A growing number of Nigerian women are upending traditional gender roles and forgoing parenthood

For  Jewel, falling in love isn’t about chemistry. It’s about children. She meets someone, they connect, and they dream out loud together. But once the conversation turns to the future, children, family, and domesticity, the air shifts.

Jewel doesn’t want children. Not now. Not ever. It’s not a temporary phase or the residue of heartbreak; it’s a conscious decision. And in Nigeria, where motherhood is still widely regarded as a woman’s ultimate calling, that decision is radical.

“I just decided to be free,” she says. And by free, she means childfree.

For Jewel, 30, the decision is deeply personal, yet not accidental. As the first daughter in a large family, she practically raised her siblings, nephews, and nieces. That early, prolonged immersion in childcare taught her something important: she loved children, just not enough to become a mother herself. “I love being a doting aunty,” she says. “That’s where it ends for me.”

See Also: Friday essay: who was Anne Frank?

But endings are rarely accepted when they defy social scripts, and in Nigeria, that script is rigidly linked to marriage, motherhood, and sacrifice. She explains that her decision to be childfree does not stem from pain but from clarity:

That clarity, however, rarely shields her from condescension or outright hostility. She’s been called a “bitter feminist,” told she’ll die alone, and been accused of hating men. In romantic relationships, the backlash is even more acute. She explains:

These encounters speak to a broader tension in Nigerian society: a growing cohort of women is redefining fulfilment, without children, and the persistent pronatalist ideologies that resist change.

In Nigeria, the cultural expectation for women to bear children remains nearly absolute. Motherhood is intertwined with ideas of maturity, morality, and even patriotic duty. A woman who chooses otherwise is not just subverting tradition; to many, she is incomprehensible, yet history complicates this narrative.

Before colonialism, motherhood in many Nigerian communities wasn’t just a private affair; it was also a public institution. Historian Lorelle Semley writes of “public motherhood” in Indigenous societies, where maternal roles extended into the political and economic realms. Women held significant power not only as biological mothers but as community leaders, traders, and spiritual authorities.

That power was systematically eroded under colonial rule. Victorian gender norms, introduced through missionaries and colonial bureaucracy, confined women to domesticity. As Ifi Amadiume outlines in her book “Male Daughters, Female Husbands,” colonialism didn’t just rewrite gender; it redefined womanhood through Christian ideals of submission and self-sacrifice, enforced by church, school, and state.

Today’s childfree women, like Jewel, exist in the long shadow of those historical shifts. But they are also part of a growing countermovement. According to scholar R. Makama, urbanization, rising education levels, and access to digital platforms have given women new scripts. A life without parenthood, once unthinkable, is quietly gaining momentum.

“I am not barren.  I just don’t want to have children.”

Oluchi, 26, came to the decision differently. For years, she believed she was simply “not like other girls.” It wasn’t until she discovered online childfree communities that her feelings finally found language. She notes:

The pushback from her family has been intense, sometimes even cruel. Her mother once told her she hoped for an unplanned pregnancy, “thinking I will change my mind.”

“I keep reiterating to her not to stress me or ask me for a child,” Oluchi says, undeterred. She has grown adept at protecting her peace. “I try to educate when I can, but most times, I just ignore it.”

For Oluchi, this choice is inseparable from feminism. “It gave me the language and the audacity,” she says, emphasising that there’s a direct link where feminism teaches you to question why you want the things you’ve been conditioned to want.

That online support system, mostly on TikTok and X, is informal but invaluable. There’s no Nigeria-specific childfree group, she notes, just a loose but loyal collective of women sharing stories, trading memes, and reminding each other that their choices are valid.

Jewel’s feminism, too, is foundational to her worldview. She grew up reading, questioning, and deciding early on that motherhood was not inevitable. She says:

That clarity helped her have honest conversations with her parents. She explains:

Unlike many women, she doesn’t face pressure from her family to get married or bear children, and instead notes, “It’s the men who know your age and shame you for not having a man or child.”

One man she dated claimed to share her ideology, and although she was initially excited, she quickly realized that he had his own selfish agenda. “He didn’t even like women,” she says, revealing that he was a closeted misogynist and incel. Jewel quickly adds that the decision to be childfree can also be difficult for a man. Speaking of one of her male friends who wants to be childfree, “they aren’t firm in their decisions like women because of societal expectations.”

Now, she dates for companionship, not commitment. Jewel notes:

“When my friends get married, I don’t go around telling women not to have children,” she adds,  wishing that she got the same support and respect from people around her.

For Ayanfe, a 25-year-old non-binary Nigerian, the decision to remain childfree came at age 12. The backlash, predictably, came from their family.

Jewel’s, Oluchi, and Ayanfe reflect a rising consciousness among Nigerian women and gender-diverse people. For Jewel, this consciousness is linked to reclaiming autonomy and imagining a future where a woman’s worth isn’t tethered to her womb.

Oluchi says:

Jewel agrees. “Every woman has a choice,” she says, reiterating that in a society where womanhood is still defined by marriage and maternity, choosing to be childfree might be the most revolutionary thing a woman can do. “Don’t think [motherhood] is the only path or only way to live your life; there are multiple ways to do so. You own your life and body.” [Global Voices/VP]

Also Read: