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Summary
In this piece, Oyeyemi Abolade reveals how sexual coercion remains a widespread form of sexual violence fueled by silence, patriarchy, and a poor understanding of consent.
He didn’t pin her down.
He didn’t threaten her life.
But he didn’t stop pestering for sex either.
This is sexual coercion.
And in 2025, millions of women in Nigeria—and across Africa—still don’t recognize it as such or even have a name for it.
Across sub-Saharan Africa, data from the African Union suggests that many survivors of coerced or pressured sex do not report it—or even recognize it as abuse. This is often due to cultural silence, victim-blaming, and the lack of language around consent and coercion.
Understanding sexual coercion: It’s not always violent—but it’s always a violation.
Sexual coercion refers to pressuring, manipulating, or persistently persuading someone into sex or sexual acts without their clear and enthusiastic consent.
It can look like:
Emotional blackmail
Repeated pestering
Guilt-tripping
Using authority or resources to gain compliance
It’s not always violent.
But it’s always a violation.
According to UN Women, sexual coercion exists on the spectrum of sexual violence. And while it may not leave visible bruises, it often leaves deep psychological scars—of confusion, shame, and self-doubt.
Why “no” isn’t the only way to withhold consent.
In Nigeria, many still believe that rape only happens if a woman screams, fights back, or says the word “no.”
But consent is not the absence of a “no”—it is the presence of a clear, willing, and unpressured “yes.”
Anything short of that is not consent. It’s compliance, and compliance under pressure is not consent.
Coercion hides in plain sight: The Nigerian reality.
According to the National Demographic and Health Survey (NDHS) 2018, 1 in 4 Nigerian women aged 15–49 has experienced physical or sexual violence. But these numbers don’t fully reflect coercion—a form of sexual violence that is often downplayed, misinterpreted, or never reported at all.
And in Nigeria, this kind of harm is alarmingly common.
A 2022 NOI Polls survey found that nearly 1 in 3 Nigerian women reported experiencing unwanted sexual pressure—often from older men, bosses, teachers, religious leaders, or family friends.
These experiences rarely fit the “stranger danger” narrative—and are often dismissed.
How culture and patriarchy excuse coercion.
Religious expectations, gender roles, and deep-rooted patriarchy continue to reinforce harmful myths like:
“If you didn’t fight, it wasn’t rape.”
“You followed him to his house—what did you expect?”
“Men are wired to keep pushing until you agree to their sexual demands”
These beliefs silence victims.
They normalize coercion.
They allow perpetrators to walk free most times without even realizing they’ve done harm.
The data reveals what society ignores.
While Nigeria lacks comprehensive statistics on sexual coercion, the patterns are clear.
A UNICEF study shows that over 70% of Nigerian girls who experienced sexual abuse before 18 never reported it—citing shame, fear, or not recognizing it as abuse.
A 2020 WARIF study revealed that only 38% of women who experienced sexual violence in Nigeria recognized it as rape—even when it met the legal definition.
This gap in understanding is exactly where coercion thrives.
Why this conversation matters—for everyone.
Sexual coercion causes deep emotional harm. But beyond individual trauma, it corrodes our collective understanding of consent, autonomy, and respect.
It teaches girls to sacrifice comfort for approval.
It rewards men for persistence instead of empathy.
It creates a culture where pressure becomes normalized, and boundaries become blurry.
And when that happens, we raise boys who don’t understand consent—and girls who doubt their right to give or withhold it.
What needs to change.
🟣 Teach Consent Clearly
Not just as “no means no,” but as “only a confident, enthusiastic yes is valid.”
🟣 Name Coercion
We must include coercion in our definition of sexual violence—not label it “miscommunication” or “grey area.”
🟣 Believe Survivors
Victims need spaces where their experiences are validated, not measured by how loud they said “no.”
🟣 Hold Men Accountable
We must raise boys to understand that sex is never owed, and silence is not agreement.
Because they didn’t say no doesn’t mean they said yes.
Sexual coercion is still sexual violence.
We must stop treating it like it’s “not that serious” simply because there were no bruises or because “she didn’t fight back.”
Because someone didn’t say “no” doesn’t mean they said “yes.”
Because they didn’t scream doesn’t mean they weren’t violated.
Because it wasn’t violent doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong.
We need to stop confusing persistence with consent.
And we must stop blaming grown women for being “old enough to know better” when the man coercing them holds power, experience, and influence far beyond theirs.
Consider this: a 45-year-old lecturer, boss, or religious leader pressuring a 20- or 25-year-old woman into a sexual relationship. Society often shrugs and says, “But she’s an adult—she should’ve known better.”
What we ignore in cases like this is the imbalance—the age gap, authority, life experience, and social pressure—that makes it anything but a level playing field.
This is not consent. It is coercion masked as choice. And it happens far more often than we admit.
Until we do, too many women will keep wondering:
“Was it really my fault?”
“Was that even assault?”
“Did I really say yes?”
Have a story to share? Or just need someone to talk to about your experience
?
We’re listening.
Reach out to Naija Feminist at: naijafeminists@gmail.com
Or email : aboladeoyeyemi16@gmail.com
