Kenya’s Gen Z protestors face trauma amid ongoing rallies

On June 25, Wendy, a young Kenyan woman, joined hundreds of demonstrators in Nairobi to protest the death of Albert Ojwang, a 31-year-old blogger and teacher who had just recently died in police custody. It was a bold decision on her part, one that came with much fear and uncertainty amid a growing government crackdown on dissent.

“Initially, I wasn’t going to show up because I was a little bit scared. They said they were targeting women this time,” Wendy said.

In the end, she returned home safely. But others didn’t.

At least 19 people were killed nationwide during the protests held on that day, which coincided with the first anniversary of last year’s storming of Kenya’s parliament.

‘I don’t know whether I’ll come back home’

Driven by widespread frustration over police brutality, economic hardship, and what many see as a failing government under President William Ruto, these demonstrations, largely led by young opposition voices who self-identify as Gen Z, have become a defining feature of the political landscape of Kenya.

But showing resistance can also take a toll on mental health. “I am completely terrified most of the time when I’m getting out of the house to go for the protests,” Wendy explained, highlighting a growing sense of anxiety among young people in the country.

Alex Mutua, another young protester, described the fear that now accompanies every demonstration and political rally, saying that “Every time I go out to fight for my country, I don’t know if I’ll be targeted by the police.”

“Going out and being part of that protest has been a really scary ordeal, considering how the police are handling the protests,” he added.

Irene Mwari, a university student and regular protester in Nairobi, agreed that the emotional price that young people have to pay keeps growing.

“Once I go to a protest in Kenya, I don’t really know whether I’ll come back home,” Mwari said.

Yet she feels driven by a desire to speak out against what she calls poor governance, even though each protest can become a gamble with her life.

Despite promising her parents that she would stay away from future demonstrations, Mwari admitted she has no intention of keeping her word.

“At the end of the day, we are the ones who have to live in Kenya with such bad governance. So, if we don’t fight for a better future, I don’t know who will.”

Violence and fear

The protests have grown increasingly dangerous over time. Kenya’s National Commission on Human Rights reported that 31 people were killed during the July 7 “Saba Saba” protests alone, making this the deadliest single day of rallies this year.

More than 100 were injured and 500 arrested; countless supermarkets and other businesses were looted or destroyed.

The commission has accused police of using live ammunition and collaborating with armed gangs to suppress these protests. Mwari agreed.

“If you’re lucky enough, you escape being shot. The government has used guns to disrupt peaceful protests. If they don’t beat you up, you’ll get robbed in broad daylight.”

Mental health professionals in Kenya also stress that the protests are no longer just a political matter – they’ve become deeply personal and therefore are emotionally draining for many.

“We are experiencing collective trauma,” said Kenyan psychologist Benta Wambui.

“Many young protesters are experiencing chronic stress and anxiety because of repeated exposure to violence. There is also emotional exhaustion, and sometimes there can be burnout and a growing sense of hopelessness,” she added, underscoring the fact that the prolonged nature of the standoff between civilians and authorities, now lasting well over a year, can make such symptoms worse.

Geoffrey Mboya, a youth activist and community organiser, has been on the frontlines of the demonstrations from the beginning, initially getting involved in opposition movements two years ago.

He said the emotional toll has changed him permanently: “[The protests have] affected me in ways that I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to articulate,” he said.

“I have lost part of myself.”

A deep desire to see change

Wambui noted that even those who are not physically present at protests are affected by the overall mood.

“There’s also the weight of trauma and loss on Kenyans as a collective. So, we witnessed state brutality, people losing peers, and people losing family. Whether you knew these people or not, this can trigger grief and other PTSD symptoms as well as emotional numbness,” she explained.

But despite the trauma, many young Kenyans say they won’t stop protesting.

“Having faith that the protests will bring change is what keeps me going,” said Mutua, a sentiment echoed also by Wendy. “I really want a country that works, a country that works for me and my daughter,” she said.

However, she also admitted that she’s emotionally drained. “Some days I feel so defeated. Sometimes even feel almost useless.”

Mboya, meanwhile, said he is fighting two battles at the same time: one against the government, and one with himself.

“The revolution needs a whole lot of people to be a support system. We need healing to fight well,” he said, sharing that he has started going to therapy to address the traumatic experiences he has witnessed.

“Therapy doesn’t make the pain go away, but it helps you carry it,” he explained.

The need for healing

Wambui agreed that finding emotional support is essential for protesters to be able to continue their fight healthily. “Grief spaces can be held where people can collectively process their trauma together and have peer support systems, where people can come together and talk about the things that are ongoing, whether that’s virtual or in-person,” she said.

She also called for broader mental health education.

“It’s also important to have mental health literacy amongst the population for them to be able to recognise triggers, to recognise burnout, to recognise all these things, and to be able to get the help that they need.”