How Uganda’s first female Vice President redefined gender roles

The National Resistance Movement’s (NRM) arrival in 1986 marked a significant turning point for women’s involvement in governance in Uganda. One of the NRM’s earliest actions was appointing the first Minister of State under the President’s Office for Women in Development, which later evolved into the Ministry of Women in Development, Youth, and Culture. This move made NRM the first government in Uganda to have a minister dedicated to women’s affairs. Uganda’s first female vice president, Dr Specioza Wandira Kazibwe, led this sector and represented Uganda at the Beijing Conference in 1995. Kazibwe’s life journey is one of breaking numerous barriers and challenging cultural norms, particularly in women’s empowerment. Reflecting on her upbringing in a polygamous household, Kazibwe credits her mother’s education and affluent background for shaping her understanding of gender dynamics.

I was born into a polygamous family, where I witnessed the dynamics between men and women first-hand.

My mother, the wedded wife in a Catholic Church, came from a wealthy family – my father was a Gombolola chief. My father had multiple wives and children, both boys and girls.

However, while the boys were encouraged to pursue higher education, the girls were expected to stop at Primary Four.

At the time, Primary Four was considered advanced Since it was when one began learning English, reading, and writing. With that level of education, a woman could become a nurse, a primary school teacher, or work in catering. That was the ceiling set for women.

My mother, a brilliant woman, gave birth to nine children - eight boys and one girl, me. She was determined that I receive an education, always emphasising that an educated girl could secure a job, gain status, earn money, and have a say in life. This belief became the foundation of my journey, long before I joined politics.

Moreover, I observed how my mother’s financial independence granted her authority over our home, even over my stepmothers.

She decided which schools the children— both biological and non-biological—attended, extending her influence beyond our immediate family. This taught me early on that education was a powerful tool.

School days

I pursued my studies with determination. In 1968, I sat for my Primary Seven exams; in 1971, my O-Level exams; and in 1973, my A-Level exams.

I then proceeded to Makerere University. Even at A-Level, I encountered gender biases. It was commonly believed that women could not pursue engineering. However, my uncles, who were educated, encouraged me to become the first female engineer in our family. My mother’s eldest brother was the first African Chief Medical Officer, and two of her brothers were engineers trained in England. They supported my ambition to study engineering.

Unfortunately, my first choice course - Chemical Engineering - was not available in Uganda.

My second and third choices were Pharmacy and Medicine, respectively. I secured a scholarship to study Chemical Engineering abroad, but the opportunity was in Yugoslavia, a communist country, which made it impossible for me to go. As a result, I stayed in Uganda and pursued Medicine at Makerere University.

Even at medical school, gender biases persisted.

After excelling in Paediatrics, Surgery, and Public Health, I wanted to specialise in Surgery.

However, many believed that a woman could not handle it and suggested I study Paediatrics instead. I refused to accept this limitation and pursued a Master’s in Surgery, defying societal expectations. Thus, my journey—even before entering government—was deeply intertwined with gender struggles.

I completed my studies in 1979, at a time when the liberation war had just intensified. In 1980, during the elections, I joined the Democratic Party (DP). However, the party leadership refused to allocate constituencies to women. They claimed I was too young at 25, despite allowing younger men to contest.

Nevertheless, I became a mobiliser in the Women’s Wing and secured a position on the DP’s executive. I also chaired the party’s Youth Wing, holding two leadership roles simultaneously.

When the National Resistance Movement (NRM) came to power in 1986, I was elected in my village in Bugolobi.

However, once again, gender biases surfaced.

Despite being elected without my active campaign, the position they deemed suitable for me was “Secretary for Women.”

I accepted the role and went on to serve in the Resistance Council (RC1) executive at the Bugolobi Parish level. Again, I was elected as Secretary for Women. Surprisingly, some women believed that because I was a doctor and a surgeon, I was no longer relatable to them as a woman.

Nonetheless, I persisted.

Alongside Miria Matembe, I continued my work and eventually became a mobilizer, defeating nine men for the position of Mobilizer in Nakawa Division. This victory led to my role as a City Councillor, marking my entry into NRM politics.

As we campaigned for Miria Matembe, she was elected Vice Chairperson of Nakawa. In the entire country, Nakawa Division became the first to elect three women to compete against men at the district level. In my own village of Bugolobi, the RC1 committee comprised five women and four men. The changes we see today in women’s leadership stem from the NRM’s recognition of gender equity as a pillar of national development. Many people fail to distinguish between gender and biology. Biology is simply about sex—I am a woman because I propagate the human race. 

Beyond that, men and women are equal in capability. Development is shaped by context, upbringing, and access to opportunities.

Traditionally, African societies assigned roles based on division of labour, not inferiority.

The eldest matriarch in a home wielded immense authority.

In South Africa, for example, women sat on thrones while men fought in battle. However, colonialism disrupted our cultural structures.

The British prioritised those who spoke English, creating a divide where those who retained their local language were considered inferior.

This is why many parents today discourage their children from speaking their mother tongues.

The disruption of our societal structures led to poverty and the loss of indigenous skills. When we went to Beijing, our goal was to contextualize the African woman’s role in the modern global era.

We aimed to reposition women as valuable contributors to Africa’s development, ensuring they were not left behind.

At the Beijing Conference, we demanded three things: peace, education for the girl child, and economic emancipation for women. I had the honour of serving as the spokesperson for the entire African delegation, as I was the only woman at the highest executive level representing Africa. Our advocacy in Beijing was a significant milestone in the fight for gender equality and the empowerment of African women.

Indeed, we have witnessed significant progress in women’s empowerment. In the earlier days, pioneers like the late Joyce Mpanga were among the first Ugandan women to advocate for girls’ education. I was fortunate to work alongside them, as they were more experienced, better educated, and understood the landscape well.

Affirmative action was initially championed long before, but under the NRM, we successfully pushed for its implementation, particularly for the girl child.

We argued that despite being naturally nurturing, even an educated girl was still expected to handle household chores such as washing dishes and cleaning. To address this imbalance, we advocated for affirmative action in university and tertiary institution admissions.

This policy was later expanded to ensure that even girls who qualified but did not initially enrol were actively sought out.

The initiative has continued over the years, yielding remarkable results. For instance, during my time at Makerere University, the School of Engineering had no female students.

Today, we see young women excelling, even attaining first-class degrees. Similarly, after I qualified as a surgeon, more women pursued careers in surgery.

These are tangible achievements.

When Universal Primary Education (UPE) was introduced, we mobilised extensively to ensure girls enrolled in school. As a result, at one point, there were more girls than boys from Primary One to Four. Additionally, policies were revised to support girls who became pregnant while in school.

Rather than being forced to drop out permanently, they were allowed to give birth and later return to continue their education.

In regions like Karamoja, we prioritised establishing boarding schools to protect girls from forced marriages and keep them in education.

Politically, we have also made strides in increasing the number of women competing at the constituency level. This was a major objective, and we have largely succeeded. However, a challenge remains with the affirmative action seats. The original plan was for women to occupy these positions for one term as a form of training before transitioning to open seats. Unfortunately, some have refused to leave, which was never the intention.

Affirmative action is meant to be a stepping stone, not a permanent seat. While no policy can be implemented with 100% success, achieving even 60% is a commendable outcome.

The government has done a lot, but I believe more emphasis should be placed on family incomes. The foundation of gender equity is laid within households.

Regardless of national policies, the way children are raised at home—how they are taught to respect each other—shape their attitudes and interactions in society. At the core, homes are the first institutions of equity and equality. If my mother had not been financially independent, I would not have progressed beyond Primary Six.

My father, though employed, had a large family, and many assumed I would get pregnant and drop out. My mother, however, insisted on my education. She brewed Waragi and Malwa to raise money for my school fees because my father had been convinced that sending me to a boarding school in Primary Seven was pointless.

Had she lacked financial means, I would not be where I am today.

When families have financial stability, girls have access to education, and boys, too, are not left behind. Poverty often drives young girls into vulnerable situations. I have cousins who got pregnant simply because they were lured by the promise of a chapati—a luxury for them. Research consistently shows that when a woman has money, she invests in her household—not just her immediate family but also her parents. She buys food, clothes for her children, and cares for her in-laws.

Evolution of gender advocacy

Over time, gender advocacy has evolved, but one unintended consequence is the weakening of men’s roles in society. Because men were not equally empowered in the discourse, many are struggling with identity and mental health issues.

True gender equality is about empowering both sexes, not just one. While much focus has been placed on the girl child, discussions about the boy child remain limited.

Even when boys receive education, their natural development means they take longer to assert themselves. This is due to hormonal differences— both men and women possess male and female hormones, but nurturing plays a critical role.

Because mothers spend more time with children, boys’ feminine traits remain dominant for a longer period, making them less assertive at home compared to girls.

However, due to the patrilineal nature of society, boys are often given privileges without being equipped with essential life skills. Now - that women are stepping up and competing for the same spaces, many men feel threatened, creating a societal imbalance. We are witnessing more men attempting to redefine themselves—some adopting traditionally feminine expressions, while some women avoid marriage, perceiving men as weak. Moving forward, men must actively engage in gender discussions. We are no longer in an era where survival depended on brute strength—where a man’s loud voice was necessary for hunting while a woman’s softer tone soothed children.

These roles were shaped by context, not by inherent biological limitations.

A word for girls

To young girls who aspire to leadership, I advise them to seek inspiration within their families. If your mother is a leader— whether in the home or in society—you already have a foundation to build on.

However, leadership is not confined to politics.

In fact, many MPs today are not leading in the true sense.

Leadership should not be about increasing salaries; it should be about addressing real issues, such as ensuring girls stay in school.

Instead of waiting for national statistics, leaders should focus on micro level interventions. When I served in government, I ensured that my constituency had only female head teachers.

This decision was shaped by my experience as a teacher at Iganga SSS, where the headmaster preyed on girls—a situation I found unacceptable. I also ensured that Iganga SSS’s boarding section was exclusively for girls. That is leadership—going beyond oneself, educating others, and surrounding oneself with people who can drive meaningful change.

Lessons in advocacy

Advocacy does not always require elaborate project proposals or substantial funding.

During Women’s Day celebrations, we would simply mobilise female leaders, send them to schools, and mentor young girls—sometimes using our own resources.

Many of these girls benefited from such mentorship. The key lesson from this journey is that men must do the same. They must take charge of their own advocacy, go back to schools, speak to young boys, and mentor them—just as women have done for girls. We must rethink how we raise our children. Men need to be nurturers as well. I take pride in seeing my own sons actively involved in household duties, as this fosters a balanced and supportive generation. By redefining our approach to gender advocacy, we can create a future where men and women work together, not in competition but in partnership, to transform our continent.