It's the eleventh hour of 2024. This year has been a whirlwind of emotions—both the ones I anticipated and those I never imagined feeling. But that story can wait. Today, I want to open up the delicate side of my mind.
We’ve all heard of feminism. Some empathize with it, others don’t. But there’s one truth: every woman we know carries a story of assault, a scar etched by misogyny. From childhood, I couldn’t picture myself getting married. My friends know this well. Though that belief has evolved, I used to see marriage as a cage—stripping away freedom. Down to my name changing. As a Christian, the notion of submitting myself to a man felt impossible to reconcile with my faith. Why should I yield when I have already surrendered my heart and soul to God?
Yet, submission never seems to be enough. Why must a woman give up her autonomy while a man refuses to do the same? It sounds sentimental, I know. But growing up, I witnessed how marriages could break women, save for the rare few that flourished. Those rare, beautiful unions were the only part I ever wanted, but never at the cost of losing myself. And so, I poured my heart into building a career, thinking love would never entice me. But love, unpredictable as ever, found me. And there I was—letting go, submitting to a man I swore 16 years old me never would. But here’s the risk: we live in a society where a man isn’t conditioned to submit in return.
Submission: /səbˈmɪʃn/
The act of yielding to a superior force or authority.
The Bible frames submission as a sign of trust and faith, and in some ways, it is. But living in 2024, trust has become a gamble, especially in a world where danger lurks even within the confines of marriage. I surrender my life to God because I believe His guidance protects me from ruin. So why can’t we trust one another in the same way? Because we know how deeply humans can harm. We know how laws often fail to shield women like me.
I, too, crave a voice—a voice that doesn’t have to prove its worth time and time again. Last year, someone remarked, “The biggest mistake society made was allowing women to vote.” The absurdity of it still stings. I grew up believing we were more than our bodies. Yet there are still men who think a woman’s place is solely at home. Some women find fulfillment there, and that’s fine. But others, like me, dream of building legacies beyond household walls.
I may sound like an emotional feminist, but let’s talk about what’s really insane. Every month, I endure cramps that disrupt my workdays, yet I’m expected to stay silent. Walking down my own street at 7 p.m., I have to call my boyfriend or a friend just to feel safe. Public transportation? I always scan my surroundings, calculating escape routes if I’m the only woman present.
I will not rest until I can accept a hug from a man without the sickening fear that he might feel entitled to touch my body further. Until the day I can support a friend in need without being blamed for the assault inflicted upon me—hearing, “What was she doing in his house?” as if my care or presence justified the assault.
Laws still exist in Nigeria that make it legal for a husband to rape his wife. It’s illegal for women like me to carry self-defense tools to ward off assault. My body rights are constantly up for debate, and the burden of unwanted pregnancies falls disproportionately on women. How about making vasectomies compulsory for men who don’t want kids but can’t control their actions?
It's disheartening to realize that laws and societal norms continue to hinder women's progress, even in 2024. Some men view women as mere objects, yet these very men have mothers, sisters, and daughters. Would they want the women they cherish to be treated with the same disregard and lack of respect? If not, then why not extend that respect to every woman? It’s a fundamental failure of society—a society that has neglected to educate these misguided individuals, the "fetal mistakes," on how to honor and respect women.
Only if more men were like those I am fortunate to have around me—kind, supportive, and respectful. But what about the millions of girls who don’t have these safe spaces or decent men around them? Who will save them from the threats of rape, assault, crushed dreams and violence?
Fairness remains elusive. If we truly treated each other equally, I wouldn’t be preaching my exhaustion and the weight of womanhood. Society tells women to have it all before 35. And men? Some still ask, “If you’re not offering your body, what do you bring to the table?” Spare me that table. I don’t want someone who values my body as the primary currency of our relationship.
I might sound paranoid, but while I may feel safe, I know that the women in my life may not share that same sense of security. I can't predict who might become the next victim. Ultimately, we must rely on ourselves for protection.
This isn’t a gender war. It’s a simple demand: to be seen as human, not a prey.
Yours unapologetically,
Ai✍🏽
This is eye opening Aijay, thanks for voicing the fears of women that we may be too detached to understand.
Understandable.