No Forgiveness Without Justice: Dismantling The Move On Mantra in ‘Daughters Who Walk This Path’

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Summary: ‘Daughters Who Walk This Path’ tells the coming-of-age story of Morayo, an intelligent girl who has a peaceful family life, an adoring younger sister, Eniayo and a host of extended family members. Her picture-perfect world is abruptly and savagely cut short by an act of sexual violence, committed by an older cousin, Bros T.

In Nigeria, it’s not uncommon to see people urge the abused to forgive their abusers. The situation is heightened when the abuser is a family member, friend, or acquaintance. They say, “move on, get over it, forgive and forget, after all, God the creator forgives our sins.” 

Why does society think the victim owed the rapist her forgiveness? Why are women supposed to move on from the trauma to maintain family harmony? The truth is, the “forgive and move on” mantra is an injustice to the women and a breach of trust in the family. 

It’s a manipulative tool that fuels femicide, because if the father, cousin, or brother who forces himself on you views his atrocity as a family shame, there is a high chance he would intentionally kill the victim to cover the crime. Maybe this is why Yejide’s novel, The Daughters Who Walk This Path, is an amazing book. 

It directly criticised the culture of silence and family love when it comes to issues of sexual violence against women. It gently asks: “Are women supposed to move on and forgive the rapist because he is a family member? What is family love if the adults viewed sexual abuse as a ‘family shame’ and respond with a deafening silence, ultimately, forcing the victim to bury the trauma to protect the family’s image? 

‘Daughters Who Walk This Path’ is not just a discourse about the disturbed mind of abused women. It is about womanhood, love, family, community, albinism, rape, shame, and healing. The novel is set in the 1980s in Ibadan, the city of seven hills. There, Yejide writes about the life of Morayo, an intelligent girl who has a peaceful family life, an adoring younger sister, Eniayo (who faces the stigma of albinism), and a host of extended family members. 

But her picture-perfect world is abruptly and savagely cut short by an act of sexual violence, committed by an older cousin. Bros T. Morayo was barely 15 years old when her cousin started defiling her. First, it was a brush here and a touch there. Then the rape happened. Bros T continues abusing her and threatens to rape her younger sister if she does not come to him. When the cat is let out of the bag, Bros T is dumped at his home, while her father looks tired and her mother stares with “bloodshot eyes.” Both parents choose to save the family’s image, leaving  Morayo to deal with the trauma alone. 

Through the non police involvement or formal punishment of Bros T, Yejide presents the bitter truth of how sexual abuse is sustained by a culture that prioritises family image over individual justice, allowing abusers to walk free. At the same time, the victim lives in psychological trauma, shame, and the ghost of the abuse alone. From a feminist perspective, Bisoye is a patriarchal archetype. She is the type of woman who upholds the very system that oppresses her and her daughters in exchange for social standing and respectability. It’s not surprising that she has a strained relationship with her daughter, Morayo. Her priority to be a good wife and respectable mother over her role as a protector highlights the feminist critique that biological motherhood can be weaponised by patriarchy to silence victims.

Morayo’s relationship with Aunt Morenike is the novel’s emotional core. Morenike is the “pathfinder” for Morayo, who recognises her pain because she lived it. Their bond is built on mutual disclosure; she breaks the generational curse of cultural silence by telling Morayo her own story of abuse. She provides the psychological tools for Morayo to reclaim her body, teaching her that she is not damaged goods. This relationship shows that a chosen family is often more vital to healing than a biological one. The bond between the two sisters, Morayo and Eniayo, also highlights how women support each other through various forms of societal marginalisation. Their relationship underscores the theme of self-sacrifice among women in a patriarchal society.

In conclusion, Daughters Who Walk This Path reveals how society treats female trauma as a collateral cost for family reputation. Yejide Kilanko masterfully illustrates that the culture of silence is not a mere passive tradition, but an active tool of oppression sustained by gatekeepers of patriarchy– often by women like Bisoye who sacrifice their daughters’ lives for respectability and the good woman mantra. 

However, the novel’s ultimate triumph lies in its celebration of female solidarity as the only viable antidote to systemic abuse. Through the radical honesty of Aunt Morenike, the narrative shifts from a story of victimhood to one of reclamation. By choosing to speak her truth, Morayo transforms the path she walks from one of inherited suffering into a journey of agency. 

The novel concludes that while patriarchy relies on the isolation of women, healing is found in the collective voice, proving that when women refuse to be the silent keepers of men’s secrets, they dismantle the very structures designed to break them.