In June 2024, Kenya bore witness to a historic uprising—a rebellion sparked by austerity measures in a bill imposing heavy taxes on essential items like menstrual products and cancer treatment services. Dubbed the “Gen Z protests,” the movement encapsulated a generation’s frustration with a system intent on prioritizing debt repayment over public welfare. Since the protests, the revolutionary spirit among Kenyans has persisted, as the urgency of “Ruto Must Go!” remains paramount. Kenyans understand that the struggle is not merely against taxation but against a government that aims to decapitate any funding for development, leaving the citizens to bear the burden of a debt they did not incur. Yet, within the political uprising, the specter of misogyny and homophobia loomed large, exposing the ugly underbelly of the movement’s loudest voices.

In November 2024, Busia Senator Okiya Omtatah, a vocal critic of the Ruto administration and prominent figure in the people’s struggle, announced his presidential candidacy for 2027—a moment that sparked hope among Kenyans who envision a future of development guided by anti-imperialism. Still, in celebrating this potential for a new Kenya, some voices rose to demand clarity on Omtatah’s manifesto, specifically his plans to address pressing issues such as gender-based violence. While many supporters championed Omtatah’s commitment to constitutionalism, others, eager for a savior, were quick to dismiss the critical inquiries, seemingly stemming from the worry that probing too deeply into the ideas of a promising leader might expose flaws that could jeopardize prospects for change.

The conversation surrounding gender justice in Kenya often dismisses the necessity of addressing women’s concerns, framing them as distractions from broader economic issues—that women should not expect special consideration, and insisting that their fight for economic freedom aligns seamlessly with the collective struggle. There’s a tendency to distill the intricate dynamics of oppression into a singular narrative of patriarchy while accusing calls to address the gender-sexuality question as mere liberal navel-gazing. In a landscape where integrity feels scarce, the reluctance to confront uncomfortable questions reveals the complexities of accountability in the pursuit of a long-awaited revolution.

Thus, a critical dialogue emerged within the organizing, particularly among women and queer Kenyans who noticed the bigoted tones with which social issues are discussed and who resisted simplistic interpretations of their struggles. Many asserted that they could not rally alongside individuals who were complicit in their dehumanization. Still, even among the most ardent figures of the uprising, there remains a prevailing belief that economic justice must take precedence, as it stands as the foremost oppressor uniting the Kenyan working class. But for people who have faced the worst of gender-based violence at the intersection of economic injustice, the question was left unanswered: after the revolution, where will all the misogynists go? This concern is not unfounded, as revolutions that fail to address foundational issues of oppression allow old hierarchies to re-emerge under new banners.

The prevailing argument is that economic justice should be prioritized over gender justice since the fight against capitalism and imperialism lays the groundwork for eradicating the gender oppression that thrives within these systems. While the assertion that these issues are facets of the greater class struggle is correct, it neglects the elephant in the room: can we truly trust that a new government, even one borne from revolutionary fervor, will not perpetuate the very discrimination it aims to dismantle? How can we have confidence in a future socialist society that will idealistically punish bigotry but somehow condone it in its organizing? Complacency in the face of oppression is a dangerous gamble. Social justice can only be a distraction from resistance work in which gender-based violence is interwoven.

In How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, Guyanese Pan-African activist Walter Rodney articulates that “Development is a many-sided process.” Economic reductionism, in the name of revolutionary praxis, is ultimately regressive and dilutes the efficacy of the movement. As contradictions sharpen, so must our organizing. Critical dialogue is not only vital for cultivating a movement that truly reflects the principles of working-class revolution, but also for unearthing those who harbor anger not at oppression itself, but at the fact that the power to oppress remains out of their reach. In interrogating our ideological positions, we must create a culture where rigorous self-reflection strengthens our unity rather than stifles it. By doing so, we can build a movement that is both enduring and unyielding. How can we expect to mature as a nation if citizens are discouraged from voicing their concerns to spare leaders from discomfort? Ironically, those challenging Omtatah with tough questions demonstrate greater faith in the strength of his campaign than those who seek to shield him from accountability.

The oversimplification inherent in reducing complex social phenomena primarily to economic factors can culminate in those with limited knowledge beyond economics becoming dominant voices in our organizing. To succeed, we need leaders who grasp the interconnectedness of diverse struggles within the overarching class struggle. A culture that prioritizes silence and complacency only creates fertile ground for discrimination, effectively doing the oppressive work of the state. Liberation work is often characterized by bold, difficult undertakings; thus, deferring concerns by women and queer people isolates a cause that will only thrive in solidarity, leaving space for corrupt regimes to use economic crises as an excuse to justify marginalization and suppression of dissent (which they have done!). Revolutions require us to engage in discussions, as these can become the tipping point for the solidarity necessitated by resistance. Stifling dissent under the guise of revolutionary discipline is contrary to the spirit of liberation. Embracing the multidimensionality of our class struggle by platforming those who have long worked at the intersection of these issues—through party organizing, coalition-building, and consciousness-raising—can only serve the greater good. As we engage with leaders like Okiya Omtatah, we must pose pointed questions regarding their plans for the gender-sexuality question. If faults in a political candidate’s strategy are exposed, we can better assess their capability to lead a pro-people government. If they cannot address the gaps, their campaign lacks stability and is likely to falter under scrutiny, let alone withstand corrupt opposition.

If Omtatah aspires to forge a new Kenya, the need for a robust framework for inviting and addressing public concerns is pressing. This begins with assembling a team that recognizes the urgency of a multifaceted strategy for reclaiming political power. It is critical to affirm his position through the perspectives of his team members, including Omtatah’s campaign committee chair, Mary Kathomi Riungu, who has repeatedly stated that “LGBTQ+ rights are a well-funded [Western] agenda in Africa”—a sentiment that informs her skewed interpretation of anti-imperialism work. Our greatest error would be to rally behind a messianic leader without understanding their political philosophy, settling for vague assurances of constitutionalism without concrete details or clarity on who will help shape these policies. The most effective liberation movements foster accountability in their pursuits.

Moreover, Omtatah has positioned himself at a disconcerting intersection, affiliated with both the Kenya Christian Professional Forum (KCPF), a Christofascist organization that has consistently upheld patriarchal values that subjugate women and queer people, and the National Coordination Committee of the People’s Assembly (NCCPA), a subdivision of the Communist Party of Marxist-Kenya (CPM-K). The concern that a leader who straddles such opposing camps may carry conflicting philosophies into governance is a sound assessment shared by many seeking clarity. Scrutinizing the inconsistencies in potential leaders before they assume power is essential to avoid the pitfalls of ideological dilution.

As articulated by Bissau-Guinean anti-colonial visionary Amílcar Cabral in his speech Weapon of Theory, “…nobody has yet made a successful revolution without a revolutionary theory”. Pragmatic solutions and ideological integrity are not opposing forces; rather, they are intricately linked, with ideology providing the foundational principles that inform direct action in the long run. While Omtatah has a notable history of standing against state oppression, Kenyans are justified in demanding more than a track record. At the core of our organizing lies the fundamental question of ideology. Relying solely on credentials can be deceptive, particularly when considering the history of leaders who have risen to power through pro-people campaigns only to align themselves with imperialist agendas—starting with Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta.

Economic exploitation, social injustice, and political disenfranchisement are not isolated entities; they are mutually reinforcing. Those who feel that homophobia and misogyny are a “non-issue” are regurgitating the state’s talking points and aligning themselves with the very actors they claim to oppose. The same corrupt policing systems that surveil, abduct, and wrongfully imprison working-class Kenyans also perpetrate violence and murder against women and queer people. These issues are inextricably linked, so we cannot solve for x without solving for y. The resistance must comprehensively demand accountability; otherwise, we leave gaps for bigots to move with impunity, and we risk forming a front too fractured to succeed.