Participants during the Shujaaz Memorial concert held on July 7, 2024 at Uhuru Park in Nairobi.
When President William Ruto told police to shoot rioters in the legs, Kenya's Gen Z didn't cower—they created memes. Within hours, hashtags like #Wheeliam and #OneLegMovement flooded social media, accompanied by AI-generated images of protesters in wheelchairs and on crutches.
What started as a presidential threat became a viral joke, then a rallying cry, then thousands marching through Nairobi's streets with smartphones held high, livestreaming their defiance.
This is how a generation raised on the 2010 Constitution fights back: with satire as sharp as their slogans, constitutional articles on their lips, and an unshakable belief that the law belongs to them too.
Fifteen years after Kenya's Constitution came into force, the young people who grew up under its promises are now its most vocal defenders. They may have been in primary school when Article 1 declared that sovereign power belongs to the people, but today, they're in the streets—physically and digitally—demanding that leaders live up to those words.
"As Gen Zs, we actually know the Constitution better than previous generations. We are more literate and more aware of what it says," said Nancy Jepkorir, a 21-year-old university student. "Our rights are always violated, even though the Constitution promises things like the right to life and freedom of speech, freedom of expression."
Anti-government protesters march along Moi Avenue in Nairobi on July 23, 2024.
For this generation, constitutional rights weren't privileges to be earned but a birthright to be claimed. They learnt about freedom of expression not as an abstract concept, but as their daily reality.
Vivian Kivuti captures this strange mix of hope and disappointment that defines her generation's relationship with the Constitution. "From a young age, I was taught that I lived in a country with one of the most progressive constitutions in Africa, one that promised equality, justice, accountability and citizen participation," she told Nation.
"On paper and in books, it felt empowering, but in reality, I have seen the same leaders break the law with no consequences, misuse public resources and ignore the very rights the Constitution guarantees. My generation knows the Constitution better than our parents' generation. Not necessarily because the school system teaches it better, but because we have had to learn it to defend ourselves."
The difference lies partly in access to information. Gotha wa Mgothe puts it bluntly: "The older generation were not taught about the Constitution. We were educated in school, and now we have access to information on our phones and through social media. As long as the Constitution states it, there is nothing to fear. What we Gen Zs fear is hot porridge and marriage."
This digital advantage has revolutionized how young Kenyans engage with their fundamental law. X threads (formally Twitter) break down legal jargon into witty one-liners. TikTok creators explain complex court rulings in under 60 seconds. Instagram stories broadcast police confrontations live.
Biggest achievement
For Ademba Allan, a young human rights activist, this represents the Constitution's greatest achievement. "The fact that we can openly take to the streets, channel our frustrations and confront the government without fear is one of the Constitution's biggest achievements," he said. "We are still in the streets today, and that tells you something is happening; people are claiming their rights."
Allan believes his generation has achieved unprecedented constitutional literacy. "You don't have to be a law student to understand it. Young people today read the Constitution like a manual for survival. It's our tool, our shield. Even I, without studying law, can break it down. That level of awareness has never existed in Kenya before."
What starts as a viral hashtag in the morning can snowball into a coordinated street protest by afternoon. During the Finance Bill 2024 protests, Saba Saba demonstrations and anti-police brutality marches, young organisers mapped out meeting points on WhatsApp, shared printable banners on Telegram and livestreamed rallies on Instagram and TikTok, often drawing more viewers than traditional media.
Just a month ago, the heart of Nairobi pulsed with youthful defiance. Gen Z protesters marched with the Bill of Rights on their lips and smartphones in their hands, chanting, livestreaming and debating constitutional law in real time. They wove humour into resistance, turning chants into viral soundbites, designing satirical memes of politicians and making politics scroll-stopping content.
Youth attend Shujaa Memorial Concert at Nyayo Gardens in Nakuru Town on July 28, 2024. The event was held in remembrance of all those who were killed by police during the anti-government protests in the country.
"We do not have to wait for a leader to call people to the streets. With a phone and internet, you can protest online," Allan explained. "Digital activism is reshaping civic space. Our resilience, our determination, our refusal to give up—that's what sets this generation apart."
Yet for all their constitutional knowledge, this generation faces a fundamental frustration. Allan identifies the Constitution's greatest weakness—not in its text, but in its implementation.
"We have one of the best constitutions in the world, but it is not being actualised," he said. "The very people who helped draft it—politicians, governors, cabinet secretaries—are the ones undermining it. The problem is not the Constitution; the problem is those entrusted with upholding it."
This betrayal has shaped how Gen Z engages with power. Unlike previous generations who might have waited for political leaders to organise them, young Kenyans organise themselves. They don't just protest policies—they cite specific constitutional articles being violated. They don't just demand change—they livestream accountability in real time.
But, as Kenya marks 15 years since constitutional promulgation, Allan remains optimistic about the document's power to transform the country—if citizens continue to claim it.
"The Constitution is the best thing that ever happened to Kenya. Article 1 is clear: sovereign power belongs to the people. That means citizens are more powerful than those in power. If we live by that, keep leaders accountable, and elect the most competent people, Kenya will be a better country in the years ahead."
And fifteen years after its promulgation, Kenya's youth are fighting to make its promises real—one tweet, one protest, one constitutional article at a time.
