NTOMBIFIKILE MTSHALI | The lessons of ‘The Polygamist’

Netflix’s The Polygamist has opened up a national conversation.

Based on the 2012 novel by acclaimed writer Sue Nyathi, the series is difficult to watch — but not because of the sex, infidelity or even the HIV risk and other sexually transmitted infections. Rather it is difficult because it feels familiar. Too many South Africans recognise something of their own lives in Jonasi Gomora’s world, whether as wives, partners or children watching adults make choices whose consequences ripple through families for years.

The deeper issue is not only what happens when people have multiple partners without protection. It is the cycle that sustains those risks: harmful social norms around masculinity, silence, secrecy, power and shame. The messages children receive about what men are entitled to, what women are expected to endure and what should remain unspoken is a constant reminder that young people don’t learn about relationships from textbooks or awareness campaigns alone. They primarily learn from what they see at home, in their communities and in the relationships modelled for them every day.

The women in Jonasi Gomora’s life are not just characters, they reflect the lived realities of millions of South African women and girls navigating different relationships to power, vulnerability and risk. Each one carries a distinct HIV risk profile, a distinct relationship to power and a distinct set of prevention needs. Millions of young South Africans are watching their stories play out in real time, recognising themselves and the people they love in what they see on screen. That is what makes the show so uncomfortable to watch.

The choices and behaviour of Gomora, a powerful businessman whose hidden relationships unravel the lives of the women and families around him, don’t only affect the people directly involved. They create a ripple effect far beyond the relationships themselves.

Yet perhaps the biggest missed opportunity in The Polygamist is the way HIV itself is framed. The problem is not that Gomora contracts HIV, but that his diagnosis is framed almost as the inevitable consequence of his infidelity, deception and abuse. In the logic of the story, HIV risks becoming a form of punishment rather than a health condition. That may make for compelling television and a novel, but it reinforces one of the oldest and most harmful narratives of the epidemic: that people get HIV because they have done something wrong.

Too often, girls and young women are expected to protect themselves in relationships and systems where their agency is already constrained

Ironically the most realistic portrayal of HIV in the series is not Gomora’s diagnosis but his response to it. His denial, reluctance to seek help and refusal to take antiretroviral treatment reflect a reality that public health practitioners encounter daily.

This is not simply an individual choice; it is shaped by deeply rooted ideas about masculinity that equate vulnerability with weakness and self-reliance with strength.

These ideas don’t emerge in isolation; they are learnt in households, schools, communities, online spaces, peer groups and intimate relationships. They shape how boys are taught to handle emotion, rejection, vulnerability and accountability, and how girls are taught to navigate fear, shame, respectability and risk.

For adolescent girls and young women, the consequences are profound. Gender inequality, economic vulnerability, age-disparate relationships, stigma and unequal power can make it harder to negotiate protection, access contraception, stay on PrEP (pre-exposure prophylaxis) or return for care. Too often, girls and young women are expected to protect themselves in relationships and systems where their agency is already constrained.

We see this dynamic play out in The Polygamist through Gomora’s predatory pursuit of Lindani, his daughter’s best friend. Yet when the truth emerges, it is Lindani who bears the brunt of Joyce’s anger and violence, rather than Gomora himself. It is a familiar pattern: girls and young women are often held responsible for managing the consequences of men’s behaviour.

But this cannot be the future girls and young women are taught to accept. They deserve relationships built on respect, the ability to make informed choices about their health and futures, and the confidence to seek support when they need it.

For adolescent boys and young men, the challenge is different but equally urgent. We need spaces where harmful ideas about masculinity can be questioned before they become behaviour.

Breaking the cycle requires us to invest in both girls and boys. This matters especially now, as South Africa enters a new era of HIV prevention. Daily oral PrEP is already available, and the rollout of lenacapavir — a long-acting HIV prevention option that offers six months of protection — has rightly been celebrated as a major scientific breakthrough.

The deeper lesson of The Polygamist is not that people should be shamed for complicated relationships. If anything, the history of HIV in South Africa and beyond teaches us the opposite. The lesson is that silence and harmful social norms have consequences. What children see and absorb has consequences.

• Mtshali is CEO of Shout-It-Now and Pilane is the nonprofit’s external affairs director