KAY SEXWALE | What ‘The Polygamist’ reveals about deceit, power and ourselves

I did not expect The Polygamist to unsettle me.

I approached it as one more Netflix drama adapted from a bestselling novel. Instead, I found myself staring at people I know and parts of myself in them. Women I know. Men I know. Children I know. I suspect many viewers across the world had the same experience.

The story follows Jonasi Gomora, a wealthy businessperson who juggles multiple relationships while presenting different versions of himself to different women. Predictably, audiences have been captivated by the drama, the secrets and the betrayals. Yet what struck me most was not the man at the centre of the story; it was the women orbiting him.

As I watched, I felt an old sadness. Time and again, women who have been deceived direct their anger at one another rather than at the person who deceived them. The other woman becomes the enemy. The architect of the deception somehow escapes with less scrutiny.

This is not unique to romantic relationships. It is a pattern visible across society. People compete for recognition, resources, legitimacy and affection within systems they did not create. Those closest to them become rivals. The person who engineered the conflict often slips into the background.

There are many valid criticisms of the institution, but secrecy is not one of them.

The Polygamist is therefore not really a story about polygamy. Authentic polygamy is built on disclosure. Everyone involved knows where they stand. There are many valid criticisms of the institution, but secrecy is not one of them.

The world depicted in The Polygamist is built on concealment. It is sustained by lies, manipulation and emotional cruelty. The central issue is not that one man loves multiple women; it is that he denies those women the dignity of informed choice. While the title invites debate about polygamy, the story itself is fundamentally about deceit.

That is why it resonates so deeply. Many of us have encountered versions of Jonasi. Men who maintain power through information asymmetry, who know more about everyone else’s reality than anyone knows about theirs.

That is also why the series has travelled so well beyond the continent. Despite being rooted in Southern African realities, it has broken into Netflix’s global top 10 and attracted audiences far beyond Africa. Viewers from vastly different cultures and backgrounds have found something familiar in it. That is because deception, infidelity, manipulation and the abuse of power are universal human experiences. The emotional architecture remains the same across continents. People recognise the pain of discovering that someone they trusted was living a double life.

What saddened me most was watching women turn on one another while the deceiver remained at the centre of the story. Women are frequently socialised to compete for love, legitimacy and security.

Whatever the reason, the result is the same. The deceived become combatants while the deceiver becomes the prize. The Polygamist holds up an uncomfortable mirror to that reality and asks difficult questions about where accountability should truly lie.

Yet there is another reason this series deserves attention.

What saddened me most was watching women turn on one another while the deceiver remained at the centre of the story.

The novel on which it is based was written by Zimbabwean author Sue Nyathi. At a time when xenophobic rhetoric and Afrophobia periodically resurface in South Africa, that fact should give us pause.

Public discourse too often reduces fellow Africans to crude stereotypes. Migrants are framed as burdens rather than contributors. Debates about borders frequently overlook talent, creativity, entrepreneurship and innovation. The result is a diminished understanding of the many ways in which Africans contribute to the societies in which they live.

A Zimbabwean woman imagined a story that has become a global Netflix television production. That single act of creativity has generated opportunities for South African publishers, editors, producers, directors, actors, technicians, marketers and distributors. It has created economic value and cultural conversation across borders. The success of The Polygamist demonstrates what becomes possible when African talent, African stories and African markets intersect.

What moved me most about The Polygamist was not the spectacle of betrayal; it was the humanity beneath it.

For all its drama, the series reminded me that behind every lie is a wounded person. Behind every deception is a family trying to make sense of conflicting realities. Behind every secret is a child absorbing lessons about love, trust and self-worth.

Good storytelling has a way of bypassing our intellectual defences. It reaches places statistics cannot reach and policy papers cannot touch. The Polygamist reminded me that politics is ultimately about people, society is ultimately about people, and whether in parliament, in boardrooms or around family dinner tables, the greatest damage is often done not by conflict itself, but by dishonesty. More than polygamy, that is the enduring lesson of this story.

• Sexwale is a communications strategist and public affairs adviser with an interest in politics, governance and the stories that shape society.