Untold contributions of Senegal’s migrant women to the economy

Unseen pillars of Senegal’s economy

The 31st of July marks Africa’s celebration of its women, a day dedicated to honoring the resilience and contributions of African women. In 2026, the African Union has designated this year under the theme of water: ‘Ensuring sustainable access to safe water and sanitation systems to achieve the goals of Agenda 2063’. This date holds historical significance, commemorating the foundational 1962 Dar es Salaam Women’s Conference, which later led to the establishment of the Pan-African Women’s Organization in 1974. It underscores a political assertion: the struggles of African women are deeply rooted in the continent’s independence movements and Pan-Africanism, not in externally imposed agendas.

In Senegal, this day should serve as a stark reminder of two truths often overlooked: the nation thrives because of women whose labor remains uncounted or undervalued, and these same women are disproportionately burdened by the lack of access to clean water and sanitation—a gap Agenda 2063 aims to bridge. Whether they are internal migrants, domestic workers in households, market traders in Dakar, or African women seeking refuge in Senegal, their labor is indispensable. Yet, their recognition in public policies and social discourse remains glaringly absent. For many, safe water and decent sanitation are not rights but distant aspirations.

This article shines a light on a particular group of women—those whose vulnerabilities are magnified by inadequate access to water and sanitation. However, the focus extends beyond infrastructure alone. Sustainable water and sanitation solutions cannot be achieved without addressing the unique challenges faced by women in different social and legal contexts. Homogenizing their struggles risks overlooking the very disparities that perpetuate their marginalization.

From rural villages to urban centers: the invisible migration

The journey often begins long before crossing international borders. In rural Senegal, women and girls are predominantly responsible for fetching water, a task that consumes time, jeopardizes education, and limits opportunities for paid employment. These daily chores are a driving force behind the migration of young women to cities like Dakar or secondary urban centers. Annually, they leave their hometowns for the capital or other cities, where they enter informal sectors such as domestic work, street vending, or small-scale trade. These women care for urban households’ children, manage market stalls, clean offices and homes, and prepare meals—roles intricately tied to their employers’ access to water. According to Senegal’s National Statistics Agency, the informal sector employs nearly half of the country’s workforce, with women constituting 51.3% of the national informal labor force. However, in Dakar, they represent only 41.5%, often occupying the most precarious positions—jobs without contracts or social protections. This internal migration, though largely ignored, often serves as the first step toward longer migratory journeys.

Senegal as a haven: the rising tide of xenophobia

Yet, the narrative is incomplete without acknowledging the Senegalese women who migrate internally and those who arrive from across Africa. Senegal has long been a haven for migrants from neighboring countries. The 2023 General Census of Population and Housing (RGPH-5) reveals that 207,791 foreigners reside in Senegal, accounting for 1.1% of the total population, with 44.3% being women. The majority hail from the subregion: Guineans (40.3%), Malians (14.9%), Bissau-Guineans (4.4%), Gambians (3.0%), and Mauritanians (2.1%). In border regions like Kédougou, residents born in Mali or Guinea outnumber those born elsewhere in Senegal who have returned to settle there.

This tradition of hospitality is now under threat. For months, a divisive discourse rooted in the ‘great replacement’ theory has targeted specific African nationals, particularly Guinean Fulani communities, accused of straining public schools or altering the country’s demographic balance. Political voices have demanded stricter residency conditions and a reconsideration of birthright citizenship for children born in Senegal to foreign parents. This rhetoric mirrors the xenophobic violence seen in South Africa, where Senegalese communities in Durban have faced similar stigma and attacks.

Foreign women in Senegal: a heightened vulnerability

In this climate, migrant women from other African nations face compounded vulnerabilities. Like their Senegalese counterparts in internal migration, they often work in informal domestic roles or small-scale trade, devoid of contracts or social protections. Their access to water and sanitation frequently depends on their employers or host networks, leaving them exposed to exploitation, harassment, or violence. When collective suspicion targets entire nationalities or ethnic groups, these women—visible in both public and domestic spaces—become primary targets. Their precarious administrative status discourages them from reporting abuses, fearing further marginalization or retaliation against their communities. Xenophobia is never gender-neutral; it exacerbates the vulnerabilities of foreign women, who already grapple with informal employment, lack of legal protections, and unreliable access to essential services like water, sanitation, and healthcare.

CEDEAO-AES rupture: new challenges for Malian, Burkinabè, and Nigerien women workers

The dissolution of the ECOWAS-AES alliance in January 2025 has introduced new uncertainties for Malian, Burkinabè, and Nigerien migrants in Senegal. Before, their free movement and residency rights were guaranteed by the 1979 ECOWAS Protocol and its institutional mechanisms, including the ECOWAS Court of Justice. Now, their status relies on reciprocal political declarations between the two blocs, which can be revised unilaterally at any time without procedural safeguards.

This fragility disproportionately affects undocumented women workers. For a domestic worker from Mali or Burkina Faso who has lived in Senegal for years without obtaining a Foreigner Identity Card—a common scenario given the high rate of undocumented migrants in West Africa—her right to stay now hinges on political agreements rather than a stable, individual legal status. The Sahel’s security challenges in early 2026, marked by deadly attacks in Mali, may further drive an increase in female migration from Mali to Senegal. Civil society and unions must vigilantly monitor how Malian, Burkinabè, and Nigerien women are treated administratively, particularly regarding access to Foreigner Identity Cards, healthcare, and education for their children. Their legal footing has shifted from a stable multilateral protocol to a fragile bilateral arrangement.

Colonial borders and the roots of xenophobia

To understand this moment, we must step away from imported frameworks and examine the phenomenon from within. As Achille Mbembe has noted, Africa’s current borders are largely colonial constructs, drawn at the 1884-1885 Berlin Conference without regard for existing kinship, trade, or cultural networks. Postcolonial states, often fragile and seeking legitimacy, have adopted policies of ‘autochthony’—defining who truly ‘belongs’ to the soil as a means to unite uncertain national communities, often at the expense of excluding those deemed ‘foreign,’ even after generations of presence. This same logic fueled South Africa’s Afrophobia and now resurfaces in Dakar. An anti-racist lens adapted to Africa must name this phenomenon for what it is: intra-African xenophobia, a hierarchization of belonging among Black and African populations that perpetuates the colonial divide-and-rule tactics Frantz Fanon warned against in The Wretched of the Earth as a risk of poorly managed independence.

We must also incorporate a decolonial gender perspective. Scholars like Oyèrónké Oyèwùmí and Amina Mama have demonstrated how colonialism reconfigured gender categories, which postcolonial nationalists later repurposed to define national belonging. Foreign women, their fertility, their children born in Senegal, and their presence in households as domestic workers become focal points for controlling the boundaries of national identity. It is these women—and their children—who are the primary targets of challenges to birthright citizenship. Recognizing the vulnerabilities of Senegalese women in internal migration alongside those of African women migrating to Senegal requires rejecting two errors: ignoring Senegal’s responsibility toward those it hosts and imposing foreign analytical frameworks without adapting them to Africa’s historical realities.

Water and sanitation: the invisible barriers for migrant women

The African Union’s 2026 theme is not merely a technical slogan—it directly and disproportionately impacts the lives of migrant women. In peripheral neighborhoods of Dakar where internal migrants and African women settle, access to running water and safe sanitation remains partial. The absence of decent toilets exposes women and girls to insecurity, particularly at night. Their workplaces present similar challenges: domestic workers or live-in helpers rely entirely on their employers’ goodwill for access to water and sanitation, as no labor laws mandate these essential services. This dependency mirrors the plight of Senegalese women employed as domestic workers abroad and African women working as domestic workers in Senegal.

Making sustainable water and sanitation access a goal of Agenda 2063 is also a goal for migrant women—those who leave, those who return, and those arriving from other African nations. A water policy that ignores the neighborhoods where migrant women live or ties access to essential services to administrative status will fail its most vulnerable targets. Here lies the intersection between continental agendas and gender justice.

A hospitality to uphold, a water crisis to address

The African Women’s Day should not be reduced to a ritual tribute, nor should the 2026 theme remain a summit slogan. Together, they present a clear political duality: without migrant women—whether Senegalese within their own country or Africans in Senegal—entire segments of the subregion’s economies would collapse. Without guaranteed access to safe water and dignified sanitation for these same women, in their homes, workplaces, and host neighborhoods, the goals of Agenda 2063 will remain unattainable for those who need them most. Hospitality that ends at national borders or a water policy that overlooks these women misses the same critical opportunity.