In Nigeria today, conversations about women’s bodies are still conducted in hushed tones. From menstruation to contraception, and especially when it comes to pregnancy decisions, silence and shame often shape the narrative. Behind closed doors, women talk. However, their needs are buried under stigma in public, policy, and healthcare settings.
This silence is not just cultural; it is deeply political. It affects how women access care, how they are treated when they seek help, and whether they live or die when faced with reproductive health crises. For many, the stakes of whispering are not just personal; they’re fatal.
The cost of silence
Women in Nigeria, especially young women, grow up learning that to talk openly about their bodies is to invite judgement. Sex education is minimal or nonexistent in many homes and schools. Questions about reproductive health are often brushed aside, wrapped in euphemisms, or moralised.
As a result, misinformation thrives. A girl who starts menstruating may not even know what it is, only that it must be hidden. A teenager afraid of pregnancy might believe harmful myths about birth control. A woman seeking to end a pregnancy may not know where to find accurate, safe options because no one dares to say the words out loud.
This culture of silence creates a dangerous vacuum. Without access to factual, stigma-free information, women are pushed into unsafe practices. And when things go wrong, they often delay seeking help out of fear of being judged, humiliated, or criminalised.
Stigma as a public health crisis
While much has been said about the legal restrictions on abortion in Nigeria, less attention is paid to the societal conditions that make unsafe abortion so prevalent. Stigma is chief among them.
The social cost of terminating a pregnancy, even for medical or health reasons, is often unbearable. Women are treated not as individuals navigating complex decisions but as moral failures. Media coverage, religious teachings, and political rhetoric reinforce this by framing abortion as sinful, irresponsible, or criminal.
Yet, as one healthcare worker noted:
“People act like abortion doesn’t happen. But it happens everywhere. The difference is whether it’s safe or deadly.”
Unsafe abortion remains a leading cause of maternal mortality in Nigeria. But the shame surrounding it makes it difficult to speak openly, let alone plan services or push for reform. In a healthcare system already stretched thin, the silence ensures that abortion-related complications are underreported, underfunded, and poorly managed.
Even in health facilities, women whisper. Many are afraid to ask for contraceptives. Some don’t know they have the right to post-abortion care. Others fear that providers will scold or refuse them service if they suspect the pregnancy was intentionally ended.
Healthcare workers, too, often internalise societal stigma. In some cases, they refuse care. Others offer it quietly but without the full dignity, privacy, or empathy a patient deserves. The result is a culture where even life-saving care must be requested in whispers, if it is requested at all.
And this silence is reflected in policy. Reproductive health programmes often shy away from directly addressing abortion. Public campaigns speak broadly of “maternal health” or “women’s well-being” but rarely name the very issue at the core of so many preventable deaths. Policymakers are reluctant to engage, citing fear of backlash or “cultural sensitivity”. Meanwhile, women suffer.
Breaking the culture of shame
Changing this dynamic begins with naming it. Stigma thrives in silence. The more we speak about reproductive health, honestly, publicly, and without shame, the harder it becomes to ignore the realities facing Nigerian women.
This means acknowledging that:
• Women make reproductive decisions every day.
• These decisions are shaped by health, finances, relationships, and trauma, not just morality.
• Access to safe care, including post-abortion services, is a public health imperative, not a moral debate.
Community-based initiatives continue to break the silence, offering safe avenues for women to seek help. They’re giving women the information and support they need through discreet helplines, peer education, and safe spaces. Media training also helps shift the narrative, equipping media personnel to tell these stories with nuance, accuracy, and respect.
Reclaiming voice and agency
If we want better outcomes for women, we must stop asking them to whisper. We need to create systems and spaces where they can speak freely, be heard, and be helped, without judgement.
Reproductive autonomy is not just about legality. It’s about the ability to make informed choices and receive compassionate care. It’s about refusing to treat healthcare as a privilege for the brave or the lucky. And it’s about confronting the norms that teach women to suffer quietly instead of seeking support.
When we whisper, women die
Let’s be clear: abortion is not new. What is deadly is the silence that surrounds it. When women are denied the right to speak, to ask, and to choose, they are denied the right to live safely.
To build a healthier Nigeria, we must centre women’s voices, not just as statistics or case studies, but as people capable of making decisions. That begins by replacing shame with support, stigma with empathy, and whispers with bold, unapologetic truth.
