We love a good women supporting women moment. The hashtags, the empowerment brunches, the Instagram captions filled with “My sis, my blood, my backbone” energy. The speeches about how we should uplift one another, break generational cycles, and create a world where Nigerian women stand hand in hand, lifting as we climb. It sounds great. It looks even better. But when the cameras are off, the mics are put away, and the hashtags fade, is sisterhood really happening or are we all just trying to survive?
Let’s be honest: not every Nigerian woman has felt the warmth of sisterhood. Some have felt the sting of betrayal from fellow women. Some have found the doors closed when they expected them to be open. Some have learned the hard way that not all skinfolk are kinfolk—that just because we share a gender, a culture, and a struggle doesn’t mean we share an unbreakable bond.
And we have to ask why is this? Why do we talk about unity, but still hear stories of women who feel shut out? Why do women sometimes feel safer in the company of men than in circles of other women? Why is the phrase “Women are their own worst enemies” still floating around, despite all the talk of empowerment? Is sisterhood a myth, or are we just looking for it in the wrong places?
The truth is, Nigerian women have had to fight for everything space, success, respect. We were raised in an environment that teaches competition before collaboration. That if there’s only one seat at the table, you better get there before another woman does. That if you see a powerful woman, the first instinct is to assess, compare, and maybe even tear down before we uplift. And even in the diaspora, where opportunities may be broader, many still carry that survival instinct because scarcity thinking is hard to shake off when you come from a place where success feels like a limited resource.
Then there’s the silent code the invisible rules of womanhood that tell us how to behave with one another. Be strong, but not too intimidating. Be successful, but don’t outshine too much. Be confident, but don’t be too much. If you’re married, don’t act too happy or you might be showing off. If you’re single, don’t be too comfortable or you might be too proud. If you choose to be child-free, expect side-eyes of judgment. If you’re a stay-at-home mum, brace yourself for corporate women assuming you lack ambition. If you’re a high-flying executive, prepare for women in more traditional roles to remind you that career success isn’t everything.
No matter where you stand, there’s always someone waiting to tell you that you’re doing womanhood wrong. And this unspoken tension creates distance. Instead of celebrating the many ways a woman can exist, we police each other. Instead of trusting in sisterhood, we hesitate. Instead of reaching out, we retreat because what if we are met with judgment instead of kindness?
But here’s the thing: the real essence of sisterhood isn’t just in grand gestures, mentorship programs, or well-curated LinkedIn posts. It’s in the small, everyday moments in the silent nod of encouragement when you see another Nigerian woman walking into the same boardroom as you. In the random “Just checking in” texts that aren’t about networking but about care. In the honest conversations where we let our guards down and admit that we don’t have it all figured out either.
Sisterhood isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing to show up for each other, even when it’s inconvenient. It’s about unlearning the scarcity mindset and realizing that another woman’s win is not your loss. It’s about catching yourself when that tiny voice of jealousy creeps in and asking Why do I feel this way? Can I celebrate her instead? It’s about understanding that the competition is rigged, and the real power is in rewriting the rules together.
So, as we close out Women’s Month, this is one conversation we cannot afford to ignore. Sisterhood is the one thing that will ensure we continue to cheer each other on instead of tearing each other apart. If we’re serious about empowerment, about breaking barriers, about seeing Nigerian women rise to greater heights, then we must start with how we treat one another. Not just in public, not just when it looks good, but in the quiet, everyday ways that truly matter.
Because maybe sisterhood isn’t a myth it’s just something we have to be intentional about. It won’t always come naturally, and it won’t always be easy, but it is necessary. Because the truth is, the village cannot be rebuilt if the women in it don’t trust each other. And if we are serious about changing the future for the next generation of Nigerian women, it has to start with us choosing to stand together, even when the world tells us to stand apart. What does sisterhood mean to you? Have you felt truly supported by other Nigerian women, or has your experience been different? Let’s have this conversation drop your thoughts in the comments or join us on social media. Because this is a conversation that doesn’t end with Women’s Month it’s one that will shape the future of how we show up for each other.
