In highschool, I read stories of women gathering in moonlight, their voices rising in protest against colonial taxation in the small town of Aba, in Eastern Nigeria. These women knew their worth, fought for their dignity. But today, as I look at Nigeria’s landscape of gender relations, I see how deeply patriarchy has woven itself into our social fabric, both in the Islamic North and the predominantly Christian South.

In the North, the practice of kulle – wife seclusion – still persists in many homes. Young girls are married off before they finish secondary school, their dreams of education evaporating like morning dew. In the South, despite higher education rates among women, the story isn’t much different. A woman who speaks up is labeled troublesome. A divorced woman faces stigma. Our culture teaches women to be silent, to endure.

But something is changing. Our young women are refusing to be silent

Last month, I watched a Twitter Space hosted by a young Nigerian woman who identified as an ‘angry feminist’. Over fifty young Nigerians discussed consent and sexual violence for two hours. They shared stories I have heard too many times – of campus harassment, of workplace discrimination, of families pressuring victims to “keep quiet for peace.” But unlike before, these stories weren’t whispered. They were broadcast, retweeted, amplified.

Joseph Obinna Okwesili

On Instagram, young female artists are creating powerful works. Art paintings show women breaking free from chains made of traditional proverbs. Brilliant photography captures northern women in professional spaces – doctors, engineers, entrepreneurs – challenging the notion that a woman’s place is solely in the home.

The statistics remain grim. One in three Nigerian women still faces physical violence from a partner. Rape cases go unreported because police often blame the victim. Companies still pay women less than men for the same work. State houses of assembly still have fewer than 15% women representatives.
But our youth are fighting back in ways both big and small. University students are forming advocacy groups. Young lawyers are offering free legal aid to domestic violence survivors. Fashion designers are creating clothing lines with messages about consent and equality. Musicians like Tems and Ayra Starr are writing songs that challenge not only redefine gender but advocate inclusivity.

I see this movement in unexpected places. In my friend’s living room in Lagos, where teenage girls gather to discuss body autonomy. In a small guest house in Anambra, where young men in alcohol charged circles disagree on toxic masculinity. In TikTok videos where Gen Z Nigerians call out sexist jokes and traditions.

Yet, we must acknowledge how much work remains. For every youth speaking up, thousands still believe a woman must submit to abuse to keep her marriage. For every progressive policy passed, discriminatory laws remain in our books. For every successful woman celebrated, hundreds are held back by systemic barriers.

The solution lies in numbers. More young people must join this conversation. More men must understand that women’s rights don’t diminish theirs. More families must teach their sons about consent as diligently as they teach their daughters about modesty.

Change is possible. I see it in the courage of young women documenting their harassment stories on social media. I see it in male allies defending women’s right to work and lead. I see it in parents raising their children to question harmful traditions.

But this change needs everyone. It needs you reading this to speak up in your small circle. It needs you to challenge that sexist comment in your family WhatsApp group. It needs you to support organizations fighting for gender equality. Most importantly, it needs you to believe that Nigerian women deserve better. Because they do.

Joseph Obinna Okwesili