The 2025 Women’s Africa Cup of Nations (WAFCON), already delayed by a year, was meant to signify a turning point, a long-overdue gesture toward legitimizing women’s football on the continent in the aftermath of a defining and successful 2023 Women’s World Cup. With the promise of increased prize money, broader global reach, and a shiny new trophy, the tournament was meant to represent a new chapter.

But instead, it exposes the fractured earth that the women’s game exists on. The tournament is not a site of progress but serves as an indictment—not only of the national federations tasked with championing women’s football forward but by the Confederation of African Football (CAF) itself, whose apathy operates as a mode of governance. Long before the first whistle was blown, there was already smoke in the air. The concurrent financial woes amongst different federations would set the tone and unearth the gendered politics that continue to define football across the continent.

Despite boasting two of the most accomplished Malawian players in Tabitha and Temwa Chawinga, the Malawian federation did not field a team for the qualifiers due to financial constraints. Yet somehow, it found the resources to fund the men’s side that hasn’t qualified for AFCON since 2021, has never played in any World Cup, or produced world-class talent.

Contrast that to the women’s team that boasts the Chawinga sisters and Rose Smith Kadzere, who are all competing in elite leagues abroad and have been successful doing it. Temwa was the first African to win the Golden Boot in the NWSL; Tabitha did the same in Italy’s Serie A Femminile and had a Ballon d’Or nomination last year. And yet, even with these achievements, the federation has chosen to essentially abandon the women’s team.

But this goes beyond star power. By sidelining the women’s team, the federation also robs dozens of local players of the opportunity to compete, grow, and be seen. And oftentimes, these tournaments become a platform for players to get on the radar of international scouts. But financial neglect was not only confined to the teams that did not qualify.

Ahead of the tournament, news reports revealed that Nora Häuptle, coach of the Zambia women’s national team, had not been paid since her appointment in January by the Zambian federation, which led to an official complaint to FIFA. The federation blamed the previous administration and the Minister of Sports Elvis Nkandu claimed that the outstanding arrears were cleared. However, following their group stage match against Senegal, a journalist asked Häuptle about the status of her outstanding wages, and there was a notable pause in her response.

It’s important to provide context as to how Häuptle came into the role. Before her hiring,  Zambia’s women’s team had been coached by Bruce Mwape. He had multiple allegations of sexual misconduct against him that surfaced ahead of the 2023 Women’s World Cup. Yet he remained in charge all the way through to the Paris 2024 Games. By then, FIFA had launched a formal investigation, the French authorities had initially declined his visa  (likely due to the accusations), and he was barred from having private contact with his players during the Olympics. Häuptle was seemingly brought in to rehabilitate the image of the federation.

This is not to deny her credentials or worthiness for the role; she has done a great job in a short span of time. But it is to say they understood optics well enough to hire a woman to obfuscate how they shielded an alleged predator. But clearly not enough to meet their basic obligations to her.

Ahead of their first game against Senegal, DR Congo’s squad threatened to boycott training over unpaid allowances and bonuses. The timing was particularly bitter. In that same month, the Congolese government signed a $51 million partnership with FC Barcelona, securing jersey sponsorship to promote tourism. It was their third such deal, following partnerships with AC Milan and AS Monaco, which they had inked earlier in the year.

Nigeria’s Super Falcons, this year’s eventual winners, are not strangers to having wage disputes with their federation. They also threatened to boycott WAFCON over unpaid match bonuses and camp allowances, some dating as far back as 2021. For the Super Falcons in particular, this has unfortunately become a tradition. The Nigerian Football Federation (NFF) is notorious for not paying coaches or players, both on the men’s and women’s sides. The team went on strike before the 2022 WAFCON and again ahead of the 2023 Women’s World Cup. Even in 2019, after their Round of 16 exit at the World Cup in France, the players staged a sit-in protest over unpaid wages.

What makes this neglect gendered is that it’s happening to the more successful national side. And despite their consistency, the Super Falcons still do not receive equal pay to the men’s team. In an interview with journalist Osasu Obayiuwana, NFF President Ibrahim Musa Gusau cited a lack of sponsorship as the reason. But rather than signaling a plan of action, his response felt more like resignation to the status quo.

This dynamic runs parallel with the Banyana Banyana squad, whose campaign to defend their title was mired in strife. They threatened to boycott games ahead of the WAFCON  over unpaid wages, and this was not their first time having a financial dispute with their federation.  Two weeks before the 2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup, the team staged a boycott against the South African Football Association (SAFA) over unresolved tournament bonuses and working conditions.

Amid the standoff, SAFA President Danny Jordaan made a patronizing remark that exemplified the federation’s longstanding contempt for the women’s team. In response to calls for equal pay, he said, “My experience is that these carrots don’t give you better performances; it’s the commitment, the will to win, and the determination to fight that does. Carrots come later.” It’s a particularly bitter statement coming from a man who has been accused of rape and is currently facing corruption charges. He also said this as if SAFA hadn’t spent decades rewarding Bafana Bafana for mediocrity. The standoff was only resolved when the Patrice Motsepe Foundation stepped in with a R6 million (±$330,638) commitment, with an additional R2 million (±$110,213) provided by the national lottery operator. It was a private rescue of a public failure.

But Banyana Banyana’s struggles didn’t end there. Just before this tournament, Sasol, a major South African energy and chemical company, announced the end of its 16-year partnership with the team. Sasol wasn’t just a sponsor; it was an infrastructural pillar: nurturing the development of players, funding leagues, and creating a pipeline between grassroots and the national team.

According to Fran Hilton-Smith, the former technical director of women’s football at SAFA, the split is driven by SAFA’s failure to meet its commitments, not only on the national end but within the Sasol League. She argues that years of disputes and mismanagement have eroded the trust of one of the few institutions that had consistently supported the women’s game. “I don’t believe there are companies eager to align themselves with a disorganized entity beset by negative publicity and grievances from clubs regarding unpaid salaries and monthly grants, especially when these companies have disbursed funds intended for such purposes,” she told Sowetan Live.

It doesn’t help matters that the current national team coach, Dr. Desiree Ellis, a former captain and a decorated figure in African women’s football, is reportedly working without a contract and it is allegedly to avoid negotiating improved terms.

It’s important to name the ethos that undergirds these patterns. Across the continent, women’s participation in football is deemed expendable regardless of performance or potential. The prerequisite for handsome funding is tethered not to success but rather to a heteropatriarchal logic that imagines men’s football as more legitimate and inherently superior purely on the basis of sex.

And routinely, as seen in the case of Nigeria, though it applies elsewhere, sponsorship and revenue are weaponized against women’s football. Financial shortfalls are presented as if they are neutral facts when rather they are a consequence of history. For much of the 20th century, women’s football was either banned or severely restricted while men’s football basked in the sun, enjoying sustained investment, media visibility, and institutional backing. This lopsided playing field wasn’t natural, it was engineered. In today’s economic terms, it would stand as a blatant breach of competition laws. Yet women are consistently blamed for the dysfunction designed to disadvantage them. Furthermore, as demonstrated by Banyana’s situation, in cases where there are funds specifically designated for women, those monies are either diverted or go unaccounted for.

Finally, it also overlooks the double standard: Men’s teams do not have to prove themselves. Even when they consistently underperform or operate at a financial loss, that does not bar them from being indiscriminately funded.   Still, the financial shortchanging were only part of the problem as logistical failures were also demonstrative of how women’s football continues to be structurally undermined.

Firstly, CAF announced the fixtures, dates and locations for the WAFCON only five weeks before the tournament. In contrast, these details for the upcoming AFCON have already been determined and communicated nearly a year in advance. This kind of last-minute coordination makes it difficult for journalists, corporate sponsors, and traveling fans to plan in advance and these entities are vital for any tournament to be successful. Several journalists and fans online noted the lack of promotion or hype within the host nation. It should be unsurprising then that there has been paltry attendance for the group stage and knockout matches that did not involve Morocco.

But even in the image game, CAF falls short. The executive committee is almost entirely male, the participating teams have mostly male-led federations, and only two of the 12 coaches on the sidelines at this year’s WAFCON are women. It doesn’t help matters that one of those male coaches is Jorge Vilda, the former Spain manager expelled from his role in the wake of the Luis Rubiales sexual assault scandal. Before that event, he had multiple complaints from players about his management style and behavior that ended with several players not returning to the team until his departure. The power brokers in African women’s football are largely men, which ultimately turns the sport into their playground, where they dictate the terms and women don’t have a say in their own domain.

This becomes even more layered when you consider how CAF is eager to take credit for the gains of the women they have demeaned. Throughout the tournament, the faces of Ellis, Barbra Banda, and Racheal Kundananji were plastered across the organization’s digital presence. In isolation, there is nothing to throw caution to. However, it becomes incredibly insidious when CAF has a history of hanging these women out to dry.

As mentioned, Ellis is being actively disrespected by her federation in real time. Whereas Banda and Kundananji are participating in the tournament for the first time because they were excluded in the previous edition. Along with two other Zambian players, they were barred from competing after undergoing opaque gender-verification processes. The debacle not only cost them a missed tournament but set a permanent target on their backs that they are still feeling the ramifications of to this day.

And so when CAF uses terms like “resilient,” “tenacious,” or “game changers” to describe the participants of tournaments, it reads as distasteful. It is racially coded language that casts an expectation of infinite endurance on the part of these women. It reframes their intentional marginalization as heroism. And CAF gets to posture as benevolent on the suffering it has helped to produce and maintain.

WAFCON took place alongside the Women’s Euro tournament. And while it is unfair to compare the two as there is a clear resource gap (hello, imperialism!) or silly to suggest that Europe serves as some kind of beacon of morality or gender equality, the contrast remains jarring. At the Euros, operations ran smoothly. Games were promoted. Crowds showed up. People watched at home, and there weren’t stories of federations sabotaging their own teams. But the difference isn’t just financial, it lies in the things that can be helped. And it is both maddening and heartbreaking to witness just how far removed African women’s football remains from that reality.

And therefore, this year’s WAFCON reveals that CAF, alongside its members, are not advocates but direct adversaries to women’s football on the continent.