In the heart of Gaza, where war and deprivation have become part of daily life, a new and deeply troubling crisis is emerging: women are being exploited for sex in exchange for food, money, or the promise of work. According to detailed reporting from the Associated Press, six women have come forward—albeit anonymously, fearing both family retribution and societal shame—to describe how desperation has left them vulnerable to predatory men, some with apparent links to aid groups.
For one 38-year-old mother of six, hope arrived in the form of a friend’s tip: a man who could help her secure food, perhaps even a job, as her family teetered on the edge of survival. But what was promised as a lifeline quickly turned into a nightmare. Instead of an office, she was driven to an empty apartment. There, the man’s intentions became clear. "I had to play along because I was scared, I wanted out of this place," she told AP. Before she left, he handed her 100 shekels—about $30—a box of medicine, and a box of food. The promised job didn’t materialize for weeks.
This woman’s story is not unique. The ongoing war in Gaza has displaced at least 90% of the population, according to multiple aid organizations, and created a humanitarian disaster. Hunger is widespread, and the scramble for basic necessities has left many, particularly women, with impossible choices. The Gaza Health Ministry reports that more than 66,000 Palestinians have been killed since the conflict began, with women and children making up about half of those deaths.
Six women shared their experiences with AP, each speaking on condition of anonymity due to the grave cultural taboos surrounding sexual violence in Gaza. The men’s solicitations ranged from the overt—"Let me touch you," one woman recalled—to the culturally coded: "I want to marry you," or "Let’s go together somewhere." Sometimes, the men identified themselves as aid workers and took phone numbers during aid registration, later using this information to pursue sexual favors in exchange for relief supplies.
Most of the women said they refused these advances, but the pressure was relentless. A 35-year-old widow described how, after giving her phone number to a man in a UNRWA uniform while waiting in line for aid, she began receiving late-night calls. The questions quickly turned sexual. "What underwear was she wearing? How did her husband please her?" She refused his advances and, after nearly a dozen calls and no aid, blocked his number. When she reported the incident to UNRWA, she was told she needed a recording as proof—a demand she couldn’t meet with her old phone. UNRWA, for its part, maintains a zero-tolerance policy for sexual exploitation and says it does not require proof to investigate complaints. "We take each report seriously," said Juliette Touma, the agency’s communications director, but she would not comment on individual cases.
The Protection from Sexual Exploitation and Abuse (PSEA) network, which coordinates with various aid groups including United Nations agencies, confirmed to AP that it had received 18 allegations of sexual abuse and exploitation linked to humanitarian aid in Gaza in the past year. All involved either aid workers or those associated with them, such as community representatives or private contractors. The network wouldn’t reveal how many cases were being investigated, citing confidentiality rules. Sarah Achiro, a coordinator for PSEA, noted that such data is likely just "the tip of the iceberg," as sexual violence is vastly underreported, especially in conflict zones.
Four Palestinian psychologists working with women in Gaza told AP that they had treated dozens of cases involving sexual exploitation, including some in which pregnancies resulted. The stigma is so severe that none of their patients would speak directly to reporters. One psychologist explained that the rise in cases has been dramatic. "Before the war, exploitation reports happened once or twice a year, but are up dramatically," said Amal Syam, director of the Women’s Affairs Center. She added that many organizations are reluctant to publicize the numbers or the issue, preferring to focus on the violence and violations committed by the Israeli occupation.
The context in Gaza is particularly dire. Nearly two years of war, a blockade, and constant turmoil over aid access have made humanitarian work for vulnerable people especially challenging. Aid groups blame Israel’s offensive and blockade for the crisis, saying these policies have forced women into desperate situations. "Israel’s siege on the Gaza Strip and the restrictions on humanitarian aid are what’s forcing women to resort to this," Syam told AP. Israel, meanwhile, denies restricting aid and insists it has taken steps to expand what comes into Gaza. Israeli officials also accuse Hamas of siphoning off aid, though they have not provided evidence of widespread diversion, and they blame U.N. agencies for failing to deliver food that Israel says it has allowed in. The U.N. denies there is widespread aid diversion.
The women’s stories reveal a pattern: solicitation often occurs during or after the process of registering for aid, with men taking their phone numbers—a routine step in aid distribution—then using that information to pursue sexual favors. The men in these cases were all Palestinian, and several women said they could not identify which aid group, if any, the men were associated with. The U.N. and aid organizations typically work with local communities, relying on contractors, volunteers, or community-appointed leaders as liaisons.
For some, the exploitation led to more than humiliation. The woman who was initially promised a job did eventually secure a six-month position with UNRWA in December 2023, but only after the sexual encounter. She says she never reported the man. "I told myself that no one would believe it. Maybe they would say I am only saying this so that they would give me a job." Since then, she’s been displaced again and struggles to feed her family, even as the man continues to try to contact her.
Others, like a 37-year-old mother of four, faced repeated solicitation. She was approached twice, once by the head of a shelter who offered food and shelter if they could "go together somewhere," a thinly veiled request for sex. She refused both times. Another mother, aged 29, described weeks of calls from an aid worker asking her to marry him in exchange for nutritional supplements for her children. She blocked his number, but he persisted with calls from different phones. "I felt completely humiliated," she said. "I had to go and ask for help for my children. If I didn’t do it, who would?"
Despite the stigma and the risk of retribution, these stories are finally coming to light. Yet psychologists and women’s groups warn that the true scale of exploitation is likely much greater than reported. Constant displacement, limited connectivity, and deep-rooted cultural taboos make it exceedingly difficult for survivors to seek help or for aid groups to respond effectively. As Gaza’s humanitarian crisis deepens, the most vulnerable continue to face impossible choices, with dignity and safety hanging in the balance.
