Aiwanose’s debut novel, Tomorrow I Become A Woman, explores Uju’s abusive marriage and systematic injustice toward women. Its sequel, We Were Girls Once, paints a picture of female friendship, sisterhood, and the transition from girlhood to womanhood.
The novel tells the story of three women — Ego, Zina, and Eriife. Their friendship is built on the connection link built by their mothers. From Zina’s identity as an actress to Eriife’s navigation of Nigerian politics to Ego’s survival of domestic abuse and trauma, Aiwanose highlighted how women’s lives become battlegrounds for cultural, familial, and national expectations.
In a society where women are put against each other by patriarchy and men, Aiwanose portrays a perfect friendship and sisterhood, championing the feminist belief that solidarity among women is a tool of survival in a patriarchal system.
Aiwanose reveals how gendered silence is forced on women. In the political sphere, they are expected to serve as a soothing voice to powerful men. Yet, they strive to reclaim their lives and voices.
The novel critiques how patriarchal society demands sacrifice, silence, or complicity from women. It highlights how women endure unjust systems that seek to silence them and the fragile bond of sisterhood that helps them endure it. Aiwanose reminds readers that women are not just passive observers of Nigeria’s story; they are central to it.
In the bustling streets of Lagos, young girls can be seen weaving between traffic with trays of goods balanced on their heads. Despite Lagos State’s ban on street trading and hawking under the Street Trading and Illegal Market Prohibition Law 2003, the practice persists, exposing minors, especially girls, to abuse, accidents, and exploitation.
“I Was Just 13” – Barakat’s Story
Barakat (not her real name) recalled her time as a teenage hawker. “I was just 13 when I started hawking. I carried pure water and groundnuts around Ayobo-Ipaja. Men would sometimes call me, touch me, and make promises. It was frightening, but I could not stop because my family depended on me.”
Her mother explained the desperation behind sending Barakat to the streets. “I didn’t like it, but we had no choice. There was no money for food or school. I know the dangers, but survival pushed us there.”
Their story mirrors that of thousands of underage girls across Lagos who, out of poverty, become trapped in street trading, often at great personal risk.
Law Versus Reality
The Lagos State Street Trading and Illegal Market Prohibition Law 2003 clearly criminalises street hawking, prescribing fines of ₦90,000 or imprisonment for offenders. Yet, data shows enforcement remains weak.
According to the Lagos Bureau of Statistics (2022), over 1.5 million children in Lagos are engaged in child labour, with a significant proportion in informal street trading. UNICEF reports further warn that Nigerian girls in urban centres are particularly vulnerable to sexual exploitation during hawking.
Council Unit Interventions
A senior official at the Lagos Child Protection Unit, who spoke on condition of anonymity, confirmed that cases of child labour were routinely handled at the council level.
“We handle cases of child labour within the council. For those we can’t handle, especially cases involving rape or sexual assault linked to street trading, we transfer to the police for proper prosecution. For remorseful parents, we focus on education and sensitisation about the dangers of street trading for underage girls.”
She added that the Lagos State House of Assembly, through local council chairmen, had been supportive in budget allocations. “Every year we organise an empowerment programme for teenagers called ‘Speed Up Lagos’ with skills training in tailoring, hairdressing, catering, nylon production, and event management. At the end, participants receive certificates and working tools.”
Advocacy and Empowerment
Civil society organisations have stepped in to fill the gap left by weak enforcement. Ambassador Motunrayo Mariam Williams-Johnson, convener of Kami Foundation, said her organisation has been at the forefront of protecting vulnerable girls.
We cannot allow poverty to keep forcing our girls into unsafe conditions. Street trading is not just an economic issue; it is a human rights violation. We need to ensure that every girl child in Lagos is safe, educated, and empowered.”
Calls for Stronger Action
Women’s rights advocates stress that the government must combine enforcement with education. They noted that while bans exist, addressing root causes like poverty, unemployment, and lack of access to education is key.
The Bigger Picture
Street trading may appear like a survival strategy for families, but for many girls it means missing out on education, facing sexual harassment, and being exposed to dangerous environments.
As Barakat puts it, “I don’t want my younger sisters to hawk like I did. It is not life for a child.”
Until Lagos fully enforces existing laws, strengthens social safety nets, and prioritises empowerment programmes, thousands of underage girls remain at risk in Nigeria’s busiest city.
She sat at the edge of a bar stool, tired eyes scanning the busy bar in Mokola, Ibadan, Oyo State, in South-West Nigeria. The sound of Afrobeats filled the air, and her half-filled glass of beer sat untouched.
“Abeg no mind my hair like this,” she chuckled, adjusting the wig without care. “I dey serve customers before you come. E just scatter anyhow.”
If looks are not deceiving, one would have taken her for just another bar attendant finishing her shift, a little tipsy, and plenty street smart. But the moment she opened the lid on her private life, it was clear: Ngozi***, who’s in her late 30s, has lived through chapters that many only scroll past on social media.
“I no dey form o,” she laughed. “This life, I don see am. Ehn!”
An aspiring designer with a National Diploma in Art and Design from The Polytechnic Ibadan, she was already ticking the right boxes to achieve her long-term dream of becoming one of the best designers in Nigeria. Still, it all came crashing down in 2011 when she had to drop out due to financial constraints. With bills piling up and no job, Ngozi was introduced into the dark world of digital sex trade, commonly referred to as ‘hookup’.
“I only wanted to do it for a few months to raise enough funds for further studies, but here I am 14 years later, and I’ve seen it all,” she said.
“No money to continue, no helper. Where I wan see school fees? Na so I stop. Certificate no dey cook soup!”
Ngozi found her first client on Facebook. However, she also sources clients through various ways.
Not every experience was good. She recalled how a particular man almost used her for a ritual. “One guy wey I meet for Facebook,” she said slowly, “na ritualist. I no know. Na God save me.”
Ngozi is bisexual. “I’ve been with both men and women. But I think I prefer women now. They understand pain better,” she said.
She alleged that even the police and soldiers are her customers. “There’s a club near Ring Road in Ibadan. Bad things happen there. Even police go there, and they know, they protect the place,” she added.
She still works at the bar in Mokola, in Ibadan. But her primary means of survival is in the digital sex trade. It is a dangerous and fearful place. “Some of us carry knives or screwdrivers in our bags,” she said. “Some girls go out and never come back. Some are drugged and die. Others just disappear.”
Ngozi’s story is not isolated. Across Nigeria, especially in urban centres, the digital sex trade is booming, not as a trend, but as an economic lifeline for thousands of young women and men.
Far from traditional brothels, today’s sex trade is digital, run through encrypted chats, secret social media groups, and coded statuses. Many young women, including students and jobless graduates, now turn to the digital sex trade, “hookups” for survival, masking transactional sex as a lifestyle.
When the world shut down during the COVID-19 pandemic, many people turned to various hustles to survive. But for one young man, Akin** in Ibadan, Oyo State, South-West Nigeria, survival meant turning to the shadows; pimping women to wealthy, pleasure-seeking men.
“It started during COVID,” he tells me casually, through a burner WhatsApp line. “The guys were stranded in Nigeria. Abroad guys. Lagos guys. They needed something. I gave it to them.”
He operates discreetly; no flashy social media accounts or Instagram stories. “Snapchat is for big girls,” he scoffs. “Me? I use WhatsApp. Coded things only.”
He refuses to disclose the number of women in his network, insisting on secrecy. But his business model is clear: he connects women, usually light-skinned, “clean” and sometimes chubby, to high-paying male clients, especially during party seasons and weekends when “big guys” flood Ibadan from Lagos or abroad.
“The big money comes during weekends,” he says. “If na special event, like wedding or naming ceremony, those dey pay extra. Especially if the client wants two-some or more, and guys wey dey on drugs, dem dey pay more too.”
He works alone, insisting that keeping the business small keeps it safe. “No crew. No wahala. I run everything by myself. Just me: Town Red.”
As for his cut? It’s a 40/60 split. He gets 40 per cent of the fee, but he’s quick to add, “If the babe nice, I fit no collect. Make she enjoy the full pay.”
On a busy weekend, he can rake in a sizable profit, though he refused to mention a specific monthly figure. “It depends. Some weekends, you go hammer. Some, not so much. But the real money dey when the big boys enter town.”
“It’s a business, lucrative, fast-moving, and dangerously discreet. “It’s not about love or romance,” he says. “It’s survival.”
Michael Adeola* never planned to become a digital sex trade coordinator
Michael**, a well-paid professional based in Akure, Ondo State, South-West Nigeria, recalls a moment in 2018 that changed the course of his life. “I was walking through Alagbaka GRA and saw girls lining the street. That’s when the idea came to me: what if this could be safer? What if it could be more… organised?”
During the COVID-19 lockdown, his casual idea had transformed into a matchmaking network hosted on WhatsApp TV. At its peak, he managed over 500 members, with up to 10 hookup requests daily.
His system was not free; he charged ₦2,000 per connection and required ID verification. Despite his precautions, close calls haunted him, like the time a girl was caught in a client’s house by the man’s wife. He never met most of the girls in person, but the consequences loomed large.
“I drew the line at underage girls,” he said. But even that did not make the business right. By 2022, he shut it down. “I kept asking myself, if my daughter was in this, how would I feel?” he said. “That question haunted me.”
Yet, the market Michael exited did not die; it evolved.
An unregulated business where minors are also targets
Michael introduced me to a WhatsApp group still managed by an active pimp in Akure, Ondo State Capital. I joined “Match making!! (FG-1),” a group created in 2021, which still thrived as of July 18, 2025. It has over 500 members. No greetings. No guidelines. Just graphic videos, more than 30 daily, shared by the admin, showcasing nude women and explicit acts. I monitored the group for a month. Some days had more than 30 posts commodifying women, resembling a porn channel more than matchmaking. A connection fee of N5,000 was a criterion to get a client.
After each post, the admin followed up with a call to action: “DM, let’s talk price.” He messaged me directly, too: “Send your picture and location. Tell me what services you want.”
No age verification. No mention of consent. Just exploitation.
The deeper I explored, the darker it got.
In a group called ‘MATCH MAKING,’ created on May 13, 2025, with 339 members as of August 20, 2025, an advertisement targeting teenagers was posted. Despite including a caveat for those under 18, the admin, who has Oluwaseun on her WhatsApp, was identified by Truecaller as Chibese Ilado, shared a 30-second video of three minors, between 7 and 11 years old, making out. The video, made in 2022, was reposted by Chibese on her group. This violates Section 23 of the Cybercrimes Act, which prohibits the procurement, production, transmission, possession, and distribution of child pornography in any data storage device or computer system. These acts are offences punishable by imprisonment for up to 10 years or a fine of up to ₦20,000,000, or both.
Screenshot of the group Chibese’s group advertising minors who were making out
Using the child pornography video to promote her business, Chibese wrote, “Teenagers of nowadays self dey hot.” She also posted requests for “hook ups” and sex videos. Her action raised concerns about the protection of minors in such an unregulated platform.
Image of Chibese: Source: WhatsApp DP
To confirm if Chibese was indeed involved in the teenage sex trade, this reporter initiated a chat with her, requesting two teenagers aged 16. Chibese responded, “Ok, short time or overnight?” She further stated that a connection fee of ₦5,000 (about $3.30) would be required for each, adding, “Please send me a screenshot when you make payment.” She sent bank account details bearing a different name from the one Truecaller displayed.
Screenshot of my chat with Chibese
My next stop was Facebook. A search for terms like “hookup” and “Olosho” revealed a flood of public and private groups, here, here, and here. One group, with over 36,000 members, had a WhatsApp invitation link. I joined “ELITE CIRCLE GROUP,” where new members were welcomed and instructed to pay ₦1,000 monthly. On the surface, it appeared as a group of friends enjoying each other’s company.
When I messaged the admin that I wanted to join a hookup group, Elijah, aka “Dr. Lee,” clarified: “Not here. That’s a separate service.” Then came the real deal: “Send revealing pictures. I take 30% of what clients pay you. It all depends on how well you can take d**k.”
The admin turned out to be a man I later found out earned his first degree from the University of Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria, in 2007 and completed his master’s degree in 2010.
Again, no verification of age, no concern. Just commerce.
Michael had given me a list of the secret jargon:
Graphics of digital sex trade jargon
Soon, I noticed these terms on WhatsApp and Telegram statuses of pimps. Offers, services, and prices all wrapped in emojis and codes.
A screenshot of some of the requests on status
Behind the coded language and filters lies a bleak reality: this is not about pleasure. It’s about survival. Nigeria’s economic hardship is pushing a generation of women into a digital sex trade.
Take Amaka** (not her real name), a 24-year-old from Ibadan, Oyo State, Southwest, Nigeria. “I was broke,” she said bluntly. She started with whisper networks and soon learnt the codes: OL, HK, OS. From there, dating apps like the “Olosho App” offered her entry. Clients slid into her DMs. She shared pictures. They negotiated. They paid.
“The guys come into my DM,” she explains. “I send them my pictures, they ask for my price, and after we agree, they make full payment.”
Nigeria, with rising poverty and unemployment, sits squarely in the centre of this storm.
The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) reported in 2022 that 133 million Nigerians live in multidimensional poverty. As of early 2024, over 106 million people live on less than $2.15 per day. The Q1 2024 unemployment rate stood at 5.3%, with women disproportionately affected at 6.2% unemployment compared to 4.3% for men.
Graphics of unemployment in Nigeria: By Juliet Buna
For Amaka, the statistics are not just numbers; they are her lived reality. Like Amaka, like Ngozi, many young women turned to the hookup world out of desperation, not glamour. But the price is costly: mental health struggles, identity crises, vulnerability to abuse, and above all, silence. Sometimes, that silence ends in death.
In 2024, Adebayo Olamide Azeez, a suspected ritual killer in Ogun State, confessed to murdering seven women he lured through a hookup app. According to police, he invited his victims to his residence in Atan-Ota under false pretences and killed them for money rituals. The Ogun State police spokesperson, Omolola Odutola, confirmed that at least 10 young women are reported missing daily, many linked to hookup-related activities.
The digital sex trade economy may seem like a survival strategy. Still, for many women like Amaka and Ngozi, it’s a path paved with trauma, exploitation, trafficking, and in some cases, death.
According to the National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP), most of the individuals rescued from trafficking are women and girls, who are frequently exploited through sex trafficking, mainly with the promise of greener pastures.
Data culled from NAPTIP website: Graphics by Oluwadara Adepoju
These data reveal a worrisome trend: minors are among the victims of sex trafficking in West Africa.
But the physical dangers are only part of the story. When asked about younger girls in the sex trade, Amaka describes girls as young as 13 or 14 dressed in ways that mimic the influencers they see online. “It’s the culture,” she shrugs. “You watch celebrities online, the way they dance, dress, and act. It all promotes this lifestyle, even if it’s not intentional.”
Apart from being used to solicit girls, social media platforms are also used to get women to reveal their nudes for money. Coins for nudes are now common. On TikTok, young Nigerian women are being lured into exposing their bodies during TikTok live videos in exchange for virtual coins, coins that translate into minimal cash payments. Known as the “Decimal Point”challenge, this trend is fueling concerns about digital exploitation and the growing intersection between social media and Nigeria’s “hookup culture.”
The trend, which has persisted for over a year, was flagged by X user @zuchminn on June 24, 2025. In the viral post, the user shared screen recordings of young women flashing their breasts, nicknamed “decimal points” by livestream hosts, on TikTok Live. These women were doing so at the instruction of male hosts, hoping to earn virtual gifts from anonymous viewers.
“This guy makes girls lift their tops in a flash to show their boobs for a few coins,” the post read, capturing just a glimpse of the growing trend.
Behind the Slang
The term “decimal point” is being used as coded language for a woman’s private parts. An investigation by this reporter traced the origin of the trend to at least two Nigerian TikTok accounts, both operated by male hosts who direct women to undress, dance, and follow sexual commands while livestreaming.
In several reviewed videos, male hosts, often off-camera, can be heard giving instructions such as:
“Remove your clothes.” “Fling the cloth!” “Raise your hands higher!” “Shake your bum. Jump!”
Screenshots from the viral thread. The circled names in green are the masterminds behind the challenge.
The accounts were traced. One of the most active accounts is run by a user named Richard, whose TikTok handle is @obaviewonce_decimalpoin1, archived link (here), and display name is “RICHARD”. As of July 4, 2025, he had over 30,000 followers. Richard has publicly boasted about being suspended multiple times and returning with new usernames to continue streaming.
A screenshot of Richard’s page on TikTok
Another account, @specialpoint2, archived [here], with over 20,000 followers, follows a similar format. Both virtual hosts instruct young women to strip or dance sexually while encouraging viewers to “tap well,” a slang term for sending virtual gifts.
What’s even more concerning is that this explicit content appears to be gaining endorsement from popular figures. A search through the account reveals that the owner also runs a YouTube page. One video, archived link (here), reposted from a TikTok livestream and published on July 27, 2025, features well-known streamer and content creator Habeeb Hamzat, popularly known as Peller, actively encouraging participants to join @specialpoint2’s livestream, amplifying visibility for the platform’s activities.
A screenshot of Peller on the livestream of Special Point, one of the guys promoting the decimal point challenge
Efforts were made to obtain comments from Peller and his manager via Instagram and phone calls regarding whether the TikTok influencer is aware of the activities on the posts he promotes. However, there was no response as of the time of filing this report.
A screenshot of another account on TikTok
This trend is not just about breaking platform rules; it mirrors real-life sexual exploitation in a digital format. The male hosts act like online pimps or clients, giving commands to women who must undress or perform sexual acts in hopes of receiving gifts. The viewers, hidden behind their screens, act as paying customers, tipping in real time. Some of the livestreams are recorded and reposted across social media.
How It Works: TikTok’s Monetisation System
TikTok allows users aged 18 and above with at least 1,000 followers to host livestreams and receive virtual gifts from viewers. Viewers buy TikTok “coins” with real money and use them to send animated gifts like roses or pandas during live streams. Creators then convert these gifts into “diamonds,” which TikTok lets them exchange for cash.
However, the payout is minimal. For example, a rose gift costs one coin, about $0.014 (₦21). TikTok takes a significant cut (reportedly up to 50%), meaning the actual earnings for creators are meagre. Many of the women participating in the “Decimal Point” challenge end up earning less than one U.S. dollar per performance.
Violating TikTok’s Rules
TikTok’s Community Guidelines prohibit nudity, sexual content, and exploitation even for adults. The platform states:
“We do not allow nudity. This includes bare genitalia, buttocks, breasts of women and girls, and sheer clothing… We want to provide young people with a developmentally suitable experience. Content is ineligible for the ‘For You Feed’ if it shows body exposure of a young person that may present a risk of uninvited sexualization.”
Despite these rules, the Decimal Point challenge, as well as hookup culture, has managed to thrive, in part due to gaps in content moderation and enforcement, says Chioma Chukwuemeka, a digital safety advocate.
According to Chukwuemeka, digital literacy is the only sustainable solution, not censorship. “People are selling their souls for Mark Zuckerberg’s dollars, TikTok coins. But what they don’t realise is that the internet doesn’t forget,” she warned. “In five or ten years, you might want to rebrand, but your old, reckless content will still be there to haunt you.”
On the growing call to regulate social media, Chukwuemeka expressed scepticism, arguing that while regulation may seem like a quick fix, it could suppress the power of social media to give voice to the voiceless. “There are things we now know only because of social media. If it were just traditional media, those stories would have been gatekept. So, total regulation won’t work. What we need are strong laws and stronger enforcement. We are all content creators the moment we hit ‘post’. But we need to create responsibly. Social media has given us power; now we must use that power wisely.”
The Decimal Point trend is just one example of how social media is fueling a new wave of digital sex trade in Nigeria. While the content appears consensual, it raises serious ethical and legal questions, especially if any of the participants are minors or unaware that their videos are being recorded and shared.
A legal practitioner and human rights advocate, Barrister Deji Ajare, cautioned that digital sex trade in Nigeria, including activities such as advertising sexual services online, operating subscription-based adult content platforms, and running online escort agencies, could amount to criminal offences under multiple Nigerian laws, despite uneven enforcement.
Ajare pointed to the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015, theCriminal Code Act (applicable in Southern Nigeria), thePenal Code (applicable in Northern Nigeria), and Sharia law (enforced in some Northern states) as legal frameworks that remain applicable.
Quoting Section 24(a) of the Cybercrimes Act, Ajare explained that: “Any person who knowingly or intentionally sends a message or other matter using computer systems or a network that is grossly offensive, pornographic, or of an indecent, obscene, or menacing character, or causes any such message or matter to be so sent, commits an offence.”
He added that the penalty upon conviction includes a fine of up to ₦7,000,000 or imprisonment for a term not exceeding three years, or both.
While acknowledging that Section 24 was amended in 2024 to address concerns raised in a judgment by the ECOWAS Court of Justice, which found that the original version of the section violated the right to freedom of expression under Article 9 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Ajare said the amendment still retained punishments for sending content intended to “threaten, harass, or cause public disorder.”
He explained, “The amendment only narrowed the wording of Section 24 but did not remove liability for knowingly sending pornographic or fake content, especially when the intent is to harass or incite disorder.”
Ajare further cited the Criminal CodeAct, emphasising Section 170, which states, “Any person who knowingly sends, or attempts to send, by post anything which encloses an indecent or obscene print, painting, photograph… or which has on it, or in it… any indecent, obscene, or grossly offensive words, marks, or designs is guilty of a misdemeanour,” adding that the penalty is one year imprisonment.
In Southern Nigeria, he noted, sections 223–225B of the Criminal Code criminalise activities related to prostitution such as soliciting, running brothels, or profiting from sex trade, with punishments of up to two years imprisonment.
“Although prostitution or sex trade itself is not expressly criminalised in Southern Nigeria, activities like operating a brothel or living off the earnings of prostitutes are prohibited,” he explained.
He also referenced the Penal Code applicable in Northern Nigeria, which criminalises solicitation, brothel-keeping, and procurement. More strictly, Ajare noted, some states governed by Sharia law expressly criminalise prostitution or sex trade in all forms, including the act itself.
“In Northern Nigeria, especially in Sharia-implementing states, prostitution or sex trade is criminalised outright. There’s little legal ambiguity there. What is criminal under the Criminal or Penal Codes offline can easily extend to online activity.”
Addressing the rise of digital sex trade, Ajare stated, “Advertising sexual services or escort offers via social media platforms like WhatsApp, Twitter, or dating apps may fall under grossly offensive or obscene communication as described in Section 24 of the Cybercrime Act — and likewise under the Criminal Code.”
He warned that even subscription-based adult content platformslikeOnlyFans, when operated from Nigeria, could violate the law: “Anyone operating an OnlyFans page from Nigeria and distributing pornographic content over a computer network may be committing an offence under Section 24 of the Cybercrimes Act,” Ajare said.
Citing Section 34(1)(a)of the1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended), which guarantees the right to dignity of the human person, Ajare remarked that while some may argue digital sex trade falls under personal liberty or expression, Nigerian law has not evolved to accommodate such practices explicitly.
“While there are constitutional rights such as freedom of expression under Section 39, and the dignity of the human person under these rights are not absolute. They are subject to laws made in the interest of public morality, Section 34, and order,” he explained.
Your Digital Footprints Leave a Bigger Trace Than You Think – ICT Expert Warns
Information and Communication Technology (ICT) expert, David Afolayan, raised the alarm over the hidden dangers of digital sex trade, describing it as a “multi-billion-dollar ecosystem powered by personal data.”
“Just registering on a dating or sex trade app means your actions are being tracked, stored, and monetised,” Afolayan said. “Your data is sold for targeted ads, and in serious cases, accessed by criminals or foreign actors. Once you opt in, you lose control.”
Platforms, he explained, make money through small user fees, but even more by selling user profiles to advertisers. “These apps are designed to keep you engaged and feed them more data. That’s where the real profit is.”
Graphics by Oluwadara Adepoju
Driven by her personal experience of overcoming childhood trauma and sexual abuse, the Founder and Executive Director of Blossom Girls Outreach Foundation, Doreen Omosele, addresses sex trafficking, including digital “sex trade” platforms and physical venues. “Some women engage in online and in-person prostitution to secure clients. We have reached out to over 500 prostitutes,” she explained.
Omosele emphasised the urgency of collective action. “Sex trade thrives where solutions are absent,” she said. “Government should adopt a well-structured approach combining rehabilitation, skill acquisition, and systemic support, noting that he foundation offers a replicable model to address this growing issue, while NGOs can implement it on the ground. Together, we can end this cycle and give women new beginnings.”
NAPTIP Responds
Reacting to the findings in this report, the National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP) said that upon receipt of credible and actionable intelligence, the Cybercrime Response Team will immediately swing into action. “The N-CRT will conduct further covert investigation to uncover, gather, preserve, analyse, and report relevant evidence of the crime,” the Agency noted. “This will support the timely rescue of victims and lead to the apprehension and prosecution of the suspects involved.”
While acknowledging the complex and evolving nature of online exploitation, NAPTIP reiterated its resolve to remain proactive. “There’s no room for impunity,” the Agency concluded. “As long as we are provided with verifiable information, we will act swiftly and decisively.”
Note: Certain names have been replaced with pseudonyms, marked with an asterisk (*), to protect the identities of those involved.
This report was facilitated by the Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Journalism (WSCIJ) under its Report Women! Female Reporters Leadership Programme (FRLP) Fellowship, with support from the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.
Elizabeth Adams Oyarese is an educator, entrepreneur, and inclusion advocate with over a decade of experience in educational management and youth empowerment. As the Founder of Linking Circles Academy, her work has impacted more than 9,000 Nigerian students while championing accessible learning environments.
A 2025 Mandela Washington Fellow, Elizabeth also holds leadership positions with JONAPWD, the Youth Advisory Board, and the Street Project Foundation, representing thousands of young Nigerians. Beyond education, she is a writer, creative arts advocate, and global ambassador for several initiatives, including the UN Global Schools Programme and Future Perspectives.
In this inspiring conversation with Naija Feminists Media, Elizabeth opens up about her journey as a Mandela Washington Fellow, the challenges that have shaped her path, and her vision for inclusive education and youth empowerment in Nigeria.
Elizabeth Adams on Education, Inclusion, and Inspiring the Next Generation Leaders
As an educator, model, and advocate, what drives you to take on these different roles, and how do they connect with your vision for impact?
My roles as an educator, model, and advocate are interconnected, fueling my vision for impact and inclusion advocacy. Through modelling, I aim to challenge conventional beauty standards and promote inclusivity, thus inspiring others. As an advocate, I’m committed to using my platform to raise awareness about social issues like disability rights, gender equality, and youth empowerment. My work in education and advocacy is deeply connected; by providing access to quality education and promoting inclusive practices, I believe we can create a more equitable society.
My involvement with different youth-led and community-focused organisations has shown me the importance of community-led initiatives in creating lasting change. My ultimate goal is to contribute to a world where every individual has the opportunity to thrive, with accessible education, valued creative expression, and advocacy driven by the needs of marginalised communities. My different roles help me achieve this.
Elizabeth Adams pitching her idea about Linking Circles Academy at the African Fintech Foundry and Future Perspectives pitch competition. Photo source: Elizabeth Adams
Tell us about your educational journey. What has been the most challenging part, and how did you overcome it?
During my early education, I faced significant challenges due to my albinism in Nigeria. Teachers bullied and discriminated against me, which fueled my passion to become an educator.
After about a decade in the private educational sector, where I witnessed the neglect of students with diverse learning needs, I founded Linking Circles Academy, an Edtech company that empowers teachers to design safe learning environments.
We offer personalised virtual classes that connect African diaspora students to their culture through academics. In the last two years, we’ve reached five schools, trained 50 teachers, and directly impacted over 1,500 students. We have also worked on projects that empower youth and women.
Elizabeth Adams concluded a training session for 10 women with albinism. Photo source: Elizabeth Adams
Tell us about the Mandela Washington Fellowship. What did you apply for, and how did you get in?
The Mandela Washington Fellowship is the U.S. Government’s programme for young African leaders, offering academic and leadership training in Business, Civic Engagement, or Public Management. I applied for the Business Track, aligning with my work as the founder of Linking Circles Academy Ltd. Out of over 21,000 applicants, I was selected as one of the 54 Nigerian applicants and was placed at the University of Notre Dame for the Leadership in Business institute.
There, I gained hands-on experience in business management, servant leadership, team building, and community service.
How did you feel when you were selected as a fellow?
Upon receiving the congratulatory call from the US Consulate, I felt excitement and gratitude. Beyond this excitement, I also had episodes of self-reflection that helped me set realistic expectations for my journey.
Elizabeth Adams at the Mandela Washington Orientation ceremony. Photo source: Elizabeth Adams
What was the experience like? What was it like connecting with other Fellows? How did those interactions shape your vision?
The experience was worthwhile, especially connecting with other African leaders, hearing their perspectives on Nigeria, and identifying similarities in our struggles. These interactions broadened my vision for impact in education and inclusion advocacy, highlighting the potential for collaboration and cross-cultural dialogue to drive greater impact in Africa.
What was the most impactful lesson or experience you took away from the Mandela Washington Fellowship programme?
The most impactful realisation was that Africa has a rich population of young leaders ready to give back. I saw young, brilliant minds passionate about developing Africa. This helped me see myself as a key contributor to this revolutionary change in Africa and the exceptional ideas shared by young Africans during the fellowship. It made me confident that Africa will see a rising tide of innovative young talents ready to take charge of the continent’s development.
Elizabeth Adams with the immediate past vice president of Nigeria and a fellow. Photo source: Elizabeth Adams
What skills or perspectives did you gain from the Fellowship that you feel every young African leader should have?
I believe every young African leader should prioritise serving the communities they lead, designing businesses, systems, and processes from an inclusive and human centered perspective.
Elizabeth Adams at the University of Notre Dame’s opening ceremony for Mandela Washington Fellows. Photo source: Elizabeth Adams
How do you plan to use the networks, training, and exposure from the Fellowship to strengthen your advocacy and your academy here in Nigeria?
The Mandela Washington Fellowship Alumni Community offers opportunities for collaboration with other young African leaders. I’m working on projects to improve inclusivity across organisations and leveraging connections with the Notre Dame community to enhance our curriculum and provisions at Linking Circles Academy. My long-term goal is to strengthen ties between Africans and the diaspora, ensuring a continuous and mutually beneficial relationship with Americans.
In the 2025 global gender gap index (GGGI), Japan ranks 118th out of 148 countries – still the lowest among the G7 nations and among the poorest performers globally. This is largely because of limited political participation by women. The current cabinet of prime minister Ishiba Shigeru says it all. In October 2024, Japan’s new prime minister appointed only two women to a 20-member cabinet – down from five in the previous lineup.
The decision was widely criticised as a setback for advancing female political representation and a clear sign that gender-equality policies were not a priority.
But the country has continued to take backwards steps on gender. In January, Japan announced it would halt funding for the UN’s Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW). The decision followed Cedaw’s recommendation that Japan revise its male-only imperial succession law to ensure gender equality in the line to the throne.
The funding halt sparked a strong backlash from rights advocates, who viewed it as further evidence of Japan’s resistance to addressing structural discrimination against women.
The debate over Japan’s imperial succession has surfaced periodically for decades. Since 1947, the Imperial Household Law has stipulated that only men from the patrilineal line can ascend what is known as the Chrysanthemum throne. This rule has led to concerns over the future of the imperial family, given the shrinking number of male heirs.
Japan’s Emperor Naruhito turned 65 on February 23 and has only three male heirs. These are his uncle Prince Hitachi (aged 89), his younger brother Crown Prince Fumihito (59), and his nephew Prince Hisahito, who is 18.
A poll of around 2,000 people taken in April 2024 by Kyodo News found 90% of respondents support allowing female emperors. Yet successive governments have remained steadfast in resisting change, with some citing the so-called unbroken imperial lineage (bansei ikkei).
Ishiba is known to favour allowing a female succession. But his administration’s financial retaliation against CEDAW signals otherwise. The decision is not merely a reaction to a non-binding recommendation – it reflects deeper discomfort with external scrutiny over Japan’s gender policies, which the current government has deprioritised.
CEDAW’s recommendation to Japan that it might reconsider its imperial succession system was not an isolated critique. The UN committee has regularly called on Japan to improve gender equality in multiple areas. These include workplace discrimination, representation in politics and legal protections against gender-based violence.
CEDAW’s recommendation on inclusive succession is neither legally binding nor “within the purview of the Committee’s competence”, as the committee itself acknowledges. As a result, the government’s response – cutting funding – is more than just a reaction to CEDAW’s recommendation. It raises concerns about Japan’s commitment to gender equality full stop.
The United Nations has clashed with successive Japanese governments over a range of gender-related issues. These have included the refusal of Japan to allow brides to retain their maiden names. CEDAW has recommended that Japan amend the Civil Code over the surname requirement in 2003, 2009 and 2016. The most recent occasion marked the recommendation as having high importance.
But the most important issue is over Japan’s treatment of what it called “comfort women” – the system of military sexual slavery before and during the Second World War. CEDAW and other UN bodies have repeatedly urged Japan to resolve the issue by firstly recognising the gravity of the crimes involved and dealing with reparations for survivors, and strengthening education on the issue.
Emperor Naruhito, Empress Masako and their daughter, Princess Aiko prepare to fly to Okinawa to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the Second World War campaign on the island. Takuya Matsumoto/ The Yomiuri Shimbun via AP Images
Japan has frequently been accused of downplaying this issue. While official apologies have been made, they have frequently been coupled with denials or diplomatic efforts to dilute past statements. In its last report in 2016, Cedaw called on Japan to ensure its leaders and public officials “desist from making disparaging statements regarding responsibility, which have the effect of retraumatising victims”.
Poor track record
Japan’s relationship with international organisations addressing gender issues has long been uneasy and its domestic policies frequently lag behind international expectations. Reports from the committee have criticised Japan’s inadequate legal definitions of discrimination against women, limited access to justice for women, and the persistence of deep-seated gender stereotypes and patriarchal attitudes.
This year holds special significance for the UN, marking two major anniversaries. It’s the 30th anniversary of the United Nations Fourth World Conference on Women. This produced the Beijing declaration and platform for action – the most widely endorsed global agenda for women’s rights. And it’s the 25th anniversary of the UN’s adoption of Resolution 1325. This established the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) agenda. WPS is now recognised as a key pillar of international peace and security, regarded by the European Parliament’s committee on women’s rights and gender equality as “central to contemporary global peace and security challenges”.
Amid increasing global support for women-led initiatives, Japan’s decision to halt funding for CEDAW in 2025 risks damaging its status as a responsible and respected nation on the world stage. It also risks alienating allies that prioritise gender equality in diplomacy.
In distancing itself from global norms, Japan risks not just falling behind, but falling out of step with most of its G7 peers.
Editor’s note: This article was first published on The Conversation by the author.
In Second Class Citizen, Buchi Emecheta exposes the oppressions of patriarchy, gendered roles, racism, and colonial legacies through the life of Adah Ofili. Published in 1974, the themes of the novel remain relevant in the 21st century as they expose how African women are treated as lesser humans in their homes and how Black immigrant women are doubly marginalised—as women and as foreigners.
From birth, Adah Ofili is seen as a second-class citizen, and patriarchy defines her place. Her parents chose not to record her birth, and her education is considered less important than her brother’s. Yet, Adah insists on being educated, building a career, and defies gender expectations. However, her marriage to Francis becomes an opportunity for her subjugation.
Through Second Class Citizen, Buchi Emecheta tells how Adah is marginalised in her home and in a foreign land. This dual oppression reflects the real struggle of African women in the diaspora who are battling patriarchy internally and racism externally.
Despite crushing challenges, Adah earns her income, pursues her writing, and eventually rejects Francis’s authority. Her journey highlights that women’s liberation lies in financial independence, education, and reclaiming their voices. The novel is a call for women to reclaim their rightful place as first-class citizens in every sphere of life.
You know that moment at a poetry reading when the poet reads a line, and it hits you at the right spot in your chest, such that you begin to snap your fingers and scream: “Yes, yes, yes”? I felt that way a few days back while leisurely scrolling through my Twitter feed and coming across a tweet that strongly resonated with me. I snapped my fingers; I screamed. It was something along the lines of “how can you claim to fight for human rights and oppose feminism since feminism in itself is human rights?”
A friend once asked me on her podcast what feminism meant to me, in my own words. Common sense and basic human decency, I told her. Extend all the rights and privileges accorded to men to women and don’t deprive women of their basic human rights because of their gender.
It is not shocking that in a patriarchal society like Nigeria, with conservative moral standards and religions, the Feminist Movement is largely frowned upon. This naturally encourages assumptions and misconceptions about people who take on the title. Before feminism became a widely known topic in Nigeria, feminists like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who has been very vocal about her feminist ideals since the early 2000s, received and still receive backlash from society.
It was in actively becoming involved with the feminist movement that I began to see the many misconceptions people had about it. Using everyday experiences, on both social media and in real life, the following are common misconceptions about feminism that I have observed.
“You are in pain sister, please heal”
I have read and heard this as a reply to feminist views many times than I can remember. There is the notion that feminists are bitter, ugly, angry women who have been heartbroken by lovers in the past and project their pain under the guise of demanding equality.
In 2019, in my village, during one of those big family Christmas celebrations, I got engaged in a conversation with my cousin. I told him that women were equal to men, not in a biological sense, and so they should not be treated as less. He flared up, the veins on his forehead straining, called me a “man-hater” and told me how a man was the head and a woman the neck.
My advice for women who identify as feminists is this: understand that they will be assumed to be bitter, ugly, and angry even when you are visibly the opposite of these. The tactic of using derogatory words to shut up women is not new. Both in recent times and the past, women who do not conform or question the status quo are called ashewo (Nigerian pidgin for prostitute) or witches. The culture of shaming using vile words has been weaponised for centuries to silence women—wear these words boldly and watch their effects crumble to dust.
“Inequality? Come on! It’s the 21st century!”
Or I have a Mother, a daughter, and two sisters, they don’t complain. Unlike the category of people who rain abuses on feminists, calling them bitter, ugly, angry women, this category comprises the supposedly enlightened ones who believe that gender bias doesn’t exist in Nigeria. It is the 21st century, they say, things have changed over time. But I beg to differ.
Girls are still told that the highest form of achievement in life as a woman is acquiring proper culinary skills, finding a husband, and training children as a full-time job. Young women can’t rent houses without being married or at least pretending to be. Women are denied promotions, job opportunities, and when they do get them, their success is questioned. Women and girls are molested, sexually assaulted, and raped, then blamed for letting those things happen to them.
Yet, people are blind to the injustice and bias against women in the 21st century? Beliefs such as this assume that feminists exaggerate injustices against them and encourage the first misconception discussed earlier.
If feminism is human rights, why focus on women alone?”
Feminism and selfishness have somehow become synonyms. Yes, feminism is the equality of all genders. I used to answer the “what is feminism” question with that. But over time, I began to realise that feminism focuses on women, on levelling the playing field for women, women that have been oppressed for centuries.
Daily, women face a system that is rigged against them for being born as girls: sexism, gender pay gaps, voting rights, gender roles designed to hold them down, rape and rape culture. I realised that in equating feminism to human rights on the base level, I was somehow re-enforcing the belief that there was no visible gap in gender equality staring us in the face. So, yes, feminism is a human right and focuses on the unequal treatment of women and girls.
“We are Africans; it is not in our culture.”
In every conversation about demanding gender equality, there is always the category of people who outrightly claim that men at the top and women below is the way our culture dictates. The African (or Nigerian) culture has been known historically to designate specific roles for men and women. Men and boys go out to jobs that are perceived as masculine, while women and girls stay home, cooking and cleaning.
Times have changed, people evolve, and culture has too. Over time, we see that gender roles have been used as tools to oppress women as a group. At a point in the history of the Igbo people, twins were regarded as taboo and killed or thrown away to die. Today, the practice of killing twins is taboo, and twins are now regarded as a double blessing in a family. Culture is susceptible to change because people make culture, not vice versa.
“If the full humanity of women is not our culture, then we should and must make it our culture.”
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, We Should All Be Feminists.
“Feminist, but you are a *insert flaw* “
There is the perception that to be a feminist, one must somehow rid oneself of everything bad and evil, that they must be perfect and incapable of bad deeds. “You’re a feminist, but you killed somebody.” Feminism is not synonymous with sainthood. Feminists are humans; they have flaws, virtues, and vices. They can be thieves, liars, gossips, murderers. They would simply be thieves, liars, gossips, murderers who believe women should have equal rights and privileges like men.
These perceptions about feminists and feminism are deeply rooted and subsist because people would rather stick to the status quo than question it or think logically.
I think people also lack empathy. You need empathy to understand or even feel what it is like to be on the receiving end of oppression. A few months into the pandemic, the world witnessed the Black Lives Matter (BLM) protest by the black community in the United States. Nigerians who have never been to the US put up fist emojis and hashtags indicating alliance on their social media pages. That is empathy! Although some may never have experienced racism, they put themselves in the shoes of black Americans in the United States; they imagined what it would feel like to be there and empathised. This, too, can work in understanding feminism. We need to have empathy for women who just want to have rights and privileges. Women want to be treated as equals, not as second-class citizens in their country.
It’s International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition, a day meant to recall one of the greatest crimes against humanity, yet remembrance has become predictable, filled with numbers and familiar names, stripped of the voices that should haunt us most: the women.
The transatlantic slave trade was not only about ships and chains; it was also about wombs turned into economic tools, women forced to reproduce children who were born into captivity, women whose bodies carried both labour and violence. Their resistance was not always recorded in official accounts, but it was present, through abortions that rejected producing more property, through food hidden in braids, through languages whispered into children’s ears when colonial masters demanded silence.
Haiti is celebrated as the symbol of abolition, the revolution that changed everything, yet even here, women are missing. We know Toussaint Louverture, but who remembers Cécile Fatiman, the priestess whose ceremony fuelled the uprising, or Sanité Bélair, who chose to die facing her executioners? When women are remembered at all, they are flattened into myth, their political strategies ignored, their humanity erased. If this is remembrance, what exactly are we remembering when it’s incomplete?
Nigeria cannot pretend this history is far away. The same ports that once shipped bodies across the Atlantic are today routes for trafficking Nigerian girls to Europe, sold into sexual exploitation under promises of work, silenced by shame, treated as commodities in a global trade that has only changed shape. What does it mean if we mourn enslaved women of the past yet fail to see the chains still on young Nigerian women today?
When abolition is celebrated, it is often treated as the end of a chapter, but for women, it was never an end; it was survival in conditions that still denied them land, education, or voice. Freedom for women meant struggling against poverty, against men who claimed their labour as husbands or employers, against systems that saw their lives as expendable. Is it not the same struggle Nigerian women face now, forced into marriages as children, punished for demanding bodily autonomy, dismissed in politics even when they carry movements on their backs?
Memory is political, and selective memory is violence. To recall the slave trade without centring women is to repeat the same silence that slavery enforced. To mark 23 August with only ships and statistics is to deny that women’s endurance and resistance were the foundation of survival.
If remembrance is meant to teach, then what are we teaching when women are absent? That their suffering was secondary, that their strategies were irrelevant, that their freedom mattered less? Whose story is history serving when half of it is left untold?
Women were not bystanders to slavery; they were central to both its brutality and its abolition. Remembering them is not a favour or a footnote; it is the truth. And until truth is told in full, remembrance will remain incomplete, a hollow ritual that honours men while silencing women yet again.
As Naija Feminists Media marks its anniversary, we reflect on a year filled with active reporting, bold initiatives and transformative projects aimed at amplifying feminist voices and driving real change.
From empowering rural girls to tackling period poverty and confronting gender-based violence, we remained committed to challenging patriarchal norms through projects, media literacy, and advocacy.
1. Project LEVAWG 2025 Empowers Over 500 Girls
On May 14, 2025, NFM played a pivotal role in the Leadership and Ending Violence Against Women and Girls (LEVAWG) summit held at Hall 3, Kwara State College of Education.
In collaboration with Resilient Girl Initiative.ORG Impact Awards, SheInspires Global Empowerment Initiative, You Can Be Initiative, and Project PARTNERS, the summit brought together over 500 students, teachers, and volunteers. The event featured leadership training, public speaking sessions, mentorship, and scholarships, all aimed at fostering a new generation of empowered girls.
2. Promoting Menstrual Health and Media Literacy at the Red Flag Conference
In partnership with The Girls’ Pride Initiative for Sustainable Development, NFM marked Menstrual Hygiene Day by amplifying menstrual health advocacy. The collaboration focused on ending period shame and promoting gender equality among in-school girls. As the official media partner for the Red Flag Conference, NFM promoted the initiative’s mission through multimedia storytelling and social media campaigns
3. Games for Charity Fundraiser Supports Vulnerable Women and Girls with Menstrual Kits
To commemorate World Menstrual Hygiene Day, the Girls With Period initiative (GWP) hosted the Games for Charity event on June 1, 2025. Represented by Partnerships and Projects Officer Nkechi Igwebuike, NFM contributed to raising funds for menstrual kits for 1,000 girls in rural areas. With a goal of N5,000,000, the event combined fun activities with philanthropy, reinforcing NFM’s commitment to menstrual health advocacy.
4. #16DaysofActivism Campaign Sparks Dialogue and Change
During the 2024 #16DaysofActivism, NFM launched a campaign themed “I Am Not Your Prey or Afraid No More.” The campaign included over 24 stories, media literacy articles, poetry, and essays highlighting gender-based violence. NFM also collaborated with organisations like DOHS Cares Foundation, Gender and Development Agency (GADA), and CEPASD. We covered activities by the Ministry of Women Affairs and other civic groups to raise awareness, push for accountability, and drive systemic change.
5. #IWD2025: Pushing for Collective Action
Under the theme #CollectiveActionNow, NFM’s International Women’s Day 2025 campaign extended throughout March. We led advocacy efforts through media literacy programmes and solidarity posts, including a press release supporting Senator Natasha. The campaign also invited women to participate by sharing their feminist quotes, stories, and photos under the #WomensMonth hashtag.
6. Fighting FGM Through Advocacy, Media, and Policy
On February 6, 2025, NFM marked the International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) with educational campaigns, infographics, and articles exploring FGM’s cultural roots and legal shortcomings. A major highlight was an X Space event titled “Beyond Policy: Eliminating the Reign of Female Genital Mutilation,” which drew over 500 participants. NFM also produced a policy brief proposing stronger legal enforcement and community education strategies.
Additional impactful initiatives included Business BoostLab training for female entrepreneurs collaborating with SheLeadsAfrica as a media partner, and gender advocacy through Crest FM 91.1, Ibadan.
Through these projects, NFM has continued to spotlight women’s voices, educate the public, and collaborate with community-based organisations to push for a just and equal society.
As we celebrate NFM at 1, we remain committed to a feminist-driven media advocacy. If you would like to support our work, consider donating, partnering with us, or sharing our stories.
Today is World Humanitarian Day, a moment to reflect on the tireless work of women who not only receive aid but also lead humanitarian efforts across communities. Too often, the narrative of humanitarianism presents women as victims of conflict, displacement, and poverty. While these realities exist, they are only one side of the story. Women are not passive recipients of assistance. They are organisers, advocates, and leaders who redefine what humanitarianism looks like in practice.
Across Nigeria and beyond, women have been at the forefront of providing relief, championing rights, and speaking against injustice. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, now Director-General of the World Trade Organisation, has spent much of her career advocating for economic reforms that placed people at the centre. She worked with international organisations to promote debt relief that gave countries fiscal space to fund health, education, and humanitarian responses. Her efforts showed that humanitarianism is not limited to emergency relief but also tied to long-term structural change.
Aisha Yesufu represents another face of humanitarian commitment. She rose to prominence during the Bring Back Our Girls movement, which demanded the safe return of schoolgirls abducted in Chibok. Through relentless advocacy, she shifted attention to the rights of women and children in conflict, challenging both government inaction and global indifference. Her activism reminds us that humanitarian work is not only about distributing aid but also about demanding accountability for those who suffer.
The contributions of Hajo Sani also reflect this tradition of women reshaping humanitarianism. As a policy advocate and former ambassador, she has promoted education and empowerment for women and girls, especially in communities where conflict and poverty limit opportunities. By pushing for access to education, she addressed one of the most urgent humanitarian needs: giving young people the tools to rebuild their societies.
The story of Hauwa Liman, a young aid worker with the International Committee of the Red Cross, illustrates the risks women take in this field. She worked in conflict-affected areas of Borno State, providing medical care to displaced families and communities under siege. Her tragic death at the hands of insurgents was not only a personal loss but also a reminder of the dangers faced by women on the frontlines of humanitarian work. Her legacy continues to inspire others who refuse to abandon vulnerable populations even in the most hostile environments.
What ties these women together is their rejection of the idea that women exist only as recipients of help. They show, through different paths, that women are central to designing, implementing, and sustaining humanitarian action. They prove that aid is not only about food distribution or temporary shelter but also about education, advocacy, reform, and dignity.
On this World Humanitarian Day, the spotlight belongs to women who turn their personal conviction into collective good. Their lives remind us that humanitarianism is not complete without women at its centre, shaping solutions and carrying communities forward.
