WOMEN AND THE STRUGGLE FOR POLITICAL REPRESENTATION

 SAMUEL AKPOBOME OROVWUJE argues for deliberate steps to create a more inclusive political system

March is more than a marker on the calendar. It is a season of reflection, recognition, and renewed resolve. As the world observes International Women’s Day 2026, attention turns not only to the achievements of women, but also to the inequalities that persist beneath the surface of progress. In Nigeria, this moment carries a particular weight. Women are visible everywhere—in markets, in classrooms, in businesses, and in the daily work of sustaining families and communities yet they remain strikingly invisible in the spaces where power is exercised.

This contradiction is not abstract; it is measurable. Women make up nearly half of Nigeria’s population and form a significant share of its voting strength, yet their presence in political office tells a different story. In a National Assembly of 469 members, only a small fraction are women. The Senate, with 109 seats, has historically had fewer than ten female senators at any given time, while the House of Representatives, with 360 members, and has rarely had more than 20 women. In practical terms, this means that for every woman in the legislature, there are more than 15 men shaping national decisions. At the state level, the imbalance is often even more pronounced, with some assemblies having little or no female representation at all.

These figures place Nigeria near the bottom of global rankings on women’s political participation. The gap becomes even clearer when compared with other African countries. In Rwanda, women occupy more than 60 percent of parliamentary seats, a transformation achieved through deliberate constitutional reforms after 2003. Senegal moved close to parity following its 2010 gender parity law, while South Africa has steadily increased women’s participation through party-based quotas since the mid-1990s. These examples show that change is possible when it is intentional.

For Nigeria, the question is not whether women are capable of leading, but why the system continues to limit their access to leadership. The answer lies in the intersection of socio-economic realities and political structures.

 Sadly, running for office in Nigeria is an expensive undertaking. From party nomination forms to campaign logistics, the financial demands are high, often running into millions of naira. For many women especially those operating in the informal sector or without access to substantial assets these costs are prohibitive. Economic inequality, therefore, becomes a political barrier. When women are less likely to own land, access credit, or control financial resources, they are also less likely to enter and sustain political campaigns.

This connection between economic power and political participation has been rigorously examined in scholarship. Naila Kabeer, in “Resources, Agency, Achievements: Reflections on the Measurement of Women’s Empowerment” (1999), argues that empowerment is fundamentally about the ability to make meaningful choices. In the Nigerian context, the ability to choose a political path is often constrained by financial limitations and institutional barriers. Without economic independence, political ambition remains difficult to translate into reality. Overpoweringly, history also plays a defining role. Oyeronke Oyewumi, in “The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses”, demonstrates that pre-colonial Yoruba society did not organize power strictly along gender lines. Women exercised authority in economic and social spheres. Colonial rule, however, introduced rigid hierarchies that privileged male dominance in governance, a legacy that persists in modern political institutions.

Similarly, Ifi Amadiume, in “Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society”, challenges Western assumptions about fixed gender roles, showing that African societies historically allowed more fluid and flexible systems of power. These works collectively dismantle the argument that women’s exclusion from politics is culturally inevitable.

 Cultural expectations in contemporary Nigeria continue to reinforce structural barriers. Women are often expected to prioritize family responsibilities, including childcare and household management. These roles, while essential, are rarely recognized as forms of leadership. Yet, they require organization, negotiation, and resilience the very skills needed in governance.

As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie writes in “We Should All Be Feminists” (2014), “culture does not make people; people make culture.” This insight is critical. The norms and values that limit women’s political participation are not fixed; they can be changed and the time is now.

Global feminist thought reinforces this point. Gloria Steinem, in “Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions”, emphasizes that the struggle for equality is collective and ongoing. Michelle Obama, in “Becoming” (2018), underscores the limitless potential of women when given the opportunity to lead. These perspectives align with the Nigerian experience, where the issue is not capability but access.

Despite these constraints, there are emerging opportunities. Nigerian women are increasingly visible in the economic sphere, leading businesses, driving innovation, and contributing significantly to national development. The expansion of digital platforms has opened new avenues for entrepreneurship and engagement, allowing women to build networks and influence beyond traditional structures.

This growing economic presence has the potential to translate into political influence. However, it requires supportive policies—greater access to finance, reduced cost of political participation, and institutional reforms that create pathways for women to enter politics.

Technology is also reshaping political engagement. Social media platforms allow women to connect directly with voters, share ideas, and mobilize support. Younger women, in particular, are using these tools to challenge traditional norms and redefine leadership.

Comparative experiences across Africa provide a clear roadmap. Countries that have improved women’s representation have done so through deliberate interventions through legal quotas, political reforms, and sustained advocacy. Nigeria’s own commitment to 35 percent affirmative action has yet to be fully realized, highlighting the gap between policy intention and implementation.

Moments like Mother’s Day offer an opportunity to rethink how society values women’s contributions. Women are celebrated as caregivers and community leaders, yet these same qualities are rarely translated into political legitimacy. Bridging this gap requires a shift in how leadership is defined.

The cost of exclusion is significant. When women are underrepresented, policies risk overlooking critical issues such as healthcare, education, and social welfare. Inclusive governance is not just a moral imperative; it is a practical necessity for national development.

The unfinished fight for women’s political representation in Nigeria is therefore about more than numbers. It is about restructuring the socio-economic and political systems that determine access to power. It is about creating a democracy that reflects the realities of its people.

As March every year calls attention to women’s contributions and challenges, it also presents Nigeria with a choice. The country can continue to celebrate women symbolically while maintaining structural barriers, or it can take deliberate steps to create a more inclusive political system.

 All things considered, Nigerian women have already demonstrated their capacity to lead in every sphere of life. The task now is to ensure that this leadership is reflected where it matters most particularly in the institutions that shape the nation’s future. Until that happens, the promise of democracy will remain incomplete, and the journey toward equality unfinished business.

Orovwuje is a public affairs analyst and founder, Humanitarian Care for Displaced Persons, Lagos. orovwuje50@gmail.com