From a student with dreams of working in a bank who’s now leaning towards remote work to a woman who had to leave her well-paying job, these Nigerian women open up about how PCOS has impacted their careers.

Image by Freepik

Fareedah*

I have the kindest boss who doesn’t make me feel inadequate for needing time off whenever my period starts. But it’s frustrating to miss out on opportunities just because it’s that time of the month. I always try to compensate by working extra hard when I return, but that also means losing time I could’ve spent with family or on personal projects. Life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to deal with PCOS.

Bisi*

I run my own catering business, so I can take time off whenever needed. But dealing with PCOS has its challenges. I’ve struggled with being overweight for a while, and people love to make backhanded comments about how my weight must be due to the nature of my business. That’s far from the truth. I’ve been on a strict diet even before my diagnosis. Over time, those comments affected my confidence, and I started turning down public events. Now, I’m always self-conscious about how I look in public, and it’s taken a lot of effort to work on my mindset.

Joy*

In 2021, I left my well-paying job in banking, but only my family knew why. I didn’t want to share my PCOS diagnosis with my bosses because I was scared they’d label me unfit to work. I’d seen it happen to others and didn’t want to be passed over for promotions. But not opening up was a mistake. My mood swings and aggression during painful periods were misunderstood, and I became the person everyone thought was difficult to work with. I was only lashing out because I was in pain.

Ibukun*

NYSC taught me I couldn’t do a 9-5 job with PCOS. I worked at an e-commerce company in Ikeja, and we only got one day off per month. If you took more, it got deducted from your salary, or you’d get a query. The first time I asked for sick leave due to period pain, my boss looked at me like I was crazy. He even suggested I plan my day off around my period. I was too stunned to respond. That experience made me realise I didn’t want to depend on anyone regarding something as basic as resting when I was sick. Now, I run my own business and take all the time I need when my period hits.

Ife*

I had a female boss who knew about my PCOS but didn’t care. She’d make comments like, “You’re not the only one menstruating, so why should you get special treatment?” Once, I asked to work from home because I wasn’t feeling well, but she insisted I come to the office for an important meeting. I made it to work, but the pain got so bad that I started rolling on the floor, screaming. She still thought I was faking it until one of the clients suggested taking me to the hospital. The next morning, she texted me asking about work—not even a word about how I was feeling. That was the last straw for me. I quit, and although it hurt because I needed the money, I had to choose my peace of mind.

Abibat*

I’ve always dreamed of working in one of the new-generation banks, but the stories I’ve heard about how difficult it is to take time off keep making me rethink it. I was diagnosed with PCOS in 2022, but even before then, I’d always had intense period cramps. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve missed classes or tests because of my period. It scares me to think about the choices I’ll have to make when I start working. I already know I’ll lean towards remote work—not because it’s what I want, but because it’s what I’ll need to do to manage my health.

Are you looking for more information about PCOS? Famasi Africa has worked on a resource, and it’s full of practical tips and essentials for Nigerian women navigating PCOS. Find it here.

Read this next: 5 Nigerian Women on Getting Diagnosed with PCOS After Doctors Ignored Their Symptoms

1. Floral chiffon gown style

Want everyone to know you care about your plant babies when you step out of the house? Go for this floral chiffon gown, which is a nice option for casual outings.

2. Long sleeve layered dress

Yes, chiffon is a great option for casual outings, but if you’ve got a badass tailor, you can go for this style, which is a nice option for semi-formal gatherings.

3. Simple chiffon dress

Step out for a casual playdate with friends in this, and everyone will know you’ve got style.

4. One-shoulder belted jumpsuit

This one is for the corporate girlies. Depending on how much skin you want to show, you can get your tailor to tweak the shoulder.

5. Bell sleeve belted gown

This is the one if you’re in your casual luxury x rich aunty era and want your nieces and nephews to bill you during family gatherings.

6. Short chiffon wrap dress with tea sleeves

This style is a multitasking bae. Wear it to a casual hangout with friends and rock it to the office on Fridays.

7. Long sleeve chiffon wrap dress

Are you really the rich aunty you claim to be if this isn’t one of the chiffon gown styles in your wardrobe? If your answer is no, here’s your chance to fix up.

8. Chiffon wrap blouse

Rock this chiffon blouse as a dress if you’re feeling adventurous and want to compete with Ayra Starr.

9. Cross-neck sleeveless gown

You’ll thank whoever created this chiffon style if you rock it during the hot season.

10. Chiffon kimono

This one is for the Muslim girlies. Consider it if you want to look a little extra for Friday prayers.

Enjoyed this piece about chiffon gown styles? Read this next: 45 Latest Hairstyles for Nigerian Ladies in 2024

Image by Freepik

Tayo*, 26

I started having irregular periods at 19. I visited the school clinic multiple times, but the matron insisted it was nothing serious, especially after I mentioned I wasn’t sexually active. Still, I knew something was wrong. I could go two months without a period, and when it came, it was unusually heavy. 

I’d read about PCOS online, but it wasn’t until a women’s NGO visited our school during a departmental event and a female gynaecologist attended to me that I was finally diagnosed in 2016.

Abike, 27

I’ve always had extremely painful periods. Sometimes, I’d end up in the hospital, and the doctors would tell me to rest, blaming stress and anxiety. When I turned 20, I knew it wasn’t just stress. After doing some research and talking to some of my friends, I suspected PCOS. I visited the school hospital once and requested a pelvic ultrasound, but the doctor didn’t approve it.  It wasn’t until I travelled to Lagos with a friend who recommended a specialist hospital that I finally got a diagnosis and treatment options.

Derin*, 24

As a teenager, one of my major concerns was extreme acne. I became a skincare junkie because it affected my confidence and made me self-conscious whenever I stepped out of the house. During hospital visits, doctors would say, “Don’t worry, it’ll clear up as you get older,” I’d believe them, but then I got older, and it never did. On top of the acne, I also started having a bloated tummy and irregular periods. So, I knew it was time to see a specialist, so I went to the teaching hospital in Ibadan, where I was diagnosed with PCOS after some tests. My previous doctors tried to help, but I wish they’d listened to me sooner so I wouldn’t have struggled with it for so long.

Ife*, 32

I’ve dealt with excess hair growth, weight gain, and irregular periods for as long as I can remember. During every hospital visit, I was told to lose weight and change my diet, but no one ran any tests. It wasn’t until I struggled to conceive after marriage that I got tested and was diagnosed with PCOS. I realised I’d been dismissed because of my size, and that delayed my diagnosis and treatment plan.

Bukunmi*, 33

I had a miscarriage in 2019 when trying to conceive. At first, I thought it was a one-time issue, but I had more miscarriages. Around this time, I was also my mum’s primary caregiver as she battled a terminal illness. The doctors said my miscarriages were likely due to emotional distress, but I knew something was wrong. After a fourth miscarriage, which required evacuation, I developed severe acne and started gaining weight. 

My doctor then referred me to a gynaecologist who prescribed some tests, and that was when I was diagnosed with PCOS. Looking back, all those miscarriages could have been avoided if I’d been diagnosed earlier.

Are you looking for more information about PCOS? Famasi Africa has worked on a resource, and it’s full of practical tips and essentials for Nigerian women navigating PCOS. Find it here.

Read this next: A Fake Genotype Result Cost Me the Love of My Life

Ankara corset top

Photo source: Instagram/@stylebyreme

This is the perfect style if you’re sharing the Ankara fabric with three other friends, and each of you ends up with two yards.

Ankara jumpsuit

Photo source: Instagram/@germinous

Good thing about this style? It’s a multitasking bae. You can wear it to an owambe and also show up in it to your office on Fridays.

Ankara corset gown

Photo source: Instagram/@delayghana

The aunties and mummies might stare you down with bombastic side eyes, but the fashion girlies will rate you if you show up in this Ankara corset gown.

Two-piece

Photo source: Instagram/@shopmora.co

This Ankara two-piece style works well for casual outings.

Ankara with ruffles and high slit

Photo source: Instagram/@nancyisimeofficial

Nigerian tailors love the opportunity to play with ruffles; they’ll more than deliver if you choose this style. Just make sure you have enough fabric.

Ankara babydoll gown

This is another simple and stunning Ankara style to choose if you have limited fabric or just love to flaunt your hot legs.

Ankara wrap gowns

This style is another multitasking queen that fits in a corporate or social setting.

Six-piece long gown with stoned bow

Photo source: Instagram/@hamdiyahamidd

Go for this ankara style if you’re up for a dramatic look that’ll land you on the pages of fashion blogs.

Puff sleeves x off shoulder mini dress

Photo source: Instagram/@uniqueafricancollection

Love showing skin? This is the one for you.

Ankara kimono set

Photo source: Instagram/@lillyafe

At this point, can we all agree that kimonos are never going out of fashion? Anyway, this look is a win any day, anytime.

Ankara skirt

This one is for the corporate baddies.

Mixed pattern coat dress

Photo source: Instagram/@ituenbasi

If you appear in this piece, you’ll spend half the day convincing people you are not Otedola’s family member.

Ankara zipper skirt

Photo source: Instagram/@isaleekofromderin

We’re not reaching if we say this ankara style screams rich, classy and boujee.

One-button pant set

Photo source: Instagram/@isaleekofromderin

This Ankara pant set is lowkey giving unisex vibes. Just imagine showing up with your boo in this.

Mixed pattern shirt

Photo source: Instagram/@tzarstudios

Style this with a denim pant and a crop top singlet.

Read this next: 45 Latest Hairstyles for Nigerian Ladies in 2024

Image by Canva AI

Lara, 28

When I got married in 2021, I thought the name change would be easy. Since I didn’t have an international passport, I assumed I’d only need to get the court affidavit and newspaper announcement everyone talks about.

My husband got the court affidavit on my behalf for about ₦4k and then paid ₦18k for the name change announcement in the newspaper. I assumed that was all, but then I tried to create a new bank account with my married name, and the bank said I couldn’t because my BVN had my maiden name.

So, I had to return to the bank where I originally did my BVN to submit my marriage certificate, court affidavit, and newspaper announcement. It took about two weeks for the name change to be reflected.

Then, I returned to the other bank to create a new account. But they said the names on my BVN (Bank Verification Number) and NIN (National Identification Number) didn’t match and that the NIN was supposed to be my means of identification. So, I had to go to the NIMC office to update my name.

The first time I went to the NIMC office and saw the crowd, I just gave up. I kept visiting the office and returning home over a six-month period because the crowd always scared me. Eventually, I got someone inside the office to help me and paid them ₦5k. Altogether, it took me a year and so much stress to change my name. 

I still don’t know what I’ll meet when it’s time to update my name on my permanent voter’s card. I think I’ll just leave that one abeg.

Azeezat*, 26

I got married in 2023 and saw shege with this name change thing. I planned to travel to meet my husband abroad and decided to change my name before japa. That meant I needed to update my name on my international passport.

The court affidavit and newspaper publication cost less than ₦30k and were ready in two days. However, I also needed to update my NIN name, and that’s where the wahala started.

Every time I went to the NIMC office, the staff said their systems were down and they couldn’t update the change on the server. After going up and down for three weeks, I eventually got one of the staff to hold my documents (wedding certificate, affidavit, newspaper announcement and former NIN slip) so they could help me update my NIN portal as soon as the server was up. 

I still had to go back after a week to re-capture my biometrics. I can’t remember the actual price for the entire process, but I gave the staff who helped me ₦7500. 

After the NIN, the next stage was to go to the immigration office to update my passport name. I heard it normally costs ₦30k, but I paid ₦80k in total because I wanted to fast-track it. The immigration office collected my old passport, and I went to pick up the new one two months later when it was ready. I heard it takes others up to a year.

Brown, 29

I’ve changed my name twice — once when I got married and the second when I got divorced.

I got married in 2018, and it was pretty seamless. My ex-husband took me to the court, where I used my marriage certificate to swear a change of name affidavit. That cost about ₦1k. Then, I took the affidavit to publish my new name in the newspaper. That cost ₦6k.

After my divorce in 2021, I used the document containing the court judgement of divorce to swear an affidavit, which I used to publish my revert to my maiden name in a newspaper. I think the whole thing cost ₦10k.

I also had to update my NIN after the divorce because I’d registered while married, and it carried my ex’s surname. It was a seamless process because I knew someone in the NIMC office, but it still took a few weeks.

Esther, 32

I got married in 2021 but only changed my name in 2023 because I was trying to include my husband’s details as my spouse and next of kin on my pension account, and my pension fund administrator said it’d be easier if we bore the same name.

The affidavit and newspaper part were pretty straightforward, but the NIN update was unnecessarily annoying. I paid ₦2500 and had to queue for the whole day before submitting my application and re-capturing my biometrics. Then, it took two weeks for the update to reflect, and I had to queue for hours again to collect my new NIN slip.

I also want to update my name on my bank account, but I heard that’ll involve updating the BVN. I’m not ready for another lengthy process.

Erioluwa, 43

I changed my name a year after my wedding in 2015, and I only needed the court affidavit and newspaper announcement. I can’t remember how much the newspaper cost, but the affidavit was ₦2500. Then, I submitted the documents to my bank and place of work, and they changed my name where necessary.

I even registered my NIN with my married name before I changed my name officially and had no issues. 

I was just lucky, really. I hadn’t registered my NIN before, so I took my marriage certificate there and filled out the form with my husband’s surname. Fortunately, the NIMC staff didn’t check. If not, I’d have gotten delayed until I did the affidavit.

Ronke*, 24

I started my name change process about four months ago, and I’m still in the NIN name update stage.

I’m using the new NIMC self-service portal, which is supposed to allow me to change my name from the comfort of my home. However, there are several issues with it. The portal says I need to upload the court affidavit for the change of name, which I’ve already done. 

But it also says I need a government-issued means of identification with the new name. I only have an international passport, and I can’t update my name there because I still need the same NIN. Even updating the voter’s card requires NIN, too, so what does Nigeria want me to do?

Someone has suggested getting a driver’s license with my new name so I can then change the NIN. But it doesn’t make sense why I have to spend so much just because I’m trying to avoid queues at the NIMC office. 

*Some names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: At 62, I Returned to Nigeria to Retire. Things Took an Unexpected Turn

The chaotic discussion on X led me to ask these Nigerian women why they wear waist beads.

Taiye*, Lagos

I wear waist beads simply for beautification. I love how they accentuate my waist and make clinking sounds when I dance or wiggle them. I’ve recently stopped adding to my collection because I already have too many.

Damola*, Ogun

In my culture, waist beads are called “Ileke Idi or bebedi.” I’ve loved wearing them since I was a teenager, although my mum didn’t approve of them when I was in secondary school. I know they’re mostly worn for beautification, but I’ve also had friends who wear fortified beads handed to them by their mums. These beads are a form of protection against evil and negative energy, not meant to harm men.

Risikat*, Osun

I’m not a big fan of waist beads, but my husband loves them. He’s from Isale-Eko in Lagos and always talks about how women rock shiny and attractive waist beads to enhance their appearance. So, let’s just say I started wearing them because of him. My husband has a specific preference; he only loves triple-layer beads in gold or silver.

Ada*, Imo

In my culture, waist beads are mostly worn for beautification. Some special ones are also worn during traditional wedding ceremonies or chieftaincy title installations, but that’s about it. I’m not a big fan of them because they sometimes make my waist uncomfortable.

Beatrice*, Anambra

Waist beads are also called “mgbaji” in my culture, and they’re mostly worn by women for beautification or during special occasions like traditional wedding ceremonies. My granny said that in her days, the beads were part of the necessary items the groom had to present to his bride before marriage. I don’t think it’s still a thing because my husband didn’t give me waist beads, and no one made a fuss about it.

Balikis*, Kwara

Most women in my family wear waist beads; I think we have our granny to thank. That was her “traditional” method of watching our weight growing up. When the beads get tight, it means that we’ve put on extra flesh, and when they go loose, it shows that we’ve lost weight.

Hadiza*, Minna

I don’t like waist beads, but I know some women in my family who wear them. I once asked my mum, and according to her, some of the beads have medicinal purposes apart from beautification. She said the waist beads are a form of traditional contraception that helps women control childbirth. You can hardly see the beads of these women anyway because they are usually fully clothed.

Blessing*, Imo

Women in my family mainly wear waist beads as part of post-childbirth care. The beads are believed to have healing properties that speed up recovery and help restore a woman’s body after childbirth. Some women continue wearing them for beautification long after they’ve recovered.

Read this next: 10 Annoying Things Nigerians Need To Stop Doing To Other People

TW: Sexual abuse, domestic abuse and self-harm.

As told to Boluwatife

Image designed by Freepik

I’ve lived with bipolar disorder for 22 years, but I wasn’t always like this. 

Growing up, I was the regular fun-loving child who played with her siblings and stayed over with her cousins during school holidays. But then my uncle started sexually abusing me, and my “regular” life ended.

The first time it happened, I was 10 years old. He lived with my parents for a few months and constantly made me and my siblings touch him. Sometimes, he’d touch us. It didn’t occur to me to say anything, and it stopped when my family moved out of the area, so I just pushed it to the back of my head.

Three years later, my parents separated, and I had to go live with my grandmother. At this time, my uncle was an undergraduate. He also lived in my grandma’s house when he wasn’t at school. I was in JSS 3. The abuse started again and continued on and off for three years whenever he was home on holiday.

This time, it came with threats. He’d warn me to tell anyone unless he’d kill me. I think my mental health issues started accumulating from there. Whenever he wasn’t around, I simply forgot he’d abused me. Then he’d return and begin again. I now know from therapy that forgetting was my subconscious way of protecting myself. I just locked the memories away in my head.

One time in SS 3, I overheard him tell his girlfriend that he’d “destroy Fola’s life”, and I started having panic attacks. My heart raced for days, and I kept having thoughts of death. I was preparing for my WAEC exams, but I couldn’t concentrate. It was like all my bottling up eventually reached a breaking point. 

I remember when I finally broke down. It was the day of my chemistry exam for WAEC. I walked into the lab, and my friends were waving at me to join them when I ran out. The school’s secretary had to call my mum to let her know I was behaving strangely. She took me home, and I grew worse. I couldn’t bathe, eat or talk to anyone, and I kept crying.

My mum thought I had acute malaria that was affecting my brain and took me to a hospital. I spent about three months there and honestly don’t remember most of what happened. There was a time when I was unconscious, and the doctors had to resuscitate me. When I started trying to cut myself and drag injections from the nurses, the doctor referred me to a psychiatric hospital.

It took two years of regular hospital visits and consultation for the psychiatric hospital to officially diagnose and start treating me for bipolar disorder and depression in 2001. The doctor didn’t admit me to the hospital, and it took that long for an official diagnosis because I’d blanked out a lot, and it took a while for me to remember specific details. 

I also told my mum about what my uncle had done. The family was involved, and the matter ended with begging and assurances that it’d never happen again.

But the damage was already done. I was 19 years old, and suddenly, I was faced with the reality that I’d have to be on medication for the rest of my life.

It took a while for me to adjust. I’d take my medication religiously for a while, but then I’d get tired and refuse to take anymore. I relapsed three times before I accepted that I couldn’t run away from medication. 

I almost emptied my family house during one of those relapses. I stopped my drugs and had this huge burst of energy. So, I decided I was going to clean and rearrange the house. It wasn’t even dirty, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I called an aboki and told him to pack everything, even the valuable things. Luckily, my mum returned before he could take them away. 

Living with bipolar disorder is one thing. Navigating relationships with it is another thing entirely. At different points in time, men came to me wanting to date me, but once I told them about my sickness, they ghosted me. It didn’t even matter that I was on medication, and I was always upfront about my condition. They just disappeared.

Even when I decided to focus my attention on church and let relationships rest, this sickness still didn’t let me be. I joined the choir but couldn’t meet up with the early hours and vigils required as a church worker. 

One of the side effects of my medication is excessive sleep. An average person sleeps eight hours, but I sleep 15-16 hours daily. That also affected my university studies, but fortunately, I still graduated. 

I met my husband, Robert*, just after NYSC service year in 2012. We met in a keke, and he asked for my number. I remember he had one small torchlight phone, and I thought, “See the phone this one is using to toast woman?”

Anyway, we got talking, and I immediately told him about my condition. He didn’t mind. He even declared that my uncle was now his enemy and he’d never talk to him if he ever saw him. 

Robert and I got married within a year of dating. My mum was happy I’d found a man willing to marry me with my condition because not many men would want someone with bipolar disorder in their house.

The early days of our marriage weren’t too bad. Robert understood that my medications left me tired and always oversleeping, so he helped with the chores. I also didn’t work, so he took care of the bills. I did try to run a salon, but the stress of standing for a long time affected me, and I had to stop.

Then, Robert started hitting me. It wasn’t regular, and it happened when he grew frustrated with my inability to do certain things. He’d complain about it, I’d try to defend myself, and he’d respond with slaps. We moved to a different state after marriage, and none of my family members were close. 

Whenever he hit me, he’d quickly call my parents to report to them about how I was in the wrong — I think he was just trying to talk before I did. He never told them about the beatings, and I didn’t say anything either.

I had my first child in 2013. I have three children now, and each time I get pregnant, the doctors change my medication to prevent birth deformities in the kids and so that the trauma of birth and blood loss wouldn’t affect my mental health. 

I’ve gone from using four tablets daily to eight, and my energy levels have dropped with each birth. I can’t concentrate well and can no longer do as much as I used to. As of 2015, I could still go to the market, cook in bulk and store soups in the freezer. Now, I can only cook soups thrice a month, and even that is with serious determination. 

I had my last child in 2022, and my doctor instructed me not to have any more if I didn’t want to be totally useless. 

My husband is aware of how much childbirth has affected me, but it still doesn’t change the fact that most of our issues are because of my condition. I do try my best. I run a provisions store, which I started in 2023, and I try to go in the evenings when I feel well enough to do so. But then my husband comes home from work and wants me to cook fresh food, but I can’t do it. It’s really affecting our relationship.

To be honest, he tries his best. When he’s in a good mood, he helps me out and tries to make sure I’m fine. He cooks, helps with the children’s school runs and provides for us. But when he’s tired, he takes it to the extreme. He says things like, “What kind of wife did I even marry?” and accuses me of faking my weakness. Does he think I’m happy that I can’t be much of a wife and mother to my kids? I can’t even be actively involved with my children. 

Sometimes, I cry all day and question God. Like, why did this have to happen to me? But then I console myself that I won’t live forever. I’ll be gone one day, and the drugs will stop.

I guess Robert’s feelings are valid. I know my condition isn’t the easiest thing to manage, but this is a lifelong thing, and I wish he’d be more understanding. I know he has many female friends he goes to meet whenever he leaves the house angry, but I don’t even mind. If I’m not giving him the joy he wants, maybe it’s okay for him to find it elsewhere. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t stop my medication so I can have more energy because it’d only make my condition worse. So, what’s the point?

I’ve tried to talk to him about how I feel on numerous occasions. Sometimes, he listens. Other times, it’s like, “Abeg, I’m tired of all these stories.” I’m glad he’s even stopped hitting me. I finally told my mum last year, and she threatened to arrest him. He hasn’t hit me since. 

In all this, I’m glad I have my family as a support system. Most days, I think less of myself and worry about the things I can’t do. But my mum calls me weekly to talk to and encourage me. She was there when I first broke down and constantly reminds me how far I’ve come. I survived, I have children, and my condition is manageable even with the side effects of medication. I’m grateful to God for the little wins.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: “Don’t Tell Anyone”: The Sexual Abuse Of Nigerian Boys

Wedding vendors be like…

The intending couple aren’t the only ones affected by this account balance-reddening venture. In recent years, bridesmaids have had to dig deep into their purses to afford the expenses that come with the position. We spoke to six Nigerian women about what it costs to be a Nigerian bridesmaid.

May, 29

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦800k

I spent that much on one wedding because I had to take flights to the bride’s village for the traditional wedding and then to Abuja for the church wedding. That cost about ₦300k. Then I spent about ₦150k on two outfits, ₦50k on make-up and contributed ₦30k with the other bridesmaids to throw the bride a bridal shower. 

I can’t remember how I spent the rest now, but I still bought her a gift and took her out to eat one time. Then there was the cost of transportation within both cities and spraying money during the reception. I even had to borrow money for my flight back because my salary was delayed a bit. The expenses were worth it because she’s my childhood best friend. I wouldn’t spend that much money if it were someone else. 

My usual bridesmaid budget is ₦100k – ₦200k and the outfits take most of the money — specifically sewing. Aso-ebi can cost between ₦15k – ₦50k, and my tailor charges between ₦30k – ₦50k. I try to limit bridesmaid activities to once every two months because of these expenses.

Rebecca, 26

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦300k

The bride lived on the outskirts of Lagos and didn’t provide any accommodation. She expected all six bridesmaids to manage in one room in her dad’s house for two days. I couldn’t do that. I think I spent about ₦80k on hotel fees alone — I stayed three days because I was too tired after the wedding. 

I actively avoid bridesmaid activities — because where is the money? — but when I have to, I try to keep my budget under ₦100k. That almost never works out because I still have to spend on Uber cabs, make-up and outfits. And good owambe make-up starts from ₦20k. How much is remaining?

Ola, 31

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦400k

My husband and I drove from one city to another for that wedding, so a good percentage of the ₦400k went into servicing and fueling the car for the six-hour journey.

Out of that ₦400k, I also contributed ₦30k for the bridal shower, ₦20k for the wedding gift and ₦60k for hotel accommodation. Aso-ebi was ₦45k and sewing was ₦15k. I also had to buy shoes, a new purse and new hair. The hair cost about ₦100k.

I think a reasonable bridesmaid budget is ₦200k, especially with how expensive things are now. At least, I don’t do it every weekend, and I can only be a bridesmaid for people I care about.

Chioma, 23

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦150k

I’ve actually only been a bridesmaid once in my life. The expenses would’ve been more than that, but the bride is my close friend, and she was very understanding of the fact that I was going through a rough time.

The aso-ebi cost ₦50k, but she gave it to me for free. I used ₦50k to sew it and contributed ₦15k for the bridal shower. I made souvenirs for the wedding and that cost ₦35k. Make-up cost ₦15k, and the rest went into transportation, spraying and helping the bride pay for random things.

I feel like ₦150k is a reasonable budget for a bridesmaid. When it’s not like I’m the one getting married.

Prisca*, 26

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦200k

This was a few months ago and the money I spent still annoys me because I’d already accepted to be a bridesmaid before realising I’d have to buy two different aso-ebi for the traditional and white weddings. That cost ₦40k. The bride also asked all the bridesmaids to do a ponytail for the wedding, so I had to install a 360 lace wig. That cost about ₦120k. Then there was still make-up, hotel fees, styling and the rest.

I’ll make sure to confirm what I’m expected to buy before I agree to be a bridesmaid again. Spending more than ₦100k for someone else’s wedding is wild.

Jola*, 30

Highest amount spent bridesmaiding: ₦250k

I was the chief bridesmaid and a lot of that money went into getting outfits for the engagement party, traditional wedding, white wedding and afterparty. That also meant triple the cost of makeup (because of the three different events) and transportation. The bride handled accommodation and feeding, though. So, that helped.

My usual bridesmaid budget is ₦80k – ₦100k. Most of my friends don’t like wahala and a good number of them combined the traditional and white wedding on the same day. One-day weddings are usually more cost-effective because you’re just spending once. Right now, my motto is, “Count me out of any wedding that goes over a day”. 

*Some names have been changed for anonymity.

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Society comes up with a new rule for women everyday. Some women follow it, some tweak it a little to fit what they truly want, and others just give society the middle finger.  

Nigerians have been debating on X (FKA Twitter) if women should take their partner’s last names, so we asked 10 Nigerian women if they’d take their partner’s last names after marriage  and this is what they said.

Jumai*, 59, Widowed

I got married in the 90s. At the time, it didn’t really feel like I had a different choice but to take his name. However, I tweaked it. I didn’t like his last name or the meaning behind it, so I took his middle name instead. It was a win-win.

Blessing*, 24, Single

I’m open to changing my name, but only if my partner’s name sounds nice. If it doesn’t sound better than mine, then I’m keeping my last name.

Favour*, 69, Married

I took my husband’s name because I was expected to take it. Also, it didn’t make sense for me to keep my name. I’m not insanely popular like an actress or a musician, so I didn’t have any reason to keep my name. Besides, the Bible says your husband is your head, so it was the Christian thing to do.

Joy*,23, Single

My daddy is dead, so keeping his name feels like a good way to remember him. That said, I also feel like I might have an identity crisis if I change my name at this point in my life. So, no, I won’t be taking my husband’s last name,  but our children can take his name. Let everyone answer their father’s names.

Lolu*, 26, Single

I won’t be taking my husband’s last name. I like mine too much, but if we have children, I won’t mind  mind if they take his name or maybe the boys can take his and the girls can take mine. I’m still thinking about this part.

Beauty*, 27, Married

I changed my last name after I got married. My previous surname had a traditional meaning we didn’t like, and my dad wanted to change our name before he passed, so marriage was an opportunity to do so.  

Chisom*, 32, Engaged

I’ve thought about it a lot because my surname sounds so fucking cool. I like my partner’s surname, so I’m willing to hyphenate both names. When we have children, they can take his name.

Doyin*, 27, Engaged

I don’t mind people calling me by my partner’s last name, but I don’t think I’ll ever change my name on paper. It takes forever to change your last name in this country, so it just doesn’t feel worth it. Also, I really like my last name and it’s a big part of my identity and work. My name has become a brand, and I just don’t see myself letting that go.

Ivy*, 23, Single

First of all, I’m a lesbian. I don’t have any societal obligation to take anyone’s name. But I also don’t like the stress that comes with legally changing a name. So yeah, I won’t change mine. If we have kids, we can hyphenate or merge both our names and come up with a new surname

Somto*, 30, Single

I’ve never really planned on taking my partner’s name when I get married. The plan is to make a name for myself before I get married, so it’ll just be easier to either hyphenate or leave my name as is.

She shares why she can’t leave and how she’s made it a priority to advise other women not to tow the same path.

As told to Boluwatife

Image by FreePik

Love can push you to do foolish things. Now, when I get the opportunity to talk to single ladies about relationships, I tell them to shine their eyes. Love won’t feed you; is there money? But the truth is, I didn’t take to advice either.

Let me tell you my story so you know what I mean. My mum was the sole breadwinner when I was growing up. My dad was what you’d call a sperm donor with audacity. He was a mechanic who hardly dropped money at home, but he’d come home at night to demand two pieces of meat in his food. My mum paid rent, school fees and bought clothes for all her four children with the money she made as a fabric trader. 

My family’s dynamic didn’t seem strange to me. I never saw or heard my mum complain about providing for almost everything, including my dad’s demands. I grew up in a neighbourhood where most of the mothers had their shops and different hustles to take care of their children. This meant that I didn’t have anything else to compare my mum’s situation to. It was my normal.

As a child, whenever I went to my mum to ask for money to buy something, she’d say, “When you start making money, you’ll know that they don’t just spend money anyhow”. It always confused me. I want to buy sweets, and you’re saying I’m spending money anyhow. It made me start dreaming of making my own money, so I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. 

Of course, I became entrepreneurial early. I’d take my elder sister’s pictures to my secondary school to show my seniors and charge them ₦30 for our home’s landline so they could speak with her. My sister and I used to share the money equally.

There’s almost nothing I’ve not tried to make a business out of — selling recharge cards, writing notes for classmates in uni, braiding hair for my friends in the hostel and during NYSC camp and even selling baby clothes at a nearby primary health centre.

It was during one of my many hustles that I met Dare*, the man who eventually became my husband. It was 2016, and I was selling male clothes and watches on Facebook and WhatsApp, in addition to my 9-5 as an admin officer.

He was a friend on Facebook, but we never interacted before he slid into my DM to ask about a wristwatch I’d posted earlier that day. He wanted to buy it for someone but wanted it delivered to him first. That’s how we discovered that we lived in the same neighbourhood. We got talking and started dating after we met up at his church.

There were warning signs. 

Dare didn’t have a job. He spent all his time at church where he served — still does — as the choirmaster. He also went to sing at other churches, and they’d pay him an honorarium. He didn’t tell me how much, but I guessed it was enough to survive on. He also lived with his parents.

We didn’t really talk about money. I didn’t care that he’d ask to borrow ₦10k on random occasions or that we hardly went out on dates. I didn’t depend on guys’ money in my previous relationships, so it wasn’t a big deal.

When I asked Dare about the job thing, he said he was applying but hoping to get something that wouldn’t affect his gospel ministry. Just before we started making wedding plans in 2017, he got a job as a supermarket supervisor. He didn’t tell me his salary, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t think it was my place.

After our parents agreed on a wedding date, we went to visit his pastor to inform him. The man called me aside and asked if I was sure I knew what I was doing. He said, “Dare doesn’t have a proper job. Why not wait a bit?”

I defended my husband-to-be. Sure, I wanted him to get better than the supervisor job, but I was also selling clothes and making good money — at least ₦25k weekly. Together, we could pull resources and build a home. But Dare and I hadn’t actually clarified how money would work in our home. I was too in love to care. In my mind, we’d get married and live happily ever after.

A few weeks after we got married in 2018, Dare quit his supervisor job. They’d refused to permit him to leave work for a week so he could travel to another state for a gospel ministration. So, he chose to leave.

The same scenario played out a couple more times over the first two years of marriage. He’d get a job and then leave after a few months because he was either tired or felt like it interfered with his passion. Did I mention I paid the rent for the house we lived in? In fact, I paid for everything we needed daily. But I still thought I was being a virtuous wife and didn’t harass him to stick to a job. 

In 2020, Dare said he wanted to start a business selling musical instruments. He knew I had almost ₦1m in savings and convinced me to give him because we could make double that. So, I gave him. He never started that business.

We also had our first child around the time I gave him all my savings. I was so broke I couldn’t even buy clothes for my baby. After about six months, I began to ask him about the business. I mean, he’d taken all that money and wasn’t even telling me anything. That caused our biggest fight to date. It was like, how dare I have the audacity to question him? His parents came to settle the matter and I had to apologise to him.

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I think it was then my eyes started to “clear”. Dare stopped trying to get jobs entirely and would just sit at home watching TV when he wasn’t singing at one church or the other. 

I reported him to his pastor several times, and he’d call Dare — without telling him I’d talked — and ask him for updates about his job. Dare just gave excuses and the pastor would in turn tell me to be patient with him and pray. I’m sure the man was thinking, “Shebi I told you?”

We had our second child in 2022, the year I finally admitted to myself that there was nothing normal about our marriage. I listen to sermons and see other couples in our church. The women aren’t the breadwinners. Dare has no intention of earning anything to provide for his family. He has never bought clothes for me and our children. I don’t know if he still gets honorariums from ministering at churches, but I don’t get anything. I still feed him.

I’ve complained about him not dropping money several times, but it always turns into a huge fight, and I end up apologising. Church leaders can do nothing except advise me to be submissive. My pastor’s wife secretly advised me to save money in an account without my husband’s knowledge. 

But how much can I save from a clothes business when I still handle all the bills? I can’t let my children starve, right? I’m honestly tired. I now avoid most of my friends at church because how many times will I say I can’t afford aso-ebi or monthly contributions that the married women in church do? Am I even married, in the real sense of the word?

I feel like everyone in church knows our situation — the choirmaster who does nothing but sings while his wife feeds him — but none of them can call him out because they want to keep up the appearances of a godly home. But what kind of home is this?

I didn’t know better when I was younger, but I do now. Even the Bible says the man should provide. I’m a woman, I shouldn’t be the breadwinner. But I can’t leave my marriage — that’s a sin. I can only pray that God will touch Dare’s heart and give him a job that allows him to take his place as the head of the house. 

Until then, the most I can do is advise young single ladies. Love won’t feed you.

*Names have been changed for anonymity.

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