Some months ago, I attended a programme that featured a panel discussion on Nigerian youth and political participation. The panellists talked about various issues affecting youth and women in politics and the urgent need to drive nation-building. At the end of the panel discussion, there was a Q&A session, and two men – let’s call them Amadi and Segun – asked some very irritating questions. I can’t remember the exact phrasing, but their questions sounded something like this:

Political parties have provided an enabling platform for women by making nomination forms free for them. Yet women refuse to pick up these forms. What are the women doing? Instead of complaining about exclusion and marginalisation, they should utilise the opportunities provided by political parties and pick up these free forms.

I was dazed. On a normal day, I would have responded to their questions, but I chose not to for two reasons. First, I thought it wasn’t my place to respond, since the questions were directed at the panellists rather than at other members of the audience. And from the look of disdain on the faces of the panellists, I could tell that they would do justice by responding to the questions effectively (although, let’s be honest, the “questions” sounded more like spiteful remarks). Second, I didn’t respond because I was representing an organisation at the event, and I didn’t want to come off as confrontational.

Unfortunately, I had to leave before I got a chance to hear the panellists’ responses, which meant that I left feeling quite unsatisfied. As always, when I have something to rant about, I come to my blog. So, here I am, writing the response I ought to have given Amadi and Segun.

I think some context has to be given as the starting point for any discussion of this kind. Around the world, there is a wide gender gap in the political field. In the executive, only 31 countries have a female head of state and/or head of government. In the legislature, only 26.5% of parliamentarians in single or lower houses are women. In appointive positions, the global average share of women in ministerial positions is only 16.1%. In fact, according to the UN, with the current rate of progress, gender equality in the highest positions of power will not be reached for another 130 years.

The situation is no different in Nigeria. No woman has ever been elected president, vice president, or governor in the country. Since 1999, women’s representation in the National Assembly has consistently been under 8%. Overall, the national average of women’s political representation in both elective and appointive positions in Nigeria is estimated to be only 6.7%.

One might still insist – as Amadi and Segun did – that these statistics showing women’s poor political representation are due to women themselves not utilising the opportunities provided to them. But such arguments are incredibly myopic because they fail to take into account the numerous barriers facing women in politics.

As a patriarchal society, Nigeria explicitly and implicitly grooms women to be caretakers and nurturers of the home rather than leaders. Various cultural and religious norms condition women to subservient, and society frowns upon women who seek to be too ambitious by running for political office.

There is also the issue of violence against women in elections, a specific form of gender-based violence aimed at preventing women from exercising their right to vote and be voted for. Then, there is the issue of undemocratic practices within political parties, ranging from godfatherism to holding of political meetings late in the night, which marginalise women candidates.

Given these factors, to accuse women of failing to utilise opportunities simply because they did not pick up free nomination forms is to reduce the multitude of issues barring women’s participation in politics to one single issue. Would picking up a free nomination form protect a woman from electoral violence? Would it change the patriarchal norms that confine her to the kitchen, the living room, and “the other room”? Would it cover the cost of funding her entire campaign? I think not.

Now, let’s consider the fact that women are, in fact, doing something. Nkereuwem explains that reduced or cancelled nomination fees constitute a lower entry bar that expands the space for women aspirants. However, these women aspirants are not usually successful in primary elections due to various factors. For example, political parties only take women seriously when they demonstrate their financial capacity to support their campaigns, so taking free nomination forms does not help their cause. Furthermore, party officials often demand bribes during the pre-primary period to secure the support of prospective party delegates, thereby minimising the impact of free nomination forms for women.

So, contrary to what Amadi and Segun suggest, women are indeed picking up these free nomination forms, but it does not appear to be making much of a difference because of the numerous other barriers women face in the electoral process. This re-emphasises the point that reducing or waiving fees for nomination forms is an insufficient step in promoting women’s representation.

To address some of the other barriers facing women in politics, various women-led and women-focused organisations have sprung up. For example, the Nigerian Women Trust Fund conducts research, advocacy, and fundraising to drive women’s political participation. Women in Politics Forum seeks to strengthen the voices and capacity of female politicians, organisations, and individuals through advocacy, mentorship, and trainings. 100 Women Lobby Group engages in advocacy and devises strategies for increasing the number of women in elective positions in Nigeria.

So, in response to Amadi and Segun’s questions, here is what the women are doing: They are increasingly running for elections at both national and subnational levels, mentoring and training younger women interested in politics, conducting sensitisation campaigns to raise awareness on the benefits of women’s political participation, working to change gender stereotypes that prohibit women from holding leadership positions, conducting research to identify the nuanced problems affecting women in politics and devise better solutions to these problems, engaging with stakeholders to promote women’s representation in politics… The list goes on.

In the end, I think it only makes sense for people to be wary of dismissing the lived experiences of others. There is a level of first-hand knowledge and insight that a person gains only by living through and experiencing certain things. When a woman speaks about being marginalised from the political process, she is speaking about her lived experience as a woman in politics. Other groups may not fully understand what that feels like because they have not lived through it.

It came as no surprise to me that the two people asking “What are the women doing?” were men. Of course, you don’t know what women are doing, because you are not a woman. Even I, as a woman, cannot claim to be an expert on these issues because I am not a woman in politics. So, imagine the ridiculousness of a man – one who doesn’t know what it feels like to have to balance your political desire with the realities of living in a patriarchal society – looking from the outside and dismissing your claim of marginalisation from politics.

If I had a chance to say only one thing to Amadi and Segun, I would advise them to be more attuned to their ignorance and seek to understand the intricate dynamics regarding women and politics, both globally and in Nigeria, rather than dismissing the claims of women and pointing accusing fingers at them.

On a broader scale, I think we should all be cautious of dismissing the lived experiences of other people. As the saying goes, only the person who wears the shoe knows where it pinches. If we don’t even acknowledge the lived experiences of marginalised groups, then how can we ever hope to address the problems they face?

My perspective is different from that of Amadi and Segun because I have listened to women in politics speak, I recognise their claims as valid, and consequently I am more conscious of the issues they face. Instead of being dismissive about things we do not understand, we should seek to learn more by listening to people with first-hand knowledge and experiences of these issues. If we all pay more attention to the lived experiences of others, then we can better address the problems affecting not only women but also other marginalised groups in society.

---

Enjoyed this post? Hit the ‘Subscribe’ button below to get notified of new posts via email!

Email’s not your thing? I gatchu! Follow this blog on social media: @kikibyrukky.

• Facebook
• Instagram
• Twitter