Sexual harassment in Mexico drives women to look for rides with other women

Amid Mexico’s rampant gender-based violence, a women-led transportation network is creating safe passage through the capital’s dangerous streets, offering an alternative to public transport and traditional ride-hailing services that frequently expose women to harassment and assault.

When Ninfa Fuentes, an international economics researcher, endured persistent unwanted advances from a rideshare driver three years ago, the experience left her shaken and unwilling to use public transportation again. “I felt like I was dying,” recalls Fuentes, a survivor of sexual violence who found herself trapped in what should have been a routine ride home.

Her experience mirrors that of countless Mexican women who face daily threats while simply trying to navigate their cities. The issue has gained renewed attention after Mexico’s first woman president, Claudia Sheinbaum, was groped by an intoxicated man at a recent public event.

Following the incident, Sheinbaum pressed charges and announced plans to standardize sexual harassment laws across all Mexican states, aiming to improve reporting mechanisms in a country where an average of ten women are killed daily.

For Fuentes and thousands of other women seeking safety, a network called AmorrAs has emerged as a vital lifeline. Founded in 2022 by 29-year-old Karina Alba following the high-profile killing of Debanhi Escobar, who was found dead after exiting a taxi on a dark highway in Monterrey, AmorrAs offers more than just transportation—it provides peace of mind.

“My dream was to contribute to society in some way,” said Alba, who enlisted her mother, taxi driver Ruth Rojas, as the network’s first driver. “I decided to do so by creating a safe space for women, one where they can live with dignity and free from violence.”

Now serving more than 2,000 women annually, AmorrAs employs over 20 female “ally” drivers who undergo safety screening. The service operates through a WhatsApp-based system where passengers submit ride requests in advance and receive confirmation messages with their driver’s information and a reassuring pink heart emoji.

Dian Colmenero, a 38-year-old marketing professional who drives part-time for AmorrAs, understands firsthand the dangers women face. “Before driving with AmorrAs, I had experienced violence on public transport, on the subway, and even with ride-hailing apps,” she explained. “I once had to ride with a driver who told me and my partner that he had beaten up several women.”

The warm relationship between drivers and passengers distinguishes AmorrAs from conventional services. When Colmenero picks up regular passenger Fuentes, they greet each other with hugs and engage in conversations about their lives, families, and shared experiences—creating a community of support amidst Mexico City’s chaotic traffic.

The statistics underscore the urgency of such initiatives. Mexico has documented 61,713 sex crimes so far in 2025, including 8,704 reports of sexual harassment, according to the National Public Security System’s Executive Secretariat. Yet experts believe these numbers represent only a fraction of actual incidents, as the National Citizen Observatory on Femicide notes that sex crimes remain vastly underreported due to stigma and institutional mistrust.

Lawyer Norma Escobar, who collaborates with AmorrAs providing legal support, has witnessed the barriers women face when reporting assaults. She recounts hearing a forensic doctor dismiss a woman’s complaint, saying, “Nothing has happened to you, there have been worse cases.”

“Seeing that the authorities downplay it, women end up often giving up on their cases,” Escobar observed. “There is a lack of attention, commitment and professionalism from authorities.”

This institutional failure compounds the cultural machismo and systemic gender inequality that has normalized violence against women throughout Mexico.

The transportation landscape is particularly treacherous. Many women develop survival tactics, like traveling with a hand on the door handle for quick escape—a strategy that ended tragically for 23-year-old Lidia Gabriela Gómez, who died in 2022 after jumping from a moving taxi when the driver deviated from her requested route.

Maria José Cabrera, a 28-year-old engineer and AmorrAs client, recalls being followed after disembarking from a minibus and seeking refuge in a women-only subway car. On another occasion, she was groped on a mixed-gender subway car before her assailant disappeared into the crowd.

Like many Mexican women, Cabrera developed personal safety protocols—avoiding skirts, sharing her location with trusted contacts, and limiting her activities. “For me, AmorrAs represents being able to do things I couldn’t do before,” she said. “I really enjoy going to concerts. It shouldn’t be like that but if it weren’t for them, I probably wouldn’t be able to do it.”

As Mexico confronts its epidemic of gender-based violence, grassroots initiatives like AmorrAs highlight both the persistent dangers women face and the community-led solutions emerging in the absence of effective state protection.