The recent appointment of Namibia’s first female president, Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah, and her decision to form a women-majority cabinet is being met with wide applause all over Africa as a major step forward for gender equality in Africa. Sworn in on Namibia’s 35th Independence anniversary, Nandi-Ndaitwah continues SWAPO’s long-standing rule, though the party’s popularity has waned due to corruption, rising living costs, and high youth unemployment. Upon her victory, the president reduced ministries from 21 to 14 to cut costs and improve efficiency. Key female appointments include Sanet Steenkamp as Minister of Education, Ericah Shafudah as Finance Minister, and Lucia Witbooi as Vice President, with Saara Kuugongelwa serving as Speaker of the National Assembly.

The optics are powerful: a country that has long been governed by male-dominated political structures is now being led by a woman, with women holding key ministerial positions in finance, foreign affairs, and the vice presidency. These developments are not insignificant, particularly in a region where women’s political participation has historically been restricted. But history has shown that the presence of women in high office does not automatically translate into structural change for women’s rights. Representation alone is not enough. Without a commitment to policies that actively challenge the patriarchal frameworks that shape governance, female leadership can serve as a mere extension of the status quo rather than a force for transformation.

Africa has witnessed a growing number of women rise to positions of power over the past two decades, from Ellen Johnson Sirleaf’s presidency in Liberia to Samia Suluhu Hassan’s leadership in Tanzania. Joyce Banda in Malawi, Ameenah Gurib-Fakim in Mauritius, and Catherine Samba-Panza in the Central African Republic have all held the highest offices in their respective countries. In Rwanda, women occupy over 60 percent of parliamentary seats, and in South Africa, gender representation in government has steadily increased. On the surface, these suggest progress. However, progress must be measured not by the number of women in government, but by the extent to which those women enact policies that dismantle the structures that sustain gender inequality. In too many cases, women who attain high office either lack the power to implement feminist reforms or, worse, choose not to challenge the patriarchal systems they now lead.

Ugandan feminist legal scholar Sylvia Tamale, in her book Decolonization and Afro-Feminism (2020), warns against assuming that more women in government means an automatic win for gender justice. She writes, “Women’s presence in the corridors of power is meaningless unless they use that power to dismantle the structures that oppress the majority of women.” African history supports this argument. The idea that women in power will automatically act in the interests of women as a whole is a simplistic assumption. The realities of political survival often mean that women leaders must operate within deeply entrenched patriarchal systems, where challenging the status quo can come at great political cost. Some may choose to work within these systems rather than against them, prioritizing political stability over feminist reform. Others may actively reinforce patriarchal values, whether due to personal beliefs or political expediency. In Sierra Leone, a proposed bill to decriminalize abortion was met with fierce opposition from religious and conservative groups, forcing its amendment into a watered-down version that failed to fully guarantee women’s reproductive rights. This is just one example of how, even when women are in power, they may find themselves constrained by the very structures they sought to change.

The ways in which patriarchy conditions women to act against their own interests are particularly evident in political solidarity; or the lack thereof. The recent case of Nigerian Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan is a striking example. After accusing Senate President Godswill Akpabio of sexual harassment, she was suspended for six months on flimsy allegations of “unparliamentary behavior.” Rather than standing in solidarity with her, her female colleagues distanced themselves, unwilling to challenge the power structures that they, too, are beholden to.

In Tanzania, President Samia Suluhu Hassan, the country’s first female head of state, made headlines for her remarks on traditional gender roles. She recently stated that, despite being the most powerful person in the country, she kneels before her husband as a sign of respect. While personal expressions of culture are one’s own prerogative, such statements from high-ranking female leaders send dangerous messages that reinforce women’s subservience rather than their autonomy. If the president of a country normalizes the idea that a woman must submit to her husband regardless of her professional achievements, what message does that send to the millions of Tanzanian women fighting for economic independence, land rights, and protection from gender-based violence? bell hooks, in Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center (1984), reminds us that patriarchy is not only sustained by men but also by women who have been conditioned to uphold its norms.

What Namibia does next will determine whether this moment is a breakthrough or merely another example of symbolic representation. Will its new leadership take concrete steps to protect women from violence, expand reproductive rights, and dismantle economic and legal structures that sustain gender inequality? Or will it follow the well-trodden path where women in power become absorbed into patriarchal governance without challenging its foundations?

A feminist government is one that prioritizes structural change, not just representation. The appointment of women is not a victory in itself as much as it is an opportunity. But if these leaders fail to act in the interest of the majority of women, particularly those who remain marginalized, then their presence in power will be little more than a patriarchy with a new face.