There is something quietly commanding about South African women. A kind of strength that doesn’t shout — but holds. A brilliance that doesn’t boast — but builds. In a world that often asks women to shrink, they expand. And this Women’s Day, we honour that expansion through the words and wisdom of someone who embodies it completely — Refilwe Moloto.
With a career that spans global finance, strategic leadership, and media, Refilwe is a woman of fierce intelligence, undeniable grace, and a personal style that’s as intentional as it is expressive. She leads from within, honours her roots, and brings humour, humility, and bold presence to every room she enters.
In this Dyad Journal interview, she speaks to what it means to lead without losing yourself, to dress with story and substance, and to find your voice in spaces that weren’t designed with you in mind.
It’s a conversation about authenticity, legacy, and the quiet power of women who show up — fully, beautifully, and on their terms.
You’ve built a remarkable career at the intersection of finance, strategy, and media. As a South African woman navigating these spaces, what have been your biggest learnings about leadership and self-worth?
It’s been a riveting journey, and one in which I’ve really relished a growing discovery of self. I’ve had the responsibility to show up with excellence in each of these fields, and the honour to lead in spaces that are new to me – whether arriving in New York and expanding geographical coverage of emerging markets across eastern Europe and west Asia, venturing into a fresh skills set as a talk show host or exploring unchartered frontier markets on theAfrican continent. The biggest learning about leadership is never to expect anything more from my teams than what I would expect of myself – I consider my style of leadership to be that of a player-coach. Regarding self-worth, I’ve learned neither to place too much weight on accolades nor to fixate on criticism: both are corollaries of the same tricky coin – external validation. And neither is fully representative of one’s true contribution, or even the fate of good fortune or hard luck, when one is self-validated.
August in South Africa is a time to honour the strength and complexity of women. What does Women’s Day mean to you personally?
I always return to first principles when considering days of commemoration like this one. Women’s Day’s origins are steeped in the just pursuit of equality – in work, pay, support, recognition and representation. Human memory, however colourful, can be short and unreliable. And so Women’s Day, to me, allows us to reflect on why it was necessary, celebrate how far we’ve come, and charter how much further we need to go to assure those inalienable rights.
What keeps you inspired and hopeful in today’s South Africa, particularly when it comes to the next generation of women?
Nothing inspires me quite like the younger women in my close circle. I treasure my intergenerational relationships, in particular with women, and love having my older Societally-framed views challenged or gently corrected by the incredible gaggle of gals around me: my nieces, younger friends or colleagues, mentees – they just see the world with one less scaled layer of parochialism, for example, when I say something self- deprecating, and they chime, “Noooo, Queen! You’re a Queen! Don’t talk that way about our Queen!”
You’re often in the public eye, yet your style feels personal and intentional. How would you describe your relationship with fashion and self-expression?
They are inextricably linked and drive each other. Indeed, sometimes in the public eye, one needs to conform to code, and in the main, I like to think of my approach to fashion as classic combined with what I enjoy as my quirks – there’s always a hint of me in an edgy pair of sunglasses, a slightly more masculine shoe, or, of course, pop of personality in the colour of a Bag.
Do you have any treasured items in your wardrobe, past or present, that hold emotional or symbolic value?
There are items I’ve held onto for decades, sometimes for sentimentality, and other times because I could swear the fashion “gurus” got it wrong, and I’m convinced the items will be back in style in a few seasons. I still have one of my late Mother’s Scottish wool pullovers. It’s so simple – navy, crew neck, slightly cropped. It’s from the ‘70s I think, and is my favourite reminder that simplicity in form, quality of fabric and design will never go out of style. Flat caps and aviators were my Dad’s style growing up, and while I reserve buying the Hackett paperboy hats for him, there’s always a variation of one in my winter look, when I miss him. A flurry of button-down white shirts in so many variations. I know. Boring – but they’re a staple for a reason, Carolina Herrera’s word! And finally, I love wearing garments designed and made by people I know personally. Too many to list, but I get very proud of that, and don’t do it lightly, don’t ask friends for discounts/freebies and like to shout from the rooftops when I’m in their gear.
Dyad celebrates thoughtful design and individuality. What draws you to a brand or item when you choose what to wear?
Quality, Quirk, and a sense of Curiosity.
You’ve worked globally, from Johannesburg to New York. How has travel and cross-cultural exchange influenced your style or worldview?
This is such an interestingly-phrased question, because all the places I’ve lived and worked –from the US, to London and other parts of Europe – have such naturally-formed imposition on our style, here at home. So, I find it more fun to weave African – and specifically, South African – elements, craftsmanship, street edge or just brands into that existing framework, instead of vice versa. As an outsider to many enclaves, I feel more emboldened to be a canvas for our cultural exchange outward. That’s why I created the hashtag #MzansiHeadToToe whenever I wear South African brands.
What does “authenticity” mean to you in a world that often asks women to edit or shrink themselves?
Authenticity is such a tricky gift in a world that rewards uniformity and self-deprecation, unless (as I mentioned before) you are self-validated, which doesn’t come to all immediately in life.
Authenticity can mean exclusion, at first – and, with time, exclusivity.
Authenticity means vulnerability, at first – and, with time, validity.
Authenticity means consequences, at first – and, with time, it means being consequential.
Finally, what advice would you offer to young South African women finding their voice in professional or creative spaces?
Come as you are, and try not to overthink it (trust me, men don’t!): because young women already have their voice, and already have so much to say. It’s not a question of finding it, it’s just a question of not being afraid to.