In a city like Lagos, surviving is expensive; a stable corporate job is the dream. For Boluwatife Adeleke,  her corporate job became a source of anxiety.  To her, happiness is as important as survival, so last year, she quit her salaried job to volunteer full-time. 

In this article, she talks about the realities of running an NGO in Nigeria, funding community work and why she believes choosing happiness is worth the risk.聽

Why Did You Decide to Start a Non-profit?

I started to teach nursery school kids when I was 14. In my first class, there was a girl named Olamide* who was popularly known as a dullard amongst the teachers. While children her age were in nursery school, she was still in kindergarten. I had earlier noticed that some children excelled in class but failed assessments, and vice versa. Olamide was neither; she needed extra hours and the kind of patience that the other teachers did not have. She could recite paragraphs by heart, but she found it hard to identify letters or put anything in writing. 

 I also had learning struggles growing up because I was a timid and anxious child who did not do well in large classes. I realised that the system is not built for children like Olamide and me. I wanted to create a space for us, and in 2024, I made that happen with

What Exactly Does Thriverise Do and How Does it Work?

In summary, Thriverise鈥檚 main goal is to promote quality education and economic growth at the grassroots level.  We do that by providing free access to basic education to underprivileged and out-of-school children. Then we also provide vocational and informal education to disadvantaged youths. 

How Did It Go From Volunteer Work to a Career Option?

Before last year, I鈥檇 always seen myself working in the marketing department of some big corporation. Marketing paid my bills, but I was constantly anxious, and I was miserable. I never really considered volunteering for a living because鈥� I mean, who would want to work for free?  That was until I realised I was happier doing unpaid work than paid work.

In the end, I discovered that my joy came from helping underprivileged children get access to education. I care deeply about the community that I serve as well as the children and the women I work with. I also care about seeing that the system works for them. What better way to serve them than to turn it into an actual career? So I started researching to see if it was something I could actually pursue full-time. Fortunately, it is.

How Did You Set Thriverse Up?

I wrote to a few of my mentors with similar interests and asked if they would be willing to form the board of trustees. They agreed and signed a contract. My official title is 鈥楨xecutive Director鈥�, and even though I鈥檓 the founder, I report to the board. Under me, there are positions for a communications lead, an operations lead and a project lead. Under the communications lead, we have positions for a social media manager and a community manager and under the project lead, we have two different project managers.  Then we have a director of education and volunteer teachers for the community centers.  Up until earlier this year, I was in charge of all these roles. I met a lot of people while volunteering, so I get volunteers by reaching out to qualified people in that network and posting on social media. 

Is This Your First Time Running an Organisation?

Not really. An NGO is like a business in a lot of ways, and I鈥檝e always been a business-oriented person. I also believe I have a good head for it. I started my first business venture at 13. I would save my allowance every month and then buy recharge cards to resell. The business failed because the adults around me kept using the cards without paying, so I gave up. A few months later, I found a family friend who was a mobile hair-cream vendor, and I became his assistant. We would leave home early in the morning and drive to whichever part of Lagos we wanted to tour that day. He had one of those cars with a speaker on it, but we did most of the sales on foot. At the end of each day, I would go home with about 鈧�3,000. 

What Did You Get Into After That?

I took a break to write WAEC, and immediately after, I got a teaching job. For 鈧�7k a month, I was the proprietress鈥檚 glorified housemaid. I taught at her school, bathed her kids, made snacks to sell, cleaned her house, ran errands at the market and the bank. 

Wow

Yes o. After working for a year, I took a secretarial position at a tutorial centre, and I worked without pay for two months before I quit to return to my teaching job. During COVID, I started a clothing and household items pre-order business, but debtors and shipping delays ruined the business. From there, I moved to affiliate marketing and then content writing before pivoting to ad and operations management. While doing this, I also volunteered for a lot of administrative roles at intervals. I was overworked for most of my late teens up until I was 21.

Self-help books that I read at the time convinced me that it was normal to work this way. I thought that my life would be ruined if I slept for more than five hours.  At the end of 2024,  I suffered burnout so severe that my body broke down. The best way to describe it is that I began to suffer from mental decline. At some point, I stopped sleeping. If you don鈥檛 know how to slow down, one day your body will force you to learn. 

Glad To See That You鈥檙e Out of There.  How Do You Get Funding For Your Non-Profit?

Right now, it鈥檚 about 60% self-funded. Our first project was a book drive where we donated books, writing materials and school uniforms to the government primary school in my area. I was still working full-time back then, so the funds came from my pocket. Late last year, we decided to set up a community learning centre. But I had already quit my job. So, I had to pour all my savings into the project to make it happen.

I don鈥檛 do public fundraising because I tried it once and I earned the tag of 鈥榖eggar鈥�. Someone even felt bold enough to ask if what I really want to do with my life is to beg for money. I have heard a lot of demeaning things in this line of work. Call it pride if you will, but I don鈥檛 want to be known as someone who begs for a living. The other 40% of funds come from grants and donations from people I reach out to.   Regardless of the challenges, we鈥檝e reached decent achievement. We鈥檝e gotten approval from the Ministry of Education, we鈥檙e an incorporated organisation, and we鈥檝e raised grants of about seven figures in Naira. 

How Do You Provide An Income For Yourself

Sometime last year, I quit my 9-5 to focus on the foundation. But since it isn鈥檛 established enough to pay salaries yet, I still have to work (the founder must eat, please). Right now, I鈥檓 a freelancer. I am currently working on a couple of campaign projects at the moment as an ads manager. But in the end, it is temporary. I would like to work with a non-profit different from mine and actually get paid for it. Probably as a project manager or as a communications manager. Maybe even as a communications manager at UNICEF.

My goal is to influence policies that concern education and youth development and to sit in rooms where these decisions are made. All the choices I make now are creating a path that will lead me to that table.

Do You Need Any Special Skills To Run a Non-profit?

The first thing you need is a healthy dose of stubbornness. If I want something, it would take a supernatural power to stop me from making it happen. The next thing you need is delusion because unpaid work can get very frustrating. Also, people don鈥檛 talk about volunteering often enough. I got into social impact by volunteering with a mentor, and it gave me the experience I needed to run my own non-profit.  Everything else you need is the same skill set you would need to run any start-up.

Would You Say a University Education is Necessary to Succeed in Your Career Path? 

Yes and no. I studied aquaculture and fisheries, but while I see myself owning a farm in the future, I can鈥檛 deny that my BSc has been rather useless to my career progression. As much as I鈥檓 an education activist, my NGO doesn鈥檛 only focus on formal education. We also work to better the earning opportunities of young people.  It鈥檚 important to understand that not every person needs to learn in the four walls of a classroom. The fact that a person did not go to school does not mean they don鈥檛 deserve decent employment. At the same time,  my university education exposed me to a lot of mentors, so I can鈥檛 really write it off.

How Did the People Around You React to Your New Career Choice?

No African parent will find it easy to accept that their child wants to do charity work for a living.

My family and I had a huge fight when I decided that I was going to start a non-profit and pursue it full-time. My sister told me I was wasting my life, and my mum asked me why I would want to spend the rest of my life training other people鈥檚 children. I know they were just very worried about me, because, well, this is Nigeria.

But it is important as a young woman to understand that sometimes, no one knows what鈥檚 best for you than yourself. 

They expected that I would move out of home after school, get an office job and prepare for my Masters. I have done all these things, just not in the way that they expected. I have a corporate job, but I do it for free, and I really am preparing to do my Masters. But I鈥檓 doing it in development practice instead of aquaculture. 

What Advice Would You Give Someone Looking to Get Into the Social Impact Sector?

Social impact is a field that doesn鈥檛 get a lot of exposure, but there are dozens of opportunities in it that pay well. You don鈥檛 have to start your own foundation to work in social impact. There are established non-profits that can afford to pay you to do good work. I鈥檝e applied for a few roles, but I haven鈥檛 been able to take any because they all require my physical presence.  I can鈥檛 step away from my foundation at the moment. From what I鈥檝e seen, the salary offers aren鈥檛 bad at all. 

On the other hand, if you do not have a source of income, I honestly do not advise starting a non-profit. But if you really want to, you must be very passionate about what you are advocating for. You will not get paid in the early stages. The founder title is ceremonial because the organisation doesn’t belong to you; it belongs to the public. Strangers will hold you accountable, and you will spend your own money like 80% of the time. But (to me, anyway) it is extremely rewarding in so many other ways. Few things compare to watching a child who once struggled to catch up to their peers thrive, knowing you helped make that possible.

Next Read: 鈥淪leep Has Become a Privilege鈥� 鈥� Nigerian Women on Balancing Menopause With a Career

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way. 

Kemi* is a 30-year-old tech sis and real estate investor split between the UK and Nigeria. She talks about meeting the woman she thought was her person, building something real across countries, and the moment a hack exposed a double life she never saw coming. This is What She Said!

Can you tell us about yourself?

My name is Kemi, and I’m 30. I work in tech, I have a remote role in the UK, and I take contract and consulting gigs in Nigeria as well. I also run real estate in Nigeria, so I’m constantly in and out. Lagos, Abuja, London, sometimes elsewhere. It’s a life I’ve built deliberately, and I love it. My family are mostly in the UK. I’m close to them, and they know I am a proud lesbian. In Nigeria, I’m more careful, but I’m not hiding. I also just ended a 2-year relationship.

What does being careful in Nigeria look like for you?

It means I don’t make public announcements. Like, if I don’t tell you myself, you will never know. The people in my life know me. I’ve never been someone who lives in shame about who I am; I just pick my spaces carefully. Nigeria requires a different kind of navigation, and I’ve learned how to do that without losing myself in the process. Also, the queers back home are constantly creating safe spaces for all of us to feel welcomed, loved and accepted for who we are.

Alright. Can you tell me about how you met your ex?

Sure. I was in the UK, give or take two years ago. I was out just having a good time, and this woman walked up to me. Just approached me with this confidence that I immediately respected. We started talking, and about twenty minutes in, I caught the Nigerian accent in her voice, and I asked where she was from.

We both just lit up immediately, you know how it is when you find your people somewhere unexpected. Turns out she was on vacation. We spent the rest of that evening talking, and something just clicked.

What happened after that?

She went back from her vacation, and I eventually got back to Nigeria, maybe a month after that interaction. I called her. That’s how it started, just a phone call that turned into something neither of us was fully planning for.

What was she like?

She’s 28, but then she was about 26, I believe. She鈥檚 very creative, and she鈥檚 into photography, videography, and DJing. Very talented, very magnetic. She makes any room feel more alive just by being in it. She’s pansexual, which I knew from early on, and that was never an issue for me. I’m polyamorous by nature, though I鈥檝e never been the type who needs or prefers multiple relationships. I am often very content and happy with just one partner, but I am just aware that I am able to love and be with multiple people at the same time. So, I’d been very happily monogamous in this relationship. She was enough.

What was the energy like between you two in those early days?

Electric. It started electric and became warm, and that warmth is what made it feel real. We were building something, not just a relationship but a whole intercountry life. She’d come to me, I’d go to her, we had our rhythm. It felt genuinely good.

How did you both contribute to the relationship?

We were both present and invested. I have more financial resources than she does; that’s just the reality. I work in tech and real estate, and I’ve built well for myself. I am also considered a 鈥渘epo baby鈥�. I am aware of my privilege. She earns from her creative work, and it’s good money for what it is, but it’s not the same level. I spent millions on her over the course of our relationship, and I did it because I wanted to. Because she was my person, and that’s what you do for your person.

I did notice things, though. She was consistently able to afford certain trips, certain things that I couldn’t fully account for on a photographer and DJ’s income. I’d wonder sometimes. But she didn’t like discussing money, and she showed up in other ways, so I let it go. I told myself I was being ungenerous, that maybe I just didn’t fully understand her finances.

What She Said: My Husband Wants a Child. I Don鈥檛

When did things start to shift?

About a year in, I started getting calls and texts. Things were being sent to me that were clearly meant to alert me to something. A lot of it was this person implying that my partner was cheating, but not in so many words. I noticed. I wasn’t blind, but I also didn’t have the full picture yet, and I loved her, so I kept moving. Which I now understand was me not wanting to see what was right in front of me.

What eventually brought everything into the open?

She was hacked this year. Her social media, her contacts, everything. And whoever hacked her used that access to send out her nudes and photos of her in compromising positions with various men, to her entire contact list. And posted publicly on her socials. I was among the people who received them.

Whoa. That is a lot. What was that moment like?

I can’t fully describe it. It was like the ground just disappeared. You’re looking at images of someone you love, someone you’ve built with, someone you trusted completely, and you’re seeing a version of them that was apparently always there and you just never knew.

And the thing that hit me hardest wasn’t even the betrayal in isolation. It was the volume of it. It wasn’t one person, one mistake, one moment of weakness. It was a whole parallel life. A string of men who had been consistently financing her trips, things, and lifestyle, and she had been paying them back in kind. This had been happening the entire time.

Did you know any of them?

That’s the part that still makes me feel sick when I think about it. One of her close friends, someone I had gotten close to myself over the course of our relationship, someone I considered part of my circle, was one of them. I had welcomed this person. Sat across from this person and had genuine conversations. And the whole time鈥�

How do you even begin to process that?

I haven’t fully processed it, if I’m honest. The intimacy of that betrayal is different. It’s one thing for there to be strangers. It’s another thing entirely for it to be someone you yourself had let in. That requires a kind of audacity that I’m still wrapping my head around.

I鈥檓 so sorry. You mentioned you’re polyamorous. How does that sit with everything you found out?

This is the part I keep coming back to. I am polyamorous. I had been genuinely, happily monogamous in this relationship because she was against anything open or poly. She made that very clear early on; she wanted monogamy, and I respected that because I wanted her.

But here’s what I now know. She wasn’t living monogamously. She was living a version of the life I would have been completely open to, multiple partners, different connections, except she was doing it secretly, funded by men, while telling me she needed exclusivity. She knew I was poly. She knew I would have been open to a conversation. She chose deception anyway.

I would have said yes. If she had just been honest, I would have said yes. That is the thing I cannot get past. Not having other people. It鈥檚 her choosing to lie about it when she didn’t have to.

What did you do when you found out?

I ended it.

How did she respond?

She’s not really letting it be over. She keeps reaching out, keeps trying to find a way back in. Which I understand on a human level, two years is two years, and feelings don’t just stop. But I also know what I know now, and I can’t unknow it.

And on top of that, get this. The bitch is pregnant. She doesn’t know who the father is. And she wants me to stay. She’s asking me to make it work. I have been laughing since I found out, again through social media. What does she want me to say? 

How are you sitting with that?

I genuinely don’t have words for what it is to be asked that. To be asked to stay by someone who maintained a whole secret life, whose nudes were sent to your phone, who let a man you considered a friend be part of her deception, who is now carrying a pregnancy she cannot even attribute. And to be asked to make it work.

I loved her. I really did. I’m not going to pretend that’s disappeared overnight because it hasn’t. But love is not the only thing that matters. What you do with someone’s love matters too. What she did with mine is something I have to sit with every day right now.

If you鈥檇 like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid,  

Looking back, were there signs?

That’s one of the most disorienting parts of a betrayal like this. You start reviewing everything. Every comment she made that you laughed off, every time money appeared from nowhere, every moment where something felt slightly off, but you chose to believe in her instead. And you realise you weren’t oblivious because you were stupid. You were oblivious because you were in love, and you were happy, and you trusted her. And she knew that, and she used it.

The male-centredness of it is what gets me the most on reflection. Because looking back, there were signs. Things she said, ways she operated around men, certain dynamics I clocked but didn’t sit with long enough. She was very comfortable with a particular kind of male attention, and I understand now what that was funding. I just couldn’t see it because I was too busy genuinely enjoying what we had.

What do you want other women to take from this?

Trust yourself. That’s the only thing I know for certain right now. When something doesn’t add up, when your body is telling you to look closer, when the little things are quietly accumulating, trust that. Not in a paranoid way. Just in a self-respecting way.

I was happy. Genuinely happy. And I don’t regret that happiness because it was real for me, even if it wasn’t fully real for her. But I also wish I had given more weight to the things that didn’t sit right. I wish I had asked the questions I was afraid to ask.

You can love someone and still demand the truth from them. Those things are not in conflict. I just forgot that for a while.

The  is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

Unfortunately, women-focused contraceptives only enjoy the same luxury when it comes to short-acting modern options like post-pill and birth-control pills, which range from 鈧�1500 to 鈧�3,000.

With these numbers, it鈥檚 easy to assume everyone is having safe sex. But in reality, of the estimated women who make up Nigeria鈥檚 female population, only use modern contraceptives. 

For some women, the problem is access. But even with access, many women still refuse contraceptives. In this article, four women share their experiences with contraceptives and why they choose not to use them. We also had a chat with Dr Zeenaht Abdullahi (an obestrician\gyneacologist), who shared insight into each woman鈥檚 experience.

鈥淢y Doctor Says I鈥檓 Too Overweight for the Morning After Pill鈥� 鈥� Derin*20

I had sex for the first time a month ago, and I鈥檝e had sex two more times after that. I didn鈥檛 use contraceptives both times, and moving forward, I don鈥檛 think I will. 

I have PCOS, and I have to take really strong painkillers for my periods to avoid getting hospitalised. This also means that my hormones are all over the place. Adding birth control pills to the mix will mess with a system that is already unbalanced. 

I was anxious about getting pregnant,  so I spoke to my doctor, and he confirmed my fears. According to him, the only form of contraceptives I can use is emergency ones. Specifically, Postinor or Plan B, but the problem is that since I weigh over 80kg, there鈥檚 a high probability that the pills won鈥檛 work for me. 

I鈥檓 not too worried about pregnancy, though, because my chances of getting pregnant are very slim. Except, of course, God wants to punish me. 

Doctor鈥檚 note:  PCOS with menstrual cycle abnormalities, such as very painful periods, can actually be managed with COCP, aka the daily pill. You should look into killing 2 birds with 1 stone (using the pill for contraception and to help manage your condition). PCOS does not automatically cause or translate to infertility.

Also, the morning-after pill (AKA Postpill, Postinor, Plan B, etc.) does not automatically cause or translate to infertility.  It was not designed to be the major method of contraception in sexually active women. It works by delaying or preventing ovulation and can be taken at any point during the cycle. For maximum efficacy, it should be taken before the third to fifth days following unprotected intercourse. IT (typically) DOES NOT NEED TO BE TAKEN MORE THAN ONCE PER CYCLE. This is a common mistake most women make, which then causes adverse side effects and symptoms such as heavy bleeding, irregular periods, etc. It also cannot be used to terminate an ongoing pregnancy and  is not a substitute for medication used in the medical termination of pregnancy 

鈥淚鈥檓 Convinced I鈥檓 Infertile鈥� 鈥� Agnes* 21

 I鈥檝e had about ten or more male sexual partners since my first time (I don鈥檛 really keep count). My first partner used to insist on condoms because we were 15-year-olds who were terrified of pregnancy. The second one hated condoms but insisted on morning-after pills. He got them for me because his father is a pharmacist. After him, I stopped using contraceptives because most times, I have sex impulsively without thinking of the consequences. Half the time, the sex is so spontaneous that there are no condoms nearby. The few times condoms are available, I ask my partners not to use them because they make me very dry. 

At some point, I started using post-pill again. Then I started having side effects like heavy periods and really bad acne,  so I stopped. I don鈥檛 think about contraceptives much because I can鈥檛 fathom being pregnant. My periods have always been irregular, so pregnancy scares are a dime a dozen. Fortunately, the panic never lasts because as soon as I begin to worry that I鈥檓 pregnant, I duck into the nearest bathroom to take a test. To be honest, I have more pregnancy tests than lip gloss in my bag. 

Also, I don鈥檛 bother with contraceptives because we have a history of endometriosis in my family, and I already have some of the symptoms. I haven鈥檛 gone to the hospital to confirm because I can鈥檛 afford it, but with the number of times a man has finished inside me, I鈥檓 either infertile or a scientific miracle. Either way, a win is a win. 

Doctor鈥檚 note:  Try substituting the multiple pregnancy tests for water-based lubricants so you can enjoy safe sex without getting dry. An endometriosis diagnosis can take over a year to be made, and if you have already started showing symptoms but aren’t ready for children yet, an IUD is probably the best contraceptive option for you. It prevents pregnancy but has also been proven to relieve some symptoms of endometriosis.

鈥淭he Hospital Refused to Give me Contraceptives鈥� 鈥� Joy* 23

I started having sex three years ago with my boyfriend at the time, and when we broke up, I converted him to a friend with benefits. While we were dating, we had sex once every two months.  Since we broke up, we see each other once every four to six months. 

Before we started having sex, he asked if I would be willing to try contraceptives, and I said yes. But they really scare me. My mum got the implant when I was younger, and she bled for a whole year. Sometimes, she bled so heavily that it soaked through her car seat. My health is a little fragile, and I didn鈥檛 want to mess up my hormones like that. I was even too scared to use over-the-counter pills from a pharmacy. I decided to go to the hospital, but they gave me vitamin C when I asked for contraceptives. 

Since I already knew how to track my cycle, I just decided to use it as a form of contraception. I鈥檝e been tracking it for ten years, and it is freakishly accurate. It is always a 28-day cycle, and it lasts for exactly five days. I always know the exact day I鈥檒l start my period. The only thing that varies is what time of the day it鈥檒l come. 

My partner and I  never have sex when I鈥檓 ovulating, and he always withdraws. I鈥檝e never had a pregnancy scare since we started having sex. But I also know that sometimes, pregnancy is the least of your worries as a woman. I ask him to do a full STI checkup every four months.  Even though we鈥檝e not had sex in six months, he still sent me his test results two weeks ago. 

Doctor鈥檚 note: Kudos to you on your cycle tracking and regular STI screening for yourself and your partner. I am so sorry for your experience with trying to procure contraceptives. Side note to all health workers reading this, sexual and reproductive health are basic human rights and MUST NEVER be denied.

鈥淭he Side Effects Aren鈥檛 worth it鈥� 鈥� Aishat* 21

My partner was my first and is currently my only sexual partner. We met about two years ago, and we started having sex soon after. At first, it didn鈥檛 really occur to us to use contraceptives during sex, but after my first pregnancy scare, I became conscious of the fact that what we were doing could really have consequences. 

I tried post-pill once, but became too scared to try it again when I learned that it destroyed my friend鈥檚 cycle. She was getting her period three times a month, bleeding heavily and battling intense cramps. Condoms also didn鈥檛 work for us because after having skin-to-skin contact for so long. Sex with a condom feels unpleasant. 

The first time I had a pregnancy scare, I called my boyfriend to tell him. He first hung up and went to cry before calling back to ask what we were going to do about it.  He has tried to get me to use contraceptives, but to me, pregnancy prevention is not worth all the side effects that I read about on the birth control pamphlet. 

We鈥檙e always very careful, and the withdrawal method has been working well. But we have pregnancy scares every Eke market day. In fact, I get them so often that I don鈥檛 even panic anymore. I鈥檓 the one who now has to reassure him every time my period is late. 

Doctor鈥檚 note: All medications have side effects, but it varies from individual to individual. If you aren鈥檛 comfortable using the pill or any form of hormonal contraceptive, and you have a regular menstrual cycle, then she can use cycle tracking to avoid intercourse during your fertile periods. Then you can avoid pregnancy scares.

Next Read: 鈥淢y Boyfriend Asked If It Was His鈥� 鈥� Nigerian Female Students on Pregnancy Scares

In Nigeria, where access to information and the right care can feel like walking through fire, two women somehow found their way through it. 

Debbie (33)

Debbie was eleven when her back started hurting.

When she informed her parents about this persistent pain, they came to a conclusion that made the most sense at the time. They looked at her school bag, decided it was probably too heavy for her back to handle, and tried their best to massage the pain away every night for about two months. The night massages seemed to ease the pain until the day a bulge appeared and completely flipped the script.

Her parents realised that this was more serious than they鈥檇 thought, and immediately took her to the Teaching Hospital in her state. At first, they went to the paediatric unit, where the doctors ran tests, suspected tuberculosis and placed her on medications that made things worse. Eventually, they referred her to the orthopaedic unit, where a surgical consultant took one look at her spine and broke the news to them.

It was scoliosis, and the surgery could not be done in Nigeria. They told her that if anyone dared to operate on her locally, she would most likely be paralysed. But unfortunately, her parents couldn鈥檛 afford to take her abroad for treatment.

Debbie was a child, sitting in that office. She could not fully understand the conversation, but watching her mother weep profusely was enough.

For a long time after, she prayed and held onto hope the way you hold onto something when there is really nothing else to hold, while her parents, like most Nigerians, kept speaking life into her. People stared at her, and those who were bold enough asked questions while others offered prayers. Her family and close friends never once treated her like she was broken, and that made all the difference.

Since nothing could be done at the time, she and her parents left it to God, and she just kept living. For 21 years, she lived with the scoliosis completely unmanaged, with no treatment to stop her curve from deteriorating with every passing year.

Bennie (27)

Bennie鈥檚 diagnosis arrived when somebody else noticed something first.

Someone from her school noticed something off about the way she walked and, out of concern, mentioned it to her mother, who took her to the National Orthopaedic Hospital in Igbobi, Lagos, during the school holidays. She was thirteen, and the doctors, after attending to her, read her diagnosis: . 鈥淚diopathic鈥� means that it has no known cause. The scoliosis had simply arrived, without any grand entrance, and found a home in her spine.

She burst into tears right there in the hospital. She genuinely thought her life was over, and throughout that day, she kept asking her parents if they had noticed anything weird from birth, as though an earlier warning would have changed something. They said no. What held her together in that moment was her mother. She did not cry, not in front of her. Instead, her mother told her firmly that the diagnosis would never stop her life. 

Those were the words she鈥檇 needed to hear, and Bennie carried them long after that day.

Surgery was immediately recommended to her parents, and although plans were put in place for it, every one of them fell through, until the family just stopped talking about it altogether. 

鈥淟ooking back, I truly believe that was God鈥檚 hand at work,鈥� Bennie says. The path that fell through would have taken her under the knife. The path she eventually found was far gentler.

The years in between

The years passed for both women. They went to school, built lives and moved through the world with a condition that the people around them did not always know how to respond to. 

For Bennie, scoliosis never shook her sense of self, but it quietly rearranged aspects of her life. After her diagnosis, her mother called the school principal and had her removed from the dance group and stripped of her prefect position. House chores were banned. Anything that might strain her spine was taken away. 

She understood that her mother鈥檚 actions came from a place of love, yet she still felt the loss. As an adult, scoliosis followed her into her relationships with partners whose concerns always selfishly circled back to childbearing. 

She recalls a partner once asking her, 鈥淗ow will you carry a child?鈥�

Working remotely meant that on the days the pain crept in, she could simply rest or reach for a muscle rub without it derailing her entire day. She had made up her mind early on that scoliosis would not stop her from achieving what she needed to achieve. And it did not. 

With no treatment to fund, scoliosis never became a financial burden for Debbie. She learned over the years to avoid long walks and standing for too long, and pushed through the harder stretches like university and NYSC on sheer will and faith.

The experience was more visible and harder to navigate in public, with the boldness of strangers who asked without hesitation or sensitivity, and the prayers from well-wishers who looked at her body as something to be fixed. She received it all with grace and kept going.

When things took a turn

In 2018, Debbie contacted a surgeon, but he went incommunicado after the initial consultations, and she adjusted. Later in the year, she found a community called and shared her story with them. When they welcomed her with open arms, she felt like she was not alone in this. Her parents remain supportive, but connecting with other scoliosis warriors felt different.

By 2024, when the community hosted a webinar featuring a scoliosis surgeon named Dr Mutaleeb Shobode, her condition had already begun to take a serious toll on her. Her breathing was getting worse, she could not stand for long, and the pain had become something she could no longer push through. Her curve had reached 154 degrees, while surgery is typically recommended at 40. 

She had been living, breathing and praying with a spine that had curved so deep over twenty-one years of no treatment. She would still be living like that if she hadn鈥檛 listened to Dr Shobode talk about .

(Debbie’s back pre-surgery)

鈥淗e spoke about it as if it were a simple procedure. I could feel his competence from where I was seated,鈥� Debbie says.

The way Dr Shobode talked about spinal fusion stayed with her. She knew, right there and then, that she had to take control of her life. She booked an appointment with him and flew from Port Harcourt to Lagos without telling anyone. 

By the time she left her consultation with the surgeon, the fear she had walked in with had transformed into full-blown confidence. She only called her family after she had made her decision.

2024 was Bennie鈥檚 turning point, too, but her path to treatment started differently. 

In May, the fatigue became difficult to ignore, the spinal pain was worse than before, and her breathing grew difficult in a way that concerned her. She visited platforms like YouTube, Instagram and Google, and desperately dug through everything she could find. The algorithm, she will tell you, was very helpful, leading her to a woman called who runs a platform called , teaching exercises and speaking openly about physiotherapy as a treatment path for scoliosis. 

Bennie went down a rabbit hole, going through every post and video, and from that moment on, she knew physiotherapy was the treatment destined for her, though not without some scepticism at first. Trusting content she had found on the internet over medical professionals was not something she took lightly, but the more she researched and the more results she saw, the harder it became to dismiss.

Surgery had never felt like a safe or appealing option. She had come across stories of people who went under the knife only for their curve to regress, and others who still lived with chronic pain long after the procedure. She also had a life she was not willing to put on hold. She loved dancing, going out, living freely, and physiotherapy was the only path that allowed her to keep all of that intact.

鈥淲hat I noticed,鈥� she observes, 鈥渨as that no African, Nigerians especially, ever recommends physiotherapy for scoliosis. They focus on surgery, but foreigners have so much information about physiotherapy. I started wishing I wasn鈥檛 in Nigeria.鈥�

Armed with enough information about physiotherapy and fully convinced that it was the right path for her, she walked into the hospital knowing what she wanted, discussed her curve angle of 45 degrees with a doctor, and started physiotherapy treatment shortly after.

(Bennie’s back pre-therapy)

The inclusive road to healing

While Bennie was just beginning her treatment journey, Debbie was preparing for something far more intense. Her surgery was not one procedure. It was three. Because her curve was so severe, her ribs had grown crowded and scattered over the years, in ways they were never meant to, and the procedures did not come cheap. The bill ran into double-digit millions, a sum that was covered miraculously through the support of friends.

The first procedure was an anterior release. Surgeons cut away some of her ribs to create space and give her spine room to stretch. She recovered well enough from that stage of the surgery that her doctor brought her back to the theatre the very next day. 

Then came the halo pelvic traction, a device attached to her skull and pelvis that was gradually stretched every single day to pull her spine incrementally straighter. The halo pelvic traction was not supposed to be torturous, but after two weeks, the rods began to bend, straining her neck and causing her waist such pain that at some point she could not sit down for anything. Standing became her only option for all activities, like eating and going to the restroom.聽

She wore it for six weeks and two days. In that time, her curve went from 154 to 66 degrees.

(Debbie in a halo pelvic traction)

Then came the spinal fusion.

鈥淭he next word after spinal fusion is P-A-I-N,鈥� she says. 鈥淢y body was tired. I had already been through two procedures, and they were draining enough.鈥�

After her spinal fusion surgery, she was placed on pain medications like morphine, pethidine and muscle relaxants, and had to learn to walk again. Her left hand locked up entirely and needed physiotherapy to regain movement, a process that is still ongoing. 

She had to relearn bending, bathing, sitting down, putting on trousers, picking items up from cupboards and drawers, getting into a car, putting on shoes, and even reaching for the TV remote when it dropped. All the things nobody thinks about until a spine stops doing that work. 

She has since learned to squat, which has made things considerably easier. Insomnia came with it, too. For months, she could only lie on her back because turning to her side was impossible.

Despite all of these, she is here, alive. Her breathing has improved, she stands a little taller, and she is moving at her own pace, toward the life she flew to Lagos alone to fight for.

(Debbie’s back post-surgery)

Bennie is nearly two years into physiotherapy and still going once a week now, down from twice a week. Her curve has reduced, her posture has shifted in ways that make her friends stop and stare when they see her back, completely shocked at what has been achieved. 

The pain, fatigue, and breathing difficulties she once had have all significantly eased. She still dances, still goes out to live her life, and when her spine requests rest, she listens. Living fully on her own terms was the whole reason she chose physiotherapy in the first place.

(Bennie in the middle of a session)

There is something she has not let go of, though. On her very first physiotherapy visit, her physiotherapist looked at her X-ray and caught something the doctor who reviewed it had missed. Her lungs and spine were competing for space, a detail that completely changes everything about how you treat someone, sitting there unacknowledged until the right person looks. 

Addressing it meant a combination of exercises with weights, a stability ball, manual therapy, spinal manipulation and a (TENS) machine. The sessions were never linear, but over time her body began to respond.

(An X-Ray of Bennie’s spine)

鈥淚f I didn鈥檛 have someone as good as my physiotherapist, I wouldn鈥檛 have known,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t was really bad negligence on the doctor鈥檚 part.鈥�

She says it because she wants other people to know that you can fall through the gaps of a system that is still painfully behind, and you are allowed to keep looking until you find someone who actually sees the full picture.

Two women, two cases of scoliosis, and two completely different paths to treatment. 

What they share is the particular experience of growing up with scoliosis in Nigeria, where the conversation has long strayed to surgery as the only option and where the internet sometimes holds more answers than healthcare professionals. Sometimes, all it takes is a webinar, an Instagram page, or a woman on the internet doing her exercises and talking openly about her curved spine to change the entire direction of your life.

Debbie, nearly a year out from her spinal fusion surgery and still in recovery, has seen her curve reduce from 154 degrees to 23. She puts it this way, 鈥淩ecovery takes time. Give yourself grace. Not everybody鈥檚 journey is the same. Some people recover faster, and that is okay. Do things at your own pace, even when others expect more from you.鈥�

Bennie, still in physiotherapy and showing up every week, says, 鈥淒on鈥檛 fixate on your curve. The number of degrees on a scan is not the most important thing. What matters is your quality of life. The real goal is to wake up every day able to move freely, live without pain, and function without limitations. That is absolutely achievable.鈥�

Bennie hasn鈥檛 checked her current curve degree, but she believes she has seen significant improvement.

罢丑别听聽is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way. 

Adaeze* is a 36-year-old Chief Product Officer based in London who also runs a business in Lagos. She talks about knowing since she was a teenager that she never wanted children, building a life and a marriage around that truth, and losing the person closest to her because a doctor decided a woman’s body was her husband’s business.

Can you tell me about yourself?

I’m Nigerian, born and raised, though I’ve lived in the UK for about ten years now. I did my master’s here, stayed for work, and honestly never left. I’m a Chief Product Officer at a tech company in London. I also run a business back in Lagos because Nigeria never really leaves you, no matter how long you’ve been away. The business also made more sense back home than here.

In terms of who I am as a person, I’ve always been focused and driven. I knew early what I wanted from life, and I went after it doggedly. I’m not someone who does things by accident.

I turned 36 this year, and I am married. We鈥檙e mostly happy. I don鈥檛 feel like I can really complain. I have been lucky in life.

That鈥檚 nice. How long have you been with your husband?

We’ve been married for five years. We met when I was 26, so we dated for five years before that. He’s a good man. A really good man, actually.

Tell me about your upbringing. What was your family like?

I’m an only child, which has shaped a lot of things about me. My parents were present, hardworking, and all of that. But because I had no siblings, my cousin was essentially my sister. We grew up together, spent every holiday together, and called each other about everything. She was my person. My first call for anything, good news, bad news, random Tuesday energy. She鈥檚 only 2 years older, and we were inseparable.

What was growing up as an only child in Nigeria like?

Oh, there were constant expectations around marriage and children. You know how it is. Nigerian families don’t really ask if you want something; they just assume and begin planning. Marriage was always a given. Children were always a given. Nobody sat me down and said, “What do you want your life to look like?” They just assumed they already knew.

But I was always watching. Even as a young girl, I was very observant. And what I observed growing up didn’t quite match the picture everyone was trying to sell me.

What do you mean?

I mean, I was watching the women around me. Aunties, family friends, neighbours, women in church. And I could see something happening to them that nobody was naming. This slow erosion. Who they were before motherhood, their personalities, their ambitions, their energy, just quietly disappearing. Not all of them. But enough of them that I noticed. They became a shell of who they were. A mother and a wife. Almost nothing else. 

And then there was something else I was watching. The children were carrying their parents’ unresolved pain around like it was their own. Trauma passed down like an inheritance nobody signed up for. I saw that too, and it sat with me.

How old were you when you started putting this together in your head?

Honestly, early. Fourteen, fifteen maybe. I know people hear that and they say oh you were just a child, you didn’t know. But I knew. Some things you just know about yourself, and this was one of them. I did not want to be a mother. Not because I didn’t love children, I genuinely do, but because I could see clearly what it would cost me, and I didn’t want to pay that price.

You say you love children, but you don’t want them. A lot of people struggle to hold those two things at the same time.

People find it very convenient to use that against me, actually. I volunteer at orphanages, I donate to schools, and I show up for the children in my life. And people look at that and say, “But you’re so good with them, you’d make such a great mother.” As if the only valid way to love children is to produce one of your own. I find that exhausting.

You can love something without wanting it for yourself. I love the ocean. I don’t want to live in it.

So you carried this knowing into adulthood, into relationships. When did it first come up seriously with someone you were dating?

Always immediately. I was never going to hide something that fundamental. In my early twenties, I was in a few relationships where I said it early, and the men either disappeared or tried to convince me I’d change my mind. One guy literally said, “You just haven’t met the right person yet.” I was done with him after that.

But when I met my husband at 26, something was different. He was different. And I still told him, within the first few real conversations we had, I don’t want children, I have never wanted children, and this is not something I’m going to change my mind about. You need to know this now before either of us gets any deeper.

What did he say?

He said it didn’t matter. That I was what he wanted. And I believed him completely because he meant it. I genuinely think he meant every word of it in that moment because of how he treated me in the following years. He also never brought it up or tried to convince or hijack me with it.

What was it like building a relationship with someone who accepted that part of you so fully?

It was everything, honestly. Because it wasn’t just about the children question. It was about being known. He saw me, all of me, and he wasn’t trying to edit any of it. No one had ever loved me quite the way he did. So patiently, so completely, so specifically. He knows me in a rare way, and I don’t take that lightly.

We dated for five years and then got married when I was 31. And the first two years of marriage were just genuinely good, like bliss.

What changed after two years?

He came to me and said he’d been thinking, and he thought he did want children after all.

I want to be fair to him here because this is a public conversation and he’s a good person who deserves that fairness. People change. Life shows you things you didn’t know about yourself. He was watching his friends become fathers, his siblings, people all around him. Something had shifted in him, and he was being honest with me about it. I respected the honesty.

But I was also very clear with him. I said, 鈥淚 have never lied to you. I told you from the very beginning exactly where I stood, and I told you that would not change. It hasn’t changed. Not even slightly. I have a full life. The lack of children doesn鈥檛 make me feel like anything is missing in my life.鈥�

How did he take that?

He heard me. He wasn’t aggressive about it or manipulative. But I could see the sadness in him, and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. It became this thing that lived underneath everything. We weren’t fighting; people always imagine it must have been this explosive conflict, but it wasn’t. It was quieter and in some ways harder than a fight. Just the same conversation on a loop with no resolution. His pain on one side, my frustration on the other.

What were you frustrated about specifically?

That I had been so clear. From day one. I gave him every opportunity to walk away before either of us was in too deep, and he chose to stay, and now here we were. I wasn’t angry at him for having feelings, but I was frustrated by the situation. Because I hadn’t moved. I was exactly where I said I would always be.

And he was frustrated too, not at me exactly but at himself, at the situation. Because he knew it was unfair to ask me to change. He knew that. But he also couldn’t help what he was feeling. We were both just trapped in this very honest, very painful loop.

While all of this was happening in my marriage, something happened with my cousin.

What She Said: My Husband Bankrupted My Businesses Until My Friends Helped Me Build One He Couldn鈥檛 Find

What happened?

She got married a few years before me to a man whom her family approved of. They seemed happy. She had her first child a bit earlier than she wanted, but she loved her baby. Still, she intended to keep the minimum 4-year gap she always wanted between kids. So she went to the doctor and asked about birth control.

What happened at the doctor’s?

The first thing they asked her was, “Does Oga know?” Meaning her husband. That was the first response to a grown married woman asking her doctor about her own reproductive health. Not, 鈥榳hat are your options鈥�, not, 鈥榟ere’s what we recommend鈥�, not, 鈥榣et’s talk about what works best for your body鈥�. But 鈥淒oes your husband know you’re here?鈥�

They told her to wait. Have a second child first, and then come back.

Did she have the second child?

Yes, she did and only 2 years after. Still, she tried to go back but she got pregnant again before she could get there, just months after the second child. So now she had three pregnancies back to back.

That’s an enormous amount of strain on a body.

It is. And after the third child, she went in immediately and asked for the implant. She wasn’t waiting this time.

What happened?

They told her husband.

He was completely against it. He blocked it entirely. Wouldn’t hear of it. And he also refused to use condoms. So she had no protection and a husband who wanted more children and doctors who had already shown her whose side they were on.

What did she do?

She stopped having sex with him for over a year. Just trying to hold the line around her own body because nobody else was holding it for her.

That must have been incredibly isolating.

I can only imagine because she didn’t tell me what was happening. Not the full picture. I knew bits and pieces but not the whole truth, and that is something I will carry for a very long time.

She could feel him pulling away from her during that period. She thought he was cheating. And she was terrified of losing him, of losing her marriage, of what it would mean. So eventually she gave in, and they had unprotected sex because that was the only version on offer. And she got pregnant with the fourth child. Her body was not ready for it.

This was a pregnancy she did not want. A pregnancy she had spent over a year trying to prevent. A pregnancy that led to serious complications.

When did you find out how bad things were?

Too late. That’s the honest answer. She didn’t tell me until it was too late. I think she didn’t want me to go into warrior mode; she knew me, she knew exactly what I would do. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she thought she could handle it. I don’t know, and I’ll never know, and that not knowing is its own grief.

By the time I understood the full picture, I was on the first flight to Nigeria.

What did you do when you got there?

I went to that hospital, and I was very clear. What they did, disclosing her request for contraception to her husband without her consent, is a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality. It is a violation of her rights as a patient. I told them I would pursue every legal avenue available if they did not take her care seriously from that point forward. I am not someone people easily dismiss. I made sure they understood that.

And I spoke to her husband. I won’t repeat exactly what I said to him, but he understood me.

Were you able to get her any protection going forward?

They agreed she would get the implant after this final pregnancy. I even started pushing for her husband to get a vasectomy since the idiot would not use condoms. I was fighting on every front I could find.

How did your fight end?

She died. The baby died too. Her body had been through too much: four pregnancies, back to back, no real recovery time between any of them, and a fourth one her system simply could not survive.

She was my sister. The person I called first for everything. And she is gone.

I’m so sorry.

The thing I keep coming back to is how preventable it was. At every single point, there was an intervention that could have changed the outcome. The doctor who asked “Does Oga know?” instead of just doing their job. The hospital that told her husband instead of protecting her privacy. The husband who decided his desire for more children was more important than her life. Any one of those moments, if it had gone differently, she might still be here.

How has losing her shaped the way you think about your own choices and about not wanting children?

It didn’t change my mind. I want to say that clearly because I think people expect me to say it did, like losing her was some kind of lesson that pushed me one way or the other. I had already decided long before any of this happened.

What it did was show me in the most devastating way possible what is at stake when women don’t have control over their own bodies. This is not abstract. This is not a debate on Twitter. Women are dying. My cousin died. Because she could not access basic healthcare. Because the system around her treated her body as something that belonged to her husband rather than to her.

My grief needed somewhere to go. So I’m building an NGO focused on women’s reproductive rights in Nigeria. Specifically, around access to contraception, patient confidentiality, and the right of women to make decisions about their own bodies without requiring anyone’s permission.

If you鈥檇 like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid,  

Coming back to your marriage. You’re building this NGO, you’re carrying this grief, and you’re also navigating something very personal at home. Where are things with your husband now?

We’ve arrived somewhere. It took a long time and a lot of honest, painful conversations, but we got there together.

He wants a child. He has wanted one for a few years now, and that hasn’t gone away. I don’t want one. That hasn’t gone away either. And we love each other too much to keep asking the other person to be something they’re not.

So he’s going to have his child. Surrogacy or adoption, he hasn’t decided yet. And when that baby comes, we’ll live separately.

Wow. How did you arrive at that decision?

By being honest. About what we both needed and what we could and couldn’t give each other. I don’t think I should stand in the way of him having the thing he wants most. Just like he doesn’t think it’s fair to ask me to have a child I don’t want. So we’re trying to find the most loving version of a situation that has no perfect answer.

That’s an enormous thing to agree to. Are you scared?

Of course I am. I’m terrified of what it means, of whether we can actually make it work, of losing the version of us that has existed up until now. I love this man. I love our life. And I’m watching it change shape in real time.

But what’s the alternative? Watch him grieve something for the rest of his life that I could have stepped out of the way of? Stay in something that starts to curdle because we were too afraid to be honest? That’s not love. That’s just two people being afraid together.

Do you think it will work?

I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know. What I know is that we love each other enough to try. And if it doesn’t work, it won’t be because we lied to each other or because one of us pretended to want something they didn’t. We will have been honest every step of the way, and that matters to me.

To be loved is to be known. He knows me. I know him. Whatever comes next, that part doesn’t change.

What do you want women, especially Nigerian women, to take from your story?

That your body belongs to you. Not your husband. Not your doctor. Not your mother-in-law. Not society. You.

My cousin was a grown woman and a mother who walked into a hospital and asked for help, and the first question she was asked was whether her husband approved. That question cost her everything. It set in motion a chain of events that ended with her dying over a pregnancy she never wanted to carry.

No woman should have to negotiate access to her own healthcare. No woman should have to choose between her body and her marriage. No woman should die because the people around her decided someone else’s opinion of her body mattered more than her life.

She deserved better. They all deserve better. And that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing, because if I can’t bring her back, the least I can do is make sure fewer women end up where she did.

The  is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

In this article, four Nigerian university students tell us how pregnancy scares affected their mental health and relationships with others.

1. 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 hear anything my lecturer was saying鈥� 鈥� Lewato*, 21

The scare lasted eleven days. I was sitting in class and not retaining a single thing, and walking around campus with this weight on my chest that nobody could see.

I didn鈥檛 tell anyone. Not my roommate, not even my best friend. I just carried it alone because the moment you tell someone on this campus, it becomes hot gist. I鈥檝e seen it happen before. You tell someone and by next week, everyone knows. The story will even have extra details.

So I just waited. I took three or four different tests within two weeks because I didn鈥檛 trust the first result. Each time, I鈥檇 lock myself in the toilet, hands shaking, trying to read the result fast before anyone knocked. The anxiety was physical. I was losing sleep, skipping meals, and convincing myself my body felt different.

When my period finally came, I sat on the bathroom floor and cried for a long time. Not just from relief, but exhaustion as well.

2. 鈥淢y boyfriend鈥檚 first response was 鈥榓re you sure it鈥檚 mine?鈥欌�� 鈥� Debire*, 22

When I told my boyfriend I thought I was pregnant, he asked me if I was sure it was his. That question ended something in me. We had been together for eight months. I went to him scared and vulnerable, and that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

I didn鈥檛 even have the energy to fight about it. The rest of that conversation was him talking about what we鈥檇 鈥渉ave to do鈥� if it turned out positive. I stayed quiet all through. He was making decisions without asking me anything about how I felt or what I wanted.

Thankfully, I wasn鈥檛 pregnant. But the scare showed me exactly who I was dealing with. I broke up him with three weeks later.

3. 鈥淜eeping The Baby Would Have Been My Only Option鈥� 鈥� Dammy*, 23

When I got the scare, I wasn鈥檛 thinking about telling my parents or what my friends would say. I was already on my phone calculating antenatal costs and imagining what a semester deferral would be like.

I鈥檓 currently in my final year. I鈥檝e spent four years working towards something specific and the thought of it all pausing or disappearing because of a mistake was painful. I couldn鈥檛 sleep properly and I was very irritable. My group project partners probably even thought I hated them.

It eventually turned out fine. I was so glad about that because trying to comfortably afford a pregnancy would have been impossible for me at that time.

4. 鈥淚 was anxious for a long time after the scare鈥� 鈥� Mary*, 24

Everyone focuses on whether it鈥檚 a positive or negative result. They don鈥檛 dwell on what happens to you afterwards even when it鈥檚 a negative result. My brain was supposed to go back to normal after finding out I wasn鈥檛 pregnant, but I just couldn鈥檛.

I was anxious for weeks, every new random symptom I discovered just made me spiral. If I felt even slightly nauseous, my mind would start thinking and connecting the dots. I was constantly wondering whether I was pregnant even though my period was regular. I couldn鈥檛 enjoy sexual activities for a while and I became withdrawn generally. I cried in the bathroom a lot.

I think I needed to talk to a counsellor or therapist, but the ones available on campus have a very long wait list. Also, I didn鈥檛 have faith in them understanding me without judgement. So I just managed my emotions alone until it got better.

Next Read: 4 Reasons Why Nigerian University Students Won鈥檛 Get Tested For STIs

Menopause has a way of catching women off guard because nothing quite prepares you for what it takes. For many women in the workplace, that unpreparedness shows up in the emotions they have spent years learning to manage, suddenly refusing to be managed.聽

In this article, Nigerian women open up about a quiet unravelling of the identities they spent their entire careers building.

1. 鈥淚鈥檝e started having awful memory lapses鈥� 鈥� Tinuade*, 45

Before menopause, my memory was the clearest. While some of my friends had trouble remembering an event that happened decades ago, I had no trouble with it. I was the co-worker everyone ran to when they couldn鈥檛 remember something. They used to say there was no use documenting work stuff because they had someone like me in the office. That was something I took pride in, but when my menstrual periods permanently stopped, I started having these awful memory lapses. 

These days, it鈥檚 a miracle if I remember the food I ate an hour ago. At work, I can barely remember what my colleagues say during meetings, and now, they鈥檙e the ones reminding me what task I am supposed to do. It鈥檚 frustrating, going from someone who can remember the colour of the shoes an actress on TV wore years ago, to someone who has a hard time remembering what she got up to during the day. 

My doctor friend recommended a supplement, and while they have helped with my hot flashes, my memory has not improved at all. I keep taking them, hoping, but I am also looking into other options.

2. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 realise how much of a privilege sleep was鈥� 鈥� Chioma*, 46

I had a regular sleep schedule that worked well for me because I always had to be up as early as 4 am to get ready for the day. My work hours have always been gruelling, but having a sleep schedule that gave me at least seven hours of sleep helped me stay active at work. I didn鈥檛 realise how much of a privilege that was until menopause. Countless times, I鈥檝e had to stay awake in the middle of the night because of uncomfortable hot flashes that my medications have not been able to curb. Even when I try a cold shower or sleeping pills, it takes a long time before sleep finds me. 

Now, I wake up at 6:30 am, and I鈥檓 always so tired. My brain has to work extra hard to keep me awake and get me through the day. Before, I could finish five deliverables by the end of the day, but now? I thank God if I can even finish one. I鈥檓 still waiting for the day my boss gets tired of me and tells me the company no longer needs me.

Although if I鈥檓 being honest, even on my worst days, I still outperform some of my male colleagues. That thought is the only thing that eases my fear, because I do my best not to make my struggles obvious at work.聽

3. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a struggle not to say things that would get me sacked鈥� 鈥� Anuoluwa*, 50聽

I work in a male-dominated PR and Advertising agency. As one of the few female executives, I鈥檝e always had to control my tongue during meetings when a male executive interrupts me while I’m in the middle of sharing an idea that could be helpful to a project. It irritated me a lot, but because there were many more men than women, I had to learn to keep quiet. 

This disrespect thrived until menopause finally got to me, and my brain-to-mouth filter shut down. 

I no longer have the patience to tolerate the things I once did. At meetings, whenever I get interrupted by a man in the room, I snap at him without caring. I鈥檝e received a query because one of the executives didn鈥檛 like the way I spoke to him. It鈥檚 a struggle getting my mouth not to say anything that would get me sacked.

I鈥檓 good at my job, but at the same time, I鈥檓 stepping on a lot of toes that are not used to being stepped on. 

4. 鈥淚 refused to let it define me鈥� 鈥� Anike*, 48

When I hit menopause, I knew I would not be able to fulfil my lifelong dream of spending all my life in corporate. 

I was constantly exhausted and struggling to speak as eloquently as I once had, but I refused to let that define me after all the contributions I had made to put the company on the map.

I spent months researching businesses I could invest in. I have never been one to sit idle, so I had lengthy discussions with friends who are full-time business owners, and got the idea to set up a textile business.

Once my business was up and running, I was finally able to resign. 

I miss the stable routine my 9-5 gave me, but it has been much easier to manage my menopause alongside my business. I have a wonderful sales assistant, so even when words fail me, as they often do, she is there to help me communicate more clearly. I no longer have to panic at the thought of being perceived as incompetent, and while my medication has not helped as much as everyone promised it would, I am more at peace with myself.

5. 鈥淚鈥檝e teared up in my boss鈥檚 office too many times鈥� 鈥� Stella*, 40

Menopause has made me extremely sensitive. I鈥檓 used to having a thick skin that can take any criticism at work without complaint. It is something I believed was necessary to survive in a corporate setting in Nigeria, and I was right, because since I hit menopause, my boss has deemed me 鈥渢oo emotional.鈥� 

Nigerian bosses expect you to take all the negative things they throw at you. Honestly, I didn鈥檛 mind before, but the early arrival of my menopause has messed everything up. There have been one too many cases of me tearing up in my boss鈥檚 office after he鈥檚 done shouting at me for not doing the deliverable the way he鈥檇 asked me to. 

It鈥檚 embarrassing, and I hate the way my boss now uses this to justify his argument that women shouldn鈥檛 be working. I鈥檝e decided I might resign and finally look into the perfume business I鈥檝e been thinking of starting. I no longer have the emotional bandwidth to survive that toxic workplace. 

6. 鈥淓very morning, I beg myself to get out of bed鈥� 鈥� Bolu*, 53

I love working, so I usually don鈥檛 mind the number of tasks dumped on me. My boss can call me in the middle of the night to assign a task that I must execute before the next day, and I won鈥檛 mind much, since being a single mother of a grown teenager means I don鈥檛 usually have many responsibilities outside work. 

I also like how the tasks shut off my brain in a way that I like. I valued that a lot. It鈥檚 why I鈥檓 so angry at menopause, because it has taken away the energy I used to put into my work. Now, every morning, I beg myself to get out of bed because I don鈥檛 have the will to start my day. Normally, at work, I go beyond what鈥檚 expected of me, but these days, I don鈥檛 even have the strength to do what is expected of me. 

This has affected my performance, and my boss has begun to express her disappointment. I really don鈥檛 think I will last another year at my place of work. I suspect she might understand if I told her, but I can鈥檛 bring myself to have that conversation. I am looking into treatments and low-effort exercises that might help, but even so, I really don鈥檛 think I will last another year at my place of work.

7. 鈥淭he anxiety has made work overbearing鈥� 鈥� Moyo*, 54

I鈥檓 a university lecturer, and although I educated myself on everything a woman should know about menopause, I was still not prepared for it. I thought that my career wouldn鈥檛 be affected because I was ready for the hot flashes, insomnia and occasional mood swings to be as bad as they were.

My prescribed drugs have helped keep some of that in check, but anxiety was something I never saw coming, and nothing I am on has helped with it.

There are times when I am scared to enter class and face my students. At first, it didn鈥檛 make sense to me because I鈥檝e been teaching for almost two decades now, and I鈥檝e never had a racing heart at the thought of facing students. I even thought it was just a one-time thing, but then, it transitioned into me not wanting to talk to my students personally, even though I鈥檓 a level advisor. It became difficult to call a student to discuss their grades because of all the overthinking that went into it. 

I鈥檓 considering leaving my job because I鈥檓 actually very tired. 

8. 鈥淚 find it hard to string two sentences together鈥� 鈥� Elo*, 46

Educating myself on menopause did not prepare me for the way my brain went from sharp to dumb. 

I find it hard to string two sentences together, and for a woman who works in communications, this is quite embarrassing. Before, I could go toe-to-toe with any colleague when arguing, but now? I stay out of arguments because, even when I have my facts, my brain cannot make them blend seamlessly. I know now that this is brain fog, but knowing what it is does not make it any easier to live with.

When I have to write a press release, I take hours writing the first sentence because even though I know what I want to write, I can鈥檛 find it in me to write it. I鈥檝e started assigning my deliverables to the entry-level staff under me, and I feel so bad for them because they鈥檙e doing more than they can handle, but I am unable to do well at my work. 

9. 鈥淢y easy camaraderie with staff no longer exists鈥� 鈥� Kemi*, 56

My menopause has turned me into this strange woman who is constantly irritated. My husband and my kids tend to steer clear of me when I鈥檓 in one of those moods, and at work, it is the same. 

I own a hairdressing salon, and I have about 15 staff, including apprentices, and we all had a good rapport before. I was the kind of boss they could approach to talk about anything and everything, but ever since menopause happened, that easy camaraderie no longer exists. 

I am constantly irritated with them, even for the smallest mistakes I usually overlook. They no longer come to me, and it makes me sad because I liked it when they did. Some even stopped working for me, and in a year, I鈥檝e had to replace some of my best hairstylists. 

10. 鈥淎 fog clouds my brain鈥檚 ability to make sense鈥� 鈥� Anita*, 48

There are days when my body doesn’t mind getting out of bed and getting ready for work, but there have been many times when I鈥檝e woken up and asked myself whether going to work was really important. 

I鈥檓 an accountant, and my office is close to my house. But menopause has made that little distance feel like a long one. I have to force myself to get ready, and even at work, I can barely pay attention, which is frustrating because I deal with numbers. My brain needs constant focus, but there鈥檚 this fog clouding its ability to make sense. 

I can鈥檛 count the number of times I鈥檝e messed up at work, and my colleague had to cover for me. I鈥檓 scared that one day she’ll stop, and my mistakes will be visible to my bosses. 

11. 鈥淚 have to force myself to stay present鈥� 鈥� Annie*, 44

One thing no one told me about menopause is depression. It hit me out of nowhere. I can barely work since most of the time, I have to force myself to be present in the moment. It takes me weeks to finish a simple task, and my boss has started entrusting projects I was supposed to work on to other colleagues because he can鈥檛 trust me to finish them on time. 

The only reason why I still have this job is that I鈥檝e contributed a lot to the company鈥檚 growth, and although my boss is disappointed in my recent performance, he believes I鈥檝e earned my 鈥渓aziness鈥�. I don鈥檛 correct him when he says that because I don鈥檛 think he is the kind of person to understand menopause or depression fully.  

Next Read: 鈥淚 Crawled on the Floor With an Open Wound鈥� 鈥� Queen鈥檚 College Graduates Share Their Worst Memories

In this article, four Nigerian University students tell us why getting tested for sexually transmitted infections (STIs) sometimes feels like a nightmare.

1. 鈥淚 Don鈥檛 Have Money for Treatment, So I鈥檇 Rather not Know鈥� 鈥� Daniella*, 23

The clinic on campus is genuinely terrible. I went in once to treat malaria and left feeling like I鈥檇 done something wrong. The nurse looked at me like I was wasting her time. So the idea of walking in there and asking specifically for an STI test? I can鈥檛 even picture it.

It鈥檚 not just the attitude. There鈥檚 no privacy, either. The waiting area is open; everyone can see who鈥檚 sitting where, and people talk. My school isn鈥檛 that big. By the time you leave, three people you know have already seen you and started drawing conclusions.

I鈥檝e had unprotected sex before, and I know I probably should get tested, but every time I think about actually doing it, I talk myself out of it. What if it鈥檚 positive? I don鈥檛 have money for treatment, and I can鈥檛 tell my parents. So I鈥檇 rather just not know.

2. 鈥淚鈥檇 Rather Wait It Out or Pray It Away鈥� 鈥� Anna*, 20

There鈥檚 a way people in school look at girls who aren鈥檛 bothered by sex. The moment they notice you鈥檙e not ashamed of it, they start talking about you. Honestly, I鈥檝e seen it happen to other girls in my hostel and class. Just snippets of gist here and there about what they must be up to.

My friend once went to the campus clinic for a routine check. Somebody saw her there and assumed the worst. Now the entire department knows her for being the girl who took tests at the clinic. She hadn鈥檛 even done anything, yet that story followed her for the rest of the semester.

I鈥檓 in 200 level, so I still have years left in this school. I can鈥檛 afford to have a rumour about me being spread. So even when I鈥檓 worried or something feels off, I just wait it out and pray it resolves itself.

3. “My Girlfriend Thinks Asking to Get Tested Means I Don鈥檛 Trust Her鈥� 鈥� Bazzy*, 24

My babe and I have been together for about two years. A few months ago, I brought up the idea of us both getting tested, just to be responsible. She wanted to know why I was suddenly suggesting it, whether I鈥檇 been with someone else, or if I didn鈥檛 trust her. I dropped it so fast, and I haven鈥檛 brought it up ever since.

The thing is, I actually want to get tested, but testing has this loaded meaning in relationships. It feels like I鈥檓 starting to make a statement about my babe鈥檚 loyalty, and it鈥檚 going to keep causing unnecessary drama. I鈥檒l probably just go alone one day without telling anybody.

4. 鈥淢y Parents Don鈥檛 Know How To Mind Their Business鈥� 鈥� Bibi*, 18

I鈥檓 really dependent on my parents for all my finances. They pay my fees, my allowance, everything. And because my account is connected to theirs, they鈥檙e able to monitor the account. So any unusual transaction is a conversation waiting for me on the next phone call. And that鈥檚 assuming they don鈥檛 immediately call to ask.

Going to the clinic isn鈥檛 free. I鈥檒l pay for registration to get a card, a consultation and the testing. Even if I could explain away a random clinic charge, the follow-up questions are going to be crazy. My mum, especially. She would want to know exactly what I was tested for and why.

I鈥檓 not ready for that conversation, and I don鈥檛 think I鈥檒l ever be while I鈥檓 still depending on them.

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In this piece, former students of Queen’s College reflect on moments that stayed with them long after graduation.

1. 鈥淭hey slapped me back to back鈥� 鈥� Amma*, 23

There was a time when I was at the school鈥檚 pavilion with my friends, and seniors approached me to let me know I was seated with my legs spread for the public and asked, 鈥淒on鈥檛 you know how to sit?鈥� At that time, I didn鈥檛 know how to sit properly, so I replied, 鈥淣o, I don鈥檛.鈥� 

For some reason, they thought I was being rude, so one of them asked me to kneel, and then they slapped me back to back. One person would slap me, another would do the same, and they just kept taking turns. 

Later, before school was over, they called me into their class to continue my punishment. By the end of the day, my ears were ringing till I got home.

2. 鈥淭he skin of my fingers peeled from all the clothes I washed鈥� 鈥� Tinuola*, 50

When I was in junior secondary school, I experienced what extortion looked like in the form of Queen鈥檚 College seniors. Every week, unfailingly, they would find an innocent junior to prey on, give her 5 naira, ask her to get them snacks worth 20 naira and bring back 40 naira. If she didn鈥檛 do it, she was at risk of getting punished. I also experienced this quite a lot. 

The first time it happened to me, when I asked how I would get snacks of 20 naira if I was only given 1 naira to work with, they ignored me. Thinking they were not serious, I didn鈥檛 go to the tuck shop like they expected me to. Later that day, they found me in my class, and I will never forget the beating I got that day. 

It didn鈥檛 stop there. They waited a few days for me to recover, then they dumped their dirty laundry on me to wash. My fingers’ skin peeled back from all the clothes I washed. The next time they sent me on that errand, I didn鈥檛 waste time before getting to it. My allowance suffered, but I preferred that to the beating. 

3. 鈥淭hey used mopsticks to flog us鈥� 鈥� Kanyin*, 24聽

When it came to march past training, the seniors didn鈥檛 spare anyone. When I was in SS1, we were expected to march while the SS3 girls trained us, and honestly, it was not a good time because of how much violence they poured into it. The training was hell. The seniors were very fond of using mopsticks of different lengths to flog us, made us roll in the sand, and engaged in all sorts of things in the name of 鈥渢raining.鈥� Sometimes, they would even make us train until midnight. 

I鈥檒l never forget how one particular senior made my best friend lie down beside a wet gutter with spirogyra and flogged her on her butt with a mopstick, or how they would slap people so hard their ears would ring for days. It was terrible. Some of my classmates couldn鈥檛 sit down in class for days because of the bruises on their bodies. If you鈥檙e wondering why quitting was not an option, it was because they would, as we say, 鈥渆nrush鈥� us, which in simpler terms means gang-beating.

4. 鈥淚 was dragged around like an animal鈥� 鈥� Tega*, 20聽

There was a rumour going around that a senior had lost her dad, and in a bid to bond with her, a dorm mate lied, saying I’d said the senior鈥檚 behaviour was bad because of her father鈥檚 death. That was how the gates of hell were opened.

The night I was called to her dorm, I was in my towel because I鈥檇 been washing. I noticed people were gathered watching me, but I didn鈥檛 pay it much attention until I was stripped naked and they proceeded to gang-beat me. Some used mopsticks and buckets while others used their hands, and the number of people hitting me kept increasing because this senior was quite popular, so friends from other dorms came to join in. I was dragged around like an animal, and even when my best friend tried to beg them to stop, they beat her, too. At some point, I became completely numb.

When my parents found out, they took it up to the authorities, but nothing was actually done to those involved. That was just how it was at QC. The wicked seniors barely had to account for their brutal actions.

5. 鈥淭he slaps had my ears ringing all night鈥� 鈥� Ifeoluwa*, 24聽

I remember a time a senior took a particular interest in me. She would offer me food from the dining hall and call me over to stay in her room. At the time, I didn鈥檛 understand that she was expressing romantic interest, though honestly, I think I should have caught on.

It came crashing down the day she finally told me how she felt, and I rejected her. After that, her friends decided to take it personally. Some would call me over just to slap me for no reason. I remember one in particular: she was supervising the class beside mine and decided to punish me in the corridor for loitering. The slaps she gave me had my ear ringing all night. 

This went on for a long time, until the day I was summoned to apologise for hurting the senior鈥檚 feelings and made to fetch a stack of buckets as tall as me. I spent that night crying and carrying buckets of water, but after that, they left me alone.

6. 鈥淚 fetched a bucket of water with a teaspoon鈥� 鈥� Nimi*, 24

This happened when I was in JSS2. It was the end of prep, and we were about to leave the class area when, for some reason I can鈥檛 quite remember, I shouted: 鈥淢orale high,鈥� a phrase we used to say at the time. Immediately, I felt a slap on my back. A senior had hit me, and when I tried to explain myself, I got slapped again. She then dragged me all the way from the JSS2 block to the front of the seniors鈥� dorm, where she kept hitting me. When the beating was finally over, she made me fetch a bucket of water with a teaspoon and polish mouldy shoes for more than 40 people. All because I said 鈥淢orale high.鈥�

7. 鈥淭hey knew we were at their mercy鈥� 鈥� Rita*, 32

In Queen鈥檚 College, there is this thing that happens when you enter SS2. You鈥檙e expected to join a cadet school band or be an official callisthenics dancer. A lot of us wanted to join the school band because it gave us the opportunity to leave school. The seniors knew how desperate we were for this, so they exploited it since they were technically in charge of the band. 

We had to do whatever they asked us, like fetching water, buying their food, and the like. They would beat us with anything they could get their hands on because they knew we were at their mercy. I don鈥檛 know when this started, but apparently, it鈥檚 a tradition that has spanned over the years. It鈥檚 silly that we were punished just for wanting to be part of something. 

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8. 鈥淭hey broke an umbrella on my friend鈥檚 body鈥� 鈥� Kiitan*, 23

This happened during night prep in SS2, third term. The SS3 girls had already written WAEC, and most had moved out of the hostel, but a group of tomboys, athletes, and footballers we called 鈥渂lokes鈥� had stayed back and still came out for night prep.

That night, some of my classmates and I decided to 鈥渟hop,鈥� which meant going into SS3 classes to take books we might need since they were done with exams. While we were doing this, someone joked about the possibility of those blokes appearing, and it was like she manifested them: the next minute, they appeared, and we had to run the moment they saw us. It was a full race for survival, and in the chaos, I lost my slipper, and one asthmatic friend nearly had an attack from the stress.

When things seemed settled, I went back for my slippers, and it turned out to be a bad decision. The moment I got there, a bloke was waiting for me, and when I tried to escape, another was waiting by the exit. One of them grabbed my shirt and let me know that she had seen my face and my classmates鈥�, and that we were to appear in their class the next morning.

The next morning, we went there like people with a death sentence. When we walked in, they didn鈥檛 waste time. They beat us, made us kneel on the ground for hours, and forced us to clean their dirty classroom. Anyone who showed even the slightest attitude suffered worse. I watched one senior girl break an entire umbrella on my friend鈥檚 body, all in the name of 鈥渁nger issues.鈥�

9. 鈥淭hey made me crawl on the floor with an open wound鈥� 鈥� Chioma*, 24聽

I had a habit of avoiding work and 鈥榮tabbing鈥� classes, and there was a time I was caught by the head girl in this place called the obong corridor. She made me crawl on the untiled floor. I had an open wound at the time and pleaded with her about it, but she didn鈥檛 listen. I watched my skin peel off the floor with every movement as I made my way towards her on my knees. The wound remained sore and infected for 2 weeks and left a scar afterwards. 

10. 鈥淎t QC, no one ever really listens to you鈥� 鈥� Fauziah*, 19聽

I really obsessed over people鈥檚 opinions of me when I was young, and in Queen鈥檚 College, that was a weakness. The other girls didn鈥檛 really like the fact that I was one of the smartest in class, and they knew how much things got to me, so maybe out of jealousy or something else, they used that as a weapon. 

I was 12, going to 13, and that time of my life was really sensitive. Having other girls mock my face, hair and body was not something that I could easily let slide off my back. I was seriously affected by it because they did it continuously, and sometimes, they would even steal from me just to teach me a lesson. 

I couldn鈥檛 talk to anyone because at Queen鈥檚 College, no one ever really listens to you. They expect you to just figure it out. Throughout my junior school years, whenever I called home, I would cry and say I didn鈥檛 want to be in QC anymore. In my opinion, the school was designed to break you. No one I know ever has good things to say about QC, and we only ever bond over our shared trauma. I do not miss that school in any way. 

11. 鈥淭hey threatened to send naked pictures of us to KC boys鈥� 鈥� Sarah*, 25

When I was at QC, there was a tradition:  seniors resumed on Saturday, and juniors resumed on Sunday. I was in SS2, so my friends and I resumed on Saturday. That night, we needed to take our baths, but there was no water, so we headed to an area called 48, which had many taps but was meant only for SS3 girls. It was an unspoken rule everyone knew about. We weren鈥檛 supposed to be there, but it was our only option.

Unfortunately, some SS3 girls caught us bathing there and decided to punish us badly for having the guts to use their space. They made us lie on the ground and roll on it while they had their baths, and afterwards took us to their room and told us to sleep naked as part of our punishment. They also threatened to take videos of us and send them to King鈥檚 College boys.

It was such a disgusting and humiliating experience. I can never forget the faces of those seniors.

12. 聽鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 acknowledge that she was assaulting me鈥� 鈥� Toun*, 44聽

When I was younger, I was quite naive, so I didn’t think too much of it when a senior approached me in junior secondary school and started acting like my school mother. I didn鈥檛 mind because everyone in my life spoke fondly of school mothers, so I turned a blind eye to all her actions. 

She grabbed my breast multiple times and told me that it was normal for girls who were friends to do it. I didn鈥檛 think much of it, even though I was quite uncomfortable. Sometimes, I would study with her because she always said it was important we did it together, and during those times, her fingers would stray from my breast to my vagina, and she would play with it. I don鈥檛 remember a lot because that was a long time ago, and I am still very ashamed, but I do remember I thought what was happening was wrong. 

I also wanted to tell someone about it, but I didn鈥檛 because it felt like I owed this senior my life. Because of her, I was safe from other seniors who were looking to bully me. There were many times when I ran out of provisions, and she would give me from her stash until I got new ones. She was kind to me, and maybe that鈥檚 why I didn鈥檛 really acknowledge that she was basically assaulting me. 

13. 鈥淲e slept at the school gate overnight鈥濃�� Amaka*, 25聽

In my final days at Queens College, some girls in my dorm were secretly cooking in their rooms, even though it was clearly against school rules. I wasn鈥檛 involved at all. When they were caught, the girls who were responsible ran away, and the rest of us who were innocent were left behind to face the punishment.

We were flogged, then evacuated from the dorm and made to sleep at the school gate overnight. It was during Ramadan, and many of us were fasting. It was uncomfortable, humiliating, and exhausting. The next morning was even more embarrassing. We were still in our nightclothes and housewear while other students walked past in their uniforms. Our parents were also involved, which added even more pressure and shame.

Nobody said anything about the real culprits. As a teenager, especially in an all-girls school, being called a snitch felt worse than the pain itself. I had only just started boarding in SS2, so the whole experience was a terrible introduction to boarding life. What made it worse was seeing the actual culprits the next morning, dressed in their uniforms as if nothing had happened, with no real consequences for them.

Now, when I think back, I sometimes feel cowardly and like I betrayed myself by keeping quiet. But I also understand that at that age, in that environment, I was just trying to survive and avoid being targeted. It was a very painful experience, but it also taught me a lot about justice, courage, and how silence can hurt you.鈥嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧��

14. 鈥淓very other day, she would have bruises on her body鈥� 鈥� Bolu*, 23聽

When I was in JSS3, I had a close friend whose older brother attended King鈥檚 College. Over the holiday, some seniors from our school went out with him and his friends, and at some point, he called one of them ugly. He probably didn鈥檛 think it was a big deal, but when we resumed, everything began to change for my friend.

Instead of going after the person who insulted them, they came after her, and it wasn鈥檛 something that could be overlooked. Every time she was in their vicinity, they would find the nearest item, usually a mopstick, and beat her with it. There was no safe place for her at school, and every other day she would have bruises on her body. She wasn鈥檛 the one who insulted them, and yet she had to face the consequences.

It got even worse when they started involving their friends and setmates. Different people would target her at different times, and it felt like she was constantly surrounded. It got so bad that her mom had to step in and drive all the way to King鈥檚 College to bring her son back to our school so he could apologise to the seniors. It was only after that that the bullying stopped.鈥嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧��

15. 鈥淚 ended up peeing on myself鈥� 鈥� Elo*, 21

There was a time in junior school that stood out to me. I was fasting during Ramadan, and because I had eaten earlier around 6:30 am, I badly needed to pee. The cleaners had this habit of locking the toilets and not opening them early, so my building鈥檚 toilets were locked, and I had to search the entire school area. I was a day student, so I couldn鈥檛 go to the hostel to use the bathroom.

In my search, I found a toilet in the senior block that seemed open, and the cleaner was there. I begged her to please open it, that I was really pressed, but she told me to go back to my block. I cried and begged, but after a while, I gave up and walked away. I ended up peeing on myself. I cried that day, and the worst part was having to sit in my wet pinafore until school closed.

There was a sanitary problem at the school, where students used various places as toilets, and if they were caught, the school would embarrass and punish them. It was really painful because, personally, I felt the cleaners were the problem. We were children, so why humiliate us when the system was failing us in the first place?鈥嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧�嬧��

You’ll Love: Women Share the Most Ridiculous Rules Placed on Them By Universities

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.

Adanna*, 36, met the man she would spend ten years with in university. He was gentle then, attentive, and always had a way of making her feel chosen. What followed was a slow erosion of everything she had built and everything she was, driven by an addiction that grew from something she barely noticed into something that swallowed him whole and nearly took her with it. This is what she said.

Can you tell us about yourself? 

I’m Adanna, I’m 36. I work in brand management, been doing it for about eight years now. I come from a comfortable family, we were never struggling, so I always had a foundation. I started a hair business on the side a few years back that was doing well, then I tried to open a salon. Neither of them made it to where I wanted them to go. I’m based in Lagos. I’m single. 

You reached out to talk about a relationship that took a lot from you. How did it start?

We met in university. He was in my department, we had a few of the same friends. He was genuinely gentle. Soft spoken, attentive, remembered small things you mentioned in passing. He always made me feel like I was the most interesting person in the room just by how he listened to me. I fell for that version of him completely. We started dating in our second year and by the time we finished school I could not imagine my life without him in it.

That sounds sweet. When did things start to change?

It started very slowly. There is no single morning where I woke up and everything was different. It really crept up on me, I think even him. In our mid twenties we were in Lagos, both trying to build careers, and the social scene around us was what you would imagine. It started with regular parties and clubs we would frequent, then we kept running into the same people, certain crowds, and eventually we started noticing certain things that got passed around. He tried Molly first, at a party we both attended. I was there. It didn’t seem like a big thing then. A lot of people around us were doing it. I didn’t think too much of it. I later tried it myself but quickly stopped because the trip wasn鈥檛 was for me. 

When did you start thinking about it?

When it stopped being a party thing and became a regular thing. He was using every blessed day. Then LSD came in. He was curious about everything, that was part of who he was, and he framed it as exploration. Expanding the mind. I was not completely naive but I also loved him and he was still functional, still showing up, still the person I knew underneath it all. Or so I told myself.

What came after that?

I smoke weed recreationally so I once tried to wean him off all he was doing and transition to weed since he needed to use so badly and I felt it was a safer option but it backfired and he started doing Cocaine. That was when I felt the ground shift properly under my feet. 

Cocaine is expensive and it is hungry. It asks for more of you faster than the other things did. His personality started changing in ways I could see but struggled to name. He became more erratic. More defensive. Small things would set him off. The gentleness that I had fallen in love with started having gaps in it, moments where someone else was looking out of his eyes.

How did it start affecting you practically?

The main thing was money. That’s where it always shows up first. He started borrowing. Not large amounts at first, just here and there, I’ll sort you back by the weekend. He never sorted me back. I kept lending because I kept believing him. Over time the amounts got bigger and the timelines got vaguer and I stopped seeing any of it come back. I think in the first three years alone I had given or lent him close to two million naira that simply disappeared.

Did you talk to him about it?

Many times. He always had an explanation. He was between jobs, a deal had fallen through, he just needed to get through this one rough patch. He was a convincing person, that was one of his gifts and eventually one of his weapons. He could explain anything in a way that made you feel like the unreasonable one for questioning it.

Did it ever escalate beyond borrowing?

Yes. One payday I came home and my card was not where I left it. I turned the whole apartment upside down. Eventually I checked my account and the money was gone. Nearly everything I had been paid that month, withdrawn in chunks from different ATMs across two days. I confronted him and he denied it, then admitted it, then cried, then promised. He said he owed people, that things had gotten out of hand, that he was going to fix it. He came back three days later with flowers and an elaborate apology and I, God help me, I stayed.

Why did you stay?

Because I remembered who he was before. Because I genuinely believed the person I had fallen in love with was still in there and the drugs had just covered him up. Because leaving felt like giving up on someone who was sick. I had read enough to know addiction is an illness and I kept applying that framework to justify staying inside something that was hurting me. Also, I will be honest, I was ashamed. My family knew him. Our friends knew us together. Starting over at that point felt enormous.

Did it happen again, the stealing?

Several times. He got better at it. Sometimes it was cash from my bag, small amounts, something you might think you miscounted. Once he took jewellery, gold pieces my mother had given me and he sold them. It broke my heart. When I found out he said he had been desperate, that he hadn’t known what else to do, that he was going to replace everything. He never replaced anything. 

There was a period where I started hiding money in places around the house, in books, in pockets, in a small envelope taped behind a drawer. I was living with someone I loved and I was hiding my own money from him in my own home. I didn’t let myself sit with how absurd that was until much later. Even when the gambling started.

Gambling?  

It came with the cocaine era and got worse when heroin entered the picture. He was trying to multiply money quickly to afford the habit and he thought he could gamble his way there. He could not. I found out about the gambling debts when people started calling his phone at strange hours, and then calling mine when he wouldn’t answer. Men I had never met, asking me where he was, telling me he owed them. I paid some of those debts because I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t. Looking back I was also funding the problem by doing that but at the time it felt like protecting him.

What happened next? 

He started getting physical when I started trying to protect my money more seriously. Once I began refusing to hand over cash or lend when he asked, he would get frustrated and it would tip into anger. The first time he grabbed me I told myself it was the drugs, that he would never do that sober, that it wasn’t really him. 

The second time I told myself the same thing. By the fourth or fifth time I had run out of that excuse but I was so deep in by then and so tired that leaving felt harder than staying. He always came back afterwards with something, a letter once, handwritten, pages long, telling me all the ways he knew he had failed me and all the ways he was going to change. I kept those letters for a long time. I don’t know why.

How was all of this affecting your work and your businesses?

My 9 to 5 I managed to hold onto because I needed it, it was the one thing I kept a wall around. But the hair business I had started, it was doing genuinely well, I had supply chains, regular clients, things were building. The money I should have been reinvesting kept going elsewhere. Into him, into his debts, into replacing what he stole. I couldn’t grow it past a certain point because every time I got to that point something happened and I was set back. I eventually let it go quiet. The salon I tried to open a few years after that, I had saved carefully, I had a location, I was ready. He found the account. I still don’t know exactly how. By the time I was due to sign the lease the money was significantly short. I had to walk away from that one too. Those two things, what they would have been by now, I don’t let myself calculate it too often.

Was there ever a moment where you almost left before you finally did?

Many moments. I packed a bag once and went to my sister’s place and stayed for two weeks. He called every day. My family, who only knew part of the story, encouraged me to think carefully before making a permanent decision. He showed up at my sister’s door one evening looking so diminished, so genuinely broken, that I went back. I went back and things were better for maybe three months. Then they weren’t.

What finally ended it?

My younger sister. She had come to visit me for a weekend and he was in the house. I had run out of some things and stepped out briefly to get them. I came back and she was shaken. She didn’t tell me immediately what had happened, she just said she wanted to leave. Later she told me he had cornered her in the kitchen and asked her to lend him money, and when she said she didn’t have any on her he got aggressive with her. He didn’t touch her but he frightened her. My little sister came to visit me and she left frightened.

Something in me went completely still when she told me. Not angry, not sad, just still. Like a decision had already been made somewhere inside me before I had consciously made it. I called him and told him to come and get his things. He came with another apology. I listened to the whole thing and then I told him to take his things and go. He did.

How was the aftermath?

Harder than I expected and easier than I feared, at the same time. The first few months I kept reaching for my phone to call him because ten years is ten years. Habits don’t care about good decisions. I also had to properly look at what I had lost, financially, professionally, in terms of time and choices and doors that had closed while I was busy managing someone else’s crisis. The number, when I finally sat with it, was staggering. Not just money. Years.

Do you have regrets?

About staying as long as I did, yes. About loving him, no. I think I loved a real person, the person he was at the beginning was not a performance, he was genuinely that man. The drugs just ate him. My regret is that I kept trying to save someone who at a certain point had stopped wanting to be saved, and I paid for that with things I cannot get back.

Do you still keep in touch?

Not at all. It took me a long time to leave him so when I finally did, I cut all access. I even moved a few months later because he kept showing up at my door. He kept calling so I had to change my sim and even requested for a transfer to a different branch because he kept showing up at my office as well. It is very difficult to unravel 10 years of entanglement. But eventually I did. I do not seek him out. I know nothing about how he is. I genuinely don鈥檛 even know if he鈥檚 alive. It鈥檚 okay. It鈥檚 better like this. He鈥檚 done enough. 

What do you want someone reading this to take away?

That love is not enough on its own. It is necessary but it is not sufficient. You can love someone completely and still be completely wrong to stay. And the longer you stay trying to rescue someone from themselves, the more of yourself gets lost in the rescue. Get out before you have to rebuild from nothing. I got out with something left. Not everyone does.

*Names have been changed.