There’s no such thing as a gender-neutral climate disaster
Climate disasters impact women and girls in different, serious, gendered ways.
I’ve said it a million times. And still people don’t get it.
Firstly, when we say “climate crisis,” what do we actually mean?
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just about rising temperatures or unpredictable weather. It is a systemic collapse, a man-made disaster born from greed and a willful refusal to see the consequences. It is the slow-motion emergency that acts as a threat multiplier, taking every existing injustice — poverty, conflict, displacement — and setting it on fire.
It sounds like that impacts everyone equally, right? Yes, everyone suffers. But women and girls suffer more.
Like every crisis, its sharpest edges are reserved for women and girls. The climate crisis doesn’t create gender inequality — it exposes and violently amplifies the injustices that are already there.
How do I know this? I’ve seen it firsthand after decades on the frontlines. And there’s ample evidence to back it up.
When drought forces a family to flee, it is the girl who is pulled from school first. When floods destroy a village, it is the woman who must walk miles further through unsafe territory to find clean water and food. And when resources become scarce, it is the woman’s body that becomes a currency in a desperate economy, leading to a spike in child marriage and sexual exploitation. It is the predictable, devastating result of a world that has always treated women — and the planet itself — as disposable.
So now what happened?
A magnitude 6.0 earthquake in eastern Afghanistan on August 31, followed by another strong aftershock, magnitude 5.2, in the same region on September 2. At least 1,411 people have been confirmed dead and 3,000 injured, with the number likely to rise.
Meanwhile, also on August 31, a catastrophic landslide in Darfur, Sudan, killed over 1,000 people.
Both of these tragedies destroy lives, livelihoods, infrastructure, communities, and countries. But there’s an undeniable gendered impact here — because these disasters are never gender neutral.
For context, the situation for women and girls was already bleak in both countries.
To be specific, the UN describes the situation in Afghanistan as the “world’s most severe women’s rights crisis.” Since the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, women and girls have been living under gender apartheid in Afghanistan. Girls are banned from education at the age of 13. And 80% of young women between the ages of 18–29 are not in any form of education, training, or employment.
In Sudan, women’s bodies are used as a weapon of war as the civil war between the two military groups rages on for a second year. Over 12 million women are believed to be at risk of sexual violence in the country, with 221 cases of rape against children reported in 2024 alone. And, just like with any figures on sexual violence, the numbers vastly underestimate the reality.
Years of research show that climate disasters disproportionately impact already-marginalized communities. Take it from me — in an emergency, bad things only get worse. In the midst of all the chaos, law and order, support and services, and community networks are damaged and destroyed.
Even more so in places like Afghanistan and Sudan — already in full-blown crisis.
All the forms of violence that women and girls face everywhere increase — with new ones created. Because that’s how we “cope” with crisis. Precisely when we should stick together — we don’t. And every form of violence against women — particularly sexual violence — increases.
So settle in, because I’m going to explain again how these disasters are worse for women and girls.
In 2010, I was deployed to Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake.
… where women living in camps were afraid to use the toilet — because of the risks they faced trying to get there.
… where girls as young as 9 were being raped by packs of 11-year old boys.
… where peacekeepers giving out food rations would offer “a little extra” to women who will do “a little extra” for them.
Not just Haiti. Or Afghanistan. Or Sudan.
When I was in Nepal after the 2015 earthquake, 53% of the 1.3 million people affected were women. Why? Women were home. Less able to escape. Encumbered by traditional clothing. Restricted in terms of freedom of movement. Also trying to save their children. We saw the same in the 2005 Tsunami. And there, more women drowned because they were never even taught to swim.
So here’s what happens. Aid money comes in — usually reserved for immediate crisis relief, providing food, temporary shelter, and clean water. The UK, for example, pledged $1.35 million to support the aid efforts in delivering healthcare and emergency supplies to those affected in Afghanistan. Yes, this is important. Crucial.
But what about the long term? When the “emergency” is over, we can’t look away. Because in those moments, the emergency for women is just beginning.
Take Morocco, its southern Al-Haouz province was hit by an earthquake in 2023 with over 2,900 deaths.
Two years later, thousands of people are still living in tents, facing freezing temperatures in the winter, and flooding and scorching summers. Roads are unsafe, health care is scant, job opportunities are limited, education is lacking — should I go on?
To make it worse, earthquake-prone areas get hit over and over again. In the same region of Morocco, another earthquake of magnitude 4.3 struck on September 3, destabilizing villages that have already used all they have to build back from the last quake.
And there too, women and girls are the most impacted — the first pulled out of school, expected to stay home and take care of the family. As family economic conditions deteriorate, girls are married off earlier. And women are forced to take greater risks to survive. It’s the perfect storm for sexual exploitation and abuse.
And, no, it’s not just “other women” or “over there.” In the US, after Hurricane Katrina, sexual violence increased so much that emergency services had to turn women away because they could not help them all. And domestic violence increased for years after the tragedy. For years.
In January 2025, LA was hit by huge wildfires, destroying over 35,000 hectares of land and property in a matter of days. And yes, even in the West, women are more impacted by these disasters.
When women and girls are forced out of their homes, this makes them increasingly vulnerable to outside threats. Not only are they now worse off financially, but they are also facing increasing risks of violence due to forced displacement.
So let’s dispense with the debate. The climate crisis is gendered. Acknowledging this isn’t optional — it is the absolute, non-negotiable baseline for any meaningful action.
This means our response must be built on a foundation of women’s rights. It means creating safe spaces and protection from the violence that escalates in times of crisis. It means guaranteeing access to education and healthcare, no matter the circumstances. It means funding women’s economic independence. And most critically, it means ensuring women are not just consulted, but are leading the conversation and making the decisions at every single table.
Every disaster, whether we call it natural or man-made, lands hardest on women and girls. It’s a predictable tragedy, and it’s time we stopped accepting it.
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