11-08-2025
Are we brave enough to finish what 1956 began for the women's movement?
Nearly 70 years after the historic march on Pretoria, South African women have made remarkable gains in education and achievement. Yet they remain underrepresented in leadership, face persistent violence and are too often excluded from the spaces where critical decisions are made.
South Africa again paused for Women's Day this past weekend. There were speeches and televised tributes to the heroines of 1956, the women who marched on Pretoria and declared: 'Wathint' Abafazi, Wathint' Imbokodo!' (You strike a woman, you strike a rock). Their courage laid the foundation for our democratic freedom.
However, nearly 70 years later, we must ask a difficult question. Do South African women truly have as much to celebrate as we claim, or have we grown so accustomed to ceremony that we mistake it for progress?
Consider this contradiction. South African women lead in education. About 13.1% of women aged 25 to 64 hold tertiary qualifications, compared with 12.3% of men (Stats SA). A landmark study after the 2008 matric cohort found that females were 56% more likely to complete an undergraduate qualification and 66% more likely to earn a bachelor's degree than their male peers.
Fewer women have a voice in shaping the laws, budgets and policies that govern the nation, despite constituting more than half the population. This is more than a gap in representation; it is a profound waste of talent and potential
Yet when ambition meets power, the story changes. Only four of the JSE Top 40 companies are led by female CEOs, and women hold only 23% of executive roles, a proportion that is declining (Just Share report).
According to the Labour Research Service 'studies suggest companies with more women in executive positions or as CEOs tend to outperform their peers in terms of profitability, market share and overall shareholder returns'.
Excluding women from leadership is not only unjust, but also bad for business.
Political representation has also regressed. After the 2024 elections, women held only 43% of seats in the National Assembly (Gender Links), down from 46% in 2020. At the Cabinet level, women account for about 43.8% of ministerial positions, a decline from the gender parity briefly achieved in 2019 (World Bank Gender Data).
Fewer women have a voice in shaping the laws, budgets and policies that govern the nation, despite constituting more than half the population. This is more than a gap in representation; it is a profound waste of talent and potential.
Women outperform men in education, yet they remain underrepresented in leadership and influence. The result is not only the betrayal of individual ambition but a loss for the entire nation. Alongside the inequalities lies a crisis that statistics cannot fully capture. South Africa remains one of the most dangerous places in the world to be a woman. Between July and September 2024, 957 women were murdered, 1,567 survived attempted murder, 14,366 suffered assault GBH, and more than 10,000 rapes were reported to police.
When the SA Police Service released its official crime statistics for the fourth quarter of 2024/25, data on gender-based violence (GBV), including murder and assault of women and children, was omitted entirely (IOL). The message, whether intended or not, is that it has become normal. If women's pain is not even counted, how can it ever be solved? What does that omission say about us as a nation?
As a survivor of (GBV), I have seen first-hand how laws mean little without enforcement. Paper promises do not protect women; action does. GBV must be tracked and addressed with the same urgency as murder or robbery, not hidden from view. Too often, silence around this violence is normalised. A woman who has been beaten is asked: 'What did you do to deserve it?' Such questions shift blame away from perpetrators and keep women trapped in cycles of fear and shame.
Progress is not only limited by systemic barriers, sometimes, it is also shaped by how we as women treat one another. I have been fortunate to have incredible female mentors who opened doors and amplified my voice. Yet I have also felt the sting of being excluded or undermined by other women. It is not easy to admit, but these moments are real. Competition, fear and the belief there is room for only a few women at the top can quietly erode solidarity. True progress is never a solitary climb. It happens when one hand reaches back to pull another woman forward, knowing power shared is power multiplied.
If equality is truly our goal, we must challenge the patterns and choose to rise together, creating a culture where every woman's success opens the door for the next. Women must have equal access to capital, fair pay and relief from the invisible burden of unpaid care work that limits their freedom. Representation must finally reflect reality. Women are 51% of South Africa, and our boardrooms and legislatures should reflect that fact.
The women of 1956 marched because they had had enough of being ignored. They were not celebrating their power; they were claiming it. Nearly 70 years later, we must decide whether we are content with speeches and hashtags or whether we are prepared to demand something more meaningful.
We owe more than tributes and luncheons to the next generation. Somewhere in this country, a young girl is standing at the edge of her future, full of promise yet uncertain of the world that awaits her. Our responsibility is to ensure her intelligence leads to real opportunity, that her voice carries into every room where decisions are made and her safety is never negotiable.
Before we celebrate, we should pause and ask ourselves: Do we treat women as true equals in every space we occupy? Do we continue to see women through outdated notions of weakness, or do we recognise them first and foremost as equal human beings? Do we speak out against the sexism and violence that continue to shape daily life, or do we stay silent? Do we teach boys and girls a girl is a child first, before being seen through the lens of gender, and a woman's role is not confined to the kitchen or the maternity ward? Are we willing to accept a country where half the population continues to wait for its turn to lead?
The march on Pretoria was a turning point, but the work they began remains unfinished. The greatest tribute we can pay those women is not only through speeches or ceremonies, but by building a South Africa where power, opportunity and safety belong to everyone. That is the freedom they dreamed of. It is the freedom we owe to the next generation.
• Chodeva is a strategic communications and entrepreneurship specialist with more than 25 years of cross-industry experience. She is passionate about advancing equality in leadership.
