By Princess Eugene Majuru
Zimbabwe’s 2013 Constitution makes strong and explicit commitments to gender equality. It positions itself firmly within a global human rights framework that seeks to eliminate discrimination and promote equal participation across all spheres of life. Yet, beneath this progressive legal structure lies a complex and often unresolved tension between constitutional gender norms and indigenous social systems.
The foundation of gender equality in the Constitution is clearly articulated in Section 56(1):
“All persons are equal before the law and have the right to equal protection and benefit of the law.”
More specifically, Section 56(3) provides:
“Every person has the right not to be treated in an unfairly discriminatory manner on such grounds as their… sex, gender, marital status…”
This establishes gender equality as a constitutional guarantee. It reflects a legal framework influenced by international human rights standards, where discrimination based on gender is explicitly prohibited and equality is framed as a universal norm.
The Constitution goes further in addressing gender balance in governance. Section 17(1)(a) states:
“The State must promote full gender balance in Zimbabwean society…”
And Section 80(1) provides:
“Every woman has full and equal dignity of the person with men and this includes equal opportunities in political, economic and social activities.”
These provisions are significant. They move beyond formal equality to actively require the state to address historical imbalances. They signal a constitutional commitment to transforming gender relations within society.
However, this framework exists alongside the recognition of customary law and traditional leadership, which may operate according to different social logics. Section 63(1) provides:
“Every person has the right to participate in the cultural life of their choice…”
And Section 282(1)(c), outlining the functions of traditional leaders, states:
“Traditional leaders must… promote and uphold cultural values of their communities…”
Here, the Constitution affirms the importance of cultural systems, including those that shape gender roles, family structures, and social expectations. Yet it does not fully reconcile how these systems interact with the equality provisions outlined earlier.
This creates a constitutional duality. On one hand, gender equality is non-negotiable under the Bill of Rights. On the other, cultural practices are protected and promoted. Where these two come into tension, the Constitution generally prioritises equality—but the practical negotiation of that tension is often left to courts and communities.
From a decolonial perspective, this raises a deeper question: whose framework of gender is being constitutionalised?
The equality provisions are rooted in a global rights discourse that emerged largely from Western legal and philosophical traditions. While these principles address real and important injustices, they may not always align seamlessly with indigenous systems of social organisation, which historically defined roles, responsibilities, and authority in ways that were not always framed in terms of equality versus inequality.
This does not mean that indigenous systems were inherently just or unjust—it means they operated within different conceptual frameworks. Gender roles were often relational, embedded in kinship structures, economic functions, and spiritual responsibilities. Authority could be distributed in ways that do not fit neatly into modern equality metrics.
The Constitution, however, translates gender into a legal category defined by rights, protections, and formal equality. In doing so, it creates a standard against which all practices—customary or otherwise—are measured.
Decolonisation in this context is not about rejecting gender equality. It is about interrogating how equality is defined, applied, and reconciled with cultural systems. It asks whether the Constitution can create space for a more nuanced engagement—one that protects individuals from harm while also understanding the complexity of indigenous social structures.
It also raises practical questions: How should courts interpret customary practices that appear to conflict with equality provisions? How can cultural evolution occur without external imposition? And who determines what constitutes fairness within a given social context?
Until these questions are fully addressed, Zimbabwe’s constitutional gender framework will remain both progressive and contested—advancing important protections while navigating unresolved tensions between universal rights and cultural specificity.
In this sense, the Constitution reflects not a completed transformation, but an ongoing negotiation—between past and present, between global norms and local realities, and between different ways of understanding what it means to live justly within society.
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