One of the things I’ve noticed about Nigeria is how differently we talk about domestic violence and the protection of women. Domestic violence has become normalised in ways it shouldn’t be, particularly when it happens within marriage.
Growing up in the UK, it was unusual to hear a man beating his wife and not being held accountable for his actions. You might hear screaming through the walls or see a woman with a bruised face. But people acted and the authorities would get involved. Legislation like Clare’s Law are in place to help prevent people with a history of violence from continuing that cycle, or at the very least, the perpetrator is directed to where they can get the help they need.
In other words, accountability is present.
However, when I discuss domestic violence with friends from Nigeria it seems all too common to have a friend, sister or relative that has been subject to abuse. The conversation and response when a victim speaks out is often met with backlash and the topic becomes an open secret.
Somehow, the fact that two people are married has been used to make violence less serious. A husband beating his wife isn’t a “marital disagreement.”
It is violence.
And the marriage should never be more important than the person being harmed.
We have seen this play out again and again
Think about Osinachi Nwachukwu.
In the aftermath of her death, it emerged that she had suffered years of abuse from her husband and had reported it to her pastors. Her death forced people to confront uncomfortable questions about what those around her knew, what they could have done and why women in abusive marriages are so often encouraged to endure.
It also highlighted the failure of churches to properly safeguard the very women they encourage and, in many cases, actively push into marriage. When it comes to protecting women from abuse, too often the emphasis is placed on preserving the marriage and preventing divorce, rather than protecting the people within it.
We have seen the same uncomfortable pattern in other high-profile cases.
When Regina Daniels publicly accused Ned Nwoko of domestic violence during their marital crisis, Nwoko denied the allegation and made counter-allegations about her behaviour. Whatever the truth of those competing claims, the reaction quickly became a social-media spectacle: her age, his money & status, their marriage, drugs, polygamy, celebrity gossip.
People mocked her claims because she had openly enjoyed that wealth, as though financial privilege somehow makes violence more tolerable: or removes a woman’s right to say no to enduring it.
The woman at the centre of the story became entertainment.
And then there was the Bimbo Ogbonna and IVD case — another deeply troubled relationship that became a national spectacle after her death. IVD was ultimately acquitted of the charges relating to it however, one thing remains true:
Bimbo is dead.
No public debate, court proceeding or social media argument can give her life back.
These cases are different and the allegations and circumstances surrounding them should not be treated as identical. But the public reactions to them reveal something worth examining: how quickly conversations about alleged abuse can become conversations about the woman’s character, choices, wealth, marriage or reputation.
And why are we so comfortable discussing the drama surrounding a woman’s suffering, but so uncomfortable confronting the culture that allows women to suffer in the first place?
“Keep The Peace: Don’t Break Up The Home”
Perhaps one of the most damaging parts of the culture is what happens when a woman actually speaks up.
Women can face a second wave of hostility from the perpetrator’s associates: people who were not aware of what occurred behind closed doors, yet feel compelled to defend the person they know. Through patterns resembling DARVO, the roles can be reversed: the victim becomes the one whose character is smeared, while the perpetrator is portrayed as the victim.
Instead of objectively finding out what happened, the questions and statements often become:
Do you really want to destroy your marriage?
What did you do to keep the peace?
What will people say?
God hates divorce
What about the children?
These questions all seem to point to the same thing: keep the marriage together, whatever it takes.
One thing I am starting to see, particularly among Gen Z, is a growing refusal to tolerate injustice simply to keep up appearances and I think we should welcome that.
Because a marriage in which a woman is living in fear, being physically harmed or psychologically destroyed is not a successful marriage simply because it has not ended. Telling a woman to endure does not make one pro-family.
Sometimes, it makes us complicit in injustice.
This is a universal problem.
And this isn’t simply anecdotal. Nigeria’s 2024 Demographic and Health Survey found that among women who had experienced physical or sexual violence, 58% had never sought help or told anyone. Of the incidents that were recorded, 23% of women who had ever been married or had an intimate partner had experienced physical, sexual or emotional violence from a current or most recent partner.
Those numbers represent women who, for whatever combination of reasons, did not seek help or tell anyone. For some, that may involve fear, shame, financial dependence, social pressure or a belief that nothing will change.
I often think about the people who don’t have accommodating families or the financial means to leave dangerous situations? What then happens to those who become ostracised when leaving because thier social circles and religious communities comprise of those who shame divorcees?
It’s quite concerning knowing that people can remain in situations that could ultimately lead to their deaths because the cost of leaving feels greater than the cost of staying.
We need to change what we teach
We need to stop teaching that enduring abuse is part of being a good spouse.
We need to stop teaching boys that true masculinity means intimidation and control.
We need to stop calling physical violence “discipline”.
We need to stop telling victims to pray harder when what they need is protection.
We need churches and families to understand that reconciliation should never come before safety and accountability.
And we need to tell our sons something equally important:
Your spouse is not your property.
They are not someone you are entitled to hurt.
Submission is not forced through intimidation; a woman will naturally submit to someone because of the way leadership is displayed and the respect that person embodies.
Maybe the biggest cultural shift we need is to stop asking:
“Why did you stay?”
And start asking ourselves:
“Why did we keep telling them to?”
Because a person should not have to wait until they are dead or disabled for suffering to be taken seriously.
Domestic violence isn’t a family matter. It’s violence, full stop.
If You or Someone You Know Is Being Abused
If you are experiencing physical, emotional, sexual or financial abuse from a partner or spouse, or you are worried about someone who is, there are organisations that can help.
🇳🇬 Nigeria
- Lagos State Domestic and Sexual Violence Agency (DSVA)
0800 033 3333 — Support and referrals for survivors of domestic and sexual violence in Lagos State. - Women at Risk International Foundation (WARIF)
0800 921 0009 — Confidential support, including counselling, medical care, legal assistance and referrals.
warifng.org - FIDA Nigeria (International Federation of Women Lawyers)
0708 849 6115 | fidanigeria@yahoo.com — Legal support for women and children, with branches across Nigeria.
fida.org.ng
🇬🇧 UK
- Refuge – National Domestic Abuse Helpline
0808 2000 247 — Free, confidential support 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
refuge.org.uk - Women’s Aid
womensaid.org.uk — Information, support and a directory to help women find domestic abuse services and refuges in their local area. - Rights of Women
020 7251 8887 — Free legal advice for women in England and Wales, including advice relating to domestic abuse, coercive control and harassment.
rightsofwomen.org.uk
If you are in immediate danger, call 112 in Nigeria or 999 in the UK.
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