The Women of Ciudad Juárez: A Silent War Against Women
In the dusty, sun-scorched border town of Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, a horrific mystery has persisted for decades. Known grimly by some as “The City of the Lost Girls,” Juárez is where hundreds—possibly thousands—of women have been raped, tortured, and murdered in a chilling wave of violence that began in the early 1990s and continues to this day. The victims are often young, poor, and working in the city’s sprawling maquiladoras, factories established to serve U.S. markets just across the border.
The causes behind this femicide epidemic are as complex as they are horrifying. Many attribute the crisis to a potent mix of organized crime, economic desperation, political corruption, and deep-seated misogyny. As the war between drug cartels has intensified, the violence in Juárez—already one of Mexico’s most dangerous cities—has become even more brutal, with women frequently caught in the crossfire or deliberately targeted.
According to Amnesty International, Mexican authorities have repeatedly failed to properly investigate the murders or bring perpetrators to justice. Despite international outcry and the growing documentation of cases, law enforcement has either ignored evidence, mishandled investigations, or turned a blind eye altogether.
Some victims disappear on their way to or from work in the factories that line the U.S.-Mexico border. Others are kidnapped in broad daylight. Their remains, when found, are often mutilated and dumped in the desert or on the outskirts of the city. For years, families have organized marches, vigils, and protests demanding justice. But more often than not, their pleas are met with silence or indifference.
Marisela Ortiz, the founder and coordinator of Nuestras Hijas de Regreso a Casa (“May Our Daughters Return Home”), a grassroots NGO focused on documenting and advocating for victims, has spent years confronting the violence with unwavering resolve. In a 2008 interview with the Latin American Herald Tribune, Ortiz stated that the killings were “the toll of an internal war between the drug trafficking mafias who are fighting to conquer the territory.” To her and many others, these women have become casualties of a broader war over control of the border—and over control of women’s bodies.
On December 18, 2008, the organization’s website carried a chilling reminder of the crisis: “Today is Dec. 18, 2008 and that doesn’t solve anything.” The sentiment reflects a despair shared by countless families who have waited years—sometimes decades—for answers that never come.
Despite the passage of time, not much has changed. While some arrests have been made over the years, they are often clouded by allegations of forced confessions, lack of evidence, or scapegoating. In many cases, the perpetrators remain at large, and the cycle of violence continues unbroken.
The problem is further compounded by widespread corruption in law enforcement and local government, making thorough investigations nearly impossible. Reports have surfaced of police tampering with evidence, failing to preserve crime scenes, and even being complicit in some of the crimes. This has led many families to distrust authorities, seeking justice instead through grassroots organizing and international pressure.
Ciudad Juárez’s proximity to the U.S. border also plays a role. The city became a major hub for drug trafficking and human smuggling, bringing with it an influx of criminal organizations that view women as expendable commodities—whether for forced labor, sex trafficking, or acts of intimidation and control. The presence of these cartels, coupled with economic inequality and social marginalization, creates a deadly environment where women are especially vulnerable.
Efforts from outside organizations, including the United Nations and various human rights groups, have called on Mexico to address the crisis with urgency. While some legal reforms have been implemented in recent years, including the recognition of feminicidio (femicide) as a distinct crime in Mexican law, implementation remains inconsistent, and impunity still reigns.
Meanwhile, women continue to vanish.
Despite the staggering odds, groups like Nuestras Hijas de Regreso a Casa continue to fight, documenting every disappearance, speaking at international forums, and holding vigils for the dead. Their courage keeps the memory of the victims alive in a city that often wishes to forget them.
Ciudad Juárez is more than a murder capital—it is a battleground for human rights, where the victims are not just statistics but sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends. As long as their stories are told and their names remembered, the fight for justice continues—even when the system fails to deliver it.
