Inside the campaign that stopped The Gambia reversing its FGM ban

In July 2024, The Gambia came closer than any country in the world to reversing a ban on female genital mutilation. A practice that had been criminalised for nearly a decade was on the verge of becoming legal again.

Then feminist organisers stopped it.

After months of sustained organising, community mobilisation and public campaigning, the National Assembly voted 34 to 19 to reject a bill that would have repealed the country’s 2015 ban on FGM. It was a major victory, not only for Gambian women and girls, but for feminist movements across the continent.

The fact that the vote happened at all should alarm us. Just months earlier, in March 2024, 42 members of the same Parliament had voted to advance the repeal bill. Its supporters argued that FGM is Islamic and the ban was a Western imposition – that Gambians, up to 96% of whom are practising Muslims, should be free to practise their faith as they see fit. These false arguments – there is no requirement for FGM in Islamic law – were not new, but they were better coordinated and more politically embedded than before.

At a moment when anti-rights forces are better funded, better organised and more confident, The Gambia offers something the feminist movement badly needs: a documented win, and a template worth studying. It is a rare case of a movement turning a political crisis into momentum. But it is also a reminder that ‘winning’ in legislation does not automatically deliver change.

In August 2025, a one-month-old baby girl, Sarjo Conteh, was rushed to a hospital in Banjul. She had been cut. By the time doctors reached her, she had bled to death. The Gambian authorities confirmed that her injuries were the result of FGM.

Conteh’s death was not an isolated incident. Activists on the ground have for years reported that the 2015 ban has not ended FGM, but pushed it underground, and led to girls being cut younger than ever. Many families believe that infants as young as a few days old will heal faster from the cutting, meaning evidence will be harder to detect.

Recently, activist Dr Leyla Hussein wrote about this tragedy with the clarity and fury it deserved. She named what so many institutions still refuse to: that FGM is sexual violence, that it is child abuse, and that the world’s reluctance to say so plainly is inseparable from the fact that the children being harmed are overwhelmingly Black and Brown girls. She asked why, if this violence were happening to white children, there would be any hesitation at all in calling it assault. There would not be.

Hussein also wrote about the particular cruelty of normalisation: the way survivors are taught to question the legitimacy of their own pain when the world has minimised it first. That is the atmosphere in which Sarjo Conteh died. That is the atmosphere in which three women were recently acquitted in connection with her death.

And that is why the legislative fight in The Gambia, as hard-won as it was, cannot be the end of the story. Even now, the people who tried to roll back this right are petitioning the Supreme Court, claiming that the ban violates their right to religious and cultural freedom..

This is a story about a victory. But it is also a story about the fragility of that victory, and about what enforcement, long-term cultural change and sustained feminist organising actually require.

How we got here

The 2015 ban was introduced under former president Yahya Jammeh. It was imperfect legislation, lacking a serious enforcement strategy, and many Gambians associated it with Jammeh’s dictatorship rather than with the rights it was designed to protect. For years, FGM continued largely unabated.

Then, in August 2023, three women were convicted under the law for performing FGM on eight girls under the age of five, one of whom was just four months old.

Those convictions – the first for perpetrators of FGM in a Gambian court – were a breakthrough. Although the law states offenders can be imprisoned for up to three years, the women were issued fines of 15,000 dalasis – equivalent to up to half a year’s income for women in rural areas of the country – or one-year prison sentences if they were unable to pay. Amid national outrage, a prominent imam paid the women’s fines, lawmakers began to talk openly about repealing the ban, and, in February 2024, a private member’s bill was introduced in the National Assembly to do exactly that – arguing that it was ‘anti-Islamic’.

I want to be direct about this framing, because it is used to silence us – and we should not let it. The Quran does not mention FGM. There is no authentic hadith that promotes it. FGM predates Islam, is practised by communities of multiple faiths, and is opposed by Muslim scholars across the world. Associating FGM with Islam is not theology. It is politics. And its political purpose is to put the practice beyond critique.

The organising that turned it around

When the bill to repeal the ban was introduced, the Gambian government said very little, with the…