By Lorraine Shabangu
Seventy years after the women of 1956 marched, who do we remember—and whose stories are still waiting to be told?
On 9 August 1956, thousands of women marched to the Union Buildings in Pretoria in protest against the extension of pass laws to African women. They came from different racial, cultural and social backgrounds, united by a common purpose and by a vision of a society in which generations that followed them could experience freedoms denied to them.
Seventy years later, their march remains one of the defining moments in South Africa’s history. As we commemorate their courage and the contribution of women to our liberation and democracy, this anniversary also invites us to ask deeper questions about memory: whose names have endured, whose stories have become part of our national consciousness, and whose contributions remain largely known within their families and communities?
South Africa’s history is rich with stories of women who contributed to liberation, democracy, community development, culture, education and public life. Some have become household names. But there are many others whose stories live in family memories, community histories, local archives and organisations. Their contributions may have shaped communities without becoming part of the broader national historical narrative.
History is not made only by those whose names eventually become nationally recognised. For every prominent woman we commemorate, there are many others whose courage, labour and leadership formed part of the collective effort that moved South Africa forward. The work of remembrance, therefore, does not end with the women we already know.
The women who mobilised during the 1950s did so in their diversity. Women from different racial, cultural, linguistic, social and political backgrounds came together around a common cause. Their struggle responded to the realities of their time, but it was also concerned with the future. The impact of that struggle can be seen in the opportunities and freedoms available to generations of women who followed.
The woman of 2026 faces different challenges from the woman of 1956. Seventy years have not removed inequality, gender-based violence, discrimination or the social and economic barriers confronting women. Yet the struggles and sacrifices of earlier generations changed what became possible for those who followed. The freedoms enjoyed by one generation of women are often built on the toil and courage of women who came before them.
We are therefore not simply looking backwards. As beneficiaries of a history that continues to shape the present, we carry a responsibility to consider what we, in turn, are making possible for the women who will come after us.
One of the ways a society communicates what it remembers is through its geographical names.
We encounter these names constantly—on road signs and maps, in addresses, at public facilities and in the language we use to describe where we live, work and move. Yet a geographical name can do much more than tell us where we are. It can create an everyday encounter with history, introduce a story to someone who has never heard it and embed a person’s contribution within the public memory of a community.
Across Gauteng, the names of women such as Lillian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph, Charlotte Maxeke, Albertina Sisulu and Sophie de Bruyn form part of our geographical landscape. More recently, the renaming of William Nicol Drive as Winnie Mandela Drive became another example of a woman’s life and contribution being reflected in the spaces through which people move every day.
But the opportunity before us extends beyond recognising prominent historical figures. Communities hold histories of their own. There are women who organised locally, contributed to liberation struggles, strengthened civic life, preserved language and culture, built institutions and served their communities without achieving national prominence. Their significance is not diminished because their stories are primarily known within their communities.
This is where public participation in geographical naming becomes important. Communities have a role in identifying histories and people of significance within their environments and participating in the processes through which geographical names are considered. Geographical naming can therefore broaden our public memory, creating space for more of South Africa’s stories to be known.
At the same time, honouring significant individuals cannot simply mean replacing one historical name with another. South Africa’s landscape contains indigenous geographical names that preserve languages, histories, cultural knowledge and relationships with place. These too form part of our inheritance.
We should therefore ask not only who might be honoured through a geographical name, but also: What history does the existing name carry? Whose story has not yet been told? And how can our geographical landscape reflect the complexity and diversity of the society it represents?
Transformation and preservation need not be opposing ideas. Thoughtful geographical naming can do both.
As we commemorate 70 years since the historic Women’s March, one meaningful way of honouring its legacy is to widen the circle of remembrance. We should continue celebrating the women whose names have become synonymous with South Africa’s struggle for freedom, while becoming curious about those whose stories remain in family histories, community memories and local archives.
Who were they? What did they contribute? And how do we ensure that their life stories survive us?
Seventy years after the women of 1956 walked to the Union Buildings, their footsteps remain part of South Africa’s national memory. The challenge is to ensure that the stories of those women—and the many women who came before and after them—are not remembered only when August comes around.
When we name a place, we do more than identify a location. We preserve history by ensuring that the life stories of the women who shaped our nation continue to be remembered.
In doing so, the places through which we move every day become living records of who we are, where we have come from and whose footsteps helped bring us here.
