Forty-five years after independence, Zimbabwe’s government buildings still enforce dress codes that scream colonial exclusionary practices. Walk up to most government offices wearing shorts and sandals, and you’ll face the same barriers that once kept our parents from accessing basic services. The uniforms at the entrance may have changed, but the underlying message remains disturbingly familiar, certain people belong, others fail to measure up.

This continuation of colonial-era policies embodies a fundamental misunderstanding of democratic governance in free Zimbabwe. When we perpetuate dress codes that exclude citizens based on economic circumstances, we undermine the very principles for which our liberation struggle was fought.

For millions of Africans, the choice between buying a formal shirt and putting food on the table becomes crystal clear. Days ago, I experienced this reality at the VID depot outside Harare, where security personnel refused me entry because I wore shorts and slides. When someone says “shorts and sandals is what I can afford,” they’re making an honest statement about economic reality rather than showing disrespect. They’re acknowledging circumstances that government policies should accommodate rather than penalise.

Consider the civil servant earning $200 monthly who needs their driving licence, or the rural farmer seeking agricultural permits after travelling hours to reach the district office. Should their ability to access government services depend on owning formal trousers? Should the elderly grandmother applying for her pension face rejection because her worn sandals fail to meet arbitrary respectability standards?

The absurdity becomes clear: the same government welcoming tax payments from citizens in any attire finds those citizens unsuitable for their premises. This contradiction reveals the fundamental disconnect between revenue collection and access policies.

This exclusionary practice extends throughout Zimbabwe’s government institutions. Courts exemplify the problem most starkly: Zimbabwean courts refuse to wed couples if the man lacks a suit jacket and tie, whilst women must have clothing covering their shoulders. Try entering a courtroom wearing jeans and face immediate rejection, regardless of legitimate business. These policies transform fundamental constitutional rights like marriage and access to justice into privileges contingent on wardrobe ownership.

Zimbabwe’s economic challenges make these barriers particularly cruel. The current system creates a perverse hierarchy where constitutional rights become contingent on wardrobe budgets, transforming universal civic participation into privilege reserved for those with sufficient disposable income.

Dignity lies in ensuring every citizen can access services their taxes fund and citizenship guarantees. When we conflate respect with restrictive dress codes, we perpetuate the harmful notion that appearance determines worth. This thinking served colonial administrators maintaining social hierarchies, but deserves abandonment in independent Zimbabwe committed to equality and justice.

Government buildings belong to all citizens, funded through taxes paid by workers whether they wear suits or overalls. The security guard, the vendor in the street, students in casual wear, all contribute to national coffers maintaining these institutions. Why should their access to services be conditional on adopting someone else’s sartorial preferences, whilst their financial contributions remain equally welcome?

Furthermore, many traditional and cultural dress forms fall outside Western formal wear standards. Zimbabwe’s rich cultural heritage includes diverse traditional attire that often carries deeper significance than imported formal wear, yet faces exclusion from buildings meant to serve all citizens. Such requirements reflect the assimilationist policies that sought to replace African customs with European standards, perpetuating colonial assumptions that European standards define respectability whilst African traditions fall short.

Code enforcement creates uncomfortable power dynamics at building entrances, where security personnel become arbiters of acceptability. This system invites inconsistency, potential corruption, and unnecessary confrontation at the threshold of democratic participation.

Practical clothing choices reflect economic wisdom in Africa’s challenging climate. Shorts and sandals make perfect sense for citizens walking long distances in heat, yet arbitrary dress codes prioritise appearance over comfort and practicality.

Eliminating dress codes for government buildings would meaningfully advance democratic inclusivity and accessibility. Such change requires zero budget allocation, zero complex legislation, just political will to prioritise citizen access over outdated institutional dignity notions.

Government buildings should welcome all respectful citizens regardless of attire. Basic decency standards (being appropriately clothed) can be maintained whilst embracing style diversity reflecting economic circumstances and cultural preferences.

This change would send a powerful message about Zimbabwe’s commitment to genuine equality. It would demonstrate that our government values substance over appearance, citizenship over class markers, democratic participation over colonial-era hierarchies.

The fight for accessible government buildings connects to broader struggles for economic justice and genuine democracy. When we remove barriers preventing full civic participation, we strengthen the entire democratic system.

Every person turned away from government buildings because of clothing represents a failure of democratic ideals. Every citizen forced to choose between essential needs and government access reveals our current approach’s inadequacy.

Free Zimbabwe should mean freedom from colonial assumptions that respectability requires conformity to European dress standards. It should mean government buildings truly serving all people, including those affording only practical clothing.