Musings on the complexities of female solidarity
Every year on March 8th, we observe International Women’s Day. It’s a time dedicated to celebrating women’s achievements and highlighting the challenges they continue to face. However, I often find myself questioning the effectiveness of these observances. The discourse follows a predictable cycle — women’s issues are showcased, hashtags trend, events are held, and then, by April, the urgency fades. This year, despite my resistance, I find myself drawn back to this topic — not because it’s fashionable or expected, but because recent events in Nigeria have yet again spotlighted the complexities of female solidarity — or the lack thereof.
Conversations about gender issues frequently fall into overused clichés — men are from Mars, women are from Venus; men operate this way, women that way. Beyond these generalizations, however, there are observable patterns in how men and women navigate power, influence, and support. In professional and political spaces, men — even those with ideological differences — often form alliances that serve their collective interests. Women, on the other hand, seem to operate differently. I have often noticed this, and recent incidents involving Nigerian women have only reinforced my observations.
Let’s start with Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, who represents Kogi Central Senatorial District. Her political journey has been marked by challenges, particularly with the former Kogi State Governor, Yahaya Bello. She triumphed in the 2023 senatorial elections, though her victory was contested in court. Ultimately, the appeal court upheld her win, much to the celebration of many.
Recently, she has been in the news again for several reasons. First, she alleged that she was being unfairly treated after her seat in the Senate was reassigned. She refused to change seats, even after the rationale behind the reassignment was explained to her. Later, she accused the Senate President of sexual harassment, submitting a formal petition, which was dismissed for failing to adhere to Senate guidelines. In response, the Senate Committee on Ethics, Privileges, and Public Petitions recommended her suspension for six months.
The political nature of these developments aside, what struck me most was the reaction of her fellow female senators. Reassigning seats in the Senate is standard practice, yet it appears that none of the three female senators sought to educate her on the norms. Only one, Senator Ireti Kingibe, publicly commented on her situation, and that was after considerable time had passed. The silence from her female colleagues was glaring. Some former female senators, including First Lady Remi Tinubu, did weigh in, but their comments lacked overt support. This raises the question: do women in power feel compelled to distance themselves from one another? In a political landscape where women are already a minority, shouldn’t there be at least some level of solidarity — or at the very least, mentorship?
Another woman who has recently made headlines is Ushie “Raye” Uguamaye, a youth corps member who went viral on social media for her outspoken criticism of the economic situation in Lagos. Frustrated by the high cost of living and poor sanitation, she took to TikTok to vent her frustrations, going as far as calling President Tinubu a “terrible president.”
Predictably, the backlash was swift. Many accused her of violating NYSC bylaws, arguing that corps members are prohibited from making negative remarks about the government. However, what stood out to me was how many women joined in condemning her rather than defending her right to free speech. While some did support her, many others labelled her “entitled,” “disrespectful,” and “ignorant” — terms often weaponized against outspoken women. This raises yet another question: do women place unnecessarily high expectations on other women? Why was the focus on her perceived lifestyle rather than the validity of her grievances about the economy?
Let me be clear: I do not believe that women owe each other blind support, nor should gender alone dictate alliances. However, it is worth examining why women in positions of influence do not seem to extend the same level of strategic support to one another that men do. Men, despite their differences, often form alliances to protect one another’s interests. They mentor and promote younger men, ensuring a steady pipeline of male leadership. Women, on the other hand, are often perceived as unsupportive — even sabotaging one another, a stereotype that unfortunately holds some truth.
One possible explanation is that women in power feel the need to conform to the structures of a male-dominated environment. They may distance themselves from female colleagues to avoid being perceived as biased or weak. Former Senator Florence Ita-Giwa’s response to Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s allegations somewhat supports this notion. She stated: “By the time you contest elections and get to Senate, you have passed that stage of your life of being sexually harassed. You go there to serve, and you are all equal in that place. And again, it shows weakness; you don’t allow it. It (sexual harassment) cannot happen in the Senate. I am not saying the lady is lying, but when you get to the Senate, you’re there as a person. You’re not there as a woman. At that stage in politics, if you come out and say someone is sexually harassing you, it is a weakness.”
Another factor is the “scarcity mindset” — the belief that opportunities for women are so limited that they must compete rather than collaborate. In politics, business, and even social spaces, women may feel that supporting another woman could jeopardize their own hard-earned success. This mindset contributes to an environment where women, instead of uplifting one another, keep their distance to preserve their own positions.
But should this be the case? While organizations exist to champion women’s rights and opportunities, their impact across the board remains questionable. Imagine a Nigeria where women in politics, media, and business collectively support one another rather than maintain distance. Imagine if instead of remaining silent, female senators had rallied behind Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, at the very least to guide her on Senate protocols so she could present her case more effectively. Imagine if Raye’s video had sparked more conversations about the cost of living and youth struggles rather than being dismissed as an immature outburst.
The power of collective female voices cannot be understated, yet it remains largely untapped. Women supporting women should not be a cliché or an occasional campaign slogan — it should be a guiding principle in how women navigate careers, business, politics, and society. Support does not mean blind agreement. It does not mean endorsing wrongdoing or ignoring flaws. But it does mean recognizing shared struggles and standing together when it matters most.
This March will soon end, and discussions around women’s empowerment will inevitably fade until next year. But perhaps it’s time to reflect on what true solidarity looks like. Will Nigerian women continue to sit on the sidelines when one of their own is under fire, or will they begin to challenge the systems that keep them divided? Will they rally around and offer support to women in need, or will they keep minding their business, thriving alone or in small, disconnected groups? Only time will tell. As always, this is the way I see things today.