Nigeria’s proposed 74 additional legislative seats for women offer an opportunity to address decades of political exclusion. However, reserved representation must go beyond constitutional arithmetic to confront the financial, institutional and violent barriers that have kept women away from political power.
The proposal to create 74 additional legislative seats reserved for women in the National Assembly raises a fundamental question about the character of Nigeria’s democracy: how can a country claim to represent its people when nearly half its population remains significantly underrepresented in the institutions that make its laws? For decades, Nigerian women have participated in elections, mobilised political support, organised communities and contributed to national development, yet their presence in the corridors of political authority has remained disproportionately small. The proposed constitutional intervention offers an opportunity to correct this imbalance, but its success will depend on whether the country is prepared to confront the structures that have sustained it.
The proposal, disclosed by Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele, provides for 37 additional seats in the Senate and another 37 in the House of Representatives, with each state and the Federal Capital Territory receiving one seat in each chamber. It also proposes three additional seats reserved for women in every state House of Assembly. The arrangement would operate for 16 years, covering four electoral cycles, before a comprehensive review. Importantly, the additional positions would not displace existing legislators. The proposal remains subject to the constitutional amendment process and the required approval of state legislatures.
The historical contradiction behind this proposal is worth examining. Nigerian women were active participants in the country’s political evolution long before independence. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti’s mobilisation of the Abeokuta Women’s Union against colonial taxation and oppressive traditional authority demonstrated that women were capable of organising formidable political movements. Margaret Ekpo similarly challenged discriminatory political arrangements, while Oyinkan Abayomi established the Nigerian Women’s Party in 1944. Women were therefore not waiting to be introduced to political participation; they were already challenging the structures that denied them access to it.
Yet the political institutions that emerged after independence did little to translate this contribution into proportionate representation. The Fourth Republic has offered particularly disappointing evidence. In 2007, Nigeria recorded its highest number of women in the National Assembly, with 36 female legislators. The figure subsequently declined, and the 2023 general election produced only 17 women in the 469-member federal legislature: three senators and 14 members of the House of Representatives. Research by International IDEA also places Nigeria among Africa’s poorest performers in women’s parliamentary representation.
This is a serious democratic deficit. Women constitute approximately half the population and participate substantially in the electoral process, yet their ability to convert that participation into political authority remains severely restricted. The problem cannot reasonably be explained by a shortage of qualified women or an absence of interest in public affairs. It points instead to a political environment in which access to party structures, campaign financing, nominations and electoral influence is distributed unequally.
Violence makes this exclusion even more troubling. Female politicians in Nigeria have faced intimidation, physical assaults, threats to their lives and attacks on their supporters. In November 2019, Salome Abuh, a Peoples Democratic Party women leader in Kogi State, was reportedly burnt alive when assailants attacked her residence. Three years later, Victoria Chintex, the Labour Party women leader in Kaduna State, was shot dead in her home. These were not merely attacks on individual party officials; they exposed the dangers confronting women who participate in political organising.
The experience of Natasha Akpoti during the 2019 Kogi senatorial contest also illustrates the hostility female candidates can encounter. She alleged that political thugs attacked her supporters after she refused to withdraw from the race. Her campaign subsequently faced further reports of intimidation and physical assault. Such incidents, alongside sexualised insults, character assassination and online harassment, create an environment in which women must contend with risks extending beyond the ordinary difficulties of electoral competition.
These experiences have historical antecedents. Ransome-Kuti herself died in 1978 after sustaining injuries during the military raid on the Kalakuta Republic. Kudirat Abiola was assassinated in 1996 for her pro-democracy activism during military rule. Although their circumstances differed from contemporary electoral violence, their experiences belong to a national history in which women who challenge established political authority have sometimes paid an extraordinary price. A woman who fears for her safety and that of her supporters cannot be said to enjoy equal political opportunity simply because the Constitution permits her to contest an election.
There is also the question of institutional resistance. Nigeria has repeatedly demonstrated enthusiasm for gender inclusion in public declarations while struggling to translate commitments into legislation. In March 2022, the National Assembly rejected five constitutional alteration bills seeking to improve women’s rights and representation. They included proposals for additional legislative seats for women, 35 per cent affirmative action in political party administration and reserved representation in ministerial appointments. The rejection followed years of advocacy by women’s organisations and civil society groups.
The history makes the current proposal particularly important, but it also demands scrutiny. What has changed within the political establishment to make a reform that failed in 2022 more attainable today? The Senate leadership’s commitment is encouraging, but constitutional reform cannot depend on the goodwill of a few influential lawmakers. Political parties and state assemblies must demonstrate that they are prepared to support meaningful inclusion.
International experience offers useful lessons. Rwanda, for instance, has achieved approximately 64 per cent female representation in its Chamber of Deputies through constitutional quotas and other affirmative action arrangements. Its experience demonstrates that deliberate institutional intervention can change the composition of a legislature. However, representation figures alone cannot establish the quality of democratic accountability or the independence of individual legislators. Nigeria must therefore consider both access to political office and the actual influence women exercise once elected.
The proposed seats must not become another avenue for political patronage. Their occupants should emerge through transparent, direct electoral processes, with clearly defined constituencies and accountability to voters. Political parties must also address the financial barriers that prevent many women from competing effectively for nominations. Where access to party tickets depends heavily on wealthy sponsors, political godfathers and expensive primaries, simply creating additional seats will not guarantee broader participation.
Equally important is the protection of female candidates and their supporters. Security agencies must investigate political attacks, prosecute perpetrators and provide credible protection during electoral campaigns. INEC and political parties should monitor gender-based electoral intimidation and ensure that complaints are not dismissed as ordinary political disagreements. Reserved representation cannot succeed in an environment where women are threatened into abandoning their ambitions.
There is also a need to look beyond the number of women entering parliament. Their participation must extend to influential committees, budget decisions, national security, economic policy and the full range of legislative responsibilities. Women should not be confined to issues conventionally categorised as women’s affairs. They have an equal stake in decisions concerning taxation, energy, agriculture, public debt and national development.
The proposed 16-year duration should similarly be treated as a period for measurable institutional change, rather than an assumption that political equality will automatically emerge after four electoral cycles. Any review must consider whether women have gained fairer access to ordinary constituencies, party leadership, campaign financing and legislative authority. If the underlying barriers persist, the country must be prepared to reconsider its approach.
Nigeria’s democracy cannot continually depend on women’s votes, organisational labour and political mobilisation while denying them a proportionate voice in the institutions that exercise public authority. The women who challenged colonial taxation and traditional exclusion understood that participation meant having a say in decisions affecting their lives. More than seven decades later, the country is still negotiating the institutional terms of that demand.
The 74-seat proposal could mark an important development in this struggle. Its real value, however, will depend on whether Nigeria uses constitutional reform to dismantle the political arrangements that have kept women at the margins. Creating seats is one step; ensuring that women can contest, occupy and exercise power without intimidation or discrimination is the more consequential undertaking. A democracy that excludes a substantial part of its population from meaningful political authority cannot claim to have fulfilled its promise of representation.
