In this article, we spoke to 10 women about what it was like growing up as the only daughter in their families, and how those experiences have shaped their relationships with their parents and brothers. 

1. 鈥淪he Didn鈥檛 Place Any Pressure on Me Simply Because I鈥檓 a Girl鈥� 鈥� Okiki*, 26

As my parents’ only daughter and my brothers鈥� youngest sibling, I was heavily spoilt. I grew up not knowing how to do a lot of things because the home I came from did not believe in the concept of letting their daughter suffer while the boys enjoyed. Our parents employed maids so we, their children, wouldn鈥檛 have to lift a finger, and my mum, unlike most of my friends鈥� mothers, did not display double standards when it came to my brothers and me. She didn鈥檛 put me in charge of taking care of my brothers; she never asked me to cook for my brothers, because she expected them to know their way to the kitchen, and she ensured that she didn鈥檛 place any pressure on me simply because I鈥檓 a girl. She and my father treated my brothers and me equally, and I never felt out of place because I was their only daughter. 

2. 鈥淚f They Got Into Trouble, I Got the Lashings鈥� 鈥� Dami*, 30聽

I have younger twin brothers, and I鈥檓 the first child and only daughter. My dad didn鈥檛 treat my brothers and me differently, but my mum was a different story. I only have a 2-year age gap with my brothers, and yet I became responsible for them even before I could define responsibility. I had to take care of them, wash their clothes, cook for them, and if they got into trouble, I was the one who would get lashings from my mother. I never had a moment of peace in my life because of my brothers. 

When they grew up, you would think they would start taking responsibility for themselves, but I was still the one who had to cook for them and take care of them because my mum couldn鈥檛 wrap her head around the idea of her baby boys doing domestic chores when their sister was around. I resented her and my brothers for this, and the moment I started earning a comfortable income, I moved out and didn鈥檛 look back. I barely visit home these days because I can鈥檛 even bear to look at my mum without resentment bubbling in me. 

3. 鈥淏ecause of My Mum, I Have a Weird Relationship With Boys鈥� 鈥� Chidera*, 24

My mum likes to say that she treats my brother and me equally, and while she might be right to an extent, I can鈥檛 forget all the times she would tell me things like 鈥渄on鈥檛 let men touch you, or else you鈥檒l get pregnant鈥� or 鈥渕ake sure not to befriend any boy鈥� before I even knew what sex was, but she or my dad never gave my brothers any sort of sex education. They were allowed to befriend girls in their classes while I avoided boys throughout primary school because I was convinced that if they touched me, I would immediately get pregnant. 

I also remember when I was 13, and my mum slapped me and seized my phone for six months because I was talking to a male friend, but she didn鈥檛 extend that same energy to my younger brother when we found out that he had a girlfriend he鈥檇 been giving all his feeding allowance to. I don鈥檛 hate my mum, but because of her, I have a weird relationship with boys and intimacy, and it鈥檚 taking me a while to unlearn. 

4. 鈥淭he Bullying I Faced Was Traumatising鈥� 鈥� Lola*, 25

I have two elder brothers who are four years older than me, and the bullying I faced at their hands while growing up was so traumatising. One minute we could all be laughing together, and the next, one of them is beating me so badly you would think they genuinely hated me. As much as the beatings left my body in pain afterwards, that鈥檚 not the hurtful part of all of this. What hurts the most is when I go to my mum in the hope that she will provide comfort and reprimand my brothers, but she never does. She would tell me to stop crying because I鈥檓 no longer a baby, and she would remind me that my brothers act like that because that鈥檚 how boys act. That seriously messed me up as a teenager, and even though I鈥檓 still very much in contact with my mother and brothers, I sometimes resent them for what they did to me. I was a child, and I didn鈥檛 deserve that. 

5. 鈥淚 Was Allowed to Be a Useless Girl鈥� 鈥� Olivia*, 21

I don鈥檛 think growing up among brothers affected me like that, but I think it鈥檚 because my parents didn鈥檛 treat anyone differently. I was allowed to be a girl who just existed on her terms. I didn鈥檛 have to be responsible for any of my brothers because my parents expected all of us to figure things out on our own. 

I was allowed to be a useless girl, and according to society standards, that meant a girl who didn鈥檛 know how to cook, do her laundry or clean the house. Basically, my parents raised me the way they raised my brothers. They didn鈥檛 place any unnecessary pressure on us to do household chores, and it wasn鈥檛 until after secondary school that I felt I needed to learn to cook for myself. 

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6. 鈥淓veryone Avoided Me Because of My Brothers鈥� 鈥� Mary*, 21

Growing up, I hated having brothers. They took on this role of protective bodyguards who literally chased people away from my life. They would see me talking to a boy and go behind my back to threaten him to stay away from me. I couldn鈥檛 even have a boyfriend because they either roughed him up or snitched on me to my parents. 

Almost everyone at my school and on my street started avoiding me because they were afraid of what my brothers would do to me. I know some might think having protective brothers is nice, but they have never cried at night, praying to God to kill them because no one wanted to be friends with the girl with feral elder brothers. 

7. 鈥淚 Feel Like a Discarded Child They Don鈥檛 Want鈥� 鈥� Amina*, 20

I have two brothers, one older and one younger, and I always felt out of place at home because it felt like my parents loved them more than they loved me. They always denied it, of course, but I could see that they had favourites, and it was never me. My dad would get my younger brother anything he wanted, but if I asked for the same thing, he would start coming up with reasons why he couldn鈥檛 buy it for me. 

My elder brother lost his phone, and my mum easily got him a replacement, but when I lost mine, it took her a whole month to get me a replacement. I don鈥檛 feel like I can rely on my parents because they don鈥檛 seem to love me in any way. They obviously see my brothers as some sort of blessing, but I feel like a discarded child that they don鈥檛 want. 

8. 鈥淚 Didn鈥檛 Have to Hide a Part of Myself From Them鈥� 鈥� Julia*, 26聽

My parents were barely involved in my brothers’ and my lives because they were so busy putting food on the table, so we only had each other to rely on most of the time. Because of that, I learnt a lot from them. I struggled a lot with my identity and sexuality right from a young age, and I always felt like I had no one to talk to. 

Our society already perceives people like me as immoral, and I was scared of letting anyone know that I preferred to kiss girls rather than boys. However, my first brother found out about it, and instead of shaming me, he talked to me and let me know that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. My other brothers also talked to me, and I remember starting to feel relaxed enough to tell them about the girls I liked. Because of them, I didn鈥檛 feel like I had to hide a part of myself from the people I love, and I learnt a lot from them, too. 

9. 鈥淚t Was Forbidden to Talk to My Brothers Casually鈥� 鈥� Tolu*, 27

Having brothers as the only daughter was more of a curse than a blessing because it exposed me to how much our society would sacrifice for its boychild. It was like I was birthed to serve my brothers. My parents expected it from me; my relatives would call me lazy if they saw my brother going to the kitchen to cook, and the women in my life looked at me with disgust if I so much as asked why I had to cook for my brothers when their hands were working well. It was even forbidden for me to talk to my brothers casually because, apparently, that鈥檚 disrespectful by societal standards, and that just never made sense to me. If my brothers speak casually to me, it鈥檚 normal, but if I do, I lack respect? How does that work? 

10. 鈥淚 Don鈥檛 Know Why I Have to Be a Housemaid for Them鈥� 鈥� Cynthia*, 29

I didn鈥檛 realise that my parents were raising my brothers and me in unconventional ways until we started letting relatives live with us. I didn鈥檛 realise it was a girl’s job to cook for her brothers when they were hungry until my aunt, who was living with us, started berating me for not cooking for them. That was what grated on me in particular because if I was hungry, I had to cook, but if my brothers were hungry, it was still me who would cook. I never got that because I grew up with my brothers cooking for me whenever they cooked their meals. I鈥檓 not a fan of cooking, and my parents never shamed me for it, but my aunt suddenly started judging me for it, and that exposed me to the double standard that only daughters actually face in their homes. It does not make sense that I have to be a housemaid for my brothers. That鈥檚 not why my parents gave birth to me. 

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But some health conditions can develop without obvious symptoms. High blood pressure, diabetes, sexually transmitted infections, and early changes that can lead to cervical cancer can go unnoticed without appropriate testing.

You don鈥檛 have to wait until something feels wrong before paying attention to your health. Here are 12 to consider getting before you turn 40, why they matter, and when you might need them.

1. Blood Pressure Test

This measures the force of your blood against the walls of your arteries. It鈥檚 usually done with an inflatable cuff around your arm and takes only a few minutes.

Why you need it: High blood pressure often has no symptoms, but it can increase your risk of heart disease, stroke, and kidney problems if left uncontrolled.

When to take it: Get your blood pressure checked regularly during routine healthcare visits. If your readings are high, your doctor may recommend repeat measurements or home monitoring.

Price Range: 鈧�0 鈥� 鈧�5,000

2. Blood Sugar Test

A blood sugar test measures the amount of glucose in your blood. Depending on the test, you may need to fast beforehand. An HbA1c test can also estimate your average blood sugar over the previous few months.

Why you need it: Diabetes can develop gradually without obvious symptoms. Testing can identify high blood sugar before complications develop.

When to take it: Ask about screening if you have a family history of diabetes, PCOS, previous gestational diabetes, or symptoms such as excessive thirst and frequent urination.

Price Range: 鈧�2,000 鈥� 鈧�25,000

3. Cervical Cancer Screening

Cervical cancer screening checks for high-risk HPV or abnormal cells in the cervix that could eventually become cancer. Depending on what鈥檚 available, it may involve an HPV test, Pap smear, or another approved screening method.

Why you need it: Certain types of human papillomavirus (HPV) can cause changes in cervical cells that may eventually develop into cancer. Screening can detect these changes or high-risk HPV before cancer develops.

When to take it: WHO recommends routine screening from age 30 for the general population, with earlier screening for women living with HIV. Depending on availability and guidelines, screening may involve an HPV test, Pap smear, or visual inspection. HPV vaccination does not eliminate the need for recommended screening.

Price Range: 鈧�4,000 鈥� 鈧�30,000+

4. Breast Examination

A breast examination involves checking the breasts and surrounding areas for unusual lumps, swelling or other changes. A healthcare professional can perform a clinical breast examination, and imaging, such as a mammogram or ultrasound, may be recommended based on your age and risk.

Why you need it: Breast cancer can occur in younger women, too. Knowing what is normal for your breasts can help you recognise changes that need medical attention.

When to take it: Discuss your breast health and personal risk with a healthcare professional, especially if you have a family history of breast or ovarian cancer. Routine mammograms are not necessary for every woman under 40, but women at increased risk may need earlier screening. Report new lumps, skin dimpling, or bloody nipple discharge promptly.

Price Range: 鈧�5,000 鈥� 鈧�30,000

5. HIV Test

An HIV test checks your blood or another sample for evidence of HIV infection. Different tests detect the virus or your body鈥檚 response to it.

Why you need it: HIV can remain undetected for years. Knowing your status helps you access treatment early and protect your health.

When to take it: Consider testing if you have never tested before, after a possible exposure, or when you have ongoing exposure risks. If a possible exposure occurred within the last 72 hours, seek urgent medical attention to discuss post-exposure prophylaxis (PEP).

Price Range: 鈧�2,000 鈥� 鈧�8,000

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6. STI Tests

STI screening checks for sexually transmitted infections such as chlamydia, gonorrhoea, syphilis and trichomoniasis. Depending on the infection, testing may require a blood, urine, or vaginal/cervical swab.

Why you need them: Infections such as chlamydia, gonorrhoea, and syphilis can occur without symptoms. Untreated infections can cause complications, including pelvic inflammatory disease and fertility problems.

When to take them: Consider testing after a possible exposure, when starting a new sexual relationship, if a partner tests positive, or if you develop unusual discharge, sores, or painful urination. The appropriate tests depend on your sexual history and possible exposure.

Price Range: 鈧�3,000 鈥� 鈧�30,000+

7. Full Blood Count (FBC) and Iron Tests

A full blood count checks different components of your blood, including haemoglobin and red blood cells. Iron tests, such as ferritin, can assess your body鈥檚 iron stores.

Why you need it: Anaemia can cause persistent tiredness, dizziness, weakness, and shortness of breath. Women with heavy menstrual periods may be particularly vulnerable to iron deficiency.

When to take it: Ask your doctor about an FBC if you experience persistent fatigue, heavy periods, or other symptoms suggestive of anaemia. Additional tests, such as ferritin levels, may be needed to assess your iron stores.

Price Range: 鈧�4,000 鈥� 鈧�20,000

8. Cholesterol Test

A lipid profile is a blood test that measures different types of cholesterol and fats in your blood.

Why you need it: High cholesterol usually has no symptoms but can increase your risk of heart disease and stroke over time.

When to take it: Discuss a lipid profile with your doctor, particularly if you have a family history of high cholesterol or early heart disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure. How often you need testing depends on your risk factors and previous results.

Price Range: 鈧�8,000 鈥� 鈧�25,000

9. Hepatitis B Test

This is a blood test that checks whether you currently or previously have hepatitis B and whether you have immunity.

Why you need it: Hepatitis B affects the liver and can cause chronic infection, liver damage, and liver cancer. Some people have no symptoms for years.

When to take it: Ask about testing if you have never been screened, have a possible exposure, or are pregnant. If you are not vaccinated, ask about hepatitis B vaccination, too. Testing identifies your status, while vaccination helps prevent infection.

Price Range: 鈧�3,000 鈥� 鈧�12,000

10. Thyroid Function Test

Usually starting with a TSH blood test, thyroid testing checks whether your thyroid gland is producing the right amount of hormones.

Why you need it: Thyroid problems can affect your energy levels, metabolism, menstrual cycle, and fertility. Symptoms such as unexplained weight changes, persistent fatigue, and unusual sensitivity to heat or cold may warrant investigation.

When to take it: Ask your doctor about a thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH) test if you have suggestive symptoms, a thyroid condition in your family, or certain fertility or pregnancy-related concerns. Routine testing is not necessary for every healthy woman.

Price Range: 鈧�20,000 鈥� 鈧�50,000

11. Pregnancy and Fertility-Related Tests

This isn鈥檛 one single test. Depending on your situation, fertility assessment can involve tests such as an ultrasound, hormone tests, ovarian reserve testing or semen analysis for a male partner.

Why you need them: There is a lot of misinformation about fertility, particularly about age. If you鈥檙e trying to get pregnant and haven鈥檛 conceived, testing can help identify possible reasons.

When should you take them: You don鈥檛 need a fertility test simply because you鈥檙e approaching 30 or 40. If you鈥檙e under 35 and have been trying to conceive for 12 months without success, or 35 or older and have been trying for six months, speak with a healthcare professional. Seek advice sooner if you have irregular periods, known reproductive conditions or other concerns.

Price Range: 鈧�8,000 鈥� 鈧�65,000+

12. Pelvic Ultrasound

A pelvic ultrasound uses sound waves to create images of your reproductive organs, including your uterus and ovaries. Depending on the situation, it may be done through the abdomen or with a transvaginal probe.

Why you need it: It can help investigate problems such as fibroids, ovarian cysts, abnormal bleeding, pelvic pain or certain fertility concerns.

When should you take it?
This isn鈥檛 a routine test every woman needs. Your doctor may recommend one if you have persistent pelvic pain, unusually heavy or irregular bleeding, infertility concerns, or symptoms that suggest fibroids, cysts or another reproductive health issue.

Price Range: 鈧�8,000 鈥� 鈧�25,000

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Before You Spend Money on These Tests

You don鈥檛 necessarily need all the tests at once, and most are not tests you need to repeat every year.

Start with a general health check, discuss your medical and family history, and ask which screenings are appropriate for your age and risk factors. If you have symptoms, don鈥檛 wait until a routine screening is due before seeking medical attention.

Also, remember that an abnormal screening result does not automatically mean you have a serious illness. It may simply mean you need another test or further assessment.

The goal isn鈥檛 to become anxious about every possible health problem. It鈥檚 to catch what you can early, protect your future health, and stop treating hospital visits as something you only do when you鈥檙e already sick.

Disclaimer: This article is for general information and is not a substitute for medical advice. Screening recommendations vary, so consult a qualified healthcare professional about the tests you need.

1. Liberal Feminism (Emerged in the 17th- 18th centuries)

Liberal feminism advocates equal rights, opportunities and freedom for women. It challenges laws, policies and social barriers that limit women鈥檚 access to education, employment, politics and reproductive choices to ensure women have the same opportunities and autonomy as men.

Central Figures: Mary Wollstonecraft and Betty Friedan

2. Socialist Feminism (Emerged in the 1960-70s)

Socialist feminism argues that women鈥檚 oppression is shaped by both capitalism and patriarchy. Rather than treating class inequality and gender inequality as separate issues, they dive deep into how economic exploitation, unpaid labour and patriarchal power interact and reinforce one another.

Central Figures: Juliet Mitchell and Heidi Hartmann

3. Radical Feminism (Emerged in 1967-69)

Radical feminism views patriarchy, the system of male power and dominance, as a fundamental source of women鈥檚 oppression. It examines how gender roles, sexuality, relationships, violence and expectations around women鈥檚 bodies can maintain this power, arguing that actual liberation requires more than simply tweaking discriminatory laws.

Central Figures: Andrea Dworkin, Audre Lorde, and Shulamith Firestone

4. Marxist Feminism (Emerged in the 1960s and 1970s)

Marxist feminism views women鈥檚 oppression through the lens of capitalism and class. It examines how women鈥檚 paid and unpaid labour, particularly domestic and reproductive labour, supports the capitalist economy while often going uncompensated or undervalued. It argues that women鈥檚 liberation is connected to transforming the economic structures that produce exploitation and inequality.

Central Figures: Silvia Federici and Lise Vogel

5. Black Feminism (Emerged in the late 1960s)

Black feminism centres the experiences of Black women and challenges the tendency of mainstream feminism to treat race as separate from gender. It emerged from Black women鈥檚 experiences of racism within feminist movements and sexism within racial justice movements, examining how race, gender, class and other forms of inequality can shape their lives simultaneously.

Central Figures: bell hooks, Audre Lorde, and Patricia Hill Collins

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6. Ecofeminism (Emerged in 1974)

Ecofeminism links the oppression of women with the exploitation of nature. They argue that systems of domination, including patriarchy, capitalism and colonialism, can shape both gender inequality and environmental destruction. Ecofeminists, therefore, associate women鈥檚 liberation with environmental justice and challenging systems that exploit both people and the planet.

Central Figures: Fran莽oise d鈥橢aubonne and Vandana Shiva

7. Postcolonial Feminism (Emerged in 1970s鈥�1980s)

Post-colonial feminism examines how the legacy of Western imperialism, colonialism, and neo-colonialism continues to shape the lives of women across the Global South. It critiques Western-centric feminist theories that universalise the experiences of Western women, highlighting how race, nation, class, and colonial history intersect to produce distinct forms of marginalisation and resistance.

Central Figures: Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak

8. African Feminism (Emerged in 1970s鈥�1980s)

African feminism centres the lived experiences of African women and challenges the assumption that Western feminist frameworks can fully explain them. It examines how gender intersects with African histories, colonialism, culture, and family structures, emphasising African women鈥檚 agency and self-determination in defining their own paths to liberation.

Central Figures: Molara Ogundipe-Leslie and Obioma Nnaemeka

9. Womanism (Coined in 1983)

Womanism centres Black women鈥檚 experiences, identities and perspectives, while recognising their relationships with other women, their communities and humanity. Coined by Alice Walker, it emerged from the need for a framework that reflected the realities of Black women and has since developed into different traditions, including Africana womanism and womanist theology.

Central Figure: Alice Walker

10. Intersectional Feminism (Coined in 1989)

Intersectional feminism examines how different structures of power and inequality overlap to shape women鈥檚 experiences. Developed from Kimberl茅 Crenshaw鈥檚 work on intersectionality, this school of feminism shows how factors such as race, gender, class and disability can interact, meaning that women do not all experience sexism in the same way.

Central Figures: Kimberl茅 Crenshaw and bell hooks

11. Decolonial Feminism (Coined in 2010)

Decolonial feminism examines how colonialism and Western systems of power have shaped ideas about gender, race, sexuality and womanhood. It challenges the assumption that Western feminist perspectives can represent all women and centres the knowledge, histories and experiences of women from communities affected by colonialism.

Central Figures: Mar铆a Lugones, and Oy猫r贸nk岷固� Oy臎w霉m铆

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But what does it mean to be hyper-religious? It goes beyond simply being devoted to your faith. It describes an intense approach to religion in which religious beliefs heavily influence how a person sees the world, sometimes to the point where their interpretation of religious teachings becomes the standard everyone else is expected to live by.

In conversations about gender, this can mean treating traditional expectations of women as unquestionable religious obligations.

Of course, being deeply religious does not automatically make someone anti-feminist. But when some hyper-religious women talk about feminism, conversations about women鈥檚 rights quickly become conversations about women鈥檚 duties. This answers the question of why women who are also affected by gender inequality sometimes defend the very expectations feminism challenges.

When Submission Becomes a Virtue

For some women, religion and womanhood are so closely connected that questioning traditional gender roles feels like questioning their faith. They have been taught that a good woman is submissive, accommodating and willing to put her family first. If you grow up hearing that these qualities make you a godly woman, feminism can easily sound like an invitation to become the opposite.

This becomes more complicated when traditional gender roles are presented as God鈥檚 instructions rather than interpretations of religious teachings. If submission is framed as a divine obligation, questioning why a wife must defer to her husband can sound like challenging God Himself.

But who decides what these teachings mean, and why are interpretations that preserve men鈥檚 authority so often treated as unquestionable?

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Is Feminism Really Destroying Marriages?

One of the most common arguments against feminism is that it makes women difficult to marry. Apparently, once women start earning their own money, expressing their opinions and expecting their partners to contribute to domestic responsibilities, they become too demanding.

A woman wanting an equal say in her marriage is somehow a bigger problem than a marriage where she has very little say at all.

Feminism is often presented as a threat to marriage because it challenges the idea that a husband should automatically have more authority than his wife. But feminism does not mean every woman has to reject marriage, motherhood or traditional gender roles.

There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting a marriage where a husband provides or choosing to be a homemaker. The problem begins when a personal preference becomes a rule for everybody else, or when women who make different choices are treated as less godly, less feminine or less deserving of marriage.

If a woman freely chooses a traditional marriage, that is her business. But why should another woman have to justify wanting a different arrangement?

The Pressure to be a 鈥淕ood Wo尘补苍鈥�

In some religious communities, women are praised for enduring difficult marriages, making sacrifices and putting everyone else first. Meanwhile, women who question these expectations risk being called rebellious, disrespectful or too influenced by Western ideas.

Being accepted as a good woman can depend on how well she follows these rules. She is expected to be patient when a man is difficult, forgiving when he hurts her, and accommodating even when the relationship demands more of her than it does of him.

Over time, these expectations can become tied to morality. A woman who tolerates more is considered virtuous, while one who insists on being treated fairly risks being labelled difficult.

When a community teaches that conformity is virtuous, it becomes easier to understand why some women get defensive when someone questions the rules. Challenging them can mean risking the approval, identity and sense of belonging they have spent years building.

But being a good woman should not require accepting unequal treatment.

Women Can Uphold Patriarchy, Too

Women are not immune to patriarchy simply because they are women. They can absorb the same beliefs about gender that disadvantage them, defend those beliefs and pass them on to other women.

Sometimes, women defend traditional gender roles because they genuinely believe in them. Other times, they have learned that conforming to these expectations offers security, social acceptance or a sense of control over their lives.

A woman who has built her identity around being an obedient wife might struggle with an ideology that asks her to reconsider what she has always believed. A woman who has gained recognition for meeting traditional expectations may also find it difficult to understand why another woman would want to challenge those expectations.

This does not mean every woman who rejects feminism is brainwashed, or that choosing a traditional life makes a woman anti-feminist. There is a difference between choosing a life for yourself and insisting that every other woman must live the same way.

The issue is not that some women want traditional marriages. It is that women who make different choices are sometimes treated as if they are failing their faith, their families or their gender.

Can Religion and Feminism Coexist?

Plenty of religious women are feminists, and plenty of women who reject the feminist label still believe women deserve equal rights. Religious people also interpret their faith differently, including questions about marriage, leadership and gender roles.

The conflict is not necessarily between religion and feminism. It can also be about who gets to interpret religious teachings and whether those interpretations should be beyond question.

When women are told that wanting financial independence, equal decision-making or freedom from restrictive gender expectations makes them bad wives or bad believers, it becomes worth asking whose interests these expectations serve.

A woman can be devoted to God without agreeing with every traditional expectation placed on women. She can value marriage without believing her husband should have the final say in everything. She can choose to be a homemaker without believing that women who pursue careers are neglecting their responsibilities.

Ultimately, women should have room to make these decisions without being judged by a single standard of womanhood.

If a woman wants to submit to her husband, that is her choice. But another woman should be free to reject that arrangement without being called rebellious or immoral.

Why should being a good woman mean living by rules that women are rarely allowed to question?

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We asked 10 Nigerian women why having more than one source of income feels necessary. They spoke about the expenses one income can鈥檛 cover, the experiences that shaped their relationship with money and whether they鈥檇 give up the extra work if one income could cover everything they need.

1. 鈥淚 Didn鈥檛 Know Where My Next Meal Would Come From鈥� 鈥� Vivian, 30, Ibadan 

I earn 400k  a month as a social media associate. My salary pays my bills and covers black tax. I also own a flower shop that brings in an extra 300-500k monthly. I鈥檝e had times when I didn鈥檛 know where my next meal would come from. Having another source of income makes me feel more financially secure. 

Even if my salary comfortably covered all my expenses, I鈥檇 still want the extra income. I enjoy testing my skills and trying new things. I also enjoy making money and having enough to spend.

2. 鈥淎 Second Income Gives Me An Exit Plan鈥� 鈥� Ijeoma*, 30, Lagos

I work in sales and earn close to 700k a month, with commissions in some months. My salary covers basics like food, skincare and beauty maintenance. I also run a baking business. It鈥檚 more of a hobby, so I don鈥檛 take it too seriously, but it made about 1million last year. 

Having another income gives me an exit plan. I can decide to quit my 9-to-5 and have something to fall back on. As a woman, being able to afford what I want or need feels essential to my survival. Even if my salary comfortably covered all my expenses, I鈥檇 still want another source of income.

3. 鈥淚 Want Something To Rely On If My Main Job Falls Through鈥� 鈥� Iqmat, 32, Lagos

I earn around $4,000 a month as a content strategist and editor. It covers my rent, groceries, bills, black tax and spending on my partner. I can save and invest too. I don鈥檛 have a side hustle at the moment, but I still want one. Before getting my current job, I worked two jobs for a few years. I also took on freelance gigs and ran a plants-and-home-decor business. My last side hustle paid me 700k  in one month.

I started my business because the company I worked for between 2020 and 2022 was shutting down. I also realised I was helping other people build their dreams while putting mine off. Having a business gave me a sense of ownership, and the extra money made me feel more secure. 

The business is on hiatus because our model doesn鈥檛 work in a country where most people don鈥檛 have disposable income. I鈥檇 like to start something else, even though my salary covers my needs. If I leave or lose my job, I want something to fall back on. This time, I鈥檇 prefer something that makes money without needing my daily input or too much of my time.

4. 鈥淚t Helps Me Care For My Mom鈥� 鈥� Gail, 31, Lagos

I鈥檓 a freelancer earning around 鈧�250,000 a month. I live with my mum, so I don鈥檛 pay rent, but I cover electricity, cooking gas, her health expenses and other household bills. I also sometimes help my sister and two cousins. What鈥檚 left goes towards food, gifts for friends and, when I can, savings. 

I bake and make resin art on the side, although the income varies each month. The extra money helps me make my mum鈥檚 life easier. It鈥檚 also about my independence. I believe someone who feeds you can also starve you, and I don鈥檛 want anyone to have that kind of power over me. 

Even if my main income covered everything, I鈥檇 still want a side hustle, especially if it means I get to do something I love. I love the access and freedom money gives me.

Next Read: At 40, I鈥檝e Turned My Passions Into Businesses That Fund The Life I Want

5. 鈥淢y Salary Alone Can鈥檛 Cover My Japa Plans鈥� 鈥� Dara*, 26, Lagos

I earn 200k a month as a social media manager and content creator. My income mostly goes towards savings, data and transport. My parents make sure I don鈥檛 have to contribute too much to household expenses. 

I鈥檓 saving to leave the country, and my salary alone can鈥檛 reach that goal. I help people write proficiency exams on the side. I also run a jewellery business. Each exam gig pays around 500k, so doing four in a month brings in about 2m. It can be more or less, depending on how many gigs I get. The jewellery business brings in an extra 15-20k weekly.

I put 70% of everything I earn into savings to reach my goal by next year. Beyond that, I think everyone should have another source of income, even if their salary covers their expenses. Life is unpredictable, and it helps to have a safety net.

6. 鈥淚 Wouldn鈥檛 Have To Borrow Before The End Of The Month鈥� 鈥� Christine*, 30, Ibadan

I work as a social media manager and a product manager, earning 100k from each job. Most of that money goes towards food, caring for my three dogs and supporting my mum. I also try to save towards my 400k rent, but sometimes I run out of money before the end of the month and have to borrow from friends. 

I have four years鈥� experience as a social media manager, yet I鈥檓 still being offered jobs that pay 100k or less. I鈥檝e also been meaning to get a new laptop, but I can鈥檛 afford to save for it. 

I鈥檓 starting a tigernut business because my current income barely covers my bills. I want to stop borrowing and start saving for emergencies. Even if my salary eventually covered everything, I鈥檇 still want another source of income. You can lose a 9-to-5 without notice, and I鈥檇 want something to fall back on.

7. 鈥淚 Earn An Extra 500k Monthly鈥� 鈥� Esther*, 28, Lagos

I was broke and jobless after NYSC, so I had to move in with a guy I was dating at the time. He provided the basics, but he treated me badly and was verbally abusive. He also refused to help me start a business even though he could afford to, then stole my idea and executed it poorly. 

That experience shaped how I feel about money. I have a crippling fear of not being able to afford what I want. Having more than one source of income makes me feel safe.

My main income now comes from an export business I run with my current partner. My salary is about 800k a month. I also write scripts, manage social media for brands and earn from two farms, which brings an extra 500k. The money pays my bills, makes black tax more bearable and allows me to contribute to the savings my partner and I are putting towards our marriage.

Even if my main income covered everything, I鈥檇 still want other sources. This is Nigeria, and anything can happen. Knowing I have something to fall back on gives me peace of mind.

8. 鈥淢y Main Job Does Not Sustain My Lifestyle鈥� 鈥� Seyi*, 30, Lagos

I work in business development and earn about $3,000 a month. It covers food, transport, data and household bills. I save towards rent and other things I need as well.

I also have a contract role that pays $2,000 a month. I realised I needed more than one source of income because many Nigerian companies don鈥檛 pay enough to sustain your lifestyle and set money aside for other things.

While the extra money has helped me feel more grounded, I want another source of income. Working two jobs is draining, but I need to save more.

9. 鈥淚鈥檓 Chronically Ill, and My Meds Are Expensive鈥� 鈥� Onome*, 32, Lagos

I鈥檓 a writer and editor earning 350k a month. I鈥檓 also chronically ill. I spend 50k on medication monthly and can spend up to 150k when I need to see a doctor or run routine tests. My HMO barely covers these costs.

My salary also goes towards food, data and black tax, so it doesn鈥檛 always stretch far enough for me to save. I take on tutoring, exam invigilation, writing, editing and ushering gigs, which bring in an extra 100-150k on average. That money helps me save and pay my rent.

Having extra income feels necessary to me because my healthcare expenses are too high. If my salary comfortably covered all my needs, I wouldn鈥檛 take on extra work. It鈥檚 stressful, and stress makes my symptoms worse.

10. 鈥淎dult Toys Bring Extra Income鈥� 鈥� Tee, 30, Lagos

I work as a test centre administrator and earn 250k a month. My salary doesn鈥檛 cover much beyond basic groceries and saving towards rent. With how hard things are in the economy, having extra income feels necessary.

I sell adult toys on the side and make about 50k monthly. It鈥檚 just enough to cover miscellaneous expenses. I don鈥檛 feel more financially secure, but it鈥檚 better than nothing. I鈥檓 also an enthusiast of self-pleasure, so I鈥檓 killing two birds with one stone. Even if my salary comfortably covered all my expenses, I鈥檇 keep selling adult toys because I鈥檓 a huge advocate for sexual satisfaction.

Next Read: Contraceptives In Nigeria: The Real Cost Of 鈥淣ot Being Ready鈥� For It

This is Arinola鈥檚 Story As Told To Sofiyah 

My husband, Olu*, was an orphan, and because he was the first son and grandchild in both parents鈥� families, he had to take on a lot of familial responsibilities before he even turned eighteen. Because of this, everyone began to feel entitled to him, his money, and his time, and I guess that was one of the reasons they began to detest me even before I married him. 

As Olu鈥檚 girlfriend, I faced a lot of blink-and-you-miss-it passive aggressiveness from his family, especially his siblings. Right from the moment he introduced me to them, I could feel the coldness radiating from them. They acted like I was dirt under their shoes; they would often mispronounce my name and occasionally make snide jokes about me being a mere HnD holder. Around Olu, they were respectful, but when he was out of sight, they would make subtle mockery until I was near tears. 

I felt like I couldn鈥檛 tell Olu about it because he loved his siblings very much. When I told my mum, she said that was how my father鈥檚 siblings had acted towards her before, but now they like her, and she advised me to give them time to get used to me. I listened to her advice and, even in the face of all the meanness, did my best to be nice to his family.  That鈥檚 something I regret even to this day. 

The day after Olu proposed to me, I remember my eldest sister, Lola*, sitting me down in our shared room to tell me to at least get acclimatised to the ways of his household for at least a year before deciding to get pregnant, because I might never know what might happen. Honestly, I should have listened to her instead of getting pregnant three months into our marriage. If I had, maybe Olu鈥檚 sudden cancer diagnosis wouldn鈥檛 have completely changed my life as it did. 

It was lung cancer. Olu had been experiencing some worrying symptoms, like his blood-streaked coughs, and, concerned, I told him to go to the hospital because I thought it was going to be something curable, but he came home and informed me that he had been diagnosed with second-stage lung cancer. I remember being six months along in my pregnancy and going mute for an hour after he told me about his diagnosis. I didn鈥檛 want to cry because he was crying, and even though it seemed selfish of me, all I could think about was the fate of our child and me. I鈥檇 believed that getting married to Olu would make his family’s hearts soften towards me, but it didn鈥檛 work like that. They still hated me, and a part of me already predicted the amount of shege I would endure if Olu鈥檚 condition got worse. 

From the day we found out about his diagnosis, my perfectly normal life capsized. Suddenly, I was drowning. Before I knew it, his condition got worse, and he had to be at the hospital all the time. All our savings and any little money we had went into his treatments. I became someone who had to beg people for money because Olu鈥檚 family, who should have been there for him, kept lying to me, saying they didn鈥檛 have any money to give me. They were completely useless and barely visited the hospital. Thank God for people at Olu鈥檚 workplace and my family, who kept giving me the money that the hospital requested or else I would have been completely helpless. It鈥檚 a shame that all that money we put into ensuring Olu would survive was useless, though, because just two weeks after giving birth to our son, Olu died, and my journey into hell started.聽

You’ll Love: What She Said: At 40, I鈥檝e Turned My Passions Into Businesses That Fund the Life I Want

It was like Olu鈥檚 family was waiting for their son to die so they could finally express their hatred toward me. My husband鈥檚 body was not even cold in the ground; I was still in post-birth pains and grieving the love of my life, who could barely even hold his child before he died. I thought I would be allowed at least two months before family wahala entered the mix, but they didn鈥檛 even give me the grace.聽

After Olu鈥檚 burial, his family started accusing me of the most ridiculous things. At first, it was killing my husband, saying that he was completely healthy before I stepped into his life, and how did his condition worsen so quickly? Somehow, they accused me of witchcraft. I was in the throes of Post-Partum Depression, and yet I had to face all those accusations. At the time, my siblings, who would have faced my in-laws head-on, had already relocated abroad, and my parents were honestly just concerned with keeping my child and me alive. 

Every day I woke up, there was always someone from Olu鈥檚 family in the house. I didn鈥檛 even know they had somehow found a way to duplicate our house keys so they could enter whenever they wanted. They expected me, in my state, to cater to them, and when my mum gently reminded them that I鈥檓 a new mother who just lost her husband, they would make it about them and ask us if they also didn鈥檛 lose someone. 

Their mistreatment got worse, and the rumours went from me killing my husband with witchcraft to my son not being Olu鈥檚 child because, in their words, he didn鈥檛 look like him. They called family meetings on my head and kept telling me to confess to it. I don鈥檛 remember a lot of what happened in the months after my husband鈥檚 death because I was completely numb to everything. I could barely give my son the attention he deserved in those months, so when they called family meetings, I would just keep quiet and let my mum lead. Every day, it was always a new thing with them, but my mum and I knew they were trying to find something to pin me with because they wanted to take Olu鈥檚 properties. I know they were particularly resentful that Olu and I had a large amount of money saved for our son’s upkeep, and that I was the only one who could access it. The thing is, I understand that some families get cruel and greedy after the death of a family member, but the fact that they couldn鈥檛 hide it at all? It felt like they were waiting for him to die so they could take all his things and deny my son and me. 

The witch hunt continued, and as everything became overwhelming, I decided to visit my aunt, who lived two states away. That was the first time since my husband died that I had anything close to peace, and it was only when I experienced that peace that I allowed myself to mourn my husband. It was genuinely so cathartic, and after crying all the tears I could, I reached a strange sense of acceptance. Maybe that was why, when I got back home a week later to find out that Olu鈥檚 family had raided the entire house in my absence, I wasn鈥檛 too surprised or angry. They took everything down to the generator, and the only things left in the house were me and my child鈥檚 belongings. 

I鈥檇 already made peace with the fact that they were horrible human beings, and I decided in that moment that people who were capable of causing me more pain when I was already in a dark place do not deserve any attention in my mind. I moved back to my parents鈥� house, and it was there that I finally had the time to care for my son the way he deserved. I deleted all my in-laws鈥� contact numbers and focused on healing and finding a job that would sustain me and my child. 

A year into living with my parents, my brother, who had already settled down in the United Kingdom, suggested that my son and I come live with him, and he even offered to cover all the bills. I agreed immediately because, frankly, being in Nigeria just constantly reminded me of all the what-could-have-beens with Olu. I needed a fresh start, so I agreed to join him, and in four or five months, my son and I said goodbye to Nigeria.聽

It has been about eight years since I left the country, and around my fourth year in the UK, my in-laws somehow found my contact number and have been harassing me. They either call to beg for money (which is ridiculous because what money did they put in my hands?) or tell me that they want to see their brother鈥檚 son. When I blocked them, they began to harass my parents and even my siblings. It was really pathetic to see them do that, and I was just glad I was no longer in the country, because I know they鈥檙e capable of finding me at my house. To me, my in-laws belong to my past, and even though they still occasionally find a way to reach me, I am determined to forget them and the pain they caused me. 

Next Read: Contraceptives in Nigeria: The Real Cost of 鈥淣ot Being Ready鈥� For It

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.

The subject of today鈥檚 #WhatSheSaid is Imoteda Aladekomo, a 40-year-old Lagos-based entrepreneur. She talks about choosing single motherhood at 20, getting kicked out of home for stopping church, reinventing herself from makeup artist to chef, and creating a life around the work, people and pleasures she loves. 

Can you tell me about yourself?

I鈥檓 Chef Imoteda, a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef, culinary consultant, and restaurateur, among other things. 

My parents named me Adetomi, but it was too damn common a name. One day in secondary school, I flipped it and realised 鈥淚moteda鈥� also means something in Yoruba: 鈥淜nowledge of mankind/the people.鈥� It sounded deep to young me, so I started telling everyone that was my name. 

You鈥檝e made quite a name for yourself in the culinary world. How do you feel about it all?

When I woke up on the morning of my 40th birthday through to my birthday lunch this year, I kept thinking, 鈥淭his is comfortable. I feel very at peace, very at ease.鈥� And I was very happy about that. I’ve built a life I’m comfortable in.

What does 鈥渃omfortable鈥� look like for you?

Being able to get up and do what I want. I’m not a huge travel or designer-buying person. I’m not an adventure junkie, so my life may seem boring, but it’s being able to have a life that’s boring in my way. 

I can afford everything I need on a day-to-day basis. I have a great group of friends, a decent number of people I can call on if I ever need anything. I wake up every day and can say, “What do I want to do today?” Then, I do exactly what I want to do that day. It’s a little bit insane to have that much control over my life.

Do you ever think your life could have turned out differently?

Oh, my life could have gone in a million different directions. 

I was supposed to get married quite young. Thank God that didn’t happen. I would have had a very miserable life if it had.

Oh, please tell me about that

It’s the usual. I got pregnant early. At exactly 20 years old, actually. I was going to marry the father of my child. He turned out to be abusive, so I didn’t do that. I chose to be a single mum over marrying him; best decision of my life.

He’s six months younger than I am. So, we were both young and dumb. My mum said, “You’re already pregnant. The worst has already happened. Don’t compound it by making it even worse.” Before I decided not to marry him, I wondered why she was saying this. Afterwards, I was like, “You know what? Shout-out to you, Mum. You knew what you were talking about.”

When did you realise he was abusive?

While I was pregnant. I actually remember the day I started planning my exit. I’d fallen, and I remember thinking, “Yeah, I gotta go. This cannot be my life for the rest of my life.” 

I even . 

During pregnancy, when you’re ill, once a woman is vulnerable, the chances of domestic abuse ramp up. Because you’re somewhat dependent on someone for your well-being, you start to really see the cracks. We would argue a lot. Before I got pregnant, we were fine, but after, things started happening. 

What was the first thing you remember happening?

I remember we were talking about teaching our baby French versus Spanish. 

I’ve never liked French. Even though everybody says it’s the language of love, to me it’s very guttural. I’d said I wanted our child to learn Spanish because I love Spanish. And he went on about how I’m so stupid, why would I want her to speak Spanish as opposed to French, when French is a more universal language.

I remember sitting there like, “I know this guy didn’t just call me stupid because I said I prefer Spanish to French. From where to where?” I was like, “Hmm, okay. I’m going to put a pin in that and think about it later.”

And then, it became a constant in our conversations. I’d have an opinion on something, and he’d immediately want to call it stupid or silly or frivolous. I was like, “Okay, yeah, all right. Pack it up. Pack it up. Pack it up. This can’t be my life.”

What was life like after leaving him?

My parents really supported my daughter and me so we could live a decent life. They had plenty of say in the way she was raised. But there were a lot of decisions I made that disappointed my dad. 

I pulled my daughter out of the school he wanted her to attend because I didn’t like the way they treated her, and he got really upset about that.

I can imagine

Another thing that disappointed him was when I stopped going to church. 

We got into a fight, and he kicked me out of the house for that. I was in my late 20s by then. I’m completely irreligious now, but my mum’s a reverend, so I do go to church occasionally to support her. She’s a chaplain of a Methodist church, and I’m very proud of her. I like calling her 鈥淩everend鈥�.

My dad is very involved in the church, too. He’s quite religious.

Did the church treat you differently because you were a young single mum?

I feel like there’s always supposed to be a dramatic reason somebody deviates from the church, but there really wasn’t one for me. Church was actually fine. When I got pregnant, my dad gave a testimony. When the father of a child comes up in front of the entire church and says, “Thank God for my child’s pregnancy,” you’re not coming to tell the child nonsense. 

And my dad isn鈥檛 someone people generally want to mess with. When he did that, it let everybody know, “This thing has happened o, but don’t get it twisted. This is still my child.鈥�

Even though he did later kick you out for this same church… that was so cool!

Haha. I love that he did that.

My parents covered me a lot with friends and family, too. One of my uncles called me on the phone one time and was like, “You know, if your parents won’t tell you that they’re ashamed of you, I’ll tell you for them.”

I told my mum, and she was so upset. She said, “First of all, what’s his business? Secondly, does he think I don’t have a mouth? Who is he to tell you that we’re ashamed of you?”

I’ll forever be thankful to my parents because they set the tone for how people should treat me within the family. It didn’t really translate to outside the family, but at least within, I was covered.

What was it like outside the family?

Nigerians treat becoming a single mum like the worst thing in the world. It’s unfortunate, very clich茅, but very true. 

There was a lot of “You’ve ruined your life鈥�. Even my friends said it when I was pregnant. I remember one ex of mine really wanted me to get an abortion. And I was just like, “You’re not even the father of the child. Why is it doing you?”

What would surprise that Imoteda most about her life now, at 40?

I’d be surprised that I wasn’t still a makeup artist. That would shock 20-year-old me!

I used to be a proper makeup artist. I had big plans of opening my own studio, makeup line and all these other things. I used to do film, television, blood and guts, all that kind of stuff. It’s kind of crazy that I no longer do that at all. I rarely even wear makeup nowadays. 

Why did you stop?

I just fell in love with cooking a little bit more.

I think one of the greatest pleasures of growing older is you see so many versions of your life come and go. Even as recently as last year, I was working at a restaurant I really loved and thought I’d be at for a long time. Then all of that scattered, and I was super heartbroken.

What did you do?

I opened my own restaurant.

I was already in the process of building when I had to leave the restaurant I worked at. The plan had always been to manage Fired and Iced alongside the other restaurant. Suddenly, Fired and Iced went from this thing I was building in my spare time, that I could take my time with, to something that needed to be up and running right away because I had nothing else going on at the time.

Obviously, that put a lot of pressure on me to make it work very quickly.

What was the hardest part?

The major hit I took was financial. I lived on location at the other restaurant, and my daughter had a room in my brother’s house, so I didn’t have to pay rent. Which was great because who wants to pay rent in Lagos? I also had a salary, which was great because, you know, a little money in my pocket.

I went from having a regular income to not having any money. And I’ve never been a savings babe, so I was waiting for this thing I was building to come up and make me money. 

I also had to find a place to live in three weeks, which, if you know Lagos, is almost impossible. But I found a lovely affordable four-bedroom by sheer luck, and moved in with my daughter right in time to be evicted from the restaurant.

After all that financial uncertainty, when did you finally start feeling secure again?

I’ve felt the most financially independent on my 40th birthday. 

I put together two birthday parties. I paid for everything on my own. Nobody from my family gave me money. I didn’t ask anybody for money. I wasn’t really carrying anyone but my sister along with me on the plans. I just told everybody else, “Be here at this time. Be here at that time.”

And it was big. 

Jesus, parties are expensive! You do not want to know how much I spent. I was going to do a reel where I broke down the cost, and then I said, “If I put this thing online, people will come and rob me.” In fact, as we’re on this call, I just paid off the balance to somebody who did some printing.

Must鈥檝e felt bittersweet

奥别濒濒鈥�

I bloomed a little later in life. I know people my age who’ve been paying their siblings’ school fees for years and all that kind of stuff. But even when I was on my own, my family still supported me for a long time. If we’re having a family dinner and I mention, “Oh, I have to pay rent,” my dad would send me some money, or my brothers would help. My sister and I basically share a bank account.

But when my daughter recently started college, people contributed what they could, but I paid the tuition and rent. I took care of almost everything. I was very happy that I could do that, that I had the finances to. More and more lately, I’ve felt in control of my life and finances in a way that, God forbid, if anything happened to everybody around me, I know I could still stand on my own.

You’ve made a living doing things you genuinely enjoy. Have people always taken that seriously?

Not always. People assumed that because I was a makeup artist, I was probably this uneducated, down-on-her-luck babe who couldn’t do anything else. I still get that as a chef.

But choices don’t exist in isolation, and you can’t constantly make them based on how you’ll be perceived. Let them drag me on X, but my feminism is about having the choice to do the things I want to do when I want to do them. It’s not about fulfilling a particular role. I’m not a girlboss or a mother or anything but whatever I want to be that day when I wake up.

What does that freedom to choose look like in real life?

I’ve always loved working with my hands, so I always knew that the things I’d do in life would involve that. During the COVID-19 lockdown. I could no longer buy fancy imported candles, and I wanted fancy imported candles. So I started making candles for myself at home and eventually gifting some to friends who were like, “Oh, we would pay good money for this.”

Then I started selling them.

Just like that?

Yes. And that has turned into , my home fragrance brand. It’s the one thing that’s a bit surprising to me.

Another example: I regularly host my circle for house dinners. I don鈥檛 do this because I’m a woman. I host because I love having a house full of people. I love cooking for them, even though I know I’ll be stressed and cranky for the first 20 minutes until I get all my drinks in me and become normal again. 

When I get tired of hosting, I simply stop.

And your people respect that 

Sometimes, I’ll have friends over and, at some point, just announce, “I’m in my room. Bye.” I’m not kicking anybody out of my house, but I want to be in bed, so I’m going to bed. 

One day, I messaged my friend group and said, “I want a meat night. I just want us to be eating meat.” So I made sausages, lamb chops and duck breasts, everybody brought something, and we had this table full of meat. While I was cooking, one of my friends stood at the kitchen door because she knows I hate having people in my space when I cook but she likes watching me cook. I said, “As long as you’re not in my space, that’s cool.”

Boundaries

That’s why building community is important. When you’re surrounded by people who aren’t forcing expectations on you, you don’t have to worry about being perceived as just a homemaker. Your people learn you. 

And if it’s people outside your community judging you, why do you care? I don’t care what an X user has to say about my life.

Has living life on your own terms always been important to you?

When I die, the one thing I want people to say is that I happened aggressively to life. Life did not happen to me. I happened to life.

It’s so important to me that I’m not just accepting the things life throws at me. I have to be fully, actively in charge of my life and making decisions. Otherwise, why do I have a brain? How am I alive? I think that’s one of the things I struggle with when it comes to religion; the idea that I’m not in charge of my life. But I kind of am. I must be. Who else could be in charge of my life if not me?

I remember one of my exes saying, “You just cannot go with the flow.” And I said, “No. Where are we flowing to? What direction is the river moving? I need to know.” I can ride and die with you, but I want to know why we have to ride and why we have to die. Let me understand.

Speaking of relationships, you almost got married at 20. At 40, is marriage something you still want for yourself?

No. 

First, I want to preface this by saying I’m a grown woman, so I do be having companions.

I’m constantly surrounded by people I love and who love me in return. I go on dates, meet people and have had long-term lovers. I have a very full life in every direction. If I don’t want to be alone tonight, I have somebody I can call. If I want to be alone, I can go to my room, close the door and not answer my phone.

Options

Having a full friend group helps even more. My sister is my best friend. My sister and I are one. We constantly have things we’re doing together.

I’m very close to my family. I spent an entire Sunday with them recently when I’d only planned to visit for two hours. Next thing, we’d eaten breakfast, eaten lunch and were ordering dinner. I was like, “Come on, guys. I was just here to visit!” But it was fantastic because I love spending time with them.

But what about love?

Listen, I love love. You can ask my sister. You will not find anybody willing to be stupider for love than me. I love romance and everything that comes with it, but I also know that I wouldn’t die without it. Would I love to never find somebody to spend the rest of my life with? No. But I’m okay with that possibility.

How do you reconcile wanting love with being unwilling to marry?

I’ve been in situations where I’ve had to ask myself, “Am I willing to do this for this person?” And the answer has always been, “No. I love you, but no.” I still care about you deeply, but that’s never going to be a choice for me. 

My financial independence makes it easier. I can look at somebody and say, “You’re not fulfilling my emotional needs, so I’m going to leave,” instead of having to think about him before I can buy menstrual pads or food. But there’s another side to it that I don’t think a lot of men appreciate. If you’re in my space, it’s because I want you in my space. 

That鈥檚 true

A lover recently told me I act like I don’t even care if he鈥檚 around or not. I said, “You’re currently in my house. How many people have my address?” 

I don’t invite just anybody into my home. The people I allow into my space are people I love deeply. I don’t need you to pay my bills or spoil me. I’m not particularly interested in designer things, so you’re not buying me Prada, Gucci or Louis Vuitton. And because I’m not looking for marriage, there’s no pressure of, “Oh, I’m 40 years old, I must marry now.鈥� 

I think more men should be flattered by that.

Your life is already full of family, work and community. What could a romantic partner add to it?

Those can never replace romantic love. There’s an intimacy you get from it that you don’t get from friendships. The casual physicality of being with somebody, the little brushes when you pass each other in the kitchen, lying down together and cuddling. I love cuddling. 

I’m not somebody who generally likes people touching me, so I don’t want to replicate that with my friends. It’s a very specific kind of intimacy that comes with being romantically in love with someone.

And orgasms, please. 

Orgasms are very important! 

And I’m not particularly a self-pleasure person. I like sex with people. 

I also like the conversations you have with a romantic partner, the whispering of sweet nothings, lying in bed and just looking at each other with love. I love that stuff.

If marriage isn’t your goal, do you still enter relationships hoping they’ll last forever?

Yes, and I’m very honest about marriage. I have that conversation early. 

I’ve had a relationship I genuinely wanted to last forever, but he couldn’t accept that marriage wasn’t something I wanted. It wasn’t a relationship he felt he could take home to his parents, so that ended. Generally, when I’m dating somebody, I ask myself, “If this is the person I’m with forever, would I be happy?” If the answer is yes, fantastic. Let’s go.

When was the last time you had an ordinary moment when you were proud of the life you鈥檝e built?

This is a great question because I actually have a moment.

One Sunday, I had something work-related to attend, and afterwards, I was rushing to a birthday party. I got dressed in a hurry, didn’t even do my makeup, and was taking out my hair in the car because I thought I was late. The party was supposed to start at 7:30 p.m. I got there around 8:10, and nobody was there. Nobody! I was like, “Oh God, Lagos has fooled me again. I’m early.”

African time!

I turned around, went back home, took off my clothes and sat on my bed for a little bit. Then I realised, “Wait, I’m early. I don’t have to rush.” 

I lay down and started looking around my room. You know when you spend so much time in a space that you never really look at it? I looked at my wallpaper, my bedside lamp, my curtains, my flowers, even the mess on my floor. And I was like, “Oh my God, this is such a nice room.”

I picked everything myself. I picked my bed and had it made. I chose the mirror, the wallpaper, everything. My room is loud. But it’s a space I’ve created for myself, and it looks like me. You walk in and you’re like, “Yep, this is exactly the kind of room I’d expect you to have.” It looks like me, it feels like me, and it’s as cold as I want it to be.

And I just lay there thinking, “Look at you, Imoteda. You’ve built a life that’s perfect. Your room is perfect.” 

Sometimes, I look at myself and think I behave like I’m rich when I’m not, especially with the amount of electricity credit I keep buying. But at that moment, I was just so happy. I realised that in a few minutes, I was going to get up, put my clothes back on, do my makeup and go party all night with my friends on a Sunday, a school night, simply because I could. 

Who was going to tell me to go to bed?

It鈥檚 the small things

The party wasn’t even the point. I was just lying in my room, looking at this space I’d made for myself, and thinking, “This is my life, and my life is good. This is a great life.”

I’m actually happy thinking about it again because I was so happy at that moment. It made me realise that I’d built this life brick by brick. Of course, I have my loving family, but this wasn’t about them. This was about me. 

Why is having a space that’s entirely yours so important?

It’s interesting because my mum actually had a room of her own when we were younger. My parents shared a bedroom, but she also had another room that was supposed to be just for her. Somewhere she could keep her knick-knacks, sew or do whatever she wanted.

Somehow, that room ended up becoming a store. There was a bed in it and everything, but it still became a space for the family. Even the room that was supposed to be hers ended up not being for her. 

I think having a room of your own as a woman is actually super important. 

And what would you say to someone who thinks choosing yourself is selfish?

I only ever have one answer: I’m in my house. Come and beat me.

You think I’m selfish? Come and beat me in my house. You think I’m making the wrong choices? I’m in my house, and you can’t beat me. Even if it is selfish, I’ve made my choice.

I’m in my house. Come and beat me.

Temitope “Tope” Olowoniyan is an actress, television host, filmmaker, producer, executive producer and the founder of Bayla Productions. For more than a decade, she has built a career in front of the camera, appearing in , , , , , and , and on shows like Wake Up Nigeria. Her continuing television career includes hosting Kellogg’s Superstars Quiz Show. But somewhere between moving from Zaria to Lagos and becoming a familiar face on screen, she began to want more say in the stories she helped bring to life.

That desire led her to found Bayla Productions, a growing production company with a body of original work that includes Her Next Chapter, Love Notes, Lights, Camera, It’s My Turn and The Father’s Path. It also led her to build Tope Olowoniyan TV, one of the platforms where those stories reach audiences. On September 10, 2026, she released on Tope Olowoniyan TV, her debut original feature under Bayla Productions, which she acted in, produced and solely executive produced. The film has now crossed 3.6 million views on YouTube.

Tope talks about the grandparents who raised her in Zaria, the craft she built on stage and screen, the years of training and work that taught her to think like a producer, and the home she is building for African stories.

This Is Tope Olowoniyan’s Story As Told To Zia

I grew up with my grandparents in Zaria, and I think that’s where everything started. My granddad and I had a ritual. I would watch the news, write down everything the newscaster said on a full scap sheet of paper, then read it back to him like I was the one on television. Eugenia Abu was my role model. I was going to be a broadcaster, simple.

His best friend was a professor of English, and by the time I was in senior secondary school, he was already training me. I even wrote the foreword for his book. I was invested in everything that would make me a fantastic broadcaster. I didn’t know it then, but I was already learning how stories get told.

The Zaria I grew up in was communal. Everybody knew everybody. I trekked to school with my neighbours, and some of them are still my friends today. It was peaceful, even though I experienced some of the riots and the bomb blasts. My church was attacked. I lost two friends. There was chaos, but there was still peace. It was not always the way the media portrayed it. I am very cultured and very homely because of where I grew up, and the North has a strong role to play in my sense of self and in the way I relate to people.

Acting was never the plan. I studied English and Theatre Arts at ABU, but theatre was just how I filled my electives. I’m heavily introverted, always the quiet one at the back, but every time I stepped on a stage in drama village, I became somebody else. By my third year, my head of department (HOD) noticed and suggested I take the theatre courses seriously, just in case I ever wanted to act. I laughed. I used to say I could never be an actress. Look at me now.

When I moved to Lagos, the culture shock was crazy. People kept saying, “You don’t look Yoruba.” I didn’t know Yoruba people had a look. Where I’m from, nobody asked what you were. Everybody was just a human being. Lagos taught me to read between the lines, to hear what people say and what they’re not saying. But I made sure I never lost my sense of self. Who I am should not be guided by who people are.

I completed NYSC between 2014 and 2015, and in 2015 I travelled to the United Kingdom for professional broadcast training. When I returned to Nigeria in 2016, I looked for a job in broadcasting. It took a while, but eventually I was called to audition for Linda Ikeji TV. I joined in December 2016 and worked there until September 2018 as a producer and presenter. I created shows for the platform and hosted them too. From 2019 to 2021, I was a live show host on Wake Up Nigeria at TVC. At the same time, I was building my acting career. I’d finish my day shift and head straight to film sets, juggling live television with the acting roles that were beginning to come my way.

Those years gave me practical experience developing programmes, creating content and understanding production beyond being in front of the camera. Television was my first producing school, even if I didn’t call it that at the time. After my time at TVC, I focused more on acting while continuing to explore hosting opportunities. My screen work has included King of Boys: The Return of the King, Sista, Dwindle, L.I.F.E., The Order of Things, Set Up 2 and The Men’s Club: Next Gen.

But before film, there was stage. I did shows for the Lagos Theatre Festival and in Abuja, and I performed for five days at a world theatre festival in Germany. My theatre training carried me. I’ve always wanted my talent, preparation and performance to speak for me. I approached my King of Boys audition with a spirit of excellence, because if you’re going to experience me through my work, I want you to experience the best version of my creativity. These days I’m also particular about the stories I join. If I read a script and think my parents, or my little cousins who look up to me, would learn nothing valuable from it, I walk away, respectfully.

My years of auditioning taught me the importance of preparation, consistency and showing up ready. Every opportunity was a chance to grow, whether or not I got the role. If an audition was at 8 a.m., I’d arrive by 5 a.m. to be among the first five names on the audition list, sometimes chatting with the security men while we waited to be let into the building. My parents would have preferred that I explored opportunities in the UK, but I was convinced I could build a career as a talk show host in Nigeria. I knew that if I was going to make it here, I had to be ready to put in the work.

I’m grateful for the growth I’ve experienced in this industry, and now I’m carving my own path. Sometimes, you have to bring your own table. My journey has been about process, consistency, discipline, building and evolving. I’m an actor, and I’ve evolved into actively producing films as well. That journey didn’t happen overnight. It was built on years of training, practical experience, relationships and preparation. I went for broadcast training without knowing exactly where it would lead. Here I am, years later, still acting and also producing my own films through my production company.

鈥淣ow I鈥檓 carving my own path. Sometimes, you have to bring your own table.鈥�

Bayla Productions was born from a question. When I first came to Lagos, someone I looked up to asked me, “What’s your ten-year projection?” At 22, I had dreams and ambitions, but I hadn’t learned to structure them into a long-term plan. That conversation taught me to become more intentional about my goals, not just professionally, but financially and personally. Work goals, financial goals, travel goals, enjoyment goals, all of it.

When I said I wanted to shoot my own films, he asked if I had a company. I didn’t. He said the name had to be something authentic to me. I already had a name saved for the daughter I hope to have one day. I want her to grow up hearing her name everywhere. I want her to know that before she was born, mummy was already thinking of her, and that I built something entirely hers. That’s how Bayla was born. The company carries her name. Tope Olowoniyan TV, the platform, carries mine.

“I want her to know that before she was born, mummy was already thinking of her, and that I built something entirely hers.”

Bayla isn’t a one-film company. Before A Summer for Fountain, I had already developed Her Next Chapter, Love Notes, Lights, Camera, It’s My Turn and The Father’s Path. They are different stories in different formats, from talk shows and personal conversations to entertainment, and Fountain is the next stage of something I’ve been building for years.

Moving from being the talent to the production side taught me a lot about the business of film. For one, you don’t sleep. It cost me time with friends, but it didn’t cost me my relationships. I’m a very involved producer. I’m not someone who will hire you and just let you go and do it. You carry me along. I want to know everything. I want to be sure that you understand my vision. I also had to learn how to lead people. I’m a very straightforward person, but I’ve learned that managing people requires understanding their personalities. Some people respond better to encouragement, others to direct communication.

Leadership has taught me to be more patient, empathetic and intentional about how I work with people. I also believe in paying people for their work. At the same time, I’m grateful for the generosity I’ve received from people I built relationships with over the years, and the discounts I got were heartwarming. My director, Jide “JBlaze” Oyegbile, and I auditioned for King of Boys together. We brainstormed how we wanted to approach it, and we won together. My art director was once a set design assistant. My makeup artist was an SFX assistant. We were all building at the same time, and now we’re all leading teams.

Building is like farming. I know, because I grew up around a farm in Zaria. We planted beans, rice and maize, and I went to the farm a lot. You plant the seed, it goes into the ground and looks dead, and you water it even though you’re seeing absolutely nothing. Then one day, after the roots have gone deep into the ground, something comes back up.

My first talk shows didn’t make money. But women who had dealt with postpartum depression were in my comments, saying Her Next Chapter helped them find themselves again. Women stop me at the gym to say the same thing. That is what money cannot buy. And I remind myself: you may not make all the money on your first project, but it is your intellectual property. Nobody can take that away from you.

People ask why YouTube. It’s simple. Where are people watching things now? I’m not there because everybody is there. I’m there because that’s where I can sell my story and get a large audience, and when you see me, you’ll define me by the quality of my work. I wasn’t making a film for YouTube. I was making a film, and YouTube is just the outlet.

Which brings me to , my debut original feature under Bayla Productions. I acted in it, and I also produced it and solely executive produced it. I had co-executive produced a film that went to cinemas before, but this is the first film I have executive produced entirely on my own. It premiered on September 10, 2026 on Tope Olowoniyan TV, and it has now crossed 3.6 million views on YouTube. I didn’t write the script; a friend of mine did, but I knew exactly what I wanted it to do. I told my writer I wanted a film that teaches people to stay connected to their family.

Death is an inevitable part of life, and that’s why I believe we should be intentional about the time we have with the people we love. We shouldn’t wait until someone is gone before wishing we had spent more time with them. I miss my grandparents every day, but I have no regrets. From the moment I started making money, I was present. Every weekend trip I could make, I made. In this money-driven craze, people are becoming increasingly disconnected from family. I wanted to stir chords in us that remind us of our humanity.

My grandmother was very ambitious. She had a cooking show, worked with UNICEF, and was among the first people in Northern Nigeria to educate women in rural communities about polio. I was closer to my granddad, but I am very much like her. She chased every dream she had.

That’s also why Fountain’s story matters to me. The film is about more than grief and family. It also explores love, compatibility, emotional fulfilment and the choices people make when choosing a life partner. Fountain is in a relationship that looks right on paper, and her journey is about asking whether it gives her the emotional connection and fulfilment she truly wants. I’ve built my life on the belief that everything you want is on the other side of your fear.

I’ve also learned to speak confidently about the value of my work. Earlier in my career, I would practise discussing my rates in front of a mirror. Over time, I’ve become more comfortable having those conversations with confidence and clarity.

What I want now is to keep telling our stories the way I want to tell them. One thing that matters deeply to me is creating stories that allow people to recognise themselves in the characters they watch. I want audiences, especially women, to see reflections of their experiences, struggles, decisions and growth in my work. Storytelling should go beyond entertainment. It should start conversations, encourage reflection and sometimes help people see their circumstances from a different perspective.

Bayla Productions is the creative company through which I want to develop, produce and build a catalogue of original intellectual property. Tope Olowoniyan TV is one of the platforms through which those stories can reach audiences, a home for original African films, talk shows, conversations and entertainment.

My long-term ambition is to create high-quality African stories that can travel beyond geographical boundaries and connect with audiences around the world. I still pray to take my films to festivals, to travel the world and share my stories my way. The past 11 years didn’t just go into acting. They went into understanding production, from the business side to the creative side. I want people to recognise my work for its storytelling, production quality and performances, regardless of the platform they find it on. Anybody, anywhere, should watch my film and see that she made a good film. That’s what I want.

And if you take one thing from A Summer for Fountain, let it be this: your loved ones are not here forever. No matter how much you’re chasing that bag, you may get the whole bag and have only yourself to enjoy it with. If you’re lucky enough to still have your grandmother, spend more time with her. Tomorrow is not promised.

That’s the legacy I want to build: stories that matter, told well, that leave people more present with the people they love. I’m still growing, still learning, still building, and I’m committed to telling stories that matter.

Limited access is not the only or major problem with contraception. At least not in the way we think it is. Another significant limitation is cost. The budgeted cost of living does not allow for lower-class Nigerians to consider the luxury of contraception.

What does the math actually look like?

The Real Price List

Here’s what the of being ready actually is, depending on what you use and where you get it:

Pills: 鈧�400 to a jaw-dropping 鈧�40,000, depending on the brand.

Emergency pills: 鈧�1,200 to 鈧�4,000. The one thing that stays roughly the same everywhere.

Condoms: 鈧�500 to 鈧�22,000. Yes, really.

Implants (Hormonal & Non-hormonal): 鈧�4,000 to 鈧�6,500.

Injections: 鈧�700 to 鈧�5,000 per shot, and it’s not a one-time cost. You鈥檙e expected to get a shot every three months for as long as you are sexually active. Many young women choose it because it’s discreet. There鈥檚 nothing to hide, and where there鈥檚 nothing to hide, nobody has to know about it. 

IUDs: 鈧�25,000 to 鈧�307,500.

The range of costs for IUDs is real. It’s a 鈧�282,500 gap between the cheapest and priciest IUDs. A gap that鈥檚 wider than most people’s monthly salary. Two women choosing the same method can end up paying different amounts, depending on which clinic they can reach. A variance an confirms the price imbalance as a pattern across Nigerian family planning clinics.

The Number That Actually Hurts

Think of an average Nigerian who earns minimum wage and is sexually active. Imagine they鈥檙e consistent with condom use and prioritise safety. The constant purchase cost can take a real chunk out of their 鈧�70,000 salary before the month is halfway done. Up by some estimates, which is more than a quarter of their income. Now think of the ancillary costs that come with purchasing the condom, especially for women. The trip to the pharmacy (transport). The “moral” implication of being judged by the pharmacist(s) or sales attendant(s) while she’s at it.

These are the parts nobody puts on a poster.

It Gets Worse Depending on Your Location

Here’s the part that should really annoy you: contraceptives can cost wildly different amounts depending on which pharmacy you visit and where it’s located, even within states. A found that private facilities charge more than public ones. Sometimes significantly, for the same product. Two women, same contraception, same city, different prices. 

Some People Have Tried Fixing The Problem

It’s not all bleak. In 2016, made family planning free in parts of Yaba. The initiative involved scrapping the consultation and service fees clinics were charging solely on contraceptives. took similar action in 2019, after advocacy groups pointed out similar consultation and service fees. In these states, ignorance and culture were the only reasons women weren鈥檛 using contraception. In both states, women admitted to showing up and then disappearing once they realised how much it would cost. 

The problem is, not everyone is paying attention or trying to change things.

So, Are You “Not Ready” or Just Can鈥檛 Afford Contraceptives?

Currently, over women in Nigeria don’t have access to modern family planning options. And it鈥檚 not because they don’t know it exists. The version of “choice” they’re offered still comes with a price tag attached to it. Even worse, the price tag keeps on changing depending on where they live, what pharmacy they walk into, and how much money they earn.

“I’m not ready” sounds like a personal decision. For a lot of young women in this country, it’s really a receipt.

Written by: Divine Duru

Read Next: What You Need To Know About Your Favourite Contraceptives

This Is Angel’s Story As Told To Zia

Before my mum married, it was just the two of us. She and my biological father had dated for a long time. When she got pregnant, he said he wasn’t ready and didn’t want anything to do with the pregnancy. My mum told him she was ready, and he could go. She raised me as my sole parent. He came around my naming ceremony, and maybe once when I was four, and again, but beyond that, he never contributed anything. I only really got to know about him as I grew up.

We lived in a comfortable family house with my grandma, my auntie and my cousins. My mum was big on family, and she supported them a lot. Life was good, and everything was okay.

My mum had been doing well for herself before the marriage. She was a Lagos big girl, if I could say that. She joined her church in her early 30s, when I was a few months old, not even a year. Before then, she wasn’t really religious. She could go to church for a crossover service, but she didn’t have to go every Sunday. She found a place where she felt she belonged and became deeply involved, especially with the leaders. They were men, and she was friends with them and did business with them. They became family friends and came to the house for religious duties, and just as friends.

In that church, they believed marriage is the best thing you can do for yourself, and the talk about settling down never stopped. She didn’t feel like she was getting old, but with everyone saying it, she thought, since they’re saying this, I might as well look for somebody. They set her up with a couple of people. None of them worked out until the man she married, who was from the same place as one of her close friends. It took a while for them to wear her down. By then, she was in her mid-30s.

I was six when my mum married my stepfather in 2006. I came into that family with her, and my earliest memory of his behaviour is from their traditional wedding. He got into a fight with my mum’s cousin. The party had to end, and I remember the tension afterwards. My mum tried to calm him down before they left. Even as a child, I could see how aggressive he was. I didn’t know then that this was what life with him would be like.

When they married, he told her to stop working. That mattered later, because when she left him, she didn’t have her own income to fall back on. Her siblings supported us, but money was one of the reasons we went back.

He was violent towards my mum from the beginning. The physical violence is what I remember seeing, but there were other forms of violence, too. Usually, we kept what happened inside the family, even though people knew. One day, when he was beating her, I got so scared that I ran out to bang on our neighbours’ door. Their flat was only a couple of steps away, across the staircase. I could see shadows moving inside and even see people peeping, but nobody opened the door. I think I was nine then, maybe ten.

He came after me, dragged me back in and held me by my throat against the window. He lifted me off the floor. I can’t remember what made him stop. My neck hurt for days; it was painful to swallow, and my mum made me pap because she didn’t want me struggling with solid food.

Afterwards, our relationship went back to what passed for normal. He would say sorry, hug me, kiss my cheek, and everybody would carry on. When daddy’s back, you’ve got to be happy. It wasn’t that nothing had happened. We just suppressed it. 

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There was a pattern in the house. Something he said my mum had done would create hostility for a few days. The pressure would keep building until there was an outburst. On one occasion, he threatened to kill himself, my mum and all of us.

He is the firstborn of his family, and one week, he and my mum had travelled to his village for his lastborn’s wedding, where he had firstborn duties to perform. As usual, he couldn’t control himself. He chased somebody with a dagger, a much younger guy. In Igboland, that is an abomination. He ended up scattering the wedding. It didn鈥檛 hold because of him. 

My mum made them leave the village quickly, and it’s a good thing she did. His uncle later told him that if he had not left when he did, they would have stripped him naked and all the youths of the village would have gathered to flog him at the town square. That was their tradition.

When they got back to Lagos, the village sent him a letter excommunicating him. For a man who prided himself on being a real Igbo man, a traditional man, it was a deep shame. And the best way he knew to express his shame was to threaten to kill himself, kill my mother, and kill all of us.  My mum begged him, and he said he wouldn’t kill us, only himself. He told her to take the children and leave.

We started packing quickly. My mum kept telling us we needed to go, but when it was time to leave, we couldn’t find the gate or the car key. We were stuck there while he was making these threats. Eventually, he calmed down, cried and apologised for scaring us. After the usual hugging and making up, the keys appeared. The gate key had been in his pocket, and the car key was in his wardrobe. Then life went back to normal again.

Another time, I didn’t feed his dog when I was supposed to, and he beat me so badly that my hand was injured. This was around 2014. People kept asking what had happened, so I said I’d cut myself in the kitchen. One woman we bought tomatoes from didn’t believe me. She pressed until I told her the truth, and she and her husband were sympathetic. All those questions made me so self-conscious that I bandaged my hand to stop people from looking at it.

Through all of this, my mum and I became closer. We were like sisters in arms, fighting on the same side. When she was expecting my siblings, she would buy baby books for herself and her husband to read. But it was usually the two of us reading them and talking about what we’d learned. I was the first child, and I noticed things. In many ways, it was my mum and me together.

My mum always tried to leave, but we always ended up going back. In 2015, she left while pregnant with our lastborn. At that time, it looked final. She rented an apartment and was getting it ready for us. She took everything she could: the car and its keys, the furniture, the properties. She was on her way to furnishing the apartment. And this was close to her delivery date when she had a car accident, and that is what made us go back. The reason she left was the same as before: the violence, the negligence, and his mental instability.  returned to him, and the violence continued.

We finally left in November 2016. He had gone to work, and my mum took my three siblings and me away. We were practically running, looking over our shoulders and hoping he wouldn’t come back before we got out. This time, we didn’t clear out the house. We took only a few clothes and left so much behind. I still remember my favourite red shoe. I will never forget that shoe. It was left in the spoils of war.

We went to stay with my mum’s elder sister. It was a full house: my aunt, her daughters, her grandchildren, my grandma, my mum, my siblings and me. After we left, my stepfather started saying my mum had taken his children and his family away. I didn’t call him. I was glad my mother had taken us out. Why would I reach out to him?

In December, I went to church with my aunt, my cousin and my cousin’s children. My mum, grandma and siblings stayed at home. It was a different branch of the church we had attended as a family, though we’d been there before. In the middle of the service, someone came and tried to drag me away. I saw my stepfather, and I saw that another man was with him. I refused to go with them. The chaos caused people in the church to look, a crowd formed and started asking what was happening. Everyone could see these men trying to take me in broad daylight.

Afterwards, people from the church went after them, but my stepfather got away at first. We ended up at a police station, and someone called my mum. She came immediately. I can’t tell you the exact sequence of everything the adults did that day. I was there, but I had zoned out. I think I was in shock.

What I remember clearly is coming back into the police station after going outside and hearing one of the policemen shouting. That was when the fear finally reached me, and I started crying. He shouted at me for crying, which didn’t help. My mum came and took me away from him. I can’t remember how the case ended or what, if anything, was done to my stepfather.

That was not the last time I saw him. He still came to where we were staying to see my siblings. I remember walking past him in the sitting room once without greeting him. He stared at me, but by then I had checked out of whatever relationship we’d had. I haven’t spoken to him since the incident, as far as I can remember. I think the last time I saw him was in 2017, before I went to school.

Leaving didn’t take away the closeness between my mum and me. With him gone, we could talk about my future without him interrupting, and my mum has always been the one who told me to do whichever path I liked. She studied the arts herself.

He was the opposite. He put me in science class throughout secondary school, with the mindset that science is the best one, where level-headed, better people and careers are found. He used pressure and violence to push me on that path. I had always been interested in the arts, but I ended up studying microbiology, partly because of him.

I went to university about a year after we left, or not even two years. That was where I started to see that what happened had really affected me. As outgoing as I am, I was still very timid. In church, I was a good public speaker, but I was always nervous because if I didn’t do my church talk well, he would come home and berate me. After we left, I realised I had taken on some of that timidity. His shouting, his violence and his coercion had gotten into me.

It also made me avoidant. I couldn’t navigate conflict, and I didn’t want to go back to spaces where I felt conflicted. In my first year, my first time living in a hostel, there were six, seven, or eight of us in a room. If four people were fighting, I would leave. I couldn’t deal with it. I like it when everybody is happy. I don’t like seeing people frown.

Sometimes I felt like I was her co-parent, along with my siblings. I don’t know whether growing up that fast helped me, but it happened.

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Living with my stepfather for so long also made me alert to patterns in other people. I keep my eyes open, especially in my relationships with men. I don’t think you have to believe there’s one Prince Charming and stop paying attention to what someone actually does. But I’ll be honest: it didn’t protect me completely.

I got married in 2023, and the man I married was one of my closest male friends from church. If you had asked me years ago who my close male friends were, he would have been one of the first names I would have given. When I was about four months pregnant, we went to court. By five months, it became evident that he wasn鈥檛 really who I thought he was. 

The switch-up was so fast. It became, 鈥淚 have you here; we got married because you’re pregnant; you don’t want shame to come to you.鈥� He also played on the fact that I wouldn’t want my child to come from a broken home, because I came from one. He even said it: I had no choice but to make it work, or everyone would see me as a failure like my mum.

My mum is not a failure. I have never seen her as one. If she hadn’t left, either she would have died, or one of us would have, or all of us. It’s the general patriarchal thought that makes the parent who stayed and kept the children safe look like the one who destroyed their children’s lives. When I left, he told me I was going to spoil my daughter’s life the way my mother spoiled mine.

By the time I gave birth, I had postpartum depression. He was neglectful, verbally abusive, financially abusive and emotionally abusive, too. The only one he didn’t get to was physical abuse, but he had violent traits, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he started hitting me. I did not want to wait for that.

I think I’m even a little thankful to my stepfather, because he made me spot the signs fast. When he was angry, he would break doors and bust locks. In every house we lived in, the doors were never the original ones. They were refurbished, replaced, or the locks were. We nicknamed him Buster Rhymes. It’s our code word for him even now, and nobody calls him by his real name anymore. One day, my ex did something like that. I felt like six people slapped me at once, and someone dumped a bucket of ice blocks on me. If I was in a trance before, I woke up that day. My daughter was a month or two old.

My mum had seen where it was going, and she reminded me: Angel, give yourself a timeline. I didn’t pull you out of where we were before, so you’d have to go through this again. When my daughter was about two or three months old, I told myself I would stay until she was a year, so I could have his support with the baby before I found my feet. I couldn’t. As soon as she turned six months, I left. We hadn’t even gotten to a year of marriage. It was 11 months.

My mum and I had sat down and gone over what she did wrong or could have done better as she was leaving. So I knew what I needed to do. I knew I had to cut off the church people and not entertain any explanations or mediation efforts, because they’re all manipulative. I needed to keep my wits. So I cut everybody off. People were angry. How dare Angel? Who does she think she is? He had his excuse: because I was refusing mediation, he didn’t provide for my child.

Even when I was leaving, my mum did not know I was leaving for good. When I got to her place, I told her, Mummy, I’m not going back, and she said, ” No problem, I respect your decision. Then I started telling her things I had hidden because I didn’t want her to worry. I’ve experienced less interference than she did when she left because I knew what to cut off and who to cut off. I haven’t heard from him in over a year. I’m the sole provider for my daughter, and I really don’t care. My peace is more important.

Before my ex, I would say I recovered from what my stepfather did. After my ex, I never recovered. That was 2024, and I haven’t been with anybody romantically since. I have no plans to. I used to brag that no boy had ever broken up with me, because I always broke up with them first. I was very strict with men.

But I underestimated the influence of religion and the church, and that’s how I let him in. He knew my background and my mum’s background, even though I never told him everything. I felt he had abused my trust and broken the most important thing. I only started recovering this year. I’ve never really been to therapy because it’s expensive, but I’m getting into it this year. I realised I never fully healed in my relationships with men.

I don’t really trust men now. In my spare time, when I have money in my pocket and my belly is full, I wonder when I’ll trust them again. On a normal day, I’m too busy hustling to take care of my child and myself.

Now I’m pursuing my passion in the arts. My career spans both the arts and marketing. I still like science, and I may go back to it in my master’s, but it’s not a priority. I don’t want to suffer for money in a role I don’t enjoy just because it pays more. I’ll be 26 this month, and I feel like I’ve lived 40 years on earth through those 10 years alone. I just want to do fun things, meet fun people and enjoy life. I’ve been through enough, and I don’t want any more traumatic experiences.

What happened also put advocacy for women at the front of my mind. All the things we had to fight after we left- financially, psychologically, health-wise and mentally- I’ve not done up to 1% of what I want to do for women in abusive homes and relationships. It’s one of the things that fuels me to work as hard as I do. I want enough money and connections to give women, children, and anyone in that situation the help we didn’t have.

I hope anyone in a situation like ours can find a way out, whether on their own or with help. The earlier you get out, the better.

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