In the corridors of power, behind closed doors, and even in the most unsuspecting households, the grim reality of sexual harassment and rape persists. Yet, more often than not, the voices of the victims are drowned in a sea of suppression, intimidation, and societal judgment.
A little over a decade ago, I found myself entangled in a case involving a friend and her husband. He had discovered inappropriate messages from her boss and was enraged that she had kept silent. At the time, I sided with him, believing she was wrong not to report the harassment. But looking back now, I see the bitter wisdom in her silence.
“If this case comes out, it will be his words against mine,” she told me. “My character will be scrutinised, my dressing will be questioned, and my relationships with colleagues will be investigated. He is powerful, and people will stand by him, not the truth. What answer will my children give to their mates at school? I am not ready for any scandal. Let it go. I will pray for God’s intervention.”
At the time, I dismissed her reasoning. Now, I understand.
I have come across multiple cases where victims, instead of receiving justice, end up being the ones on trial. A woman once reported that her daughter, who was staying with her stepsister and her husband, was being molested. When we investigated, the child, barely in primary school, tearfully narrated how her abuser would call her out of class, take her home, and violate her when her sister was away to work.
Instead of outrage, we met resistance. The child’s elder sister, the wife of the accused, broke down in tears—not for the child, but for her husband. “She’s trying to destroy my marriage,” she sobbed. A powerful relative intervened, insisting that it was a “family matter” that should not be taken to the authorities. The mother was forced to withdraw the case.
In another case, a 14-year-old girl, impregnated by her stepfather, detailed years of abuse. She described how he would take her to the generator room, lure her into his car under the guise of errands, and violate her in the bush. When she gathered the courage to tell her mother, the response was a slap and a warning to keep quiet.
We took the matter to the police, hoping for justice. But in the end, the man got nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Meanwhile, the girl and those of us who stood by her were vilified. The only silver lining was that her relatives annulled the marriage and took the girl to her late father’s relatives care.
The recent controversy involving Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senate President Godswill Akpabio follows a similar script. A powerful man, an allegation, and the immediate vilification of the woman who dared to speak up. Rather than focusing on the substance of her claims, the conversation swiftly shifted to discrediting her. The whispers of “why now?” and “what is her agenda?” began to drown out the real issue—sexual misconduct and abuse of power.
This is why many victims choose silence. Not because they are weak, but because the system is rigged against them. For every case that makes the headlines, there are thousands that never see the light of day. Women have learnt, through painful experience, that speaking up often comes at too great a cost.
With these realities, is it any wonder that victims like my friend choose silence? Is it truly cowardice, or is it a survival strategy? When a woman comes forward, she is not just battling her abuser—she is fighting society itself. She must prove her innocence rather than the accused proving his guilt.
In an ideal world, silence should not be the answer. Justice should prevail. But in our world, where power shields predators, silence sometimes becomes the only shield a victim has.
So I ask again: Is silence really golden? Or is it simply the lesser of two evils?
The pervasive culture of silence surrounding sexual harassment and rape is not merely a personal coping mechanism; it is a reflection of systemic failures. Legal systems, societal norms, and institutional biases often conspire to protect the perpetrator and isolate the victim.
Consider the case of a young woman who was assaulted by a prominent community leader. When she reported the incident, she was met with disbelief and hostility. Community members accused her of trying to tarnish the reputation of a “good man.” Her family faced social ostracism, and she was forced to relocate to escape the relentless victim-blaming.
Institutions, be it workplaces, educational establishments, or religious organizations, play a pivotal role in either perpetuating the cycle of silence or breaking it. Unfortunately, many choose the former. They prioritise their reputation over the well-being of victims, often resorting to cover-ups and intimidation tactics.
A case in point is a prestigious university where multiple reports of sexual harassment by a faculty member were swept under the rug. The victims were discouraged from filing formal complaints, and those who did were subjected to rigorous character assassination. The institution’s primary concern was maintaining its esteemed image, even at the expense of justice.
To break this cycle, it is imperative to empower victims. This involves creating safe environments where they can report incidents without fear of retribution. Support systems, both legal and psychological, must be robust and accessible. Public awareness campaigns can play a significant role in changing societal attitudes, emphasising that the shame lies with the perpetrator, not the victim.
Legal reforms are crucial in ensuring that justice is served. Laws must be stringent, and enforcement should be impartial. Special courts to handle cases of sexual harassment and rape can expedite proceedings and reduce the trauma victims endure during prolonged trials. Witness protection programmes can also encourage more victims and bystanders to come forward.
Silence, in the face of sexual harassment and rape, is a double-edged sword. While it may offer temporary respite from societal backlash, it perpetuates a culture where perpetrators operate with impunity. Breaking this silence requires collective effort—from individuals, communities, institutions, and the legal system. Only then can we hope to create a society where justice prevails, and victims are truly heard and supported.
My Final Word
The Senate’s handling of the allegations against Senate President Godswill Akpabio by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan not only denied justice for Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan but also deprived the Senate President of the opportunity to prove his innocence, leading to a polarised Nigerian populace divided into supporters and opponents.
* Mairo Muhammad Mudi writes from Suleja Niger State. Email:
mairommuhammad@gmail.com
