AWC Editorial | By Amah Alphonsus Amaonye
Nigeria prides itself on democratic renewal — yet its national legislature tells a different story: women remain dramatically under-represented, and the trajectory over 25 years is stagnation at best, backsliding at worst.
The numbers are stark and indisputable: as of 2025 only four women sit in the 109-member Senate and roughly 15–17 women hold seats in the 360-member House of Representatives, putting women’s share in the bicameral National Assembly at roughly 4–5% of total membership.
These figures place Nigeria near the bottom of global rankings on women’s parliamentary representation.
Those are not abstract statistics — they are an indictment. When women make up about half the population and lead crucial social and economic roles, having fewer than one in twenty legislators be female is a democratic deficit with real policy consequences: weaker laws for maternal health, gender-based violence, child protection, education, and inclusive economic policy.
The empirical record: a disappointing arc
Nigeria’s brief highs in female legislative inclusion are exceptions, not trends. Over successive assemblies the peaks were modest — the 6th Assembly (2007–2011) recorded about 34 women (≈7.2%) across both chambers, a high watermark that has since eroded.
In the 9th Assembly (2019–2023) there were 8 female Senators and 13–22 female Representatives depending on the count — still barely rising above single-digit percentages — and in the current 10th Assembly the tally has fallen back to roughly 4 senators and mid-teens representatives, yielding total representation of about 4.2%. Across 25 years of democratic elections (1999–2024) only 43 women were ever elected to the Senate — a tiny fraction of the 763 senatorial terms during that period.
This is not merely poor optics. International evidence — from the Inter-Parliamentary Union and development bodies — shows that legislative gender balance improves public goods provision, reduces corruption, and delivers more inclusive economic outcomes.
Nigeria is therefore not only failing the principle of equal representation; it is also forgoing measurable development gains.
Why the gap persists — structural barriers, not talent gaps
Multiple, well-documented barriers explain the shortfall:
• Electoral finance and incumbency bias. Women often cannot match the deep war chests of established male incumbents or party godfathers.
• Party nomination dynamics. Political parties rarely place women in winnable constituencies; they are often relegated to token slots.
• Cultural and security hurdles. Political violence, sexual harassment and gendered intimidation deter women from active participation—a reality underlined by high-profile episodes in the Senate that have triggered national protests.
• Weak enforcement of gender-sensitive laws and inadequate state support for female candidates.
• Low voter encouragement and social norms that still prioritize male leadership in many communities.
These are solvable problems — but they require structural remedies, not goodwill alone.
Special seats: not a handout, but a corrective mechanism
Given the entrenched barriers, special (reserved) seats for women are a pragmatic, evidence-based policy to rapidly correct under-representation. Countries that combine reserved seats with capacity building and party reform see fast, sustainable increases in women’s legislative voice.
Nigeria’s proposed Gender Bill and Reserved Seats Bill — currently debated in public forums and taken up by some legislators — are designed precisely to create this enabling architecture. The Gender Bill gives hope, but it must be paired with guaranteed, time-bound reserved seats and funding for women’s political training.
Reserved seats would operate as a transitional mechanism: they do not remove competition but reconfigure it so women can build legislative track records, gain visibility, and then compete on an even footing.
Over time, with political financing reform and party quotas, reserved seats can be phased down as systemic parity takes root.
What the National Assembly and government should do now
- Pass a Reserved-Seats Law with a clear timeline. Enshrine a quota for women (for example 30% minimum) with a five-year ramp-up plan and a sunset clause tied to measurable targets.
- Mandate party nominating reforms. Political parties should be legally required to field a minimum share of female candidates in winnable districts.
- Establish an Empowerment Fund. Create a public fund (with private matching) to finance female candidates’ campaigns, training, and security needs.
- Strengthen institutional protections. Reform parliamentary procedures to prevent sexual harassment, intimidation, and to guarantee safety and equal access to committee leadership. Recent scandals show how fragile women’s space in the legislature can be.
- Invest in civic education and local pipelines. Support mentoring, civic-school programmes, and women’s leadership in state and local councils — the nursery for national legislators.
- Monitor and report transparently. The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), civil-society coalitions and the media must publish annual gender parity reports.
A final word: urgency and moral clarity
Nigeria’s democratic legitimacy is weakened when half its population is effectively shut out of law-making. Special seats are not charity; they are corrective justice — a temporary, constitutional tool to expand participation, deepen democracy, and deliver better public policy.
The alternative is slow attrition: symbolic statements about gender equality, but continued male dominance in the corridors of power.
The data are clear. The history is sobering. The policy fix is known. What remains is the political will. If Nigeria is sincere about inclusive governance, the National Assembly must adopt reserved seats now — not as a concession, but as a declaration that Nigerian democracy belongs to all its citizens, women and men alike.
