When the State Doesn’t love you back: Navigating identities as a Nigerian woman

Although the Nigerian state is guided by a Constitution that confers on all Nigerian citizens equal rights regardless of gender and sexual identity, it has been adept at maintaining a system of patriarchy through institutions, policies, and procedures which has led to the differential treatment of men and women. This is what Chouinard refers to as “spatial differing”, and has several knock-on effects that translate to unequal outcomes for some Nigerian citizens. In this blog, Emaediong Akpan explores how the state confers citizenship on its people: who has the right to participate in the affairs of the state? And to what extent such rights can be exercised and enjoyed by all?

Does the State have a character? And is it Gendered?

“The state is a masculine institution,”  assigning rights and belonging along gendered patterns. In allocating these rights, the state decides who belongs in the state and to what extent a person can lay claim to their citizenship. This is both a legal and social decision that affects the feeling of belonging and inclusion The struggle for inclusive citizenship is not new, and from voting rights to property rights, women have had to constantly negotiate with the state about what rights they can enjoy, but not in the same way that men do. This is because Nigerian women are often at a disadvantage, working against multiple levels of assumption, and negotiating male-dominated spaces.

The state is not a neutral entity, only concerned with the maintenance of law and order, rather it descends like a biased umpire into the arena of private life, regulating bodies and relationships. This is what French philosopher, Michael Foucault describes as bio-politics: [state] regulation of its people, taking the form of control over social interaction, health and reproductive rights, and the right to life amongst many others. For radical feminists, bio-politics is an indication of the state’s masculinity and commitment to protecting patriarchy. 

The organisation of state affairs does not occur accidentally, rather it is a deliberate effort to ‘exert a positive influence on life, that endeavors to administer, optimize, and multiply it, subjecting it to precise controls and comprehensive regulations.’ This deliberate effort of the state generally works though subjection that is guided by economic structures and cultural norms that dictate gender roles.

In Nigeria, citizenship occurs at the national level, state, and local government levels. While a woman in Nigeria can claim citizenship  (on paper), true citizenship that is characterized by access to citizenship rights, including social benefits and political participation. True citizenship, then, is something she must consistently negotiate through the course of her life. This negotiation is limited by the state’s decision to favor patriarchy, and this results in the differential capacity of men and women to claim the benefits and privileges that come with being a citizen.

Gender and Citizenship in Nigeria:  Women as Outsiders Within

The 1999 Nigerian Constitution (As Amended) is the reference point for who can be conferred the status of a citizen and who can transfer citizenship. In the country, citizenship is conferred at the national level by birth, where either parents or a grandparent is a citizen of Nigeria or from a tribe indigenous to Nigeria. Under section 26(2), only a man can confer citizenship to his wife through marriage, in essence, a Nigerian woman who marries a non-Nigerian cannot confer this citizenship on her husband or her children. In this way, a Nigerian woman’s citizenship can be considered inferior in the sense that it cannot be transferred to another.

The situation becomes more dire with single mothers who try to navigate citizenship, especially when the father of their child is no longer present or refuses to be in their lives. Women in this situation must attach themselves to a Nigerian male if their child is to identify as a citizen of the country, even with the most basic form of identity, a certificate of birth. These women are left with no other choice than to give their children the names of absentee fathers, or that of a male member of their family to retrieve these certificates from the state. Citizenship is sexual, in the way that, it ‘empowers’ the genders that are beneficial to the state – men. In doing so, the state considers the man as the entity who is able to give life, and the woman’s role is reduced to a body that houses the uterus suitable to carry a (male) Nigerian child, but not confer citizenship upon that child.

Another way the state is implicit in fostering gendered power relations is in the refusal to enact policies to address forms of disempowerment such as protecting the rights of single women who are navigating the rental market in Nigeria. For decades, there has been an outcry of single women in the country with complaints of facing prejudice from property owners because “single women should not rent houses independently.” My first-hand experience as a single woman renting a home in 2014 lends credence to this conversation. My search for a home in Abuja, the country’s capital, was met with several rejections because of my status, but interestingly, this changed when I returned with a ‘hired partner’ and flaunted a shiny make-shift engagement ring. Surprisingly, the property owner was female. As noted by Sathiamma patriarchy is produced by a system, meaning that both men and women can be active gatekeepers of patriarchal norms and practices, albeit sometimes unknowingly. These attitudes are rooted in persistent patriarchal socio-cultural norms that view women as property belonging to men.

While national citizenship is relevant for macro-level discourses, a different form of citizenship also exists within the margins – state citizenship. This is perhaps the most challenging for Nigerian women to navigate. Identities within the Nigerian state are defined in a masculine way. As a Nigerian woman, your identity is often contested and changing in many ways. For instance, at the point of marriage, Nigerian women must pay a fee to the state to change their names to that of their new partner, while notifying the public through print media – in a change of name announcement – that her previous name (father’s name) has been abandoned. These changes must also be replicated across every identity document that she possesses – bank details, international passport, and state and local government identity documents. In the case that her state and local government of origin differs from her husband’s, she continues to be denied indigeneity (rootedness), never fully belonging to her father’s home or her husband’s.

Reflection

The redefinition of a state – as masculine and non-neutral – through a feminist lens provides the needed objectivity to ask critical questions on the state’s role in regulating the public and private lives of its citizens. By looking at how the Nigerian state interacts with Nigerian women through this lens, we can better understand its preconceived roles for female Nigerian citizens.

The Nigerian state is masculine and would continue to subject women’s identities to the whims and caprices of patriarchy whilst denying men who do not fit the ideals of masculinity the right to citizenship. This is operationalized in its administrative processes, how women can (or cannot) access basic needs like housing, and the way that women are treated when they participate in public affairs.

Unless we begin to interact with foundational institutions like the state using a feminist lens to dismantle the assumptions of its rationality, these current efforts at addressing gender inequality will not yield much.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the Author

Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner, called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015. She is currently pursuing a Master’s in Development Studies with a specialization in Women and Gender Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies ,Erasmus University Rotterdam. With extensive experience in the development sector, her work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. Her research examines the effects of technology-facilitated gender-based violence on women and social movements, highlighting how digital spaces serve as sites for power contests and the policing of gender norms.

 

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