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When Salmah*, 32, got married five years ago, she thought she was signing up for a “power couple” situation. You know, the Instagram-worthy kind where both people are thriving and splitting bills 50-50 while sipping expensive wine. Instead, she’s currently the sole sponsor of her household, where she’s funding everything from rent to her husband’s data subscription. And honestly? She’s tired of pretending it’s a cute feminist moment.

“I remember when my husband lost his job three years ago,” Salmah says, with a wry laugh, “He said it would just be for a ‘few months’ while he figured things out. Well, I’m still waiting for those months to end.”

Salmah works as a marketing associate in Ibadan, earning what she describes as “good money, but not good enough to be carrying a whole adult man on my back.” Between her salary and her side hustle, she makes up to ₦750,000. This sounds like a lot until you find out that she’s funding:

• Rent for their 2-bedroom in Ibadan (₦300,000)
• Feeding (₦250,000 because her husband apparently eats like he’s storing food for winter in his belly)
• Fuel and transportation (₦100,000)
• Her husband’s “small small” needs (₦50,000 minimum, but who’s counting?)
• DSTV, internet, electricity, and every other bill that exists (₦100,000)
• Sending money to her parents (₦50,000)
• Her own upkeep and savings (whatever’s left, to be honest).

“Sometimes, I just sit down and laugh,” she says. “Like, I’m out here doing morning prayers asking God to bless the work of my hands, and the reality of it is so that my husband can have data to watch football. The insanity is not lost on me at all.”

The Family GC Treats Her Like An ATM Card

If you think Salmah’s nuclear family is where the drama ends, you’re in for a ride, cause you clearly haven’t met her in-laws. According to her, they operate like she married their son because she couldn’t pass up the golden opportunity to be their cash pig.

“My mother-in-law calls me directly to ask for money, not her son o! me. She says things like, ‘Salmah, my daughter, you know your husband is not working, can you send something for your father-in-law’s medication?’ And I’m like Ma’am, I’m not the one who married your husband?”

The madness reached its peak when Salmah’s brother-in-law asked her to help him pay for his JAMB form. “I’m buying a JAMB form for a grown man in 2024? At what point did I become a scholarship board?”

The Mental Strain of Being “The Man of The House”

Salmah says beyond the money, the emotional weight of being the breadwinner is what really does the damage. “It’s the way everyone looks at you like you’re supposed to have all the answers. I’m supposed to magically know how to fix the generator, negotiate with the landlord, plan our future, and still make sure that we don’t starve. I didn’t sign up for this. I just wanted a partner.”

She talks about how her husband has become comfortable. “He wakes up at 11 am, watches TV, goes out with his friends sometimes, comes back, eats, and sleeps. Meanwhile, I’m in meetings back-to-back, trying to make money for both of us. The resentment, Salmah admits, is real. “I’ve started feeling like his mother instead of his wife. And that’s just really annoying.”

The Friends Who Don’t Get It

Knowing how Nollywood often portrays women in Salmah’s shoes, it’s surprising that she is quite the opposite and has never felt the burden to keep what she’s going through from her friends, in a bid to ‘dignify’ her husband. Salmah says when she tries to vent to her friends, the responses typically range from unhelpful to downright insulting.

“Some of them say things like, ‘Ahan, you’re a strong woman now, you can handle it!’ But clearly, they don’t get it. I wish they could spend a month in my shoes and really experience how gruelling it is.”

Others hit her with the “At least you have a husband” line, which she says makes her want to scream into a pillow. “So I should be grateful that I have a man that I’m financially carrying? Make it make sense now.”

Her single friends tell her that she’s “winning” and the situation isn’t so bad because she has a husband and she has money. Her married friends with working husbands quietly thank God it’s not them. “Nobody wants to admit that my situation is actually depressing,” she says.

When The Camel’s Back Finally Broke

The breaking point came two months ago when Salmah’s husband suggested that they have a baby. “I just stared at him. This man, who can’t even contribute ₦10,000 to the house, is talking about adding another mouth to feed? I asked him, ‘With what money?’ And he said, ‘We’ll manage.’ WE?”

That conversation led to their biggest fight yet, and for the first time, Salmah laid everything down on the table. “I told him how I feel like I’m drowning. That I need him to actually help, not just exist. He got really upset and said that I was ‘emasculating’ him. Emasculating him, how? By asking him to be an adult?”

The Uncomfortable Truth

Despite it all, Salmah hasn’t left. Why? “Because I actually love him and I know he’s going through something, but I’m also going through a lot, and nobody seems to care about that part.”

Salmah says she’s given him an ultimatum to get a job within the next three months or they’re going to have a serious conversation about the future of their marriage. “I don’t care how he’s going to do it. I need to know that he’s actually trying. Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one fighting for this marriage.”

When asked what advice she would give to women in similar situations, Salmah laughs and says, “Honestly, I don’t even know what to tell you. Everyone’s situation is different. But what I do know is that you can’t pour from an empty cup. And right now, my cup is not just empty, it’s cracked and sitting on a table somewhere waiting for super glue.

You need to have the hard conversations early. Don’t wait until you’re three years deep in resentment, burnout and anger before you speak up. Your peace of mind is more important than keeping the peace.”

For Salmah, what’s next is taking it one day at a time, one bill at a time, one prayer at a time. “And if he doesn’t get his act together by January, I’m getting my act together to leave. Because at this point, I’d rather be a single woman with money than a married woman with stress.”

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