By Monica Beeder
For many women in Ethiopia, getting their first formal job doesn’t just change their income; it can change how they describe who they are in everyday public interactions.
In a country where ethnicity shapes access to opportunities, safety and political rights, this shift is far from small.
That is the provocative finding of our recent study: formal employment can cause women to switch their self-reported ethnicity. We are a team of political scientists and development economists who study labour markets, gender and ethnic identity in Ethiopia. We studied this issue in a recent research project.
We used data from a unique field experiment with 27 firms across five Ethiopian regions, where job offers were randomised among qualified female applicants. This means the firms had more qualified applicants than positions, so eligible women were selected through a lottery system for job offers. We then tracked both women who received a job offer and those who didn’t over multiple survey rounds spanning roughly three years, collecting information on their employment status, earnings, working conditions, daily mobility and commuting patterns, household characteristics, and how they reported their ethnic identity.
What we found was striking. In our full sample of 891 women, around 8% changed their stated ethnicity at some point over the time we followed them. While this may sound like a small share, switching ethnic identity is rare and socially consequential, making this level of change substantial in context.
Women who received a job offer were 4.3 percentage points more likely to switch their stated ethnicity than those who did not. In the comparison group – women who were not offered a job – about 6% changed their stated ethnicity over time. Among women offered a job, this figure rose to around 10%. When we account for who actually took up the job, the effect is even larger.
To some readers, this may sound like a technical result. But in a country where ethnicity shapes politics, social opportunity and daily survival, it is explosive.
Changing one’s ethnic label is not a trivial act. It carries implications for family, community and belonging.
So, why would a job make someone change something so fundamental?
For women entering the formal labour market in Ethiopia, even at low wages, taking a job can reshape their daily routines and expose them to new public spaces and risks. These shifts in mobility and visibility create pressures that women who stay at home may never face.
As they navigate these new environments, some find themselves adjusting not just their schedules, but also how they present and even report their ethnic identity.
By showing that formal employment can lead to ethnic reidentification, our study reveals identity as a living, shifting facet of social life rather than a fixed badge.
As Ethiopia and other African countries pursue industrialisation, labour-market expansion and social mobility, we must pay attention: economic transformation may come with unexpected, and deeply personal, consequences.
Being vulnerable
Our in-depth interviews with women in the two cities with the highest switching in our sample – Dire Dawa in east-central Ethiopia and Hawassa in the southern region – reveal a striking mechanism.
Employment meant commuting through areas where ethnic and, in some cases, ethno-religious tensions were high.
Women told us they felt far more vulnerable on the road than at home, especially if their own ethnicity placed them on the “wrong” side of a local conflict.
As one respondent explained, the decision to switch was driven by practical concerns about personal safety rather than a deeper change in how they saw themselves.
Some women did not adopt the local majority’s identity but switched to a third, more neutral group, one not involved in conflict.
Whether this was possible depended on their appearance, religion and language skills. As several women explained, speaking the correct language allowed them to “pass”, meaning they were perceived as belonging to a safer group while out in public. We cannot say how common this strategy was across all women in our study, but the interviews confirm patterns we also observe in our quantitative data of women switching to a third, neutral ethnicity to navigate local conflicts.
This makes sense in a country experiencing repeated waves of violence. In 2022, more than 40% of all conflict-related deaths worldwide occurred in Ethiopia.
In this kind of context, identity is not static; it becomes a resource.
Our findings challenge common assumptions across economics, the social sciences, and policy. While scholars have long recognised that ethnic identity can be fluid, it is often still treated as something relatively stable in practice, rooted in ancestry or birth.
What our evidence shows is the strategic side of this fluidity. Ethnicity can be consciously adjusted in response to economic conditions, mobility and the risks women face in public spaces.
In other words, identity is not only socially constructed. It can also shift in response to the pressures and incentives created by the work environment.
The protections needed
This raises uncomfortable questions about the global garment industry, which has progressively shifted production from Europe to Asia and is now beginning to extend manufacturing activities to parts of Africa as global value chains are reconfigured in search of lower production costs. Ethiopia has encouraged this growth by developing large industrial parks.
But unlike in long-established manufacturing hubs, there are few safety nets, transport protections or policies designed around local ethnic dynamics.
When women must alter their identity to feel safe on the commute to a low-wage job, something is clearly missing.
Our findings show that when these global industries arrive without adapting to local realities, the burden falls disproportionately on women.
It is not a sign of progress when a woman has to change her identity, even temporarily, to commute safely to a low-paid job. If anything, it calls for a more honest debate about what industrialisation should look like, and what protections are needed for the workers it relies on.
This also raises more profound questions about belonging and dignity. Is changing your ethnic identity an act of personal agency – or a sign of social pressure and insecurity? What does it say about everyday life when your safety depends on how you present yourself while travelling to work?
Imagine having to change the language you speak on the bus – or even the surname you give when introducing yourself – just to avoid trouble on your way to work.
While not all women faced situations this extreme, the very possibility of needing such strategies illustrates the pressures created by moving through tense public spaces.
Monica Beeder, Lecturer, University of Southampton
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
