Undoubtedly, Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan is a victim of violence against women in public space, which is not just a private matter but a societal crisis. Ending it requires collective efforts from individuals, communities, and governments to challenge harmful norms, strengthen legal protections, and support survivors. If a senator — a woman in one of the highest positions of power — can be silenced for naming her abuser, what hope is there for the millions of Nigerian women with no platform, no protection, and no voice?
The 8th of March is International Women’s Day, but last week announced a sad one for Nigerian women at home and abroad. The international media were filled with reports painting Nigeria as a nation that embraces sexual impunity, and reinforces patriarchal, misogynistic values. This news concerns Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, one of only four female senators in Nigeria’s 109-member Senate. She has been suspended for six months — barred from performing her legislative duties — for daring to publicly name her sexual harasser within the National Assembly. She had publicly claimed that the Senate president, Godswill Akpabio, sexually harassed her.
I start this brief thread by retrieving my title from renowned feminist legal scholar, Catharine MacKinnon’s book, Are Women Human? And Other International Dialogues. Although she focused dearly on rape and sexual violence in war zones, this book is dear to my heart as my first go-to when addressing issues. Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s case is a troubling one that has aided in revealing the ongoing trend of marginalisation and discrimination that Nigerian women are enduring. There are those publicly awarded, while others are buried and remain unknown, unless someone dares to bring them up. It returns to the surface the title question, “Are Nigerian women human?”
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As the world gathers for the 69th Commission on the Status of Women (CSW) to discuss gender equality, Nigerian women watch as one of their own is punished for speaking out. What does advocacy mean if women like Akpoti-Uduaghan face retaliation, instead of justice? As the world’s intergovernmental body for gender equality and empowerment, the CSW should be a platform for global solidarity, discourse, and action on the struggles that women face. Part of the focus will be revisiting the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) global policy frameworks, such as SDG 5, which aims to achieve gender equality by eliminating all forms of violence, exploitation, and harmful practices against women and girls. At the same time, SDG 16 reinforces this by promoting justice, human rights, and reducing violence. Despite our dedicated attendance at these eventful gatherings, many women and girls, including Nigerian women and children, continue to face intensifying abuse and violence, prompting reflections on the worthiness of these meetings.
A brief look at treaties and conventions shows that Nigeria has ratified many, yet women’s rights remain unprotected. For instance, Nigeria ratified the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) on the 13th of June 1985, and other continental and international treaties, yet women’s bodies are still being disrespected. Ratifying a treaty is meaningless without enforcement. Nigeria has signed numerous conventions, yet women’s rights remain unprotected.
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In essence, the existence of CEDAW and other related treaties is designed to prevent violence against women (VAW), which is a severe violation of human rights and a form of gender-based discrimination. Two CEDAW General Recommendations — No. 19 (1999) and No. 35 (2017) — interpret VAW — including sexual harassment — as a human rights violation that states are obligated to address. It takes many forms — physical, sexual, psychological, and economic — inflicting harm and suffering on women in both private and public spaces. This includes coercion, threats, and restrictions on their freedoms. VAW is a widespread, global issue that affects women of all social and economic backgrounds. However, those with lower socio-economic statuses are often more vulnerable. At its core, this violence stems from deep-rooted power imbalances between men and women, making it not just a personal tragedy but a broader social and public health concern. It is also a significant obstacle to development, preventing women from fully participating in society. The term “violence against women” is often used interchangeably with “gender-based violence,” since women and girls are the most frequent victims. However, violence is not limited to physical acts alone. It includes sexual violence, emotional abuse — such as intimidation, harassment, and gender-based discrimination — and financial abuse, in which women are deliberately deprived of resources and economic independence.
Mrs Akpabio must not forget that women who fully support their husbands in such situations should exercise caution and pause to recognise that there have been recent legal instances where seemingly innocent men turned out to be predators, with their true nature hidden behind a façade of public and private behaviour. Even Nigeria’s First Lady, Oluremi Tinubu, stated in the media, “I have faith that the Senate is taking the necessary steps to address these issues.” Oluremi Tinubu’s statement is not just dismissive — it is complicit.
The violence that Nigerian women endure is not an anomaly — it is a pattern. One in five women has been subjected to physical violence, and many experience both abuse and violence simultaneously. The statistics are not just numbers; they are lived realities. These figures reveal the urgent need for action to protect women’s rights and ensure their safety. To MacKinnon, “what happens to women is either too particular to be universal or too universal to be particular, meaning either too human to be female and too female to be human (p. 142).” To Nigerian women, their positionality at home and abroad remains problematic, given unwarranted exposure to a series of events and incidents that serve solely to disrespect and dehumanise them.
Lately, increasing attacks on women and girls expose that the female embodiment is now the face of the victims of misogynistic fascist hunger for wealth and power, from the endless series of human killings of women for money rituals by gospel singers, Islamic clerics, and many more, including public shaming via social media platforms. It is the Nigerian woman who can be brought at any price with her consent. She is forced to keep mute if sexually assaulted and raped, not solely for fear of reprisal but for fear of public backlash against her by other women. Gone were those days when relationships were private, and the person’s privacy was honoured. These days, one tends to see or hear many women coming online to defend their stances as if these platforms have become public judicial courts of law that determine who has the right to liberty to live or not, hence portraying that without doing so, these women risk continual stigmatism and degradation of their public personalities. This is because Nigerian societies are now the spots of gender repression and social injustice for women — becoming spaces where many trolls and maggots waste their energy and lives on social media platforms, with the ultimate aim of wrecking other people’s lives.
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Article 7 of CEDAW stipulates that state actors must “take all measures to eliminate discrimination against women in the political and public life of the country and, in particular, shall ensure to women, on equal terms with men.” This has been violated as Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s suspension depicts the inequality plaguing Nigeria’s political sphere. Having only four women among the 109 in the National Assembly demonstrates a patriarchal terrain of male dominance where the voices of women are reduced to the minimum. Not only is Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan the victim, but ever since she publicly denounced Akpabio in a televised interview and formal petition before the Senate, she has been subjected to a series of intimidation. For instance, Senate President Godswill Akpabio’s wife, Mrs Ekaette Akpabio, sued Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan for defamation, claiming the latter must pay N250 billion in damages.
Mrs Akpabio must not forget that women who fully support their husbands in such situations should exercise caution and pause to recognise that there have been recent legal instances where seemingly innocent men turned out to be predators, with their true nature hidden behind a façade of public and private behaviour. Even Nigeria’s First Lady, Oluremi Tinubu, stated in the media, “I have faith that the Senate is taking the necessary steps to address these issues.” Oluremi Tinubu’s statement is not just dismissive — it is complicit. As First Lady, she had an opportunity to stand for women’s rights but instead chose silence. Both above illustrations show how many women lack the empathy and compassion to support other women. Such a lack could be due to fear of them, too, and facing backlash from these male-dominated environments.
…suspending Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan was a tactic to silence other women not only in the Senate but across the country and abroad. Such impunity infringes the rule of law and paves the way for continual sexual harassment, violence and abuse, and equally endangers the place of Nigerian women in their houses, communities, political and religious spaces, and the general public.
Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan has been suspended from her legislative duties after her formal petition was dismissed — actions that are unconstitutional and also a double trauma to her person, and this will have profound ramifications for women across Nigeria and abroad, as it portrays that men can continue to sexually harass women without impunity.
However, her supposed oppressor, Senate President Akpabio, was not suspended as he continues his duties. Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s allegation is grave, and the Senate President should have been suspended pending investigation, which is not the case. Why was he given the authority to continue when he has been accused? This demonstrates the highest level of impunity, and suspending Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan was a tactic to silence other women not only in the Senate but across the country and abroad. Such impunity infringes the rule of law and paves the way for continual sexual harassment, violence and abuse, and equally endangers the place of Nigerian women in their houses, communities, political and religious spaces, and the general public.
Undoubtedly, Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan is a victim of violence against women in public space, which is not just a private matter but a societal crisis. Ending it requires collective efforts from individuals, communities, and governments to challenge harmful norms, strengthen legal protections, and support survivors. If a senator — a woman in one of the highest positions of power — can be silenced for naming her abuser, what hope is there for the millions of Nigerian women with no platform, no protection, and no voice? This is not just about one woman; it is about a system that protects predators over victims, silence over truth, and power over justice.
In closing, we return to MacKinnon’s voice — “Half of humanity is effectively defined as nonhuman, subhuman, properly rightsless creatures, beings whose reality of violation, to the extent it is somehow female, floats beneath international legal space.” — Catharine MacKinnon (p.142).
Claire Ayelotan is a researcher and writer in Theology, Religious Studies, and Legal Studies.
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