When Michelle Commsy, 21, posted some of her pictures on Instagram on November 29, she expected the usual likes. Instead, a man sent a crude message, fixating on her body and proposing sex.
Comments like that had become so frequent that she eventually locked her account.
“It’s embarrassing for a grown man to slide into my DMs [direct messaging] and say such things,” she says. “I felt disturbed and uncomfortable.”
When she confronted him, the man claimed he was drunk. Commsy blocked him and shared part of the chat to warn others, but did not report the case.
“I didn’t feel the need to. It was my first time addressing it publicly. It was my first warning,” she says.
The encounter reshaped her behaviour online. She no longer posts personal content and keeps her account private.
“I liked having a public account,” she says. “But after this, I had to change it.”
Commsy’s case is not isolated. Across the country, women are weighing risk before posting a photo, advertising goods or commenting on a local story.
The digital world has become a minefield, forcing them to balance visibility against harassment.
For a Blantyre-based woman, renamed Joyce, who sells unisex underwears online, the cost was real when male customers harassed her with sexual messages.
“You can look good in that underwear,” one wrote. She blocked him, but fear of further abuse forced her to stop posting product photos, stalling sales.
“Imagine advertising your product and people target your body instead of the business.
This is the sad reality we face,” she laments.
Joyce considered handing the page to her brother, believing men wouldn’t face the same scrutiny,and never filed a complaint.
“I didn’t think anything would happen,” she says. “You just move on, even though it hurts.”
Digital harassment is outlawed under Section 86 of the Electronic Transactions and Cyber Security Act (2016), which carries fines up to K2 million and five years’ imprisonment.
Section 87 of the law further forbids repeated offensive communication that disturbs peace or privacy, with penalties up to K1 million and 12 months’ jail.
But protection remains largely theoretical. Evidence is often deleted out of shame or fear, while law enforcement struggles to track anonymous perpetrators.
St John of God Hospitaller Services clinical psychologist Frank Magagula highlights the emotional toll online harassment can take.
A single cruel comment, he explains, can push a woman to silence herself online, even when her livelihood depends on her digital presence.
“Behind a screen, attackers feel anonymous, but the damage is real,” he says. “Avoidance, hypervigilance, self-blame pushes women to the edge. It strains marriages and erodes confidence.”
This digital retreat, he argues, is a coping mechanism with long-term consequences
“Silence feels safer,” Magagula notes. “But it also isolates and limits women’s opportunities.”
The scale of online harassment in Malawi is vast but invisible.
NGO Gender Coordination Network chairperson Maggie Kathewera Banda says 73 percent of women experience some form of cyberbullying and harassment, but most never take it further.
Fear of retaliation, distrust in the system or belief that harassment must be endured keeps many silent.
“Women prioritise safety,” she states. “When a space feels unsafe, they withdraw. Our country may not be at war, but its digital spaces are hostile to women.”
Malawi Communications Regulatory Authority (Macra) works primarily on content takedowns.
Head of Macra’s Computer Emergence Response Team Christopher Banda explains: “If someone is being impersonated, we work with platform owners such as Facebook, X, Instagram to remove content. But harassment and cyberbullying are crimes referred to police.”
However, cross-border investigations often stall because the 2016 Act lags behind current international standards, making alignment urgent.
National Police spokesperson Lael Chimtembo says the Cyber Crime and Forensics Unit handles 12 to 17 digital abuse cases monthly, from fake pages to explicit threats.
He admits that enforcing gaps, noting that penalties in sections 85 to 88 are “too minimal to deter offenders” and many survivors decline to testify in open court for fear of renewed insults.
Chimtembo adds that the Act lacks identity-theft provisions, which weakens cases before they reach court.
However, a pending Cybercrimes and Electronic Evidence Bill (2024) may change the trajectory. The draft criminalises cyber harassment, cyberbullying, cyberstalking and the non-consensual sharing of intimate images.
It mandates platforms and service providers to release user data quickly, introduces standalone offences for impersonation and expands police powers for preserving evidence.
Screenshots, metadata and digital logs would be fully admissible, closing long-standing gaps in court cases.
Women Lawyers Association executive director Golda Rapozo says the real weakness lies in awareness and implementation.
“Many women don’t know the law protects them, and reporting remains low,” she states. “Once reporting picks up and consequences follow protection for women in cyberspaces will strengthen.”
Rapozo urges Macra, police, and civil society to educate the public and destigmatise reporting.
For now, women like Commsy and Flora navigate digital life cautiously—posting less, blocking strangers, shrinking profiles to stay safe.
Commsy still scrolls Instagram, watching others live freely online. Her finger hovers “share.”
The photo stays in her gallery, unsent, a small reminder of what visibility now costs.
