Joan Vwamu doesn’t wear her brilliance like a crown. She carries it quietly—in the way she listens intently, chooses her words carefully, and threads purpose into every pause. She is the kind of woman who doesn’t need to announce her impact; you feel it. It pulses through her journey that spans from the dusty village roads in Naivasha where she was born and brought up to the charged atmosphere of electoral polling stations, all the way to the influential halls of the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). Here, Joan shapes how justice, inclusion, and gender equality take root across Kenya.

We’re seated in a sunlit boardroom, papers neatly stacked at her side, a well-worn notebook perched on top. There’s a softness in Joan’s demeanour but make no mistake—behind it is a mind as sharp as it is empathetic. She was, after all, the top student for eight consecutive years in her primary school. But it wasn’t just academic excellence that marked her early years. From a very young age, Joan stood firmly for what was right, often challenging unfairness wherever she saw it. Her belief that fairness, accountability and transparency is the only path to justice didn’t come later—it was always there, guiding her decisions, shaping her voice, and setting her on a path that felt less like chance and more like conviction.

“My path into governance wasn’t something I stumbled into—it was the natural extension of who I’ve always been,” she says, her voice steady, her eyes focused.

What sparked your passion for working on gender equality and governance, and how did your early experience in electoral processes shape that path?

My journey into governance and gender equality began at the Electoral Commission of Kenya in 2003, where I served as a Senior Elections Officer. I was fortunate to be part of defining moments in Kenya’s history—the 2005 constitutional referendum and the 2007 General Elections. It was exhilarating to witness democracy in motion, but also sobering. I saw up close how fragile our systems could be when institutions are weak, voices are silenced, and women are sidelined from leadership.

Then came the 2007 post-election crisis. That moment shook the nation—and it changed me, too. I had the honour of supporting UNDP’s work during the Agenda 4 peace talks led by H.E. Kofi Annan. Being part of a process that helped pave the way for Kenya’s 2010 Constitution—a bold vision for gender equality, devolution, and citizen participation—ignited something deeper in me. I saw what was possible when governance becomes personal, inclusive, and people-centred.

Early on, I was lucky to be mentored and trusted with leadership. Some of my earliest champions were men—leaders who not only believed in my potential but also understood that gender equality is not a women’s issue, but a societal imperative. Their support gave me room to lead, to learn, and to lift others. It taught me that true allyship means making space and sharing power. Later, as a District Officer, I experienced governance at the grassroots—helping resolve land disputes, translating national policies into local realities, and hearing, firsthand, the struggles women face in seeking justice and opportunity. That closeness to people’s stories etched something permanent in my heart: governance only matters when it includes everyone. Without inclusion, policy is just words on paper.

As a single mother of two incredible daughters, and the eldest in an orphaned family, my advocacy is not just professional—it’s deeply personal. I am the result of empowerment. I’ve felt what it means to be believed in, to be given space to lead. And that’s why I will never stop championing gender equality and human rights. Because I’ve lived the impact. I am living proof of what’s possible when women are trusted to rise.