More Than Politics: The Power of Representation. 

Megdelawit Getahun 

Let’s get this out of the way right from the start, If you’re looking for a political analysis of Sahle-Work Zewde’s tenure as Ethiopia’s first female president, you’re in the wrong place. I’m not here to dissect the ins and outs of her presidency or critique her actions. Honestly, I’m not usually the person who jumps at the chance to dive into political debates. So, if you’re looking for a detailed political exposé, you might want to lower your expectations right about now. 

But here’s what I do know: when Sahle-Work Zewde became Ethiopia’s first female president, it felt like the kind of plot twist nobody saw coming. For once, a woman stood at the highest level of leadership. Let’s be real, for many of us, that was the moment. This wasn’t just another ceremonial shuffle in politics. For a country that had only ever seen men at the helm, her rise to the highest office suggested that something in the cultural and political fabric had shifted, however momentarily. We weren’t merely witnessing a change in leadership; we were witnessing a disruption.

Of course, there was always that one buzzkill friend quick to remind us, “The presidency in Ethiopia is largely ceremonial, you know?” And it’s true, Ethiopia’s president barley holds executive power. But the frequency with which people pointed this out during Sahle-Work’s tenure? Suspiciously high. It’s as if the word “powerless” suddenly became the disclaimer of the day, funny how that wasn’t the case when men were in that seat. The moment a woman’s in charge, suddenly, everyone becomes a constitutional expert.

But here’s the irony: there was something undeniably powerful in her mere presence. even in a so-called “powerless” role, her presence shook things up. Seeing her represent Ethiopia in spaces where women, especially African women are so rarely seen, mattered. It wasn’t about what she could or couldn’t do within her limited political power, it was about what her existence in that space represented. For young women and girls watching, it was a reminder that, hey, maybe we don’t always need to ask for permission to be powerful. Maybe we just are.

And yet, her presidency was marked by that endless contradiction. On one hand, we cheered for her as a sign of progress, finally, a woman at the top. On the other hand, the constant commentary about her position being “ceremonial” hinted at the deeply rooted discomfort with seeing a woman in power, even symbolically. It felt like the world was waiting for her to prove something, something that no man in that office had ever been asked to do, or at least none that I know of. Her presence was enough to spark hope but not enough to silence the critics.

That’s the frustrating part right? Women in positions of power are often burdened with the weight of everyone’s expectations. Sahle-Work was not simply allowed to be a president; she was expected to embody the role of the woman president, the one who would shatter every patriarchal glass ceiling in one fell swoop. The double standards were glaring! She was tasked with representing the aspirations of half the population while simultaneously facing the unspoken demand to “do more” or “be more” than her male predecessors had ever been asked to do.

But let’s be honest: her presidency was not a failure. For me, It was a reminder of just how much representation matters, even in a symbolic role. For every young girl who watched her take office and thought, “Maybe that could be me,” that spark of possibility was enough. For every woman who’s been told, directly or indirectly, that power isn’t hers to hold, seeing Sahle-Work in that space was revolutionary. It might not have been the feminist utopia we dream of, but it was a step, a visible crack in the door that’s been slammed shut for too long.

In a country and world where women are so often kept out of positions of authority, her presidency was a door opening, however briefly, however symbolically. And that matters. Even if we don’t see another female president in our lifetime, Sahle-Work Zewde’s legacy will remain. She will be the one we mention when we talk about the need for more women in politics and the face we show young girls to remind them that leadership can look like them.

Her presidency wasn’t an end, it was the beginning of a much bigger conversation. And one day, the girls who watched her take office will be the ones to blow the whole ceiling off. Sahle-Work Zewde’s presidency will have been the first crack in the glass. And that crack? That’s how revolutions start.