The first time she entered the prison, she felt as if she were going to faint.
The year was 2021. Maïmouna Diouf had been found guilty of infanticide — a charge she denies, claiming she gave birth to a stillborn child that she buried without notifying the authorities.
Diouf looked around her shared room in the Thies detention center in Thies, Senegal. She was one of 10 prisoners assigned to sleep in the small space. There were dirty, old mattresses on the floor, she says. There was a smell coming from them that she could not exactly place. "This is my life now? How am I supposed to sleep here?" she thought to herself.
Released in 2025, Diouf now volunteers to help female inmates in Senegal. The conditions that women in prison face were highlighted in events held in Senegal on International Women's Day this past week — including the distribution of free, reusable menstrual products, which aren't readily available to prisoners. Diouf agreed to share her story to bring attention to the issues that affect the country's approximately 280 women prisoners — about 2% of the total prison population of 14,000.
Women and men charged with a crime in Senegal are at the mercy of a system where justice is not speedily dispensed. According to a report released in 2024 by the U.S. State Department, "judicial backlogs and absenteeism of judges resulted in an average wait of two years between the filing of charges and the beginning of a trial." During this period of limbo, an estimated 60% of those charged are kept in prison. Women are held in the Liberte VI prison for women in Dakar.
"It's very difficult for these women, especially the women who are innocent, but they are in prison waiting for trial. They sometimes do not have the means to have a lawyer, and in Senegal there is a lack of judges so that can delay the trial, too," says Seynabou Dieme, the head of social-education services at the Liberte VI women's prison.
Dieme confirmed some women have waited up to six years for their trial to begin.
According to Senegalese press, the government adopted a law in February aimed at prison reforms that would include improving prison conditions. NPR called relevant government offices to confirm this report and check on the status of reforms but received no answer.
An added burden for women
And then there's the matter of stigma.
"The culture often says that a woman has no right to commit an error. Because the woman must manage the house and community and raise the children. If she falls, she brings the whole family down," says Dieme.
According to a 2021 report by the group Prison Insider, which monitors conditions in Senegal's prisons, nearly half of female prisoners in detention were found guilty of infanticide, and 23% were incarcerated for abortion, which is illegal in Senegal except in cases where the procedure would save the life of the pregnant woman.
The nature of the crimes that women are charged with adds to the stigma, says Fatou Faye. She's a supervisor for the Prison Project at Tostan, a Senegalese organization that distributed the hygiene pads on International Women's Day and that teaches inmates about human rights as well as practical skills to generate income in jail and after release – dying fabric and sewing, for example. Faye also runs family mediations to help former detainees rebuild relationships after release.
Diouf says she was lucky — she still had the support of her family after being sentenced — which made a huge difference while serving her time. Her brother had dropped her off at prison that first day, saw the old mattresses in her cell and offered to bring her a new one. Family members also brought her extra food and essential female hygiene products, which the state does not always provide.
Family support — and rejection
From her experience, Maïmouna Diouf reiterates what prisoner educator Dieme says: Many women are rejected by their families even before they are sentenced.
"They were always crying, because it's difficult to be rejected by your own family," she added of fellow prisoners whom she became close with while she was incarcerated.
Even when family members do want to support a loved one in prison, they may face societal pressure to stand back. That was the experience of AF, who served four years for having an abortion. She asked to be identified only by her initials because of the continuing stigma of having been in prison.
It was 2001. AF was a young mother who became pregnant and felt she could not support a second child, so she decided to have a clandestine abortion. The procedure caused complications and bleeding; when she was taken to the hospital the health care workers reported to the police that she had an abortion.
AF says her mother and sister wanted to offer support, but community and other family members – including uncles — urged them to abandon her. "They kept saying I was a bad woman, and didn't deserve their support," she says. But her mother and sister insisted on continuing to support AF — providing not only material goods like food and soap but offering emotional support as well, promising they'd welcome her back once she was released.
"It was painful to watch them [her mom and sister] suffer," she says. "While I could do nothing from inside the prison." She says she's grateful her sister and mother did not cave into the pressure and helped her find work and support once she was released. After she was released in 2005, AF began working with Tostan's prison-based community education program to help incarcerated women prepare for life after prison.
Life after freedom
For women in prison, says AF, the stigma carries on even after release.
"There are women who were in prison, and after they get out, their families do not welcome them. Often they turn to crime, so they end up coming back to prison," she says. "Families and communities should have a mentality of pardoning and of helping."
Faye, the supervisor for the Prison Project at Tostan, agreed that she would like to see the public attitude toward women accused or convicted of crimes to be one of acceptance to help them reenter society. And one of forgiveness.
"They are all human, and she can do something she regrets," Faye says of the average prisoner. "So she should have a chance to have a clean slate."
Ricci Shryock is a writer and photographer in Dakar, Sénégal. This September, Cassava Republic will publish her nonfiction novel about one woman's experience as one of the female fighters during a war for independence in Guinea-Bissau in the 1960s.
Copyright 2026 NPR