BY DANJUMA NAFUNJI
There is a question Nigeria can no longer afford to ignore: Who is protecting the women who have spent their lives protecting others? Across the country, women carry the weight of families, sustain communities and rebuild lives in places where insecurity has become a daily reality.
Yet too often, they are the ones exposed to violence, sexual abuse, abduction, displacement, exploitation and other forms of brutality. Their suffering may appear in reports and statistics, but it is rarely treated with the urgency of a national emergency.
The tragedy is not confined to one part of the country. In the North-East, women and girls have borne the brunt of insurgency and displacement. In parts of the North-West, banditry and kidnapping have torn families apart. In other parts of the country, criminal violence, communal clashes and domestic abuse continue to place women at risk.
Even where there is no open conflict, fear shapes everyday life: the fear of travelling to the market, going to the farm, attending school or simply returning home safely.
Yet women remain among Nigeria’s greatest helpers. They are the mothers who keep children alive when husbands are killed or missing. They are the traders who restart their businesses after displacement.
They are the farmers who return to their fields despite threats. They are nurses, teachers, civil servants, journalists, entrepreneurs, community leaders and volunteers who continue to serve society when every reason tells them to retreat.
But how long can the helpers bleed before the nation notices?
The phrase ‘women and children’ is often repeated whenever insecurity is discussed. But women must not be reduced to victims in speeches and policy statements.
They are citizens with rights. They possess economic power, political voices and the capacity to contribute directly to national development and security.
Nigeria must, therefore, change the way it understands security. Security cannot mean only soldiers on the streets, police checkpoints or weapons deployed against criminals.
True security means that a woman can travel without fear of abduction, a girl can attend school without becoming a target, a widow can report a crime without intimidation, a displaced woman can seek assistance without exploitation and a survivor can obtain justice without being blamed for the violence committed against her.
Perhaps the most painful part of this crisis is what happens after the violence. Many women who survive are forced to fight a second battle: silence.
Fear of stigma, economic dependence, social pressure and distrust of institutions prevent many survivors from reporting abuse. In some communities, women are still expected to endure violence quietly “for the sake of family honour”. Where perpetrators believe they can escape consequences, brutality is repeated.
This is where Nigeria’s security and justice institutions must become more responsive. Police and other security personnel need proper training to handle gender-based violence with professionalism and dignity. Investigations must be taken seriously. Survivors need access to medical care, psychological support, legal assistance and safe shelters. Courts must deliver justice without unnecessary delays.
Above all, perpetrators must understand that the woman they attack is not an abandoned citizen.
Government cannot carry this burden alone. Traditional rulers, religious leaders, schools, community organisations, the media and families all have roles to play. Men, in particular, must be part of the solution. The fight against violence against women cannot be left to women alone.
There is also an urgent economic dimension to the crisis. A woman with no income, no safe place to go and no support network is more vulnerable to exploitation. Empowerment programmes must therefore not be treated as charity or political decoration. Skills acquisition, access to finance, education, land rights and employment opportunities can strengthen a woman’s ability to escape abusive circumstances and rebuild after violence.
The media, too, has a responsibility. Survivors should not become spectacles. Their dignity must be protected. Reporting should expose institutional failures, demand accountability and inform the public without turning a victim’s suffering into entertainment.
Despite the darkness, hope remains. Nigeria is home to women who have survived unimaginable circumstances and still found the courage to educate their children, establish businesses, support other survivors and rebuild their communities.
Their resilience, however, should never become an excuse for government inaction. Instead, it should be the reason the nation invests more deliberately in their protection.
The blood of helpers must not continue to dry on our roads, in our farms, in our homes and in places where women go simply because life demands that they keep moving.
A nation cannot claim to be secure when half of its population must calculate the risks of ordinary life.
Protecting women must therefore become a measurable national priority, not merely a slogan repeated during International Women’s Day or a line buried in a government policy document.
Security budgets must produce safer communities. Policing must produce trust. Justice must produce consequences. Social programmes must produce independence. Education must produce awareness. And leadership must produce accountability.
Mercy on women should not mean pity. It should mean protection, justice, dignity and opportunity. The women who have carried Nigeria through some of its hardest moments deserve a country willing to carry them when they are in danger.
The blood of our helpers must not dry in silence. Nigeria must choose protection over indifference, justice over impunity and hope over fear.