Reimagining Africa’s future: A decolonial intersectional feminist vision

The Centre for the Advancement of Non-Racialism and Democracy (CANRAD), in partnership with the International Office and the Democracy Development Program (DDP) hosted the Afrika Indaba 2025 at the Nelson Mandela University on 22 May 2025.

Dr Hlengiwe Ndhlovu participated in the keynote dialogue.

Read her full speech:

Chairperson, distinguished guests, esteemed colleagues, comrades and fellow Africans

It is both an honour and a deep responsibility to stand before you at this year’s Afrika Indaba, hosted by Nelson Mandela University under its African Footprint Project. I extend my gratitude to the organisers for convening this critical dialogue at a moment when the stakes for Africa’s future could not be higher; when the imperatives of justice, equity and transformation loom large across our beloved continent.

The theme of this section, “The Current State of Africa: Factors Shaping Africa’s Future,” invites us into an urgent conversation that requires both rigorous reflection and courageous imagination. We are called to examine the legacies that have shaped our present, to confront the structural forces that continue to mould our realities, and to envision a future anchored in dignity, self-determination and collective flourishing.
As we honour this monumental journey, it is both fitting and essential to foreground the often-unheralded contributions of the many women whose leadership, sacrifice and vision have been integral to the liberation and transformation of our continent. The history of African freedom is not the story of a single figure or movement, but rather a rich tapestry woven by countless hands, many of them women’s hands, too often rendered invisible by dominant historical narratives.

These women mobilised in the face of crushing patriarchal and colonial violence. They navigated, challenged and dismantled systems designed to silence and subjugate them. Their activism spanned the streets and the courtrooms, the union halls and the classrooms. Their vision was expansive; their strategies were innovative; and their courage was boundless. Today, their legacies continue to reverberate in the struggles waged by feminists, workers, students and community organisers who carry their torch forward.

In drawing upon this rich and sacred inheritance, my reflections today are grounded in the wisdom and scholarship of some of the greatest thinkers and trailblazers of our time, whose work ‘Inyathi ibuzwa kwabaphambili’ reminds us of the feminism as a labour of love. I hold deep respect for the brilliant work of Babalwa Magoqwana, Yolande Bouka, Nkosazana Dlamini Zuma, Thulisile Msezane, Siphokazi Magadla, Thenjiwe Mtintso, Athambile Masola, Bev Ditsie, Pumla Gqola, Celeste Ntuli, Kholeka Shange, Thandiswa Mazwai, to name a few. Their work, each in its own distinctive voice and power, compels us to re-centre the contributions of women and other marginalised groups, and to reimagine African futures through the lenses of intersectional justice and transformative praxis.

Collective exploration

As we embark on this collective exploration today, I urge each of us to hold in view the truth that Africa’s future is not being shaped solely by grand policies, summit declarations or geopolitical shifts. It is being shaped daily by the quiet yet courageous acts of those who, despite systemic oppression, continue to resist, to create, to nurture and to dream. Women, youth, LGBTQI+ communities and working-class people remain the backbone of our societies. Any vision for Africa’s future that fails to place them at the centre is incomplete and insufficient.

Too often, the framing of our liberation struggles has leaned into a familiar script; one that celebrates towering male figures and high-stakes diplomacy, while the foundational work of countless others remains overlooked. The liberation movements were not solely defined by speeches at podiums or handshakes at international summits. They were forged in kitchens where resistance was quietly planned, in sewing circles where uniforms were stitched, in clandestine classrooms where political consciousness was nurtured, and in acts of care that sustained weary fighters.

Let us widen our lens. Let us remember the unnamed women who hid documents under their skirts, who transformed their homes into safe havens for activists, who risked everything to keep the machinery of resistance alive. Let us recall the grandmothers who kept the flame of culture and identity burning through song and storytelling, even as colonial systems tried to extinguish our histories. Let us uplift the youth leaders, the queer organisers, the rural workers whose names may never appear in textbooks but whose contributions are inscribed in the very fabric of our liberation.

The construction of history 

African feminist scholars have long challenged us to rethink how history is constructed. Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí reminds us that colonialism did not only dispossess us of land and autonomy, but also restructured our societies by imposing gendered hierarchies that continue to distort our historical narratives. Amina Mama calls on us to move beyond the idea of decolonisation as a mere political transfer of power, insisting that it must also mean reclaiming the full humanity and contributions of those who have been pushed to the margins.

This is the work of what Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o has called the “decolonisation of the mind” – a refusal to accept partial stories and a commitment to recover the full, complex truths of our collective past. It is not enough to celebrate familiar names and moments. We must ask deeper questions: Who else carried the struggle on their shoulders? Whose dreams and sacrifices laid the groundwork for the freedoms we enjoy today? And whose stories are we still failing to tell? By widening the frame of history, we do more than honour the past. We build a more inclusive and honest foundation for the future. Because Africa’s liberation, then and now, has always been, and must continue to be, a collective project. A tapestry woven not by a few hands, but by the many, often unseen, whose quiet courage made all the difference.

Closer to home, the work of Siphokazi Magadla powerfully unsettles the binaries that have long separated fighters from organisers, men from women, and the political from the domestic. Her work makes visible the lived experiences of women combatants in Umkhonto we Sizwe—women who were trained as soldiers, who carried arms, who bore the weight of both external struggle against apartheid and internal struggles within the movement itself. Their stories are not peripheral; they are indispensable to any honest and complete account of our liberation.

And so, we are compelled to ask: whose journeys remain invisible within the celebrated arcs of our history? Whose struggles have yet to be fully recognised in our monuments, our textbooks and our collective consciousness? What would it mean to truly embrace a history of liberation that is as multifaceted, as layered and as complex as the struggle itself?

Our task, then, is not merely to remember, but to remember well. To stitch into the fabric of our collective memory all those who have contributed to our freedom, ensuring that no story is left in the shadows. This requires us to situate our memory within a vast and interconnected network of resistance, animated by countless women, queer activists, youth leaders and grassroots organisers who moved through spaces often unseen, yet whose contributions were nothing short of foundational. In doing so, we move closer to a liberation that is not only political but epistemic; a liberation that truly reflects the diversity, resilience and brilliance of all who dared to imagine and fight for an Africa that is free.

Current state of Africa: Intersectional realities

Having reflected on the legacies of our liberation struggles, we are compelled now to confront the present. The state of Africa today is a landscape of profound contradiction. It is a continent rich in potential, blessed with vast natural resources, vibrant cultures and an overwhelmingly youthful population. And yet, it remains haunted by the enduring legacies of colonial dispossession, racial capitalism and the persistent inequalities that continue to fracture our societies.

Economic and political landscape

Much has been said about the so-called Africa Rising narrative. This discourse, which celebrates high growth rates, expanding middle classes and technological innovation, has gained significant traction in global policy circles. The African Continental Free Trade Area, often hailed as a landmark development, is projected to deepen regional integration, boost intra-African trade and unlock economic potential on an unprecedented scale. Moreover, Africa’s leadership in digital innovation, particularly in mobile financial services and agritech, has been internationally recognised as an example of resilience and creativity.

However, as decolonial feminist scholars remind us, we must interrogate whose interests are being served by these developments. Dzodzi Tsikata and Lyn Ossome have powerfully argued that while economic growth is often presented as a neutral good, it is in fact deeply gendered and classed. Trade agreements like AfCFTA, for example, are rarely designed with the informal economies in mind, where the majority of African women are concentrated. These women, who sustain entire communities through market trading, subsistence farming and care work, often find themselves excluded from the benefits of formal economic integration while bearing the brunt of austerity and market liberalisation policies.

Moreover, technological advancement, while offering immense promise, can also reinforce existing hierarchies. Digital divides along lines of gender, geography and class persist. Women, particularly those in rural areas, face systemic barriers to accessing technology and digital literacy, limiting their participation in and benefit from these so-called revolutions.

Politically, while Africa has witnessed important democratic transitions, we continue to grapple with the entrenchment of authoritarianism, militarised governance and the erosion of civic space. Across the continent, we have seen crackdowns on dissent, rising securitisation and the criminalisation of protest. These dynamics not only stifle political freedoms but also deepen economic and social marginalisation, particularly for women and marginalised communities. Decolonial feminist thinkers such as Patricia McFadden remind us that political freedom without economic justice and bodily autonomy is a hollow victory.

Social and Gendered Realities

In the social sphere, the most harrowing marker of our unfinished liberation is the ongoing crisis of gender-based violence and femicide. Across the continent, from the urban centres of Johannesburg and Lagos to the rural villages of Eastern Congo, violence against women and gender-diverse people persists at alarming rates. In South Africa, a woman is killed every few hours, a brutal reality that has rightly led many to describe the country as the femicide capital of the world. Similar patterns of violence are replicated across the continent, whether in conflict zones where sexual violence is weaponised, or in so-called peaceful contexts where intimate partner violence and systemic abuse go unchecked.

Scholars like Gqola and Motsei have shown us that gender-based violence (GBV) is not an aberration; it is a structuring feature of patriarchal societies. It is embedded in the very fabric of our institutions, our cultural narratives and our social practices. Importantly, GBV is not only physical. It is also economic, psychological and political. It manifests in wage gaps, in exclusion from land ownership, in the silencing of women’s voices in decision-making spaces, and in the denial of bodily autonomy.

We must understand this violence as a product of multiple intersecting forces. Patriarchy, of course, is central. But so too are the legacies of militarisation, both from formal conflict and the pervasive militarisation of policing and governance. Neoliberalism compounds these violences by stripping away social protections, deepening poverty and forcing women and marginalised groups into ever more precarious and exploitative forms of labour.

Sylvia Tamale reminds us that liberation without dismantling heteropatriarchy is incomplete. Decolonial feminist analysis insists that we connect the dots between the violence of gender and sexuality, the violence of economic exploitation, and the violence of racial and colonial domination. These are not separate struggles. They are interconnected, and they demand an equally interconnected response.

Decolonial Feminist Critique: Unpacking Power

Chairperson, comrades and distinguished participants

If we are to truly understand the forces shaping Africa’s present and future, we must have the courage to interrogate the architecture of power that underpins global and local inequalities. It is not enough to describe the symptoms; we must unmask the systems. As decolonial feminist scholars and activists have long insisted, the global order is not neutral. It is a structure built upon histories of conquest, extraction and exploitation; histories that continue to reverberate in every sphere of African life today.

At the heart of this structure is the enduring dominance of Western-centric models of development. These models, propagated through international financial institutions, donor agencies and policy frameworks, present a singular vision of progress: one that privileges GDP growth, privatisation and market liberalisation as the ultimate indicators of success. Yet, as scholars like Amina Mama and Tsitsi Dangarembga have noted, these metrics are profoundly disconnected from the realities of most African people, particularly women. They fail to account for the invisible and undervalued labour of care, the communal ways of knowing and being, and the environmental stewardship that have sustained African societies for generations.

Neoliberalism, the prevailing ideology of our time, deepens these violences. By prioritising profit over people, and markets over communities, neoliberalism systematically erodes social safety nets, commodifies essential services and entrenches precarity. African women, who carry the heaviest burdens of unpaid labour, face the harshest consequences of these policies. Feminist economists like Dzodzi Tsikata have illuminated how structural adjustment programmes, rolled out across the continent in the 1980s and 1990s, decimated public health and education systems, pushing care work back onto households and disproportionately onto women’s shoulders.

But these are not relics of the past. Today, we continue to witness the reconfiguration of colonial hierarchies through new forms of economic dependency and cultural domination. The logic of extraction, whether through mining, agribusiness or the digital economy, remains unchanged. Our resources are exported; our people are exploited; and our sovereignty is continually compromised in the name of development and global integration.

Africa’s participation in the G20

This brings us to a critical reflection on Africa’s participation in the G20. Inclusion in such global forums is often heralded as a victory, a recognition of Africa’s growing geopolitical significance and a long-overdue seat at the table of global decision-making. These forums are presented as spaces of opportunity for engagement, influence and strategic alliances that might advance Africa’s developmental goals.

This reflection is especially urgent now, as South Africa prepares to host the G20 this year. The spotlight is firmly on Africa, and expectations are high that this moment will amplify African voices and bring the continent’s priorities to the global stage. The symbolism of hosting such a powerful gathering is not lost on us. It offers a chance to showcase leadership, but also places South Africa, and by extension the continent, at the centre of intense scrutiny about what kind of global engagement is truly being pursued.

Yet, from a decolonial feminist perspective, we must ask deeper questions. What are the real terms of this participation? Whose voices are amplified in these spaces, and whose remain systematically excluded? Does hosting the G20 fundamentally challenge the entrenched structures of global capitalism and imperialism, or does it risk embedding Africa even more deeply in a system that is exploitative at its core?

We know that global capitalism, built on colonial legacies, thrives on unequal exchange. It extracts from Africa’s land, labour and resources while offering minimal returns. As Samia Nkrumah reminds us, political independence without true economic sovereignty is a hollow victory. Participation in global governance structures often comes with strings attached, reinforcing neoliberal policies such as privatisation, austerity and deregulation that deepen inequality and erode local autonomy.

Moreover, we must recognise that representation at the state level often conceals deep internal inequalities. The officials who sit at these tables, presidents, ministers and diplomats, rarely represent the voices of grassroots movements, feminist collectives, informal workers and rural communities. True representation cannot be measured by mere presence. It must be assessed by whose interests are prioritised. Women, LGBTQAI+ communities, informal workers, youth and rural populations bear the brunt of structural violence, yet their demands are too often sidelined in favour of elite negotiations.

True liberation is not secured through elite negotiations in global boardrooms. It must be built from the ground up, led by those who have historically been excluded from power. Feminist movements, grassroots organisers, environmental defenders, youth activists and working-class communities must be at the heart of Africa’s engagement with global systems.

If we are serious about transforming Africa’s position in the world, we must demand more than symbolic inclusion. We must be willing to challenge, and where necessary dismantle, the systems and structures that sustain global inequality. Only then can we begin to build new spaces of global solidarity and cooperation that reflect a radical and inclusive vision of a truly liberated Africa.

As we stand at this critical juncture, Africa must be bold in articulating a transformative agenda. An agenda that does not simply seek a seat at the table of a broken system, but that dares to build new tables, new forms of exchange, and new solidarities that centre care, justice and mutual liberation.

Our power lies not only in our participation in global institutions, but in our ability to disrupt, reimagine and reshape them according to the values and visions of those who have long been on the margins but who are, in truth, at the heart of our continent’s strength.

As we look to the horizon of Africa’s future, we must be clear: the path ahead is neither guaranteed nor uncontested. The question is not whether Africa will change, but who will shape that change and in whose interests. A decolonial feminist vision insists that we claim the future as a site of radical possibility, guided by principles of justice, care and collective liberation.

A future worth fighting For

Chairperson and comrades, the feminist vision for Africa’s future is bold, intersectional and unapologetically transformative. It recognises a fundamental truth: that justice is indivisible. Gender justice, economic justice, climate justice, and political justice are not isolated goals; they are deeply connected and must be pursued together, or not at all.

Africa’s future cannot be separated from its past. The legacies of colonial conquest, slavery, apartheid and imperialism are not distant echoes; they are living systems that continue to shape our political, economic and social realities in profound ways. Healing, therefore, is not a metaphor. It is a critical and urgent political project, one that demands truth-telling, reparations and transformative justice at every level of society.

And we are called to centre healing; not as an afterthought, not as a soft addendum to political struggle, but as a foundational pillar of liberation. Healing from the deep wounds of colonialism, patriarchy, economic exploitation and state violence requires more than symbolic gestures. It demands truth-telling, reparations, and the building of systems that do not replicate harm but foster dignity, equity and collective flourishing.

This is not a utopian dream. It is a vision grounded in the daily struggles, resistances and aspirations of millions across the continent.

This is the Africa we are called to imagine, to speak into existence and to make real through our actions. And this is the Africa we must work tirelessly, fearlessly and collectively to bring into being.

The Role of Universities: Decolonial Praxis

As we envision a feminist future for Africa, it is imperative that we turn a sharp and critical gaze towards the institutions that are entrusted with producing, disseminating and legitimising knowledge. Universities stand at a powerful crossroads. They are spaces of immense influence, carrying the dual capacity to entrench systems of oppression or to become engines of radical and transformative change.

Universities must confront their own complicity in reproducing the very systems that have hindered Africa’s progress, whether through exploitative labour practices, exclusionary admissions policies or campus cultures that perpetuate elitism and marginalisation. They must take decisive action to dismantle the conditions that enable gender based violence, discrimination and exploitation within their own walls. This is not an optional add on or a peripheral concern; it is central to the ethical integrity of the institution and to its role in shaping an Africa that is just, equitable and free.

For African women and other historically marginalised groups, universities have too often been spaces not of empowerment, but of exclusion and violence. These are spaces where patriarchal norms are deeply entrenched, where gender-based violence is frequently met with silence or impunity, and where epistemic violence routinely dismisses or erases the knowledge systems of indigenous peoples, feminist thinkers and other subaltern voices. Universities have also played a role in reproducing elitism and class divides, reinforcing hierarchies that protect privilege rather than dismantle it.

And yet, despite these profound contradictions, universities have also been crucibles of resistance. They have incubated critical thought, provided a fertile ground for dissent, and nurtured scholars and activists who have dared to challenge power in all its forms. From the fierce anti-apartheid struggles that ignited on university campuses in South Africa to the more recent Fees Must Fall and Rhodes Must Fall movements, we have witnessed how universities can become sites where radical new imaginaries are forged, where decolonisation is not only theorised but actively practised, and where the seeds of liberation are sown and nurtured.

We must understand that the struggle over knowledge is not a side battle; it is central to the broader fight for justice. What is at stake is not only what we teach but how we teach, who is doing the teaching, and whose voices and experiences are centred or marginalised. The power of the university lies in its potential to be a space of genuine intellectual freedom, but that potential can only be realised if we dismantle the colonial and patriarchal logics that continue to underpin so much of academic life.

At a time when right wing nationalism, authoritarian repression and global inequalities are intensifying, the role of the university must be reimagined and reclaimed as a space of radical possibility. A place where solidarities are forged not as abstract ideals but as living and breathing commitments to collective liberation. Only then can universities begin to fulfil their transformative potential and contribute meaningfully to the creation of a just and equitable world.

In this critical moment, when Africa stands at a crossroads, the university must be reimagined as a vital site of resistance and possibility. A decolonial feminist university does not simply expand access within existing frameworks; it transforms those frameworks entirely. It becomes a space where knowledge production is inseparable from the fight for justice, where care and collective well-being are prioritised, and where the institution itself is an active force in dismantling the legacies of colonialism, patriarchy and economic exploitation.

This is how the university can truly shape Africa’s future, by standing not as a fortress of privilege but as a catalyst for collective liberation and a cornerstone in the building of a just and thriving continent. In reclaiming the university as a genuine site of liberation, we take a decisive and necessary step towards building the Africa we deserve, an Africa that is just, inclusive and free.

Conclusion: A radical call to action

As we draw this reflection to a close, we must pause to acknowledge that we do so in a world that is profoundly fractured. Across our continent and around the globe, we are witnessing what many have called a reversal of hard won human rights gains. We are living through a resurgence of right wing politics, marked by authoritarianism, racism, misogyny and xenophobia. We are witnessing new wars and the continuation of old ones, driven by imperial ambitions, capitalist greed and nationalist fervour.

We cannot speak of justice without acknowledging the ongoing genocide and apartheid in Palestine. The images of devastation, of homes reduced to rubble, of lives extinguished, confront us daily. And we know that these are not isolated acts of violence but part of a global system that devalues certain lives, dehumanises certain peoples and prioritises profit and power over human dignity. In Congo, Sudan, Ethiopia and other parts of our continent, conflicts fuelled by resource extraction, geopolitical manoeuvring and deep rooted inequalities continue to inflict unspeakable suffering.

We stand today at a crossroads where the very principles of international law and human rights are under threat. The same forces that sustain global war economies also drive patriarchy, racism and environmental destruction. They work to silence dissent, to criminalise solidarity and to suppress the transformative power of collective action.

In this moment of deep uncertainty, it is tempting to succumb to despair. But as African feminists, we know that despair is a luxury we cannot afford. We draw strength from a long lineage of resistance, from the women who have fought and continue to fight on the frontlines of struggle, often unseen, often unrecognised, but always unwavering.

We return now to the theme that has brought us together: The Current State of Africa, Factors Shaping Africa’s Future. What we have seen is that Africa’s future is not shaped only by economic policies or political reforms. It is being shaped by movements for justice, by acts of solidarity that transcend borders, by the quiet but relentless work of women and marginalised peoples who are building new worlds in the cracks of the old.

Amina Mama reminds us that the struggle for liberation is never over; it must be renewed and deepened by each generation. That is the task before us now. To deepen the struggle. To expand the vision. To root our work in principles that refuse to separate the liberation of Africa from the liberation of Palestine, and from the liberation of all peoples facing oppression and injustice.

We are called to imagine an Africa beyond borders, beyond binaries, beyond the barriers that have been imposed upon us by histories of violence and systems of domination. An Africa where justice is not selective, where freedom is not conditional, and where dignity is not negotiable.
And so, I end with an invitation and a challenge. Let us co create an African reality that is bold, intersectional and unapologetically feminist. Let us build solidarities that are transnational, intergenerational and transformative. Let us dare to dream and, more importantly, let us dare to act.
As an African proverb teaches us, when the roots are deep, there is no reason to fear the wind. Our roots, our histories, our struggles, our solidarities, are deep. And because of that, no matter how fierce the storms we face, we know that we will endure, and we will prevail.
This is our moment. This is our mandate. Let us rise to meet it.