Senator Natasha Akpoti and the Nigerian Woman: A Nation's War on Women's Voices

If a senator can be blacklisted for speaking out, what chance does the average Nigerian woman have?

Disclaimer: This piece includes information from various news sources, including Arise News, TVC News, BBC News and Times Radio. Links will be included in the article so readers can verify for themselves.

The controversy surrounding Senator Natasha Akpoti isn’t just another political scandal; it isn’t just something we should read on the news and brush off. It’s a brutal reminder of how the system silences women, of how misogyny has infected our system and the Nigerian society, especially those who dare to challenge powerful men.

Senator Natasha Akpoti stood for her right to be heard and demanded justice, calling out the Senate President for repeatedly obstructing her motions. She also allegedly accuses him of sexual assault. And instead of justice, what did she get? An orchestrated move by the entire Senate and other political bodies to have her suspended without pay.

Not a single senator or lawmaker stood with her.

This situation is bigger than Natasha. If a senator, someone with influence and visibility, can’t get justice after accusing the highest-ranking lawmaker in the country, what hope is there for the average Nigerian woman? What does this say to the young girls who experience sexual violence daily? It reinforces what we already know: In Nigeria, power protects power, and women, no matter their status, are disposable when they challenge the system.

I mean, it is widely known that justice rarely prevails in Nigeria, and when it comes to justice for women, it’s even worse. We live in a country where victims of sexual abuse are mocked and blamed for “allowing” themselves to be assaulted, while the perpetrators receive nothing more than a warning or a slap on the back, if that. Sometimes, they are even praised and pushed further into power.

Growing up, we were constantly warned, so much that it felt like it was ingrained in our brains: Don’t visit a man. Don’t wear revealing clothes. Don’t let a man touch you. But little to no advice was given to the boys. Who is telling them that it’s wrong to touch a woman without her consent? That it’s wrong to lust over a woman wearing revealing clothes? That it’s unacceptable to feel entitled to a woman’s body?

And let’s be honest, if the roles were reversed, this wouldn’t even be up for debate. But because it’s a woman accusing a man, the response is gaslighting, character assassination, and an attempt to erase her from the Senate altogether. Even worse, some of the loudest voices against her are women. Disappointing but not surprising. We’ve seen it before, how elders treat young girls who have been abused, how mothers side with abusive fathers who have molested their child, in the name of “protecting the family’s name.”

This reminds me of Tomorrow I Become a Woman by Aiwanose Odafen, a novel I read in December. The protagonist was suffering from domestic abuse at the hands of her husband, a renowned pastor and respected member of the society. Yet, every time she tried to leave, her mother warned her to be a “good wife,” insisting that if she obeyed, he wouldn’t hit her. Even when he broke their daughter’s ribs, her mother still blamed her, saying: If she had taught the girl to respect her father’s authority, this wouldn’t have happened. She claimed it was a normal occurrence in marriage because the man is meant to be above the woman.

This is the kind of conditioning Nigerian women grow up with. What isn’t meant to be normal has been normalized.

Take one of the most ridiculous statements made in support of the Senate President: “It’s a sign of weakness to accuse a man at that level.” As if power dynamics don’t exist. As if gender-based violence disappears when a woman holds political office.

It’s disheartening to see Nigerian women in power choose allegiance to the patriarchy over solidarity with the women. It makes you wonder if we’re cooked as a society, and if there’s any hope for women in this part of the world.

We’ve seen this playbook before, over and over again. The system was designed to ensure that when women speak up, they are drowned out, ridiculed, and punished. When a man is accused, it becomes about his career, his reputation, his power. Most of the time, he doesn’t even get punished but praised and protected.

Then what about the woman? She is the one put on trial, made to prove her innocence, made to defend why she dared to speak at all.

This issue isn’t confined to the Senate. It’s a reflection of what happens in workplaces, in homes, in police stations, and in courtrooms. Women who report sexual harassment or assault are rarely believed. They are told to provide evidence, sometimes impossible to obtain. Churches tell them to “pray for their husband’s evil spirit,” and warn them against divorce. Instead of help, they are met with victim-blaming or outright retaliation.

If a senator can be blacklisted for speaking out, what chance does the student, or the office worker have? What chance does the average Nigerian woman have?

Women in Nigeria are expected to be silent. Be grateful. Be compliant. And if they dare to speak, they should be ready for the consequences. It’s why feminism remains a necessity. Yet, feminism in Nigeria is often demonized, and attacked. Feminism is now being discouraged, being blacklisted and frowned upon by men who feel threatened by powers they do not have or posses.

But without it, women like Natasha wouldn’t even have the language or the courage to demand justice.

Without feminism, women like Gisèle Pélicot wouldn’t have the language or courage to stand in court and demand justice against her husband and the 51 men brought in to rape her.

Gisèle Pélicot describes horror of learning husband drugged her so others could rape her

Justice isn’t just about Senator Natasha, it’s about every woman who has been forced into silence. We need to demand accountability, not just from the Senate but from every institution that allows abusers to walk free while punishing victims for speaking out.

They claim “false accusations ruin men's lives” but it’s not entirely true. If anything, we’ve seen men accused of rape and sexual assault continue to rise in power, headline concerts, star in movies, and be celebrated by society.… we’ve seen them rise against it all and applauded repeated by some part of the male community. While the woman is made to hide her face, called names, and treated as impure for something they had no control over.

Now, more than ever, women need to stand together. Because when we don’t, when we side with power instead of truth, we make it easier for the system to keep all of us in check. Men who claim to care about justice must do more than watch from the sidelines.

Internalized misogyny is real. That’s why I don’t direct all my anger at the women who don’t know better… who haven’t yet unlearned the conditioning that tells them their worth is tied to a man’s approval. Who hasn’t read wider to understand that unless we stand with feminism and fight against the patriarchy, fight against the society, we’re going to keep getting silenced and threatened.

And here’s the truth: no matter how much you pander to the patriarchy, it won’t protect you. When it’s time for them to throw you under the bus, they’ll do it without hesitation.

Men do not respect women who betray other women for their sake.

I hope as women, we understand that we only have ourselves. Making your whole identity in life to being a male-centered woman would not make you a part of the patriarchy.

So instead of bending to a system designed to break you, why not take the time to learn? Why not understand what it truly means to fight for your rights?

Because it’s not you today, doesn’t mean it might not be you tomorrow.