Kirsty Coventry’s story is one of apparent contradictions. She’s a white woman celebrated as a national hero in a Black-majority Zimbabwe and an Olympic swimmer turned politician. She’s also now one of the most powerful figures in global sports as president of the International Olympic Committee (IOC). Her journey reflects the complex interplay of race, gender and post-colonial politics in Zimbabwe, a nation still grappling with the legacies of colonialism and the authoritarian rule of Robert Mugabe. Read more: Who is Kirsty Coventry and how did she become the most powerful person in world sports? As sociologists in Zimbabwe, we drew from newspaper reports and academic and online sources to give an account of how these factors have played out, and what sport has to do with it. How did Coventry come to be celebrated as Zimbabwe’s “golden girl” at a time when Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party were vilifying white Zimbabweans as colonial-era foreigners? Despite a hostile political climate, her Olympic success made her a national icon, embraced by the same state that rejected others who shared her background. Her rise to political office – culminating in her appointment as sports minister in 2018 – underscores how the state can selectively redefine who counts as a legitimate Zimbabwean. She reveals how, in postcolonial Zimbabwe, identity is not fixed, but negotiated. Coventry shows how sport can temporarily transcend racial divides and how politics reframes those divides. Her whiteness was palatable only because it was non-threatening, even useful. For ordinary white Zimbabweans, especially farmers, no such reprieve existed. As Zimbabwe grapples with its past, Coventry remains a paradox: a symbol of unity in a nation still fractured by race. A reminder that in post-colonial politics, identity is always negotiable – but only on the state’s terms. This history also suggests how she might shape the IOC. From swimmer to political symbol Coventry was born in Harare in 1983, into a swimming family. Her grandfather chaired the Rhodesian Swimming Board. Rhodesia was the colonial name for the country. A product of elite schooling, she left Zimbabwe after the 2000 Olympics to train in the US, where she spent her formative years immersed in American life and culture. For much of her career, she was more at home in Alabama pools than in Zimbabwe. Yet she never turned her back on her homeland. Even at the height of Zimbabwe’s political isolation, she swam under its flag. Her story, deeply tied to a colonial legacy of racially exclusive sport, is one of return, belonging, and the complex negotiation of whiteness in postcolonial Zimbabwe. Coventry burst onto the global stage at the 2004 Athens Olympics, winning Zimbabwe’s first medals in 24 years. By 2008, she had become Africa’s most decorated Olympian, with seven medals. In a country where white Zimbabweans were often vilified as remnants of colonialism, especially during Mugabe’s violent land reforms, Coventry was an exception. Mugabe called her “our golden girl” and awarded her US$100,000 in cash. Following his lead, the press in Zimbabwe dubbed her the “immortal Kirsty Coventry” and a “national treasure”. She would become a minister under his successor Emmerson Mnangagwa, who took power in a 2017 coup. This embrace was striking. At the same time as Coventry was being fêted, Mugabe’s government was seizing white-owned farms, framing white Zimbabweans as illegitimate settlers. Yet Coventry’s sporting success allowed her to transcend racial politics. Her victories provided a rare source of national pride for a country in economic freefall. The state leveraged her image to project unity. The politics of whiteness in Zimbabwe Zimbabwe’s racial dynamics are fraught, rooted in a colonial history where a white settler regime violently dispossessed black Africans. They reserved land, privilege and power for a minority elite. White Rhodesians, backed by laws like the Land Apportionment Act of 1930, entrenched racial and economic hierarchies that persisted into independence. After independence in 1980, white Zimbabweans, who comprised less than 1% of the population, retained disproportionate economic power. Mugabe, a leader of the liberation and the country’s first democratic president, initially preached reconciliation but later weaponised anti-white rhetoric, particularly during the 2000s land seizures. Read more: Mnangagwa's been wooing Zimbabwe's white sports heroes. Here's why Coventry was constructed as a “good murungu” (white person). This selective embrace mirrored earlier contradictions, like Mugabe’s praise for Zimbabwe’s all-white 1980 Olympic hockey team while vilifying other whites. We note that: Sport allowed Coventry to be ‘deracialized’ – her whiteness was acceptable because it served the regime’s need for heroes. This duality reveals how race is performative in Zimbabwean politics. Meaning that racial identity is not fixed, but can be shaped, emphasised, or downplayed depending on the situation and what serves power. Unlike white farmers, Coventry posed no economic threat. Unlike white opposition figures, she avoided politics. Instead, she became a symbol of Zimbabwean excellence, proof that the nation could compete globally. Gender and the limits of sporting exceptionalism Coventry’s story also highlights the gendered dimensions of sports politics. As a woman, her achievements were framed in maternal, nationalist terms. She was “Zimbabwe’s daughter”, a unifying figure. Yet her rise was only possible because she conformed to expectations. She avoided criticising Mugabe, even as his policies devastated the country. Her later political career further complicates the narrative. As sports minister under Mnangagwa, she reportedly accepted a controversially seized farm, drawing accusations of complicity with an authoritarian regime. Critics argued she was being used to whitewash the regime’s image, particularly as Mnangagwa sought international re-engagement. From Zimbabwe to the IOC: a global stage In 2023, Coventry was elected to the IOC’s executive board, becoming one of the most influential figures in world sports. Building on this momentum, in March 2025, she achieved another historic milestone by being elected as the first female and first African president of the IOC. She is set to officially assume the presidency on 23 June. Read more: Colonial white boys in Zimbabwe: John Eppel's autobiography is a welcome book, but a difficult read Her rise reflects the IOC’s preference for leaders with elite athletic pedigrees and raises questions about representation. Does her presence challenge the Eurocentric dominance of global sports governance, or does it simply tokenise African voices? For Zimbabwe, her IOC role is a double-edged sword. It brings prestige but also scrutiny. Will she advocate for African athletes, or will she be constrained by the IOC’s often apolitical stance? Her past suggests pragmatism over activism – a survival strategy honed in Zimbabwe’s fraught political landscape. Coventry’s career encapsulates the contradictions of post-colonial identity in Zimbabwe. She is both an exception and a product of Zimbabwe’s racial and political machinations. Her story shows how sport can be a tool of state propaganda, a platform for individual transcendence, and a battlefield for broader struggles over race and gender. Read more: Olympics in Africa: Egypt's ambitious bid to host the games could succeed – but will it be worth it? As she navigates the corridors of global sports power, the question remains: whose interests does she truly represent? Zimbabwe’s? Africa’s? Or the IOC’s? The answer may lie in the unresolved tensions of her homeland – where sport, politics and identity remain deeply entangled.