Climate Justice is the Only Way Forward: A First-Time Experience at ACS2
By Whoopie Wasike
In September 2025, the land of origins and the beating heart of Africa hosted the Second Africa Climate Summit Week. The city was alive with anticipation, its streets echoing with the energy of activists, policymakers, and leaders who had gathered for a single cause. From the outset, it was clear this would not be an ordinary event. The theme Financing for Africa’s Resilient and Green Development was more than a rallying cry; it was the heartbeat of a continent determined to claim its future. Something historic was about to unfold.
Before the official summit began, I had the privilege of attending the People’s Assembly, a space that pulsed with people power. Civil society organizations, youth groups, trade unionists and feminist movements filled the halls with urgent calls for justice. Suspense lingered as we debated what Africa’s vision for climate justice must look like. Discussions forced us to confront not only the climate crisis but also the politics that sustain it. The Assembly insisted that Africa’s future must be built on the principles of decolonization, degenderize, and decarbonization. It was a powerful reminder that unless women’s voices rise above political tokenism, justice will remain an empty slogan.
Stepping into the Second Africa Climate Summit itself felt like entering another arena one where power was contested in every corner. Yet the stage, the panels, and the decision-making spaces were dominated by men in suits. The imbalance was impossible to ignore. Suspense grew as I listened, waiting to hear if the urgency of grassroots women, whose daily realities reflect the true cost of climate change, would make it into the official agenda. Too often, it felt like their voices were softened, sidelined, or squeezed into the margins while men defined the path forward. This imbalance revealed a painful truth: climate justice cannot exist without gender justice.
The testimonies of grassroots women leaders pierced through the formality of political speeches. They spoke of rising floods that destroyed homes, of droughts that stripped food from their tables, of walking miles for water while also carrying the burden of care work. Their stories drew the room into silence, yet one question haunted me would these voices be allowed to shape the solutions, or would politics once again silence them? The suspense of that question lingered in every room I entered.
Key issues dominated the Summit climate finance, just transition and adaptation. Each carried a gendered dimension that could not be ignored. A just transition was framed not only as moving away from fossil fuels but also as ensuring women workers are not pushed deeper into poverty as economies shift. Adaptation called for climate smart agriculture, yet it is women farmers who often lack access to land, credit, and technology. Climate finance carried an even heavier gendered weight: the chains of unfair financial systems tighten most cruelly on women who are already at the frontlines of climate vulnerability.
I left the Second Africa Climate Summit transformed but unsettled. Suspense lingers will Africa’s leaders finally center women’s knowledge, labour, and leadership in climate action, or will they allow male dominated politics to recycle the same exclusions that brought us here? What I know for certain is that climate justice is inseparable from gender justice. To ignore women is to ignore Africa’s resilience. To silence feminist voices is to silence the very heartbeat of change. For me, this is just the beginning of a journey to keep pushing, to keep demanding, and to keep reminding the world that for Africa, climate justice is not a choice it is the only way forward.