The unspoken rules of the game: Politics when you are a woman
Woman politician. Every time we lose a woman leader to sexist intimidation, we are not just failing her—we are failing ourselves.
What you need to know:
- When we silence women in politics through sexism, we're robbing ourselves of the leadership our nation desperately needs.
- Their courage in the face of this hostility demands not just our admiration, but our immediate action.
Last week as the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) selection panel interviews played out on our screens, I couldn't help but notice the stark imbalance: eight men, three women shortlisted for the chairperson position.
And like clockwork, the familiar refrain emerged: "How will we ever achieve the two-thirds gender rule if women don't apply?" This question is tiring.
It's not that women lack ambition—it's that they understand the price of it all too well.
When we ask why women aren't applying, we're ignoring the storm they must walk into simply to serve their country. Kawira Mwangaza, the former Meru governor who made history in 2022 becoming the first female governor-elect in the county, didn't just face impeachment last month—she faced a systematic dismantling that sends a chilling message to every woman watching: "This space is not for you." While men in power insist "it wasn't about gender," political aspirants are already admitting they'd now think twice before supporting women candidates.
This calculated exclusion isn't happening in a vacuum. It's a global phenomenon. When Kamala Harris ran for the American presidency last year, we witnessed the predictable playbook: attacks on her appearance and questioning of her qualifications despite her extensive experience. An analysis found over 11,000 news articles with biased language about her in just two weeks. This isn't criticism—it's a coordinated effort to undermine women's legitimacy in leadership.
What unsettles me most is that we've normalised this hostility.
We've interviewed dozens of women politicians who describe their daily reality: when they're firm, they're called aggressive; when they're emotional, they're labelled unstable; when they're strategic, they're called manipulative. Their male colleagues face no such scrutiny. No one asks a male candidate if his marriage can withstand public service or suggests his policy positions might be influenced by hormones.
The vitriol becomes even starker online. Remember when six women won in Nakuru County and social media erupted with comments about "what would happen if they all menstruated in the same week"? This biological essentialism isn't just offensive—it's dangerously ignorant, especially when research consistently shows women leaders often deliver stronger results than their male counterparts.
But what truly infuriates me is watching our own parliamentarians—men entrusted with building this nation—become perpetrators of this abuse. A party leader suggesting a female MP wasn't "suitable for rape." An MP claiming a cabinet nominee failed her interview "because of her menses." These aren't just reprehensible comments—they're declarations that women's bodies, not their minds, determine their worth in public service.
Let me be painfully clear: Every time we lose a woman leader to sexist intimidation, we're not just failing her—we're failing ourselves.
When women aren't at decision-making tables, we get policies that overlook half our population. We get budgets that underfund maternal healthcare, gender-based violence prevention, and girls' education. We get infrastructure that ignores women's safety. We get economic plans that discount the unpaid care work sustaining our communities.
This isn't just a women's issue—it's a governance crisis.
What makes this tragedy even harder to bear is watching young women internalise these messages. I recently spoke with university students interested in politics, and their hesitation wasn't about ability but survival. "I'm not sure I can withstand what they'll say about me," one brilliant young woman told me. How many future leaders are we losing to this toxic culture?
Women enter politics already carrying heavier burdens—the motherhood penalty, household responsibilities, economic disadvantages. Yet despite knowing the attacks that await them, they still step forward. They run. They serve. They persist through abuse that would crush most of us.
This courage demands more than our admiration—it requires our action. We must call out sexism every time we see it, not just when it targets women we support politically. We must vote for qualified women and support them after they win.
Most crucially, we need men to recognise this isn't a battle they can observe from the side-lines. Male politicians and voters must actively dismantle the sexism they've benefited from.
Because in a country where women constitute more than half the population, their systematic exclusion from power isn't just unjust—it's a fundamental threat to our democracy.
When we silence women in politics, we silence the voices our nation most needs to hear.
dmuga@ke.nationmedia.com