Image: A mother and daughter at the safe space for women and girls in southeastern Myanmar. (Aye Pyae Sone/CPI)
In a town in southeastern Myanmar, a quiet but vital transformation is taking place. At a women’s safe space supported by Community Partners International (CPI), women and girls who have survived conflict, displacement, domestic violence, and the devastation of the March 2025 earthquake are finding something they had almost lost: a place where they feel safe, seen, and supported.
For many of the women and girls who walk through the center’s doors, this safe space in Myanmar is far more than a training venue. It is a lifeline, offering psychosocial support, health education, gender-based violence (GBV) awareness, and practical livelihood skills in a secure, women-only environment. This article shares their stories.
Myanmar’s women and girls face a compounding set of vulnerabilities that have intensified in recent years. Conflict has long been documented as having a disproportionate impact on women and girls, exposing them to heightened risks of gender-based violence, loss of income, and displacement. According to UNFPA data, 11% of women and girls in Myanmar have experienced intimate partner violence, and 16% have experienced child marriage.
Deepening poverty has made economic recovery even harder for families already struggling with the effects of conflict. Then, in March 2025, a major earthquake struck, adding yet another layer of trauma. Research from the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine highlights the severe mental health toll that war, displacement, and disaster are having on girls in Myanmar, an invisible wound that the safe space works directly to address.
Hae, the safe space supervisor, describes the women her center serves: “Many surrounding villages are home to women and girls fleeing conflicts. We provide them with opportunities for income generation and psychosocial support, ensuring they have a safe space during the daytime.”
The center opened in September 2025 and serves women and girls aged 15 to 60. Many come from nearby displacement camps or surrounding villages, having fled conflict in their home areas. Some have lost their homes and livelihoods entirely. Others are coping with domestic violence on top of the strains of displacement and poverty.
Moo, 40, is a weaving instructor at the safe space and a mother of four children. She and her family fled their village in southeastern Myanmar after fighting broke out. “There was fighting in our village, fires were set, and artillery was fired every night, so we fled to this area,” she says. Her husband and eldest son remain in the forest near their rubber farm, unable to travel safely. She and her daughters now live in a displacement camp in the area.
Nyar, 50, fled fighting in a nearby area together with her elderly mother, who is over 90 and bedridden. “Our house was burned down during the conflict, and now we have nothing left,” she says. The two women now rent a house in the town, a significant financial burden for a widow managing on her own.These stories are representative of the reality facing tens of thousands of women across the region, and they are exactly why a dedicated, trusted women’s safe space matters so deeply.
The safe space operates daily from 9 am to 4 pm. It offers free 10-day courses, each accommodating up to 20 women. Activities are divided into two main streams: livelihood and handicraft skills, and GBV case management and psychosocial support.
“We begin with a welcome session that includes a feelings check-in regarding their health and well-being before we start any training,” explains Hae. “If participants are down, we conduct a dance session to energize them, with our staff joining in the fun.”
This approach reflects the center’s core philosophy: emotional safety and physical activity are as important as skills training. The center provides breakfast for early arrivals, a shared lunch, and afternoon refreshments. For women living in displacement camps with limited resources, a warm communal meal is itself a form of dignity. Participants frequently mention the meals in their feedback, and it is easy to understand why.
A central pillar of the safe space is practical, income-generating skills training. Courses include basket weaving, plastic hammock weaving, embroidery, soap making, cooking demonstrations, and makeup and hairstyling.
These are not simply craft activities. “We prioritize skills that participants can use to earn income,” says Hae. “Once they master them, they have the opportunity to make money.”
Sein, 55, came to the center already motivated to learn. “I love crafting,” she says. “Before learning how to weave, I used to hire others to make hammocks for me, but it often took over two weeks. This motivated me to learn how to weave hammocks and baskets myself, so I could proudly say, ‘Look here, I can make it by myself!'” She adds that she can now weave a plastic hammock in just two days, cutting costs and building genuine self-sufficiency.
These activities also function as occupational therapy. Engaging the hands and mind in purposeful activity, in the company of other women, offers a structured alternative to the isolation and circular thoughts that are common among displaced women managing ongoing trauma.
Beyond skills training, the safe space provides structured mental health and psychosocial support, including psychological first aid (PFA), group and individual sessions, and sexual and reproductive health and rights (SRHR) education.
Madonna, 29, attended a 10-day training course in January 2026. She reflects: “On the last day of the training, we had one-on-one psychosocial counselling. That is when I began to recognize feelings I had not expressed before, and I learned the importance of mental health.”
Her experience illustrates something the center’s staff observe regularly: many women arrive unaware that what they are feeling has a name, a cause, and a remedy. “We recognize that some participants may not be aware of or understand the symptoms of depression,” says Hae. “When this occurs, we explain the symptoms and emphasize the importance of mental health.”
The center takes a thoughtful, tiered approach to support. Some women feel comfortable sharing in group settings; others need the privacy of an individual session. Staff respect both. “Most participants are hesitant to speak openly about their mental health issues, so we give them room to open up, whether in group or individual sessions,” Hae explains.
The group dynamic itself becomes therapeutic. “Over the past 10 days, I have felt more relaxed here,” says Madonna. “At home, I only do housework and often feel lonely. Many participants build friendships, creating connections that feel just like the special bonds between mothers and daughters.”
For survivors of gender-based violence, the safe space offers a discreet and trusted entry point into case management and referral services. Paw, the safe space’s case manager, has spent five months in the role but a lifetime working informally to protect women in her community.
“Prior to this role, I helped women in my neighborhood who were survivors of domestic violence,” she says. “If they had nowhere to stay, they could come to my house, where I could give them shelter until they could find a safe place.”
The cases she manages reflect the complex, layered nature of GBV in conflict-affected communities. Economic precarity, substance abuse, displacement, and a lack of legal recourse all contribute to cycles of violence that are difficult to escape. “Domestic violence typically stems from a lack of socio-economic opportunities, and many men resort to alcohol and drugs to cope with stress,” she explains.
Crucially, the safe space does not require women to identify as survivors in order to receive help. GBV survivors participate alongside other women in craft and cooking sessions. Support is offered subtly, consistently, and without judgment. “During these moments, we take the opportunity to inform them about the services available for GBV cases and raise awareness about their options,” says Hae.
Shar, 38, is a domestic violence survivor whose husband struggled with drug addiction, which led to years of physical abuse and financial coercion. After engaging with the center, she received psychological first aid and skills training and has since rebuilt her independence.
“I feel comfortable talking openly at the safe space,” she says. Now she actively encourages others to attend. “After completing the course, I have started sharing this valuable information with those around me, inviting anyone interested to join the courses. Some people have already signed up.”
In fragile, conflict-affected settings, trust is rarely given freely. For women who have survived violence, displacement, and loss, opening up about their mental health, their relationships, or their experiences of abuse requires something that cannot be imported or imposed from outside. It must be earned, slowly and consistently, by people who are already part of the community.
This is one of the most important dimensions of the safe space model: it is entirely locally led. The center is operated by a local organization partner of CPI, rooted in the community long before the program began. Staff are from the same communities as the women they serve. They share the same languages and cultural reference points and, in many cases, have lived through the same conflicts and displacements.
Local leadership also means the center can navigate this conflict-affected setting with a nuance that outside organizations cannot easily replicate. Staff know which routes are safe, which displacement camp and village leaders to engage, and how to reach isolated women.
Paw conducts home visits to distant villages despite personal safety concerns because she knows the people and the landscape. “When someone approaches me, I first listen to their story,” she explains, a simple statement that reflects a deeply relational, community-embedded approach to care.
Language and cultural sensitivity are equally central. Many women who have fled conflict are Karen and may not understand Burmese well. “In such cases, those who speak Karen help with translation,” notes Hae. A woman who cannot express her needs in her own language is not truly safe. The center’s local staff make sure she is.
Confidentiality is handled with the same care. “We treat their information with confidentiality, carefully explaining that their personal details will be kept private, and we ask for their consent,” says Hae. In communities where word travels fast and disclosure can carry real danger, that commitment, made by someone the participant may already know and trust, carries far more weight than a policy on paper.
Local leadership is also what makes this work sustainable. The relationships built at the center belong to the community itself. Neighbors have become advocates. Participants have become instructors. Graduates like Shar are already bringing new women through the door. That organic growth, rooted in trust, is the foundation on which lasting change is built.
The most telling indicators of the center’s impact are not clinical. Women speak of friendship, laughter, good food, and the quiet pleasure of learning something new. They speak of feeling bold, feeling heard, and, for many, feeling happy for the first time in years.
Madonna puts it plainly: “When I attended the training at the center, I felt as though I was in a safe community, which made me very happy. People of various ages participated, but there was no discrimination between the young and the old. Everyone supported each other.”
This atmosphere is deliberately cultivated. The center’s agreements ask participants to use positive language, to encourage each other regardless of outcomes, and to respect each other’s needs. Mothers can bring their children. Elders can take breaks and continue work at home. As Hae reflects: “I want our center to maintain its focus on being a safe and a happy space for women.”
The safe space is currently funded through external support. Without continued investment, it cannot keep its doors open, and the need is only growing. “Now that more people are aware of the safe space we provide, interest is growing,” says Hae. “It is essential that we continue this initiative. The primary purpose of our center is not only to provide physical support but also to offer emotional support. Having a safe space is crucial for women and girls.”
For women like Moo, Nyar, and Shar, that support has already made a measurable difference: skills to help them earn, friendships they can lean on, information they need, and above all, a place where they are safe.
Names have been changed to ensure privacy. Interviews have been edited for clarity, brevity and flow.
Community Partners International (CPI) strengthens, equips and connects local organizations in Myanmar, Bangladesh and Thailand providing health and humanitarian services to conflict- and poverty-affected communities.
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