The Congo’s Silent Epidemic

Photo via Council on Foreign Relations. Reader discretion is advised for this piece due to graphic content.

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In the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), 48 women become victims of rape every hour. That is 1,152 every day, 34,560 per month, 421,920 per year. Survivors range from as young as one year old to as old as ninety. No woman, regardless of class, ethnic grouping, or position, is safe from the reality of inevitable systemic sexual violence—not mothers, teachers, children, wives, or elders. In the eyes of the militia groups that carry out with impunity these inconceivable sexual crimes, they are all the same. That is, not human, merely an instrument of war to be disregarded as seen fit. 

The majority women victimized have been subjects of gang rape, which is defined as two or more males raping a woman at the same time, or one after the other. Some victims said that the assailants would “clean” them in between assaults by sticking the point of a rifle into the woman’s vagina while covered with a damp towel. After a gang rape, the offenders would make family members engage in incestuous sexual intercourse with one another. Fathers rape their daughters, sons their mothers, and even siblings. Additionally, survivors have said that militia groups inserted foreign objects, such as pestles dipped in chili pepper, into the vaginal area. Many reported that, either during or after the rape, victims suffered additonal torture and were killed. 

Suppose one survives the unthinkable torture of enduring any level of sexual violence in the DRC, the long-term effects prove a continuous and persistent reminder of their pain, both mentally and physically. Pelvic, lumbar, and abdominal pain; uterine prolapse, fistulas, infertility, dysmenorrhea, menorrhagia, urinary/fecal incontinence, sexual dysfunction, gastrointestinal irritability, tension headache, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, disrupted sleep, and long-term effects of infection with HIV or STIs are only some of the horrific side effects that these women face. 

Even worse, survivors of sexual violence in the DRC frequently experience extreme societal stigmatization. Their communities shun them because they are perceived as tainted or dishonored, resulting in ostracization by their neighbors, family, and local support systems. This rejection exacerbates their anguish, as they are deprived of the monetary and emotional support essential to recovery. Moreover, given the absence of healthcare infrastructure, the distance to clinics, and the cost of therapy, many survivors have little to no access to medical care. They continue to suffer in silence as a result of their untreated bodily and psychological wounds. 

Dr. Denis Mukwege is a lone beacon of light for survivors in the dark desolation of post-trauma life. Given the country’s aforementioned lack of accessible healthcare, it is no surprise that Mukwege’s Panzi Hospital has become a sanctuary for countless women. Mukwege stresses that it is not just medical treatment that is offered, but also emotional reconciliation and a community for those who have been exiled from their own homes. His dedication to healing these women, both physically and psychologically, stands as a powerful protest to the systemic violence they endure and the social abandonment that follows. Mukwege has said, “The suffering of people here is no different than people in other wars…How do you turn a blind eye to the suffering elsewhere?”, ​illustrating the West’s double standard for foreign aid, let alone recognition. 

This opens up a question about foreign aid in Africa, and Africa in its entirety, on the global scale of international politics. Just as recently as April 2025, American President Donald Trump said, “I don’t know what that is” regarding a question about the Democratic Republic of the Congo, further illustrating just how in the dark the Western world has left the women of the Democratic Republic of Africa, let alone the women of Africa as a whole. And so, as the so-called enlightened sector of the world, where women are equal to men, where feminism is crowned and championed, we ought to ask ourselves how we’re leaving so many women stranded in the wreckage of their own bodies, unheard in their agony, unseen in their survival, abandoned by the very ideals we claim to uphold.

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This article was edited by Naba Syed.