What will it take to see more women in public leadership across Africa?
A few days ago, I was drawn to a post on LinkedIn by the Ellen Johnson Sirleaf Presidential Center for Women and Development (EJS Center). It highlighted the appointment of two women Prime Ministers in Africa — Judith Suminwa Tuluka in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Sara Zaafarani in Tunisia. The post celebrated their leadership, but also asked a pointed, necessary question: What will it take to see more women in public leadership across Africa?
That question has been sitting with me, especially because, not long ago, I wrote a piece for Susinsight exploring why Namibia was ranked among the top 10 countries globally in gender parity by the World Economic Forum. Seeing an African nation in that kind of company, alongside countries with far more resources and longer histories of gender reform, was unexpected, but also deeply compelling. I wanted to understand how Namibia got there, what decisions made the difference, and what challenges remain beneath the surface.
Then came another headline: Namibia just inaugurated its first female president. As a Nigerian, I couldn’t help but wonder — how far are we from such a reality? What would it even take?
That’s where my mind went as I reflected on the EJS Center’s question.
So I shared this on LinkedIn:
“It starts with how we see leadership, and even more so, how we see women.
In many parts of Africa, leadership is still imagined through a masculine lens: firm, assertive, often older, and usually male. This idea is passed down in homes, reinforced in classrooms, echoed in pulpits, and sometimes baked into law. So when women show up ready to lead, they’re often expected to prove they belong before they’re even allowed to lead.
But this isn’t the full picture. It’s just the loudest one.
There are countries doing things differently. Namibia comes to mind. From the moment they gained independence in 1990, they didn’t just include women in the national conversation; they structured the entire system to make their participation non-negotiable. Gender equity wasn’t treated as a nice-to-have. It was written into the Constitution. Over time, they made deliberate choices, like adopting a 50/50 gender policy in parliament, and stuck with them. Now, they’re one of Africa’s top performers in terms of gender parity across leadership roles.
That didn’t happen by accident. It happened because someone decided it mattered.
Elsewhere, the road is slower. Not necessarily because women aren’t ready, but because they’re working against layers of resistance, cultural expectations, informal power structures, economic barriers, and old belief systems that quietly (and sometimes openly) discourage them. In some countries, a woman rising to high office is still treated as a phenomenon, not a pattern.
You can’t shift this just through quotas or appointments. Those help, and we should keep pushing for them, but what’s needed runs deeper. It’s about changing how society prepares girls, how schools talk about power, how political parties treat female candidates, and how we respond when a woman makes a mistake in leadership. Do we allow her the same grace and learning curve we extend to her male peers? Or do we mark her failure as proof that women shouldn’t be there in the first place?
Representation is powerful, but culture sets the tone. And culture is shaped every day in the jokes people tell, the mentors who show up, the stories children hear, and the policies governments are willing to enforce.
We need more women in public leadership, not because women lead better, but because leadership that only reflects half the population is incomplete. And yes, it’s possible, but only if systems are built to support it, and societies are willing to let go of ideas that have kept women on the margins for too long.
Judith Suminwa Tuluka and Sara Zaafarani didn’t just get lucky. They stepped into roles that few women have occupied, and they carry the weight of being “firsts.” That weight is real. But it shouldn’t be permanent. No one should have to carry it alone.
So what will it take?
Honest reflection. Clear policy. And the courage to do things differently, from the ground up.
We all have a part to play in that. The question is: are we willing?”
