Culture newsmaker: Women for Change — from activism to cultural force

For years, South Africans have spoken about gender-based violence and femicide (GBVF) in the language of crisis — an “epidemic”, a “shadow pandemic”, a “national shame”. But one organisation and one woman have pushed the issue to the centre of the country’s cultural conversation.

That woman is Sabrina Walter, founder of Women for Change (WFC), the grassroots movement that has spent the past decade forcing South Africa to confront the realities of violence against women — and the ways society has silently absorbed it.

Walter founded WFC in 2016 after the murder of Swiss teenager Franziska Blöchliger in Tokai forest in Cape Town, and the resultant public outcry. Days earlier, another young woman had been raped and murdered in Khayelitsha — a case that barely made headlines.

That contrast became the spark. As Walter tells the FM: “That was the moment I realised that not every woman gets outrage, and not every woman is remembered.” A memorial walk that she expected to draw a few hundred people brought in more than 4,000. That marked the birth of a movement that grew into one of the country’s most influential survivor-led platforms.

“At first, WFC was simply my attempt to create a space for awareness,” says Walter. “But over the years it became clear that we were not just raising awareness. We were documenting a national emergency the country refused to name.”

The movement now has more than 1-million followers. Walter says the shift from activism to cultural force happened gradually, but definitively. “Years ago, our posts and campaigns began shaping national conversations. Ministers started referencing our work, families came to us first after losing their loved ones.”

The clearest sign of WFC’s impact came this year when its petition — backed by more than 1-million signatures and using the G20 summit in Joburg as a focal point — forced the state to classify GBVF as a national disaster. “It was proof of the real power of digital activism and community-driven action.”

A turning point came with the planned 2024 concerts in South Africa by US singer and convicted abuser Chris Brown. What began as WFC questioning the normalisation of violence spiralled into a national argument over celebrity power, public accountability and social hypocrisy — though the concerts went ahead.

Walter puts it plainly: “It exposed a cultural contradiction. South Africans say they are tired of GBVF, yet we still celebrate men with documented histories of abuse. It forced the country to confront how culture either protects or punishes abusers.”

South Africans are tired. Tired of reading story after story, tired of the same cycle of violence with no accountability and no action

—  Sabrina Walter

WFC is not alone. Pearl Mazibuko is the founder of Kathorus Parliament, an informal umbrella name used for community-driven GBVF NGOs and initiatives in Gauteng townships Katlehong, Thokoza and Vosloorus.

Says Mazibuko: “Sabrina Walter and team are doing great with their petitions, including their social media influence. We believe that GBVF has finally been declared a national disaster through her and her team.”

However, she stresses the importance of hands-on work: “We are on the ground almost daily. We are all accountable to the communities that we serve.”

South Africans, Walter believes, are in a different mood now. “I would describe this cultural moment as a breaking point, a moment of collective exhaustion and collective resistance. South Africans are tired. Tired of reading story after story, tired of the same cycle of violence with no accountability and no action.”

She runs WFC with a small team, often carrying the emotional weight alone. “Balancing public expectations with the emotional weight of GBVF activism is incredibly hard. The emotional demand is constant, and the public often sees the strength but not the toll.”

Even so, she keeps going — anchored not by attention, but by survivors: “I know I am deeply loved and appreciated by them. I move with integrity and passion, always.”

The more visible WFC became, the greater the backlash that followed. Walter doesn’t soften it: “I have faced online harassment, defamation, threats, co-ordinated misinformation campaigns and deliberate attempts to silence our work. The backlash has made two things very clear: our impact is real, and we are challenging systems that many people would prefer to remain untouched.”

Her view of WFC’s role is direct and unsentimental: “We document the truth without sanitising it. We’ve shifted the way GBVF is spoken about, from something private and shameful to something public, political and urgent.”

That cultural shift is forcing change across institutions, from media to brands to public figures. Walter calls 2025 a turning point, “because we now have something fundamentally different: the formal classification of GBVF as a national disaster. This finally unlocks budgets and enables contingency plans and emergency measures.”

The G20 Women’s Shutdown underscored the movement’s power: “What began as a call turned into a global purple movement, the largest national shutdown South Africa has ever seen.” But she is under no illusions: “A classification without implementation is just another press release. That is why our focus now is on enforcement, monitoring and follow-through.”

Walter sums up her role: “This isn’t my movement. It’s built by the survivors who choose to speak. We are just the platform.” And she is clear about the road ahead: “We’re not stopping. Not until women can walk in this country without fear. That’s the only finish line.”