Sexism in DRC parliament: why elected women remain targets

On May 15, 2026, the Congolese political scene was shaken by sexist and misogynistic remarks made from the podium of the National Assembly. A widely shared video on social media captures Deputy Micheline Mpundu as she concludes her motion and steps away from the speaker’s chair. The second vice-president, Christophe Mboso, who was exceptionally chairing the plenary session, publicly commented on her physique and beauty from his position: ‘Thank you colleague, she is very beautiful… huh.’

Continuing in Lingala, Mboso said, ‘Look at her yourselves,’ and laughed, gesturing with his hands to outline the shape of the lawmaker’s body. He added, ‘God created her,’ and ‘these are the things of another,’ to the obvious amusement and applause of the hemicycle. The session then proceeded without any interruption, as if the incident had never occurred.

It was only after the outcry from various political figures, civil society actors, and human rights activists, along with internal pressure from his superiors, that Deputy Mboso issued an apology days later. He faced no disciplinary measures.

This latest episode of sexism and verbal abuse forces us to once again ask a crucial question: When will African parliaments, and the Congolese Parliament in particular, cease to be hostile environments for the women they are meant to represent?

My doctoral research in political science explores issues of masculinity within Congolese legislative institutions. From a comparative African standpoint, I examine what this video reveals. I do not view it merely as an isolated lapse in conduct, but as a structural issue. In this article, I scrutinize the discrepancy between the commitments made by Congolese authorities on paper and the lived realities of elected women.

Comparative analysis of a phenomenon not exclusive to DRC

Parliamentary violence belongs to the broader spectrum of violence that women encounter in politics, both in the DRC and in other countries. Long before the video implicating Deputy Mboso began circulating in Kinshasa, earlier sexist scenes had already been recorded. These events underscore the severity of a phenomenon that obstructs women’s full participation in politics at all decision-making levels.

Women’s political participation surged in the early 1990s, alongside democratization waves that raised genuine hope, propelling an unprecedented number of women into African parliaments. The number of female legislators tripled between 1990 and 2010. Many believed, with a persistent illusion, that gaining an elective mandate would be enough to change the culture of institutions. That illusion quickly shattered. Their presence was perceived as a challenge to the established system.

This presence ran into deep structural resistance, often coming from male colleagues, whether in opposition or from the same party. Some men indeed believe, and sometimes state openly, that politics is a male preserve, that women are not welcome or do not belong there.

The Inter-Parliamentary Union, the global organization of national parliaments founded in 1889, has rigorously documented this. In its 2016 global survey of female parliamentarians from 39 countries across five continents, more than 65.5% of respondents reported having suffered repeated verbal attacks and insults during their terms. These statistics are troubling, and they speak volumes about parliamentary realities.

These aggressions largely originate from male colleagues. Interestingly, the study also sheds light on how society perceives elected women. It is not their political record that is scrutinized, but their very right to be present that is questioned and debated in the media. They are judged not on their political contributions but on their appearance, marital status, and adherence to traditional roles as educators or mothers.

And sexism does not stop at the doors of Parliament. It enters with the elected members, settles in, and sometimes parades from the speaker’s chair itself, as we have just witnessed in the DRC. A regional study conducted jointly by the IPU and the African Parliamentary Union in November 2021 confirmed that this reality persists, with insufficient progress toward effective political participation by women.

The applause heard in the video is not insignificant. It reveals that the problem is not solely Mboso, but the system that generates and tolerates such behavior – the same system that Australian philosopher Kate Manne analyzes as a control mechanism keeping women in subordinate positions, even in so-called democratic institutions. And this control does not always involve physical violence. Gestures, words, laughter from the podium – what Mona Lena Krook, a specialist in violence against women in politics, terms ‘semiotic violence’ – suffice to remind female MPs that in the eyes of some colleagues, they remain bodies before being legislators. This reality was illustrated by Mboso raising his hands to mimic the body of his colleague Mpundu.

The coloniality of gender, a concept developed by feminist María Lugones, explains the naturalization of the hierarchy between the sexes as a colonial legacy. It helps illuminate the contradiction where female parliamentarians are elected by the same voters, in the same ballots, under the same constitutional texts as their male counterparts. Yet they remain subjected to patriarchal control systems that reduce them, even from the speaker’s chair, to something other than legislators. They have equal rights on paper, but unequal treatment in the chamber.

African cases

When watching the Mboso video, many likely thought of other African countries. In Senegal, deputy Amy Ndiaye, pregnant, was slapped and kicked in the stomach in 2022 in the chamber, before cameras. In 2025, Nigerian Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduagha was suspended not for professional misconduct but for daring to name the sexual harassment she experienced from the Senate President.

It is no coincidence that Ndiaye, Akpoti-Uduagha, and Mpundu – three women from three different countries – experienced these forms of violence. These events demonstrate that while African parliaments tolerate women’s voices, their dignity is not yet fully respected.

Congolese cases

On April 30, 2020, Thambwe Mwamba, then President of the Congolese Senate, demeaned a woman during a plenary session broadcast on national television. He disclosed all the secret meetings they had, claiming that Senator Bijoux Ngoya had approached him to solicit his support for her candidacy for the post of quaestor of the Senate Bureau. He subtly accused her of making advances. The plenary session ended in chaos, with several lawmakers expressing indignation.

On July 15, 2021, while Deputy Christelle Vuanga was dismantling a colleague’s arguments during a constitutional debate, Nsingi Pululu interrupted her with these words in Lingala: ‘You are a woman.’ It was a way to belittle her capacity to speak publicly on that sensitive issue simply because she is a woman.

The Mboso affair is hardly surprising. The DRC has ratified conventions, adopted laws, and signed commitments, yet in the hemicycle, nothing has changed. The disconnect between text and practice is not new and has been documented. What is new is that we continue to pretend not to see it.

Ongoing reflection

French feminist activist Simone de Beauvoir wrote in 1949 that women are defined as ‘the Other.’ In 2026, this otherness persists in the Congolese Parliament: elected women deputies continue to be reduced to their bodies rather than their political contributions.

These incidents signal that the patriarchal system undermines democracy from within. As long as sexist behavior remains unpunished, as shown by the applause and the absence of any sanction against Mboso, the Congolese Parliament will remain a misogynistic institution, even though it is supposed to represent the women who sit there — 65 women out of 477 deputies, barely 13% of the hemicycle in a country where women constitute nearly 51% of the population. Their underrepresentation in no way justifies tolerating this kind of behavior.

Other parliaments have found solutions through campaigns such as #NotTheCost (NDI) and #NotInMyParliament (European Parliament), which prove that culture can change with concrete sanctions and victim protection. The DRC has good laws. The bill on violence against women examined in the Senate in October 2025 is one example, but a law without implementation remains a wish. Silence is no longer an option. Not sanctioning Mboso sends a clear signal to all Congolese women who are considering a political career.