The Communications Regulatory Authority of Namibia (Cran) recently advertised a vacancy for an ICT Specialist, specifying that it was open to female candidates only. In a country that proudly celebrates having its first female President, a female vice president, a female speaker of parliament, and a notable level of women’s representation in the cabinet and the National Assembly, all achievements that have earned Namibia international praise, one might have expected applause. Instead, the announcement was met with resistance, scepticism, and even questions about its legality.
The legal framework, as critics quickly pointed out, complicates matters. The Labour Act does not permit positions to be reserved exclusively for a specific gender. Even when read together with the Affirmative Action (Employment) Act, which provides a framework to “redress through appropriate action the conditions of disadvantage in employment experienced by persons in designated groups arising from past discriminatory laws and practices,” the legal ground remains shaky. Still, women undoubtedly fall within the designated group: they have historically been marginalised and continue to face structural barriers in the workplace.
So why was the reaction not one of collective celebration? The answer lies partly in the uncomfortable truth that Namibia has been brewing what feels like a gender war. It first manifested in the scourge of femicide and gender-based violence that dominates headlines almost weekly. But in recent years, it has spilt into political, economic and social spaces, where opposition to women’s empowerment has grown louder. We now hear refrains such as “the boy child is on his own” whenever women are appointed to strategic roles or new initiatives emerge to increase women’s access in sectors long dominated by men.
Yet, the statistics are sobering. Only about 30% of Namibian women hold jobs in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) fields, and women remain under-represented in ICT and digital innovation hubs across the country. Globally, the picture is no brighter: UNESCO reports that less than 35% of STEM students in higher education worldwide are women, and the numbers shrink even further in specialised fields like engineering and ICT. Closer to home, South Africa and Botswana show similar patterns of under-representation. In short, the claim that “the boy child is on his own” does not hold water when men remain the overwhelming majority in STEM fields.
If anything, women still face the steeper climb. Levelling the playing field is not about tokenism or “taking away” opportunities from men. It is about recognising untapped potential, dismantling systemic barriers, and ensuring that talented women have equal access to spaces they were historically excluded from. That said, CRAN could have handled the matter with more maturity. By framing the post in a way that appeared to exclude men entirely, the company inadvertently provoked backlash and undermined the very diversity it sought to advance. A better approach might have been to advertise the post broadly but emphasise preference for qualified women candidates, a strategy that is both lawful and less polarising.
Still, the controversy brings to light a larger truth we cannot afford to ignore: women have been excluded for centuries, and the statistics still confirm this inequality. If there is any group that qualifies for deliberate redress, it is women. The backlash, therefore, should not deter institutions from striving for inclusivity but rather guide them toward strategies that are legally sound and socially persuasive.
The bottom line is this: Namibia cannot afford to let debates about fairness harden into deeper divides. The country needs more women in STEM, more women in ICT; and more women at the decision-making table. Not because they are women, but because their perspectives, skills, and leadership enrich industries that desperately need innovation and diversity. Progress will be most meaningful when institutions learn to balance bold steps for inclusion with sensitivity to the broader legal and social context.
As we navigate this ongoing gender contest, the task before us is clear: ensure that in seeking redress for past exclusion, we bring balance where it has long been absent without inflaming unnecessary battles. If Namibia succeeds in this balancing act, then the boy child will not be left behind, and the girl child will finally stand on equal ground. That is not division. That is justice.
