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Sophie Williams-De Bruyn’s speech on August 9 2026 at a commemoration at the Union Buildings in Pretoria:
Malibongwe! Malibongwe! Igama Lamakhosikazi! Wathinta Abafazi, Wathint’ Imbokodo!
The president of the Republic of South Africa, his excellency Cyril Ramaphosa; our host, minister Gayton McKenzie; The premier of our province, Gauteng, Panyaza Lesufi; premiers of all provinces; MECs, ministers and deputy ministers; comrades; ladies and gentlemen, all the women gathered here today [Sunday], iMbokodo — warm greetings to you all and happy Women’s Day!
I stand before you all today with a heart that simultaneously bursts with pride and joy while feeling waves of sadness. Seventy years ago, on this day, August 9 1956, 20,000 of us marched to these hallowed grounds, to these Union Buildings which were then the bastion of apartheid.
Because I was only 18 years old then and many of my compatriots are sadly no longer with us, it has always been an honour to represent the collective leadership of the march and the 20,000 women
Because I was only 18 years old then and many of my compatriots are sadly no longer with us, it has always been an honour to represent the collective leadership of the march and the 20,000 women.
We were young, we were afraid, but we were unified and determined. When we stood undaunted, in silence for those 30 minutes, the world trembled; it took note. We confronted the apartheid regime and boldly said: “[Prime Minister JG] Strijdom, you have targeted women, you have struck a rock, we will crush you.”
The joy of that solidarity, the triumph of knowing we could break the back of oppression, is a fire that still burns deep within me even today.
We emerged from that darkness with a firm belief that our daughters, our children, would walk in absolute freedom from the triple yoke of oppression as a race, class and gender, which we experienced under apartheid.
[The shift] But today, as I look at our beautiful country, my heart is heavy. The freedom we marched and bled for is in reality a painful paradox. How can we fully celebrate our past victories when our present reality is so deeply disappointing and distressful? We fought to banish the pass laws, yet today, our women are prisoners in their own homes. Gender-based violence continues to cast a dark cloud on our society.
Every day I weep for the girl-child, daughters, mothers and grandmothers who are abused, violated and silenced. This is not the freedom we marched for. We fought to dismantle the yoke of the systemic oppression of women as a race, class and gender.
It is also very disappointing that democratic South Africa is still the most unequal country in the world
Yet today we face the cruel suffocations of entrenched poverty, homelessness, a lack of clean water and systemic corruption. When people steal money allocated for education, health, housing and infrastructure, they are in reality stealing education, health and roads. These are real victims of corruption — and furthermore, they are stealing from you and me who pay our taxes. It is also very disappointing that democratic South Africa is still the most unequal country in the world.
The face of poverty and inequality in our country is mainly black, female and young. The impact of spatial racial segregation is still deeply entrenched. As we also mark the 50th anniversary of June 16, when in 1976 the youth picked up the mantle from us, youth unemployment remains stubbornly high, ranking South Africa very high globally.
To see the wealth of our nation stolen by people entrusted with power, while ordinary people starve, while our youth face staggering unemployment, is a profound betrayal of the 1956 sacrifices.
It sears the heart to witness the ideal of our liberation for which we gave our youth, blood was shed and other sacrifices were made, being derailed and wrecked by the staggering greed of a few. [The call to action: finding hope in struggle] And yet, even with these clouds, my spirit refuses to break and give up. My happiness comes from looking at you, the women of today. You are still the rock. You are still resilient. Despite the failures of leadership and the weight of these struggles, you continue to hold our families and communities together.
Your courage is the beacon of hope and the light that keeps this country moving forward. To the officials, politicians and dignitaries here today: I challenge you to look into the eyes of the women here and see the courage, determination, fortitude, hope and moral mettle that birthed this democracy. Do not let our sacrifices be in vain. Cleanse your hands of corruption. Protect our women. Feed our children. Have moral compass and backbone. Match the bravery of 1956 with bold, honest and accountable leadership.
Closing: a final charge
To the ordinary citizens of our country, in particular women, do not give up hope. Your vote, your voice and your unity are your critical weapons. We handed you a free country; it is now up to you to make it a safe and prosperous one. Let us march forward once more, not against pass laws, but this time against crime and insecurity, poverty, corruption, unemployment, homelessness, violence and the many ills that restrict your future, your safety, your freedom and prosperity.
The fire we ignited in 1956 cannot be extinguished. To the young women here today: do not wait for anyone’s permission. Stand up, use your voice and fight for your future. Fight against poverty and abuse just like we fought against apartheid.
Together, let us finish this march we began 70 years ago. Let the spirit of 1956 rise again in each of your hearts. I would be remiss if I did not express solidarity with the women and children in Palestine who are being subjected to genocide and apartheid, both of which are classified as crimes against humanity by the UN and the world. In the words of our late icon and former president Mandela: “Our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.”
In conclusion, I would like to make a special plea. There were many women who courageously took part in the march on August 9 in 1956, whose names must be recorded in the annals of history to honour them by name. This could be your grandmother or any of your relatives. If you know any of these courageous women, please submit their names to the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation. We want all of them to be memorialised. We need our unsung heroines to be recognised.
Wathint’Abafazi, Wathint’Imbokodo! You Strike a Woman You Strike a Rock and it will Crush You! MALIBONGWE!
Thank you.
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