International Women’s Month is in full swing, and as expected, we are celebrating women breaking barriers, rising to the top, balancing family and career, being strong, being resilient being everything at once. But what about the ones who don’t fit the Mold? The ones who aren’t celebrated in glowing Instagram posts or included in Women’s Day speeches? The women who, by choice or circumstance, exist outside of the socially accepted blueprint of what a “successful” Nigerian woman should be?
We talk a lot about the strong woman, the hustling woman, the nurturing woman but we rarely talk about the invisible woman. The one whose success means nothing because she isn’t married. The one who is silently pitied because she chose to be child-free. The one who climbed the career ladder, built wealth, and secured a life many only dream of but still isn’t considered fulfilled because, at the end of the day, “who is she doing all this for?” In the Nigerian cultural playbook, women are not just individuals; they are daughters, wives, mothers, and caretakers first. And if you don’t check at least two of those boxes? Society doesn’t quite know what to do with you.
It’s an unspoken truth among many Nigerian women in the diaspora the farther you go, the less visible you become in your own culture. At work, you might be making moves, securing promotions, sitting at decision-making tables. But when you visit home, no one asks about your latest deal or the global project you just led. They ask, “When are you settling down?” They remind you that, no matter how much you achieve, a woman’s real success is measured by her ability to be claimed.
Then, there’s the other side of the spectrum the women who choose family but still find themselves existing in a no man’s land. The ones who walked away from high-powered careers to focus on motherhood, only to be asked, “So you’re just at home?” The ones who don’t fit into the Western idea of feminism but also don’t fit into the traditional Nigerian expectations of a wife. The ones who feel like they have to explain themselves, no matter what they do.
And let’s talk about the single, child-free Nigerian woman in her 30s or 40s abroad. The one people assume must be lonely. The one who has to deal with whispers behind her back “She’s too picky” or “She just hasn’t been lucky” as if her life cannot possibly be full without marriage or children. Even in progressive spaces, she still feels the weight of being an anomaly, a cautionary tale for younger women, a woman who is seen as “having everything” yet nothing at all.
But here’s the reality: these women are not lost. They are not broken. They are not waiting for something to complete them. They are living life on their own terms, in ways that previous generations couldn’t imagine. They are proof that womanhood is not a one-size-fits-all experience. That fulfilment is not a formula. That a woman can be whole, whether she follows the script.
Yet, their stories are rarely told. Because they do not serve the ideal. Because their lives cannot be used as examples of what a good woman should be. Because they challenge what we have been taught about purpose, legacy, and fulfilment. Because when a woman exists for herself and not for others, society does not quite know what to do with her.
So, whilst we celebrate the women, we have been conditioned to applaud the ones who fit neatly into the categories of strength, success, and sacrifice can we also make room for the outliers? The ones who redefine what fulfilment looks like, who reject the need for external validation, who live outside of expectation but inside of their truth. The ones who do not need to be understood to be respected. The ones who are not seeking permission to exist as they are.
Not every Nigerian woman is waiting for a husband. Not every woman is hoping for children. Not every woman who left a high-flying job to focus on her home feels like she gave something up. And none of these women owe anyone an explanation.
This Women’s Month, let’s talk about all the women. Not just the ones who inspire through struggle. Not just the ones who break barriers in ways that fit neatly into cultural expectations. But the ones who exist beyond the Mold the ones we don’t talk about, but should.
Have you ever felt unseen or misunderstood because your life didn’t fit the typical script? Let’s talk about it. Share your thoughts in the comments or on our social media platforms.
