When Mexico’s first female president, Claudia Sheinbaum, was groped during a public event in Mexico City, the moment shocked not just her supporters but the world.
It wasn’t merely an assault on her personal dignity; it was a reminder that no amount of power, position, or prestige can shield women from gendered violence and harassment.
The incident unfolded earlier this week outside the National Palace, where President Sheinbaum was greeting a crowd of supporters. As she waved and smiled, a man emerged from the crowd, reached toward her, and attempted to kiss her neck before touching her inappropriately.
Startled, Sheinbaum stepped away, her security rushing to restrain the man. But even as the cameras stopped rolling, the outrage had only begun.
Her security team quickly intervened, but at that moment, a blur of disbelief and outrage reverberated across the globe.
The Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum was kissed and gropped by a man at a public event! Why are men so savage! pic.twitter.com/f4VizHTJ2y
— Mwesigye Samantha (@scamwesigye2) November 6, 2025
For many women, especially those in politics, the scene was not unfamiliar. It was yet another painful reminder that even power, prestige, and presidential security cannot always shield women from the pervasive grip of sexual harassment.
Prosecutors in Mexico later revealed that the man had been arrested. But it was Sheinbaum’s reaction —calm, firm, and fearless —that made the world pause and listen.
In a statement that has since become a rallying cry for women’s dignity, Sheinbaum declared, “If I don’t file a complaint, what becomes of other Mexican women? If this happens to the president, what will happen to all the women in our country?”
She later confirmed that she had filed a criminal complaint, emphasising, “No one can violate our body and personal space.” Her words struck deep, not just in Mexico, but far beyond its borders.
Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has filed a complaint after she was groped by a man during a public street event. She said she brought the complaint on behalf of all Mexican women and called for a review of sexual harassment laws in Mexico. pic.twitter.com/7SMIrNshXa
— Al Jazeera English (@AJEnglish) November 6, 2025
They echoed through the corridors of power in Kenya, where women leaders have long faced public humiliation and gendered violence, often with little justice in return.
Her decision to take legal action has been hailed as a moment of defiance that redefines what leadership looks like. It challenges a culture that normalises the harassment of women in politics and reminds the world that courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision to act despite it.
Echoes from Kenya’s political past
Kenya has had its own share of disturbing moments that mirror Sheinbaum’s experience, incidents that exposed both the courage of the victims and the deep-rooted misogyny that continues to plague public spaces.
In 2013, then Nairobi Woman Representative Rachael Shebesh was allegedly assaulted by then Governor Evans Kidero in what became one of Kenya’s most shocking moments of political violence against a woman. The slap, captured on camera, triggered nationwide outrage and condemnation.
The National Gender and Equality Commission described the act as “a man behaving in a cruel, malicious, or humiliating manner intended to undermine a person.”
Shebesh herself later said she felt demeaned, calling it “the height of intolerance that reeks of sheer arrogance and total disrespect for women.” Though she filed a police report, the matter was later settled out of court, leaving many feeling justice had been denied.
But Shebesh’s experience was not isolated. In Parliament, nominated MP Millie Odhiambo has long spoken out about the harassment faced by female lawmakers. During a heated session, she once revealed to the House that male MPs had tried to undress her.
“There are male members who tried to remove my dress; one pulled my panties, which I have kept for historical reasons,” she said.
Her confession shocked the nation, revealing how even Kenya’s legislative chambers, spaces meant to embody integrity and respect, could turn hostile for women who dare to speak boldly.
Long before Shebesh and Odhiambo, the late Professor Wangari Maathai bore the brunt of state-sponsored brutality. The Nobel Peace Prize laureate, celebrated worldwide for her environmental and human rights activism, was repeatedly beaten, insulted, and publicly shamed by men in power.
At one point, a government minister dismissed her as a “mad woman.” Yet Maathai’s unwavering resolve became a beacon of strength for countless women. She proved that resilience can coexist with vulnerability and that even those branded as troublemakers can become trailblazers.
More recently, nominated Senator Gloria Orwoba found herself at the centre of another debate when President William Ruto was seen pinching her cheeks playfully at a public event. Some dismissed the gesture as harmless, but others called it patronising and inappropriate, particularly given Orwoba’s visible advocacy for women’s dignity in leadership.
The incident reignited the conversation about boundaries, consent, and respect—issues that women in public life continue to grapple with daily.
When power doesn’t protect
President Sheinbaum’s ordeal illustrates a painful truth: power does not insulate women from harassment. It also underscores how deeply embedded these behaviours are, even in societies that have made strides towards gender equality.
Her attacker’s actions were not just an invasion of personal space; they were a symbolic act, a reminder that patriarchy often refuses to bow even to the highest office in the land.
Yet Sheinbaum’s decision to pursue legal action reframes the narrative. It tells women everywhere that silence is not strength and that reporting harassment is not weakness; it is resistance.
Had the man who groped Sheinbaum committed the same act in Kenya, he would have faced prosecution under Section 11A of the Sexual Offences Act of 2006, which states that “any person who commits an indecent act with an adult is guilty of an offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years or a fine not exceeding fifty thousand shillings or to both.”
Additionally, Section 23 of the same Act criminalises sexual harassment by those in positions of power, stating that “any person who, being in a position of authority or holding a public office, persistently makes any sexual advance or request which he or she knows or has reason to believe is unwelcome to the person to whom the advance or request is made, commits the offence of sexual harassment.”
These provisions make it clear that Kenya’s laws recognise unwanted touching, advances, or physical contact as criminal acts, even when they fall short of assault.
President Sheinbaum’s defiance has reignited conversations about how societies view women in power. Her action forces the world to confront uncomfortable questions: if the most powerful woman in Mexico can be violated in public, what safety exists for the rest?
For Kenyan women, politicians, activists, and everyday citizens, the answer lies not just in laws but in the courage to speak up and demand accountability.
The battle for respect and equality is far from over. But every act of resistance, from Maathai’s protests in Uhuru Park to Sheinbaum’s decision to press charges, pushes the line of progress forward.
As Sheinbaum’s case continues to unfold, her words linger: “If this happens to the president, what will happen to all the women in our country?”