Beneath a dim spotlight in a silent room, Oliva Ouedraogo clutches a bloodstained piece of fabric and cries out, “Long live the girl!” Her words echo through the Acte Sept cultural center in Bamako, Mali, where her play Reine (French for Queen) is performed. The play is far more than a theatrical performance it is a bold manifesto against the silence that surrounds sexual violence in many African societies.
Ouedraogo, the star and playwright of Reine, recounts the haunting story of a young girl raped by her stepfather on his wedding night. Against all odds and in defiance of societal pressure, the girl decides to speak out. The plot mirrors the lived realities of countless rape victims across West Africa, where societal expectations demand silence and submission.
“For far too long, it is the victims who are made to feel dirty, ashamed, and isolated,” Ouedraogo explains with fiery conviction. “How is it that someone who has been raped must carry the burden of disgrace? It’s as if society tells her: ‘You are the one who must hide, not the perpetrator.’”
The silence around sexual violence is not unique to Mali, but it remains particularly pervasive here. A staggering 45% of Malian women aged 15-49 have experienced physical or sexual abuse, according to a 2018 health survey by the Malian National Institute of Statistics. Tragically, most assaults are committed by people known to the victims—spouses, fathers, or other family members. Even more troubling, 68% of these women never tell anyone about their abuse, reinforcing the stigma that prevents survivors from coming forward.
Ouedraogo’s passion for storytelling emerged in her childhood when she joined a theater group in Burkina Faso at just 11 years old. As she grew older, she found herself increasingly angered by the silence surrounding rape and the emotional burden it places on survivors. Reine was born from that frustration, a plea to confront not only individual trauma but the collective silence that enables it.
“Rape victims are forced to stay silent to ‘protect’ their families, as if speaking out would destroy them,” Ouedraogo explains. “But at what cost? We sacrifice the mental well-being of girls to maintain a false sense of family honor.”
In a patriarchal society like Mali, victims of sexual violence are pressured to suppress their experiences, as confirmed by Mariama Samake, director of the nonprofit Girl in Distress*. “It is not uncommon to find at least one victim of sexual assault in every family,” Samake says. “But the societal structure forces them to suffer in silence. To speak out is to risk being disowned or ostracized.”
The issue is not limited to Africa. The United States reports that one in nine girls under 18 is a victim of sexual abuse, while in the European Union, one in 20 women over 15 has been raped, according to Amnesty International. Yet in Mali and other parts of Africa, the layers of silence and denial are reinforced by cultural norms that prioritize familial reputation over individual well-being.
Ouedraogo believes that artistic expression can play a vital role in dismantling these harmful attitudes. “Theater offers a space to confront uncomfortable truths,” she says. “We need to hold up a mirror to society and force it to acknowledge what it prefers to ignore.”
Through Reine, she seeks not only to raise awareness but to create an environment where survivors feel safe enough to share their stories. “There is no psychological support for these girls. No places where they can talk to someone without fear of judgment,” she laments. “Society labels them crazy or unstable, but they are carrying trauma they have never been allowed to express.”
Her ultimate goal is to see governments take action by prioritizing laws that protect survivors and punish perpetrators. But more than legislation, she believes in the power of dialogue. “If we don’t talk about these things openly, victims will never feel empowered to seek help,” she insists.
Ouedraogo’s play is more than an artistic endeavor it’s a form of resistance, a call to break the oppressive silence and offer survivors the compassion and care they deserve. “The question is not just how to help victims heal,” she says. “It’s about how to pull them out of the shadows and into the light.”
With more performances scheduled in Burkina Faso’s capital, Ouagadougou, Ouedraogo hopes her message will resonate far and wide. She dreams that one day, no girl will be forced to carry the weight of her pain in silence. “This is not just my story,” she declares. “It is the story of countless girls waiting for someone to say, ‘I hear you.’”
