Safe Cities at 15: the model, indicted by the women it serves

Side event · 16 July 2026 · UN Headquarters, New York
Session
“Local Action, Global Impact: Achieving SDGs through Safe Cities for Women and Girls,” an HLPF 2026 side event
Convened by
UN Women, co-sponsored by Spain, the European Union and Canada, marking 15 years of the Safe Cities and Safe Public Spaces Global Initiative
Moderator
Claudia Fuentes Julio, Assistant Secretary-General for Human Rights, OHCHR New York
Speakers
Nyaradzayi Gumbonzvanda, UN Women Deputy Executive Director for Normative Support, UN System Coordination and Programme Results · the Deputy Director General for Urban Policies, Ministry of Housing and Urban Agenda, Spain · Irma Hernández, Mayor of San Miguelito, Panama · Violet Shivutse, Chair and Africa Regional Representative, Huairou Commission, and founder of Shibuye Community Health Workers, Kenya · Eliana Quiroz, Internet Bolivia Foundation · Jane Magigita, Founder and Executive Director, Equality for Growth, Tanzania · a First Secretary of the European Union Delegation’s human rights section

The anniversary, and the speaker who declined to celebrate it on the terms offered

The last hour of HLPF 2026 belonged to UN Women, marking 15 years of the Safe Cities and Safe Public Spaces Global Initiative: five founding city programmes in 2011, 75 cities in 36 countries today. The framing from the podium was multi-stakeholder partnership, and it was earned. The initiative has moved laws in some 25 countries and rewired transport, lighting and market design in cities from Quito to Dakar to Madrid.

The sharpest speaker in the room was the one the model exists to serve. And her argument was that the partnership everyone was congratulating is, in its own grammar and its own accounting, still extractive.

Violet Shivutse, Huairou Commission: “In the development language, the grassroots women are always treated as beneficiaries, vulnerable groups, those women that are suffering, those women that are crying.”

The refusal of the testimony slot

The Huairou Commission’s Africa regional representative was in the room as a grassroots leader, the role that at events like this one usually comes with a testimony slot. She declined it while standing in it, and named the distinction the rest of the session never quite addressed.

Violet Shivutse: “How are we bringing the grassroots women into this dialogue? Are we bringing them as partners, as people to share testimony? I am a widow. I would be here sharing my story about my position of being a widow. But I’m here today celebrating the success, because I have my own war that did not even take me three months to finish, because of the knowledge that I have got and the constituency of grassroots women that I have built.”

The success she came to report is a piece of infrastructure her members built themselves. Women in Kakamega County who lose a husband are frequently pushed off the land, and the window to intervene is days, not months: report late and the land is already sold. Her network built a toll-free reporting line, Haki Ardhi, that a woman can use without paying and without being seen using it. The alert reaches a paralegal’s phone; the paralegal, rather than the widow, is the one who walks into the chief’s office or the police station. Over two years the network logged 600 land cases and closed 312 of them successfully, mostly through elders and chiefs rather than the courts, because, as she put it, court is expensive.

The tool also does something a testimony slot cannot: it aggregates. Which women are being dispossessed, at what age, in which locations, and which institutions answer the phone when called, all of it becomes a trend line the network takes into meetings with chiefs and the county government. That is accountability built from the bottom by the people being counted, which is the thing the Forum spends a week asking member states to do from the top.

Who is paying for the model

Then came the accounting, and it is the reason the anniversary should be read with some discomfort. The paralegals holding up this system are survivors of the same dispossession, which is precisely why the women they visit will open the door to them. They are not on a payroll.

Violet Shivutse: “These paralegals are working for free, no one is paying them, and they have to travel using their own money to go to the chief’s office, to go to the woman that has been affected, sometimes even holding this woman to go with her to the court.”

Read that next to the room’s vocabulary of partnership and the arithmetic is plain. Unpaid labour by women who have themselves been dispossessed is a subsidy, and it is currently load-bearing. Her definition of capacity-building was correspondingly unsentimental: strengthening capacity means resourcing what women are already doing and compensating them for it, not training them to do more of it for nothing. The one thing that visibly changed the outcome of those cases, she said, was a partner think tank paying for a lawyer to sit in her office for a year.

Her second charge was against the shape of the funding rather than its size.

Violet Shivutse: “Treating these initiatives as projects, [and] at the end of the project in six months, whatever, this is not enough to learn a lot from a project. Violence against women needs also to be invested in for a longer time, so that you are learning and building together.”

This is a measurement point as much as a financing one. A cycle short enough to fit a reporting deadline cannot generate a learning curve. It can only generate a result.

Bolivia: not a system that fails, a system that does not see

Eliana Quiroz, of the Internet Bolivia Foundation, supplied the structural half of the argument. Online violence is not a separate problem from street violence, she argued, but the same root causes in a medium that multiplies them: one man harassing one woman on the street becomes a hundred men harassing her online, and the image, once altered and shared, cannot be recalled by anyone.

The failure she described is not enforcement. It is perception.

Eliana Quiroz, Internet Bolivia Foundation: “When a victim of digital violence goes to the police, the police will most likely respond, but calm down, it’s only one or two messages, it’s not a big thing. … It’s not only impunity, but it’s also … the system, the governments, not understanding the problem, and of course don’t see the need … to take solutions and finance solutions.”

Impunity presumes an offence the institution recognises and declines to act on. What she is describing is prior to that: a harm the institution does not register as a harm, and therefore never budgets against, never counts, and never appears to be failing at. She added the harder layer, that women subjected to it often do not know they are being violated either. Bolivia is now debating a law on digital violence, and her closing point was directed at the room: the duty is the state’s, not the NGOs’, and the institutions asked to implement it need funding too, at a moment when funding is going away.

Tanzania: the market as the unit of analysis

The evidence that the model does work, given a decade, came from Equality for Growth, which ran a market-safety programme in Tanzania where the informal economy is the primary driver of employment, accounting for 71.8% of all workers by the organisation’s figure. The first lesson was a warning against the intuitive fix.

Jane Magigita, Equality for Growth: “While women often say that they want to have more meaningful partnership with the police … we have noted that working with law enforcement alone is not enough.”

What worked was the whole stack at once: market committees, municipal councils, survivor-centred services, continuous public education for the new traders arriving daily, supportive policy and legal empowerment. The organisation reported gender-based violence prevalence in the markets falling from 96%, effectively every woman trading, to between zero and 15% depending on the market. A market committee of twelve members, all of them men, was the regional norm; women began contesting for the seats and one was elected the first woman chair. The women who followed her in then changed the agenda, demanding toilets and childcare facilities. Tanzania now has a national guideline on ending violence against women in public spaces that reaches beyond markets to mining sites, transport, fisheries and leisure areas, and the government has taken the programme over. That is the localisation story the session was built to tell, and it took ten years and sustained donor investment to produce.

The mayor, and the line that anchored the room

San Miguelito is Panama’s second city and its densest district, first in the country for domestic violence and for teenage pregnancy. Its mayor, two years into the job, made the case for why women in decision-making seats is a measurement argument and not a courtesy.

Irma Hernández, Mayor of San Miguelito: “As we say in the hoods of San Miguelito, el que no la vive no la entiende. If you don’t live it, you cannot understand it. And you see, I’m a mayor, but at the same time, I’m just a girl. And I know what it’s like to have the keys between your fingers when you have to walk home and it’s night.”

Her point was that lived experience is a detection instrument: as mayor she can “make visible problems that are invisible for people that do not live these kind of problems.” Half her municipal workforce is women; urban planning, municipal engineering and the environmental directorate are all led by women. And her most interesting move was to refuse the infrastructure-only definition of safety. Sidewalks, lighting and bus stops are necessary, she said, but San Miguelito’s safety strategy runs through a care system: a municipal mental health clinic, a soup kitchen, three municipal daycare centres. Unpaid care work is what strips a woman of the time to work, to study, to be independent, and even, she noted, to get help when she experiences violence. Autonomy is the safety intervention.

Spain, the EU and UN Women filled in the institutional frame around this. Spain argued that a city a woman cannot walk through freely is not primarily a security problem but a barrier to education, employment, political participation and economic autonomy, and announced new funding for the initiative. The EU delegation named the mechanism directly: violence against women online and offline “is often perpetrated with a specific purpose to intimidate women and keep them out of the public space and from leadership roles,” and pointed to an 8 million euro project in Tanzania and support for essential services in Bolivia. UN Women’s Deputy Executive Director, who was at Beijing and at Huairou herself, closed the anniversary with the joke that carried the sting: 15 is the age of assertiveness, and “15 years is also the year you can throw tantrums.”

Our read

Every speaker in this room endorsed multi-stakeholder partnership, and the record supports them: five cities to 75, laws in 25 countries, prevalence in Tanzanian markets falling by most of its starting value. The awkwardness is that the session’s own evidence describes a model whose frontline is staffed by unpaid survivors paying their own bus fare, and whose funding arrives in cycles too short to learn from. Both things are true at once, and the second is not a footnote to the first. It is how the first is financed.

Put the Bolivian point beside it and the counting problem sharpens. Institutions that do not perceive digital violence as a problem will never produce a statistic showing they are failing at it, because the absence of a count is the form the failure takes. The same logic runs through the grassroots critique: unpaid labour is not underfunded in any ledger, it is simply absent from the ledger. Both are gaps that look like zeroes.

The Haki Ardhi line is the sharpest thing the session produced, and not because it is a nice tool. It is an accountability system designed by the women being counted, and it does exactly what the localisation agenda claims to want: it generates trend data, names which institutions respond, and carries that to the county government. It also runs on donated labour. The question the anniversary leaves open is whether the fifteenth year is when the model starts paying for the thing holding it up, or whether the celebration is itself part of how the bill keeps not arriving.

Why it matters for the SDGs

This sits on SDG 5 and SDG 11, and specifically on target 11.7, safe and inclusive public spaces, whose indicator 11.7.2 on physical and sexual harassment is one of the framework’s sparsest for country coverage. It reaches SDG 16 through access to justice, which the paralegals were substituting for at their own expense, and SDG 8 through the informal market workers whose safety and income turn out to be the same variable. The measurement stake is the one the session kept circling without naming: the indicator framework counts programmes and cities, and does not count the unpaid grassroots labour that those programmes rest on, or the digital violence that no institution in the chain yet perceives as a problem. With the post-2030 framework now being negotiated, both are candidates to be written in or, again, left out.

Watch & read

Quotations are lightly edited from an automated transcript of the UN Web TV recording and should be read as close paraphrase. Speakers are cited by role or organisation where a name could not be confirmed against an official source. Spain’s intervention was delivered in Spanish and is summarised rather than quoted. Figures are as each speaker or organisation reported them and were not independently verified.