The Polygamist's creator says women see themselves reflected in her Netflix hit

Sue Nyathi, the creator of the Netflix hit "The Polygamist," observes that women identify with the characters in her series. While some may perceive her as an overnight success, Nyathi emphasizes that "the work has been put in over many years."

When Nyathi initially submitted her debut novel, "The Polygamist," to publishers, she was told "there was no market for the book," which explores the life of a married Zimbabwean man and the women he seduces. Undeterred, the Zimbabwean author independently secured an editor, typesetter, and artist, self-publishing 500 copies in 2012. Contrary to the publishers' predictions, the book became a significant success.

Now adapted for Netflix, the series is among the top 10 most streamed shows on the platform in over 60 countries, reaching number two in the United States. Hollywood actress Taraji P. Henson expressed her captivation, stating the series had her in a "chokehold" and she watched all 22 episodes in a single day.

Nyathi clarifies that the story is not a simple portrayal of polygamy. The traditional practice of polygamy is familiar to her; her mother's family practiced it for generations. Her grandfather, who passed away in 1979, had five wives, and her great-grandfather had eleven. Her grandmother, the first wife of her grandfather, served as the matriarch of a farm where the wives cohabited and often assisted in choosing new wives.

Nyathi's grandmother, as the first wife in a polygamous marriage, held the position known as an Unlengkulu. Nyathi recalls, "There was no infighting, because everyone knew their place." When she inquired about her grandmother's perspective, the answer was practical: more hands for both physical and emotional labor. It was an open arrangement. "Everybody knows who's who in the zoo," Nyathi explains.

Polygamy is legally recognized in Zimbabwe and South Africa when conducted according to specific established customs. However, in 2001, as a young working woman in Harare, Nyathi observed a different phenomenon: men who claimed to be monogamous were effectively leading polygamous lives with secret women and hidden households. This is the form of polygamy explored in her novel, which she terms "the modernised, or perverted, version" of the practice, built on deception rather than consent.

"I'm not against polygamy," Nyathi states. "What I'm against is the lack of agency. It's wrong for the goalposts to be shifted once you're inside."

In the novel, Nyathi's protagonist, Joyce, believes she has entered a monogamous marriage. However, her husband, Jonasi, secretly marries and establishes homes with three other women. There is no confession or announcement; Joyce gradually realizes, as secrets accumulate and the women's lives intertwine, that her perception of a monogamous marriage has been a deception all along.

An intense rivalry develops between Joyce (in white) and Matipa (in black), both of whom married Jonasi. The narrative consistently explores the question of who possesses the power to negotiate. Jonasi, a wealthy, self-made businessman in a patriarchal society, makes all decisions. Although Joyce contributed to building his empire, her finances depend on him. The same applies to Matipa, a later wife who also works for Jonasi.

Consequently, the women have less autonomy, leaving them vulnerable. Age differences exacerbate this imbalance, Nyathi notes, even in the most intimate negotiations. An HIV storyline runs through the narrative, and Nyathi points out that "if you're negotiating safe sex, you don't have a say in a relationship with those kinds of dynamics."

There are some distinctions between the book and the Netflix series. On screen, the story is set in South Africa, filmed in the Zulu language with subtitles, and Jonasi has fewer wives. Unlike the television adaptation, the novel is narrated entirely by Jonasi's wives.

At one point, Matipa threatens to leave Jonasi, but he convinces her to stay. "I wanted to highlight women's voices," Nyathi says, to allow each woman to explain why she found herself in a relationship with a man who would not be faithful. She adds that these themes resonate with many readers. Women write to her, expressing that they see themselves in Joyce and Jonasi's other wives, with some indicating they are married to a "Jonasi figure" and wish to leave.

Following the series' broadcast, Amnesty South Africa disseminated guidance on narcissistic abuse and steps women can take. "For some people, this is not just a series," Nyathi remarks. "It's their lived reality. It holds up a mirror to society."

However, not everyone has embraced this reflection. Kenyan civil servant Geoffrey Mosiria called for the series to be banned in Kenya, arguing it conflates polygamy with cheating, fraud, and abuse. Nyathi remains steadfast, asserting that culture evolves, and practices can be diluted or corrupted, and she is merely depicting what has happened to this particular practice.

She believes that by featuring affluent black Africans as protagonists, she has broadened many people's perspectives. She recalls a European reader who admitted not realizing that wealthy black Africans existed. "We've always had this stereotypical view of what being African is, and it's always associated with poverty," Nyathi says. The series challenges this perception and, she argues, is enriched by being filmed in the Zulu language: "English doesn't carry the same cultural richness that our languages do."

Matipa (left), Joyce (center), and Jonasi are all involved in the family company and must find a way to collaborate. Nyathi's frustration surfaces when discussing who gets to write. She aspired to be a writer from childhood, but her parents encouraged a more traditional profession. She worked in finance for nearly two decades, stating that her time as an investment analyst taught her to view writing as both a craft and a business. While her financial career covered expenses, writing remained her passion, and she wrote "The Polygamist" in the evenings after work. She left corporate life at 40 to write full-time, a few years after publishing the novel. She is now 48.

"People say, 'Oh, you're an overnight success.' Not at all," she asserts. "The recognition is overnight, but the work has been put in over many years, and I've made a lot of sacrifices." She adds that most writers, especially in Africa, cannot subsist solely on their books. She notes that successful writers are often supported by wealthy husbands, grants, or residencies.

However, these options were unavailable to her as a single mother who had to put her son through school, juggling various jobs to continue writing. "There's a long period between when you start a book and you finish it. It could be two years, it could be eight years. How do you survive? Practically bills still need to be paid," she explains. "I've walked that journey and it's erratic… you're definitely going to have to stay in that day job. Writing is a luxury that most people can't afford," she says, adding that the cost is measured in the voices that are rarely heard.

She also perceives an imbalance in how African writing travels. "It's easier for an African writer published overseas to gain traction. Books are traditionally sold down to us. It's hard for our work to sell upwards." The "Netflix effect" has provided her with the visibility she lacked across four novels and over a decade of writing, often on politically charged subjects.

Nyathi is currently completing the first draft of a historical novel, a project she has been working on for two years, believing its themes will resonate widely. Regarding the craft of writing, she advises any woman with a book in her and no money to "start with a pen and paper, and do it for love." "Money should never be the motivation. The love is what will fuel you when it gets hard."

This report is part of the Global Women series from the BBC World Service, which shares untold and important stories from around the globe. The hit South African show is sparking global conversations about polygamy and cheating.