On July 31, Africa honors its women, a date rooted in the historic Pan-African Women’s Conference held in Dar es Salaam in 1962. This year, the African Union has dedicated the theme to water and sanitation, emphasizing the need for sustainable access to these vital resources by 2063. Yet, in Senegal, a striking paradox persists: the nation’s economy and social fabric are held together by women who migrate—both internally and across borders—yet their contributions remain unrecognized, their struggles unaddressed, and their rights largely ignored.
Invisible labor, uncounted lives
Senegal’s daily rhythm is powered by women. From the rural hinterlands to the bustling streets of Dakar, they carry water on their heads, manage households, trade in markets, and care for children. Many are internal migrants, leaving rural areas for urban centers in search of opportunities. Others are African women seeking refuge in Senegal, fleeing instability or economic hardship in neighboring countries. Their labor—often informal, undervalued, and unprotected—fuels the economy, yet their names are absent from policy debates, their faces erased from public acknowledgment.
While the African Union’s 2026 theme highlights the urgency of water and sanitation, it also exposes a deeper inequity: access to these resources is not a universal privilege. For these women, clean water and safe sanitation are not guaranteed rights but privileges dictated by geography, employment status, and migration history. In peri-urban Dakar, where many migrant women settle, water infrastructure is patchy. In private households, domestic workers—who are predominantly women—often rely on their employers’ willingness to provide running water or toilets, with no legal recourse to demand dignity.
The dual burden of migration and gender
Internal migration: a hidden exodus
In rural Senegal, the burden of fetching water falls disproportionately on women and girls. This daily chore steals time from education, health, and economic participation, pushing young women toward cities. Each year, thousands migrate internally to Dakar or secondary towns, entering the informal labor market as domestic workers, street vendors, or market aides. According to national data, informal employment employs nearly half of Senegal’s workforce, with women making up a majority of these workers nationwide (51.3%). In Dakar, however, they are concentrated in the most precarious roles—without contracts, social protections, or legal recognition.
The Senegalese paradox: host and home to African migrants
Senegal has long been a haven for African migrants. As of 2023, over 207,000 foreigners reside in the country, representing 1.1% of the population. Nearly half are women, primarily from neighboring West African nations: Guinea (40.3%), Mali (14.9%), Guinea-Bissau (4.4%), Gambia (3.0%), and Mauritania (2.1%). In border regions like Kédougou, migrants from Mali and Guinea outnumber returning Senegalese residents.
Yet this tradition of hospitality is under threat. A rising tide of xenophobic rhetoric—fueled by political voices—has targeted specific African communities, particularly Guinean Fulani migrants. Accusations of straining public schools or altering demographic balances have led to calls for stricter residency laws and even revoking birthright citizenship for children of foreign parents. The language echoes the cyclical xenophobic violence seen in South Africa, where Senegalese migrants in Durban faced similar hostility.
Foreign women in Senegal: at the crossroads of vulnerability
For migrant women from other African countries, the stakes are even higher. Many work as domestic helpers or informal traders, without contracts or social protections. Their access to water and sanitation—critical for their labor and dignity—often depends on employers or local networks, leaving them exposed to exploitation or violence. When xenophobia targets entire nationalities or ethnic groups, these women become primary victims. Fear of retaliation silences them, trapping them in cycles of precarity.
This vulnerability is exacerbated by recent geopolitical shifts. The breakdown of the ECOWAS-AES partnership in early 2025 has left Malian, Burkinabe, and Nigerien migrant women in legal limbo. Free movement rights, once guaranteed by the 1979 ECOWAS Protocol and its judicial mechanisms, now hinge on fragile bilateral declarations. For workers without proper documentation—common among West African migrants—the loss of these protections is devastating. With the Sahel’s security crisis worsening in 2026, the flow of Malian women migrants into Senegal is expected to rise, intensifying their need for legal and social safeguards.
Colonial legacies and the politics of exclusion
The roots of today’s xenophobia lie in colonial borders. The arbitrary lines drawn at the 1884–85 Berlin Conference fragmented ethnic and trade networks, creating artificial divisions that postcolonial states have exploited. Governments, grappling with fragile legitimacy, have turned to the politics of autochtony—defining who “belongs” to the nation and who does not. This logic, which fueled apartheid-era Afrophobia in South Africa, now resurfaces in Dakar. It is a form of intra-African xenophobia, one that perpetuates colonial divisions under a new guise.
Gender further complicates this narrative. Scholars like Oyèronké Oyèwùmí and Amina Mama argue that colonialism reshaped gender categories, which postcolonial nationalists then weaponized to define national belonging. Foreign women, their fertility, and their children born in Senegal become targets in this framework. The push to revoke birthright citizenship disproportionately affects them, reinforcing the idea that only certain women—and their children—are entitled to national inclusion.
Water, sanitation, and the migrant woman’s plight
The AU’s 2026 theme is not merely technical—it is deeply gendered and tied to the lived realities of migrant women. In Dakar’s peripheral neighborhoods, where many settle, water and sanitation infrastructure is inadequate, exposing women and girls to nighttime insecurity. In private homes, domestic workers’ access to these basic needs hinges on their employers’ goodwill. The absence of labor laws to enforce these rights leaves them vulnerable, whether they are Senegalese women working abroad or African women working in Senegal.
A call for policy that matches reality
As Africa celebrates its women and prioritizes water and sanitation, Senegal must confront an uncomfortable truth: its economy and social stability depend on women who are systematically excluded from the benefits they help create. Policies that ignore the specific challenges of migrant women—whether internal or cross-border—will fail to achieve the AU’s 2063 goals. True progress requires recognizing their labor, protecting their rights, and ensuring their access to water and dignity in every space they inhabit.
The way forward: hospitality and justice
The African Women’s Day should not be a perfunctory tribute. The AU’s theme must translate into action. Senegal’s teranga—its famed hospitality—must extend beyond rhetoric to tangible protections for all women, regardless of origin. A water policy that forgets these women, or a society that fails to honor their contributions, will miss the mark entirely. The future of Senegal—and Africa—depends on it.
