On a recent evening in Nairobi, a woman conductor on a crowded matatu found herself at the center of a stranger’s contempt. “Other women are in their houses, taking care of their homes. This one is here, taking care of a door to a vehicle,” the passenger declared, his annoyance clearly rooted in the belief that a woman’s place is in the home, not earning a living . The incident, shared by a journalist in the Daily Nation, exposed a truth that persists in 2026: despite significant progress, Nairobi’s working women still navigate a world where their right to work is questioned, their pay is unequal, and their safety is far from guaranteed .
The Persistent Gender Gap in Employment
The numbers tell a story of stubborn inequality. Kenya’s labour force participation gap between men and women stands at 15.4 percentage points, and women earn just 68 shillings for every 100 shillings earned by men . The pay gap in some sectors is even more staggering—women in education earn 38 percent less than their male counterparts . As Belinda Achieng, writing for Jonathan Mwaniki News, put it: “That is not a gap; it is a theft of school fees, rent, and retirement savings” .
Nairobi County, however, has taken a significant step forward. In December 2025, Governor Johnson Sakaja introduced two days of menstrual leave per month for the county’s 18,000 employees, over half of whom are women . “Our biggest investment is our employees,” Sakaja said. “It starts with the dignity of your own employees, so they feel respected” . The move, which faced minimal opposition, represents a recognition that women’s rights and workplace productivity are not in conflict .
Breaking into Male-Dominated Fields
Across the city, women are slowly but steadily entering industries that have long been considered male territory. Virginiah Njeri Njuguna, who has driven matatus in Nairobi for 11 years, started as a conductor in 2011 and now drives for Digital Luxury SACCO on the Odeon–Westlands–Kangemi–Gikuyu route . “Kazi ya matatu inalipa na unaweza kufanya vitu mingi kama umejituma,” she says—the work pays, and you can achieve many things if you push yourself .
In construction, the numbers remain stark: women account for just 3 percent of Kenya’s accredited construction artisans, and those who do enter the sector are mostly confined to lower-paid informal jobs rather than specialized roles . Yet organizations like Buildher are working to change that. The Nairobi-based nonprofit runs year-long training programs in carpentry, tiling, painting, and other finishing trades. Since 2019, Buildher has trained over 1,000 women, with graduates increasing their average daily earnings five- to six-fold—from about $1.50 to between $11 and $12 .
Diana Ojiambo, a 24-year-old single mother of two, was unemployed and struggling when she joined Buildher. Now she works as a machine operator at Furniture International . “My life was so challenging,” she recalls. “But now I can support myself, I can support my kids” .
The path is not easy. Buildher cofounder Tatu Gatere notes that many women face resistance from husbands or parents uneasy about women doing construction work, and harassment on job sites remains a persistent problem . “You’re supposed to be a decision maker, but you’d still be getting catcalled and harassed by men,” she reflects on her own experiences as an architect .
Digital Pathways and Entrepreneurship
For many Nairobi women, digital platforms are opening new avenues for economic independence. Nyayo Moms Sokos (NMS), a social commerce platform serving Nairobi’s Nyayo estate, has grown to around 5,570 registered users since its founding in 2019 . The platform connects verified women entrepreneurs to buyers through WhatsApp and Facebook, providing training, vetting, and a trusted community .
Faith Siele, a home baker who joined NMS, saw her business grow five-fold while she was away on a leadership programme in India . “When Covid shut all business, there were no events,” she says. “Nyayo Moms kept my business running” . Thirty-two percent of the women registered on the platform have successfully transitioned from informal side hustles to growing businesses .
A study examining how Kenyan women use digital technologies to access employment found that women strategically navigate multi-platform pathways—using WhatsApp, LinkedIn, and Ajira Digital—instead of relying on single channels . Yet the study also identified persistent gendered barriers: data affordability, digital literacy gaps, and socio-cultural stereotypes that view ICT as a male domain . Online scams, harassment, and verification burdens disproportionately affect women, requiring constant vigilance .
Programs like KICTANet’s Empower Her Digital Accelerator, launched in June 2026, aim to address these gaps by training 15,000 women across Kenya—including Nairobi, Kisumu, and Nyandarua—to become digital entrepreneurs . The program targets the 42 percent of female micro-entrepreneurs who own smartphones but use them primarily for entertainment rather than economic growth . Women Digital Champions are trained to cascade their knowledge to 50 local women each, with success measured by actionable milestones: moving businesses onto digital marketplaces, expanding geographic reach, and stabilizing daily revenue .
The Challenges of the Informal Economy
For refugee women in Nairobi’s informal settlements, the barriers are even higher. A June 2026 study by the International Rescue Committee found that women-owned businesses recorded average monthly profits of just $52 (Sh6,800), compared to $88 (Sh11,500) for businesses owned by men . Women-run enterprises were concentrated predominantly in food and clothing—sectors widely regarded as the most competitive and lowest-margin in the urban informal economy .
The study found that increased cash grants combined with mentorship did little to move the needle for refugee women, though it improved outcomes for other groups . The findings reinforce that refugee women face compounding disadvantages: limited mobility, caregiving responsibilities that restrict business hours, restricted access to networks and market information, and discriminatory treatment by landlords, suppliers, and licensing authorities .
Conclusion
As the stranger on the Mombasa Road matatu demonstrated, entrenched patriarchal attitudes remain a powerful force in Nairobi’s professional landscape . Yet the women who navigate these barriers—from matatu drivers and construction supervisors to digital entrepreneurs and county employees—are quietly transforming what is possible for the next generation. As Buildher’s Gatere envisions: “I see more and more women starting their own businesses. I see women’s collectives bidding for contracts independently” . For Nairobi’s women workers, the path is steep and the obstacles many, but the determination to forge ahead is unmistakable .
