In brief
In Kenya, men increasingly choose female surnames, a trend that has ignited both ridicule and support. The practice roots itself in Kikuyu traditions and modern shifts in family structure, with public figures such as musicians and MPs bringing the debate into the spotlight. Cultural experts and academics argue the trend reflects women’s elevated status and changing social responsibilities, while critics see it as a challenge to patriarchal norms. The movement raises questions about identity, inheritance and the evolving face of Kenyan masculinity.
Across Nairobi’s streets and the country’s political arena, an unexpected trend is challenging traditional gender norms: more men are opting to carry their mothers’ first names as surnames. The move, flanked by both mockery and admiration, has sparked debate over identity, inheritance and the shifting pillars of a patriarchal society.
Historically, in Kenya—and especially among the Kikuyu community—the surname chosen a child’s first name was usually that of the father. In polygamous families this avoided confusion, since a small handful of family names were recycled each generation. But the rise of single‑mother households and a growing recognition of women’s contributions has altered the script. Today the table has turned: men, mothers and fathers alike register titles such as “Swa Wanjiku” or “Wa Esther” on official documents.
Journalist Simon Macharia Wangũi chose his mother’s maiden name after losing her to ill‑health in his teenage years. He cites the absence of a paternal figure as a reason he “didn’t want to give credit to any man who was not there for him”. He now embraces the name as a badge of resilience.
The trend has even found its way into politics. MP John Njũgũna Wanjikũ was first elected in 2021, using a female surname that he proudly displays as “Ka‑Wanjikũ”, meaning child of Wanjiku. His father was largely absent, echoing Macharia’s narrative.
In the music scene, legendary girl‑bloom Benga musician Peter Kĩgia wa Esther has carried his surname for decades, even naming his record label Wa Esther Productions. His stage name has gained a cultural cachet and a sense of pride for young artists who shun stereotypes.
"In the event that your mother doesn't tell you who your dad is, or he rejects you, your mother’s eldest brother takes up that role," says cultural expert Wairimũ Mũkũrũ.
Wairimũ explains that such a shift partly stems from the rising prevalence of single‑mother families. Yet, she warns that a male relative may refuse to lend his name due to potential inheritance disputes.
Academic George Gathigi argues that the new norm reflects “strength of women” and the modern realities of labour division. He notes that when a child is not raised by a father, the mother steps in as both caretaker and legal guardian, blurring the lines between paternal and maternal lineage.
Critics, however, claim the practice “weakens” men. A blog referred to the trend as “a yoke around men’s necks” and others feared that feminising the Kenyan man would render him vulnerable.
But for many, the surname is a statement of pride rather than a source of shame. "People will see me as having beaten the odds to get to where I am," Macharia says.
The conversation around female surnames is far from dead‑end; rather, it opens a broader dialogue about gender, culture and the power of names in shaping identity.
