By Ntsoaki Nsibanyoni, General Manager, Sub-Saharan Africa at Uber Eats
South Africa’s unemployment crisis is well known, but for women it is especially stark. As of the second quarter of 2025, 35.9% of women were unemployed, compared to 31.0% of men. For women without a matric certificate, the rate soars to 42.8%, a full 5.8 percentage points higher than men with the same educational background.
These numbers are not just statistics. They are the lived reality of millions of women who are systematically locked out of work, and by extension, out of financial independence and economic agency.
The traditional labour market has simply not absorbed women equitably. If we continue looking only to formal employment to solve this, we will miss a critical opportunity: the potential of the digital economy. Unlike traditional employment, platform work offers two key things – access to income-earning opportunities and flexibility. Women can earn on their own schedules, ensure a healthy work-life balance, and even combine multiple activities to build diverse income streams.
Technology platforms such as Uber and Uber Eats illustrate this shift in action. A woman driving with Uber may also be building a retail side business. A food entrepreneur may reach new customers via Uber Eats while running her own kitchen. These are not isolated cases. They reflect how gig work enables women to own their time while building their livelihoods.
The point is not that gig work solves every problem. It doesn’t. But it creates low-barrier entry points where none existed. And for women on the margins of the economy, that can mean the difference between dependency and self-sufficiency.
Flexibility as a Doorway to Opportunity
If we are serious about empowering women, we must also rethink what we mean by “work” in today’s economy. The reality is that not all opportunities look like a 9–5 job. For many, flexibility is the foundation that allows them to pursue growth on their own terms.
A good example of this is Asive Maxama who runs the Wakanda African Restaurant, with two locations in Cape Town. In just four years, Asive has grown her business from a small startup run by just herself, her husband and one employee, to a trusted brand with 20 employees and two locations. She also recently won an award for the Best African Restaurant in Western Cape. Asive credits Uber Eats for helping her to grow the business so quickly. The Uber Eats platform has enabled Asive to reach a much wider customer base than would have been possible otherwise. People who would not consider going out to eat, regularly order from her through Uber Eats because of the convenience it offers its customers.
She told us, “Uber Eats has been a great partner for us. They ran an online course for us and other business owners teaching us business skills.”
Similarly, Sihle Lakhe, who drives with Uber, has woven this work into her family life. She joined the platform soon after deciding she wanted more control over her time and earnings. The flexibility allowed her to manage childcare while still building a sustainable income. On her very first day she earned only R67 – but instead of walking away, she pushed through, determined to make it work. That resilience paid off. Today, she earns an average of R12,000 per week, giving her the financial freedom she once thought out of reach.
Now she owns two Uber Black vehicles and is working towards purchasing a third, proof that platform work, for her, isn’t a stopgap but a deliberate choice to take control of her financial future.
Stories like Asive’s and Sihle’s highlight a bigger truth: platform work doesn’t sit neatly within the traditional boxes of employment. These workers are not employees in the old sense of the word, but neither should they be treated as invisible, interchangeable, or unprotected. They occupy a space in between, one that demands fresh thinking about what “work” should look like.
A chance to rethink economic participation
South Africa cannot afford to dismiss platform work as peripheral or temporary. For women facing exclusion from traditional jobs, it offers something more profound: a chance to participate in the economy on their own terms.
The truth is that women are already proving this. Asive and Sihle’s stories illustrate a reality that policy and public discourse often overlook: economic dignity doesn’t always come from a contract in a corporate office. It can come from a steering wheel, a kitchen, or a smartphone.
Yet for many women, safety remains the biggest consideration. The ability to earn while avoiding late-night commutes, working closer to home, or choosing digital-first opportunities where they control when and how they engage, is as much about protection as it is about productivity. In this sense, the digital economy does more than open doors to income. It creates safer, more flexible pathways into work that traditional structures have often failed to provide.
If we nurture platform work wisely, through supportive regulation, investment in digital access, and recognition of platform workers, this sector can become a foundation for women’s empowerment and a broader reimagining of economic inclusion.
For now, the lesson is clear: the future of work in South Africa will not be defined by one model alone. But for women long sidelined by the labour market, the digital economy is not just an option. It is a lifeline.
