In the world of startups, failure is often seen as a rite of passage. We celebrate the “fail fast” ethos, preach about grit, and encourage founders to wear their losses like battle scars. But when the founder is a woman, especially in Africa, the tone shifts. The same room that claps for a failed male founder offering hard-won advice will grow uncomfortably quiet when a female founder folds her company. Suddenly, failure isn’t just a setback, it’s a scarlet letter.
When the founder is a man. We admire their courage, we speak of “lessons learned,” we tell stories of phoenixes rising from the ashes. But when the founder is a woman, especially in Africa’s emerging tech scene, the narrative shifts.
Her failure is rarely framed as brave or visionary. Instead, it is met with silence. Or worse, subtle disappointment, whispers, condescension.
Take Okra, the Nigerian API fintech startup that once promised to be a game-changer in the open banking space. Founded by Fara Ashiru Jituboh, a brilliant software engineer and one of the few women in Nigeria to have led a deep tech company, Okra shut down quietly in 2024. The reactions were telling. Where male-led startup failures sparked ecosystem-wide think pieces, many people responded to Okra’s end with a shrug or veiled criticism. The grace we often extend to male founders, “they’ll bounce back”, was notably absent.
Similarly, when the edtech startup Heels & Tech, known for skilling African women in tech, faced operational hiccups, scepticism quickly replaced support. Questions about leadership and longevity came faster than offers of help or second chances.
So what’s going on?
Could it be possible that we are much harder on female founders when they fail? And how can we reframe failure in a way that affirms their humanity, their courage, and their right to try again?
The Weight of Representation
When a male founder fails, he’s one of many. He blends into the ecosystem, a single startup among many others. But when a woman fails, she often represents an entire gender. Because there are fewer of her, her loss feels like a public verdict, not a personal journey. When a woman founds a startup, particularly in fintech, logistics, AI, or other male-dominated sectors, she often enters rooms where she is the only one like her. That visibility is both her power and her burden.
When her startup succeeds, she becomes a symbol, a poster girl for female empowerment. But when it falters, the fallout feels communal. It’s not just her startup that failed; it’s the hopes pinned on her that feel betrayed. And that pressure to represent more than just herself is one no founder should carry.
“She had so much potential. Such a shame.”
“Maybe women just aren’t cut out for high-stakes business.”
This invisible pressure makes every step heavier for women. They aren’t just building for themselves, they’re carrying a banner for everyone who looks like them.
The Myth of the Superwoman
Female founders are expected to be everything: visionaries, nurturers, flawless leaders, soft but strong, assertive but likeable. And often, they’re juggling their startups with caregiving roles, cultural expectations, and the invisible labour of “emotional management” both within their teams and in their personal lives.
Society asks women founders to be everything, all at once. They must lead boldly, but not too aggressively. Be nurturing, but not too soft. Command a room, but never appear “too much.” If a female founder is also a mother, the expectations double as she is judged on how well she juggles her home life alongside her business.
And when things go wrong? That same strength she was praised for is weaponised against her. “Maybe she should have asked for help.” “Maybe she wasn’t focused enough.” Rarely is there room for simple, unromantic failure.
When they crack under the pressure, it’s seen as weakness. But when men burn out, it’s considered evidence of how hard they worked.
This double standard is exhausting, and it’s why many women leave the tech scene altogether after a single public failure.
Cultural Taboos and the Fear of Risk
In many African cultures, women are taught to play it safe. The ideal woman is dependable, measured, and not a gambler. So when a woman dares to dream big, raise capital, scale quickly, and challenge the status quo, she is already breaking rules. And if she fails, it is often used as a cautionary tale.
“See? This is why women should stick to safer ventures.”
“Why did she even try to build a tech company? Why didn’t she just open a boutique?”
That mindset is not just sexist, it’s dangerous. It kills dreams before they even take form.
Also, for many investors, female-led startups are still viewed as risky, not because the numbers support that claim, but because of deep-rooted bias. According to Partech’s 2022 Africa Tech VC Report, female-only founding teams received just 1.9% of total VC funding on the continent. This funding gap doesn’t just limit growth; it also contributes to burnout and premature closure.
And when these startups fold, it’s often used to justify future exclusion: “See? We tried investing in women. It didn’t work.” Yet male founders with serial flops continue to raise millions for their next big idea.
Media Framing and Public Perception
When female founders succeed, the media focuses on their personality, their grace, humility, or backstory. But when they fail, the scrutiny turns clinical and cold. Headlines are harsher. There’s more whispering. Sometimes the silence is even louder.
In contrast, male failure is often met with fascination: “What went wrong?” “What can other founders learn?” They’re invited to speak on panels, write books, and raise money again.
When a male startup crashes, the media rushes to dissect what happened, inviting the founder to share lessons and offer insight. He becomes a thought leader. A comeback story in the making.
But female founders often fade quietly from view. Their shutdowns are barely covered. When they are, the tone is often clinical, even patronising. This erasure further alienates women from the startup narrative and robs the ecosystem of vital perspectives.
We must give women the same room to fall and to rise again.
So What Needs to Change?
We need to stop attaching moral judgment to failure, especially when it comes from women. Failing at a startup is not a personal flaw. It is a business risk. It is part of building. It is part of dreaming big.
We also need to build safer ecosystems for women to tell their stories, to say, “It didn’t work,” without shame or silence. This includes peer-led founder groups, honest retrospectives, and platforms that allow women to document their entrepreneurial journeys with nuance and dignity.
Investors, too, must confront their biases. The numbers don’t lie: when funded fairly, female-led startups are just as, if not more, efficient and profitable than male-led ones. The funding gap is a self-fulfilling prophecy that limits innovation, not protects it.
And finally, the media must reframe its approach. If we’re going to amplify wins, we must also normalise losses. Give women the mic when their startups end, let them own the story, share their lessons, and shape what comes next.
So, What Can Be Done?
Here are 5 ways we can collectively shift this culture:
Normalise Failure for Everyone
Failure is not gendered. Every founder, man or woman, should be allowed to fail without shame. Let’s celebrate the attempt, not just the outcome.
Build Safer Communities for Women in Tech
Women need ecosystems where they can share failure stories without judgment. Peer circles, women-led founder groups, and mentorship networks can help.
Hold Media to Higher Standards
Journalists and tech media must be more thoughtful in how they report on women’s failures. Avoid sensationalism. Focus on lessons, not labels.
Fund Women Equitably
Many women-run startups fail because they were underfunded from the start. The system often gives men millions for ideas, and women pennies for proof. That must change.
Challenge Internalised Biases
Let’s all examine the quiet judgments we make. Do we give men more benefit of the doubt? Do we question a woman’s leadership faster than a man’s? Start with self-awareness.
She Is Allowed to Try, and Fail, and Try Again
The female founder is not your symbol. She is not your spokesperson. She is not your idealised “hope for the future.” She is a person, bold, brilliant, flawed, and human.
When she fails, let her grieve. Let her regroup. And most importantly, let her rebuild with dignity.
Failure is not a full stop. It is a comma. A moment. A turn in the story.
So when a female founder walks away from her startup or is forced to, let’s not whisper. Let’s not weaponise the failure. Let’s not erase her name from the table.
Let her rest. Let her recover. And most importantly, be given room to return, when she’s ready, with all the lessons she’s earned.
Read Also: How-digital-payments-are-unlocking-new-income-streams-for-women-entrepreneurs-in-nigeria
