It is commonly said that most ethnic groups in Africa have patriarchal structures. However, there are notable exceptions where the women lead, such as the Bijagó people off the coast of Guinea-Bissau, the Akan communities in southern and central Ghana, Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo, as well as the ancient Kingdom of Kush, which is located in present-day northern Sudan and southern Egypt. Notably, these patriarchal structures have shaped many aspects of life, including music.

Across the continent, several instruments have been historically reserved for men. In Kenya, the nyatiti was strictly played by the male gender until Anyango (Eriko Mukoyama), a female Japanese player, famously broke a tradition thousands of years old. We also saw the beautiful 21-string Kora, which is predominant among the griot families of the Mandinka people in countries like Mali, Senegal, and Gambia, being passed down from father to son. There’s also the Kakaki, historically linked to the Songhai cavalry and now predominant in the Northern part of Nigeria, Chad, Sudan, Burkina Faso, Benin, and Niger. It is still associated with royal courts and praise singing for emirs and sultans.

Why then were women excluded from playing some instruments, and why are we seeing more acceptance today?

The reasons are deeply rooted in traditional belief systems and social structures. Many of these instruments held sacred or ceremonial significance, often tied to male initiation rites, warrior traditions, or political authority. The nyatiti, for example, was believed to carry spiritual power that only men could handle. The Kora’s restriction within griot lineages wasn’t just about gender; it was about preserving family secrets, musical techniques, and the oral histories passed through patrilineal inheritance. The Kakaki’s association with military prowess and royal courts made it a symbol of male power and political hierarchy.

There were also practical considerations embedded in these traditions. Since many of these instruments were played in public spaces, royal courts, or battlefields (domains controlled by men), women’s exclusion became normalized over centuries and hardened into prohibitions. Some communities believed that women playing certain instruments could bring misfortune or that the physical demands of instruments like the Kakaki were unsuitable for women.

But times are changing, and the acceptance we’re seeing now comes from multiple directions. Globalization and education have challenged rigid gender roles, while urbanization has weakened some traditional strictures. Women musicians have boldly challenged these barriers, such as Anyango and Atisana (also known as Jennifer Atieno), who not only learned to play the nyatiti but also mastered it, earning respect in the process. We’re also seeing more women Kora players, such as Sona Jobarteh, Guylene Solon, Kandia Kouyaté, and Zena Carlota, emerging, while younger generations are beginning to question why gender should determine musical expression.

Organizations that seek to promote cultural preservation now recognize that excluding half the population from musical traditions poses a significant threat to the survival of those traditions. And perhaps most importantly, audiences (both African and global) have shown they care more about the beauty and skill of the music than the gender of the person playing it.

The acceptance isn’t universal or complete, and resistance still exists in many communities. But the conversation has shifted from “women can’t” to “why shouldn’t they?” And that shift, however gradual, is opening doors that were closed for millennia.

The conversation has shifted from 'women can't' to 'why shouldn't they?' And that shift, however gradual, is opening doors that were closed for millennia.

Gender Roles in African Music Traditions

The conversation has shifted from 'women can't' to 'why shouldn't they?' And that shift, however gradual, is opening doors that were closed for millennia.

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