Collins Mumba is a passionate advocate for gender justice and inclusive development, focusing on defending human rights, gender, and climate justice for the marginalized indigents, and also a trained paralegal, currently serving with the Society for Gender Justice in Zambia as executive director.
Please introduce yourself briefly and tell us about your work.
Collins Mumba making a radio appearance
I am a passionate advocate for gender justice and inclusive development, with a deep commitment to defending human rights and promoting gender and climate justice for marginalized and indigent communities. As a trained paralegal and the Executive Director of the Society for Gender Justice in Zambia, I focus on empowering communities through a blend of policy engagement, grassroots mobilization, and cultural advocacy.
My work centers around advancing women’s land rights, protecting children, promoting health equity, and pushing for climate justice. I lead programs that creatively integrate traditional and faith-based leadership into broader social justice efforts—particularly through legal literacy outreach. I take pride in designing culturally resonant tools like drama scripts, storytelling kits, and advocacy campaigns that speak directly to rural communities in ways that are meaningful and accessible.
At the heart of my mission is a drive for systemic change. I actively collaborate with local councils, civil society networks, and marginalized groups to build resilience, strengthen capacity, and ensure that underrepresented voices are heard and valued.
There’s one moment etched into my memory that lit the fire.
While working on a community land rights campaign in Gwembe District of Southern Province of Zambia in 2018, I met a woman named Mutinta—a smallholder farmer and mother of five. She stood up during one of our dialogues and shared how she had cultivated her land for over a decade, only to have it claimed by male relatives when her husband passed. What struck me wasn’t just her story—it was her resolve. She hadn’t come to plead for help; she came to mobilize. She wanted to lead.
That was a turning point. I saw how entrenched traditional norms could silence potential in Zambia, but also how courage could spark change.
From that day, my work became less about programs and more about people—people like Mutinta who deserve the tools, platforms, and policies to protect their rights and dignity.
A community meeting in Zambia
There was a time early in my advocacy work when we held a town hall meeting on access to justice for women in a rural district. A young girl, no older than 13, stood and shared how she’d been denied birth registration, which made school enrollment impossible. Her voice trembled, but her message was clear: “If my name is not written, how can I prove I exist?”
That question gripped me. It wasn’t just about birth certificates—it was about visibility, belonging, and the structural barriers that render entire generations invisible. I saw how systems can fail, not abstractly, but painfully personally. That moment reshaped my path—it moved me from service delivery into systems change. From then on, I’ve committed to ensuring that no child, no woman, and no marginalized voice goes unheard or undocumented.
Because justice begins with recognition. And recognition begins the moment we choose to listen.
We do not bend to silence; we rise with truth. Every voice heard, every right protected—this is how justice lives.
It is true—advocating for gender justice often means confronting deeply rooted beliefs, uncomfortable truths, and stories that can weigh heavily on the heart. But what fuels me is something far greater than the pain. It’s the transformation I get to witness.
I’ve seen a widow regain ownership of her land because a chief stood beside her. I’ve seen community paralegals use skits to conduct legal education in local dialects. I’ve seen a grandmother, once voiceless in village matters, lead a community dialogue on child protection.
These moments remind me that change isn’t just possible—it’s visible. And it starts with one conversation, one courageous voice, and one community brave enough to rethink tradition.
Collins Mumba with the community
What also drives me is legacy. I believe every initiative we plant today—in land rights, climate justice, and legal literacy—is a seed for the future Zambia we want. One where dignity isn’t debated, and justice isn’t selective.
One of the most significant shifts brought about by my involvement with the Network has been the deepening of collaborative strategy—moving from isolated programmatic efforts to a more integrated, movement-driven approach.
A community meeting in Zambia
Through the Network, we transitioned from focusing solely on service delivery to embracing systemic advocacy rooted in lived experience. The exposure to regional models and peer-led innovations helped us adopt participatory legal literacy tools and reshape our capacity-building methods to be more community-authored than organization-led.
For instance:
The Network challenged us to think bigger—not in size, but in depth of impact during the online training and learning exchange visit in Zambia. It proved that justice becomes sustainable when it’s shared, shaped, and stewarded by the grassroots themselves.
Absolutely. My involvement in the Grassroots Justice Network has been more than just professional—it’s been transformational.
One of the most eye-opening experiences was attending a peer-led workshop on “Building Community Power and radical inclusion in legal empowerment.” The session didn’t just unpack technical approaches—it questioned who gets to define justice and whose voices are prioritized in legal empowerment. I left that space reevaluating our entire approach.
A community meeting in Zambia
As a result, we began:
The Network also fostered partnerships that broke silos—like a joint advocacy drive with another member organization focused on mobile birth registration clinics in rural districts. That collaboration wouldn’t have happened without the Network’s emphasis on horizontal learning and solidarity.
What changed most wasn’t just our method—it was our mindset. Legal empowerment now feels less like instruction and more like co-creation.
Absolutely—if I could share a few guiding principles with fellow members of the Grassroots Justice Network, they’d be rooted in what this journey has taught me about impact, humility, and the power of community:
We are more than a network—we are a movement. One rooted in lived truths, carried by collective courage, and sustained by relentless hope.