excludes her other banned accounts, which total 32,000 followers combined.

But despite the success of the #JusticeForHeaven campaign, the backlash was swift and intense. Advocates faced relentless online harassment, threats, and smear campaigns, exposing the risks of confronting deeply entrenched patriarchal norms.

For Misikir, her efforts to amplify Heaven’s story came at a steep personal cost. Detractors accused her of promoting a “Western agenda” and undermining Ethiopian traditions. Online harassment escalated to doxxing, ultimately forcing her to relocate after her address was made public. “It's been quite devastating and heartbreaking,” she says to OkayAfrica from her new location.

Akalework explains that social media's visibility makes activists vulnerable to targeted attacks. As the co-founder ofSetacet Power, a highly visible Afro-feminist movement focused on advocating for the rights of Ethiopian women, she has been repeatedly targeted.

“They kept posting my family’s location on social media—where I live—and sending threats to my house,” she says. “This has been going on for the last three years. We've reported it, spoken about it, given interviews, but it doesn’t stop.” However, Akalework notes that the harassment extends beyond activists, targeting any woman with a platform—including female politicians.

According to theCentre for Information Resilience (CIR), online abuse in Ethiopia has become so normalized that it’s effectively “invisible,” forcing many women to retreat from public and online life. The CIR study found that no social media platform is immune, with Facebook identified as the primary platform for harassment. Women reported facing abuse across all social channels, in both public posts and private messages.

“Those targeting feminists on social media do so because we’re confrontational, loud, persistent, and consistent,” Akalework explains. “We’re getting attention and momentum, and that’s threatening. Change isn’t easy, especially for Ethiopian men—patriarchy isn’t something you can solve in a day. I think most resistance to our work comes from that patriarchal mentality.”

And it’s not just Ethiopian men. Adding to the complexity are women who align themselves with patriarchal norms—often referred to as “pick me”—who amplify misogynistic rhetoric. “These women are the bane of our existence,” Misikir explains after having run-ins with several of them in the last few weeks. “In our movement, they do more damage than misogynistic men because they have access to women in ways men don’t. Some men even feel vindicated when a woman bashes other women, which only amplifies the harm they cause.”

Even though she constantly worries about her safety, Akalework finds it challenging to put down the tools of activism. She describes the work as a calling and recognizes that her unique access and privilege allow her advocacy to make a significant impact.

“It’s about what I have,” she explains. “I have connections. For example, [Setacet Power] is informal and doesn’t have funds, but we’ve managed to get every media outlet we wanted. We’ve protected ourselves so far because I have supportive people who back me. I leverage that for the movement. So if I say, ‘I’m tired, I’m scared,’ and leave it behind, what happens?” she asks.

As the world marks the16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence from Monday, November 25, activists like Misikir and Akalework embody this year's #NoExcuse campaign theme. Their digital advocacy amplifies calls for accountability and concrete action from decision-makers, even in the face of severe backlash. Their work represents the grassroots dimension of what UN Women Executive Director Sima Bahous emphasizes: violence against women is preventable but requires robust legislation, improved data collection, and increased funding for women's rights organizations.

For Misikir, she believes it’s no surprise activists like her are targeted because their work is creating visible momentum. “Because of our activism, many more girls are speaking up on TikTok and becoming Afro-feminists. It’s not just understanding the issues—they’re actively creating accounts, posting, and using their voices. That’s powerful.”

Akalework emphasizes that sustaining this momentum requires ongoing support and solidarity from fellow activists and organizations. Their goal goes beyond social media presence to push for systemic change. “It’s not just about building a following on social media,” she says. “Many times, traditional media has failed to amplify these stories. It’s about building a community and creating a safe space for angry Black women to demand justice and say, ‘I’m tired of this, and I’m not staying silent.’”