By Nakalembe Judith – CEHURDΒ
When Ugandaβs authorities began demolishing roadside kiosks and informal structures in early 2026, the narrative was framed around order, cleanliness, and modernization. However, behind the rubble lies a deeper, more painful story, one that is rarely told. It is the story of women, especially single mothers, whose lives have been destabilized not only economically, but emotionally and physically, in ways that expose the harsh realities of living in a patriarchal society.
For many of these women, the informal economy is not a choice it is survival. In a society where structural inequalities limit womenβs access to formal employment, land ownership, and financial stability, roadside businesses offer a rare form of independence. These small enterprises allow women to feed their children, pay school fees, attend to their health needs, afford housing and maintain a sense of dignity.
The government’s action of taking away these spaces, with or without notice, sometimes enforced through intimidation or force, the impact goes far beyond lost income. It creates a ripple effect of vulnerability that places women at increased risk of violence, exploitation, and psychological trauma. Economic loss often becomes the first step toward deeper harm.
In patriarchal settings, financial dependence can trap women in abusive environments. A woman who loses her income may be forced to return to or remain in relationships where she faces domestic violence, simply because she no longer has the means to survive on her own. Others may enter exploitative arrangements-transactional relationships or unsafe work in order to provide for their children. This is where the link between economic displacement and gender-based violence becomes painfully clear.
The demolitions, though administrative in intent, can unintentionally reinforce power imbalances that already exist. When a womanβs financial autonomy is stripped away, her bargaining power in both the household and society diminishes. In many cases, this increases her exposure to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. At the same time, a silent mental health crisis unfolds.
Nalongo Justine, a mother from Kalagi in Mukono District, whom we interacted with about this order said,Β
We do not have a designated marketplace, that is why I have been doing roadside vending to earn a living. Now that we have been chased away, I have no means to pay my children’s fees. We do not have plots for farming, by chasing us away, they are simply telling us to commit suicide.Β
Watch >> Nalongo JustineΒ
Like many women, Nalongo is calling on the government to provide a safe, designated market space in Kalagi so they can support their families with dignity and stability.
Women affected by these demolitions are not only grieving lost businesses – they are grappling with fear, shame, anger, and uncertainty. For single mothers, the psychological burden is immense. The constant pressure of not knowing how to feed their children or keep them in school can lead to chronic anxiety and depression.
But in a patriarchal context, mental health struggles are often dismissed or silenced. Women are expected to βendure,β to remain strong for their families, and to avoid speaking openly about emotional distress. This cultural expectation turns suffering into isolation.
What emerges is a dangerous, self-reinforcing cycle. When livelihoods are lost, the immediate impact is stress and economic desperation. That desperation, in turn, heightens vulnerability to violence and exploitation, as options narrow and survival becomes more urgent. Exposure to such violence deepens trauma and worsens mental health, creating wounds that go beyond the physical ones that can be visible. And as mental health deteriorates, the ability to recover, rebuild, or even seek out new opportunities becomes significantly harder, trapping individuals in a loop that is difficult to break. Breaking this cycle requires more than policy adjustments it requires a shift in how we understand development.
Urban order cannot come at the cost of human dignity. Enforcement strategies that ignore gender realities of risk deepening inequality and harm. Women are not just informal traders; they are caregivers, providers, and the backbone of many households. When they fall, entire families and future generations are affected.
A more humane approach would start by recognizing how deeply these issues are connected. It would move beyond narrow enforcement and instead respond to the full reality people are living through. That means embedding protection against gender-based violence within displacement responses, so safety is not treated as an afterthought. It also means integrating mental health and psychosocial support into urban enforcement policies, acknowledging the emotional and psychological toll of disruption.
At the same time, there is a need for economic recovery programs intentionally designed for women, addressing the specific barriers they face in rebuilding their livelihoods. Importantly, creating safe, affordable trading spaces would help preserve womenβs independence, allowing them to sustain themselves and their children with dignity rather than pushing them further into vulnerability.
If Uganda is to build cities that truly thrive, it must confront not only the structures on its streets, but the structures within its society. Until then, the cost of progress will continue to be paid by those who can least afford it, including women struggling every day, not just for income, but for survival, safety, and peace of mind. The time is now for the government to re-think its trade order, considering the implication to the rights of women. As a country, we can approach this, in a more humane way.
