Iceland is often labelled the best place in the world to be a woman, as well as the safest country on Earth. But many Icelandic women roll their eyes in frustration at such claims.
“That is crap,” says 35-year-old Hulda Hrund Guðrúnar Sigmundsdóttir. “This has been shoved down our throats ever since we were little. We’re told we’re so safe, while at the same time our mothers are warning us not to talk to men.”
Sigmundsdóttir is a member of Öfgar, a new feminist group made up of nine Icelandic women who have been collating and sharing anonymous stories of sexual violence by powerful men. Their recent actions have taken the small country by storm and sparked a resurgence of the #MeToo movement.
Over the last year, several Icelandic men in positions of power have stepped down or been fired over allegations of harassment, misconduct or sexual offences. The list includes men who had been working in the media, politics, business and football, as well as others in positions of power. Some have apologised but most have denied the allegations against them.
Sigmundsdóttir says Iceland’s long-held reputation as a feminist paradise has prevented women such as her from speaking up about abuse. “It’s a silencing tactic,” she says. “We are told we should be grateful because other countries have it worse than us.”
One in four women in the country have been raped or sexually assaulted, according to a study by the University of Iceland, which had more than 20,000 participants. That is higher than estimates for the EU and the UK.
On top of this, many women feel the justice system works against them when it comes to allegations of gender-based violence, with the vast majority of cases reported to police not making it to trial and few resulting in a conviction. A number of women have even gone as far as to sue Iceland at the human rights court, accusing it of failing to protect them from gendered violence.
That’s why Öfgar – which means “radical” or “extreme” in English – decided to take the matter into its own hands when it formed last summer.
Öfgar began when the women, who are all survivors of sexual assault, started to talk on a feminist Facebook group and decided to start a TikTok account together. At first, they posted educational videos about consent and sex education. But when they say they received 32 allegations of assault against the same Icelandic musician, they decided to post the women’s stories. He has denied the allegations.
“Overnight, the ball started rolling really fast,” says Helga Ben, 28, one of the members of the group. Since then, hundreds of survivors have shared their stories.
They have also taken on Icelandic football, promoting an allegation of sexual abuse against a forward for the men’s national team. Following their campaign, the entire board of the Icelandic Football Association resigned over the alleged cover-up.
Öfgar says it checks that the women who write to them are real by looking up their names in the “Book of Icelanders”, a database that contains genealogical information for most of the Icelandic population. It says it also fact-checks the claims by trawling through old social media posts.
On top of sharing allegations, Öfgar has had meetings with members of the media in Iceland and tried to persuade them to change the way they write about survivors of sexual violence. “We had a meeting with one of the biggest media in Iceland [DV] and we held a masterclass,” says Sigmundsdóttir. “They promised to do better – and they have done.”
In Iceland, women who speak out against abuse are often “slut shamed”, Ólöf Tara Harðardóttir says. So people find it easier to speak anonymously with Öfgar as a buffer. “Survivors feel they can trust us,” says Ben.
In a small country where everyone knows everyone, the women have met with a backlash. “The media have portrayed us as angry women, and as money-greedy attention whores,” Harðardóttir says. “They use the ugliest pictures they can get of us.”
The women in Öfgar also say they have received death threats, along with calls begging them to stop. “I have had phone calls, saying they knew where I lived,” says Harðardóttir. “I also had messages on Instagram saying I should kill myself. We got an email saying someone will end up dying if you don’t stop.”
Þórhildur Gyða Arnarsdóttir, 26, says she has also been the subject of abuse. “When you step forward with your name, you get these vicious attacks. The comment sections are horrible. You get slut-shamed,” she says.
In public forums, people have written that they should be shot, raped or sent to Afghanistan. Ben says some posts also imply people are following them and taking photos.
Sigmundsdóttir says some of the abuse scares her. “I loved the time that Covid [rules] made us wear masks,” she says. “Because we were hidden.”
However, the group insists it won’t stop them. “For me, it isn’t a choice,” says Tanja M Ísfjörð, 27, another member. “We need to do this.” “We have had enough,” says Harðardóttir. “We need to stand up and say, ‘this is going to stop here, we’re not going to be afraid of you’.”
