Silent Scars: The struggle Of FGM victims in Delta State

By Martins Edafe

Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) remains one of Nigeria’s most persistent human-rights violations despite laws, treaties, and advocacy campaigns. While official statistics point to a decline nationwide, in pockets of Delta State and neighbouring regions, the practice of FGM endures in silence, fuelled by culture, secrecy, and inadequate protection for victims.

Victims describe the procedure as both physically excruciating and emotionally devastating. Yet, because the practice is performed quietly, often in family compounds or rural homes, it rarely reaches the courts or official statistics.

Tradition that refuses to die

In some Delta communities, FGM is woven into rites of passage. Elders still pressure young mothers to subject their daughters to circumcision, portraying it as a duty to heritage. Families who resist often face ridicule or estrangement. For many women, it is not a choice but a command from the very relatives who should protect them.

For instance, in Igbodo community, Ika North East Local Government Area of Delta State, it was gathered that due to this primitive practice, a mother of two, who went to her community (Igbodo) to put to birth had to escape from the community with her child when pressure from both extended family members and friends on the need to circumcise the female child became overwhelming.

Today, it is Igbodo community losing Loveth Nwamaka Alex, who would have ordinarily contributed her own quota to the development of the community, to urban or even foreign land due to this primitive practice people. It is Loveth today, tomorrow it might be another person else, and gradually, many communities will lose their best to urban or foreign land.

Laws that exist only on paper

Nigeria’s Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act (VAPP) of 2015 criminalizes FGM. Edo, Delta, and several other states have adopted similar laws. But victims say these laws remain largely symbolic. Reports are rarely filed, and when they are, police treat them as “family matters” best resolved privately.

“I went to the police after my sister was cut against her will,” said one victim’s relative from Isoko who pleaded anonymity. “The officer asked me why I would bring ‘family issues’ to the station. We were told to go home and settle it with the elders.” Such dismissive responses reinforce the perception that there is no state protection against cultural coercion.

NGOs stretched too thin

Non-governmental organizations, often the first line of support, are themselves overwhelmed. Rural areas where FGM persists most strongly are precisely the places NGOs find hardest to reach. Limited funding, poor road networks, and fear of clashing with traditional authorities weaken their presence.

In an interview in 2024, one of the victims of this practice said that they received initial counselling but no sustained protection. In many cases, NGOs cannot shield women from family retaliation or ensure police follow through on cases. One survivor in Ughelli lamented: “They told me FGM is against the law, but when my uncles insisted on my daughter’s cutting, nobody came to help us stop it.”

The price of silence

The consequences are dire. Victims often suffer lifelong health problems: infections, complications in childbirth, and psychological trauma. Worse, the absence of strong protection means that those who dare to resist FGM may find themselves isolated within their families or communities, left with no support networks.

For children, the silence of the state can be a death sentence. A study by women’s groups in Delta revealed that some girls bled to death after botched circumcisions, their cases never reported for fear of “bringing shame” on the family.

Why protection fails

Three systemic failures explain why victims remain vulnerable:

• Police indifference – Many officers lack training or sensitivity on gender-based violence. Cases are trivialized or ignored outright.
• Weak political will – State enforcement bodies rarely prioritize FGM despite international commitments such as the Maputo Protocol.
• Community resistance – Elders often see external intervention as cultural intrusion, creating a hostile environment for victims who seek help.

What must change

Experts say the way forward requires more than legal prohibition:

• Dedicated police gender desks with officers trained in FGM and cultural sensitivity.
• Rural outreach by NGOs with permanent presence in hotspot communities, not just awareness campaigns in cities.
• Partnership with traditional rulers to publicly denounce the practice and shield families who resist it.
• Support shelters for survivors and their children, giving them real alternatives when their own families turn hostile.

Until then, the scars of FGM in Delta will remain largely invisible, hidden behind closed doors and community silence. Victims will continue to suffer in the shadows, and young girls will grow up believing mutilation is destiny. The law says otherwise, but for now, the law does not walk into villages when the elders come knocking.