African Women in Leadership: Power, Audacity, and Systemic Barriers ( Part 1 )

How many times have we, as women—whether in leadership or not—been told to move through the world with the audacity of men, especially white men? This advice is offered as a key to success, as if embodying that kind of audacity is the only way to overcome the barriers we face. But why can’t we simply move as women, and have our audacity recognized and accepted on our own terms? Why must we adopt modes of existence that were never designed for us?

The conversation around "audacity" in leadership is deeply flawed. It’s important to develop confidence and assertiveness, yes, but audacity alone won’t yield the same results for a Black woman as it does for a white man. This is not a reflection of personal failure, but of the power dynamics entrenched in race and gender hierarchies. Colonial legacies have placed white men at the top, leaving Black women—particularly African women—at the bottom, continually fighting for recognition.

The message that Black women simply need to "lean in" or "raise their hands" for opportunities doesn’t account for the systemic obstacles designed to keep us from rising. The issue isn’t a lack of confidence or audacity, but the fact that we operate within structures meant to exclude us. We need to stop telling women to adjust to an unjust system and start dismantling the barriers that prevent us from leading on our own terms.

For a long time, I struggled with the term "empowerment," particularly "women’s empowerment." It wasn’t until I started engaging with decolonization and Africanization that I understood why the term felt uncomfortable. The idea of "empowering" women suggests we are powerless and in need of external power. But as an African woman leader, I already have power. When I am invited to "empowerment" programs, I question: What power do you believe I need that I don’t already possess? This isn’t a matter of semantics—it’s about how language shapes our understanding of leadership and who holds power.

We must challenge the language that assumes African women are lacking in power. The reality is, we are already powerful, but we are limited by systems that do not allow us to fully exercise that power. The conversation needs to shift from "empowering" us to removing the barriers that restrict us from leading. This is the essence of decolonisation and Africanisation—redefining leadership on our terms and breaking free from the structures that continue to marginalize us.

This extends beyond the personal to the systemic. For women with lived experiences of mental health challenges, neurodiversity, disabilities, or caregiving responsibilities, leadership takes a significant emotional toll. We are constantly fighting for a seat at the table in spaces that were never designed for us. The pressure to perform, be visible, and prove our worth can overwhelm us, impacting our mental health.

How can we, as allies and advocates, ensure that women with these lived experiences are supported, rather than left to fight for inclusion? The intersections of mental health, race, gender, and leadership must be acknowledged if we are to make meaningful progress in advancing gender equality. Leadership conversations too often center on traditional office settings, silencing the voices and experiences of women from the Global South, who face unique and varied challenges. And within the Global South, the experiences of African women leaders are not homogenous.

For women with disabilities, the barriers are even more formidable. Imagine trying to lead in spaces that are not designed to accommodate your needs, where even the basics of accessibility are missing. This highlights the importance of representation. When leadership doesn’t reflect the diversity of experiences, those most in need of representation are overlooked.

At the same time, we place an unfair burden on women to educate men, allies, and institutions on how to support us. But how can those oppressed by the system be expected to change it? The responsibility for dismantling these oppressive systems cannot rest on the shoulders of the marginalized. Instead, the system itself must be overhauled to be inclusive of the diverse ways in which women—especially African women—lead.

True allyship is not about standing beside us as we fight for inclusion; it’s about actively working to dismantle the systems that have kept us out. Leadership doesn’t only happen in boardrooms—it’s found in communities, among market vendors, small business owners, caregivers, and grassroots organizers. These women are leaders, and their leadership must be valued.

As African women, we should not bear the responsibility of changing oppressive systems. Instead, those systems must be transformed to reflect the realities of African women. It’s not enough to tell us to "lean in" or to adopt traditionally Western leadership traits. The challenge is to redefine leadership in ways that reflect our values, our realities, and our strengths.

African women have always been leaders—strong, resilient, and visionary. It’s time the world recognizes that. We are not waiting to be empowered; we are already powerful. Now, we must focus on removing the barriers that keep us from fully exercising that power. Decolonizing leadership means creating systems where all women—particularly those with lived experiences of marginalization—are supported and celebrated for the leaders they already are.