In Nigeria, when women dare to lead, they do so with courage in one hand and fear in the other — because for them, power comes with a price.
There is something deeply sinister happening within the Nigerian government; a recent string of mysterious deaths of five Lagos council women raises questions. When many women rise to serve their country and end up dead, the state chooses to respond with vague statements and no answers. That silence becomes a form of control; it teaches sheepish obedience and warns others to stay quiet. In Nigeria, where women are already underrepresented in politics, the cost of service often extends beyond public scrutiny. It can mean losing one’s safety, one’s dignity, or even one’s life. The message is unmistakable: power is not a woman’s place, and if she dares to claim it, the system will remind her who truly holds it.
For decades, women have fought to be seen and heard in Nigeria’s male-dominated political space. Yet, every step forward seems to come with invisible risks — intimidation, silencing, character assassination, and in this chilling case, death. The mysterious deaths of the Lagos councilwomen shake that fragile progress. The tragedy is not just in the loss of these women’s lives but in the deliberate fog that follows their investigation — the secrecy, the silence and the prospective lack of justice.
The Lagos council deaths: coincidence or warning?
In Lagos State, within just two months, five female local government officials died under unclear circumstances. Among them were:
Oluwakemi Rufai, councillor for Ward C, Ibeju-Lekki, died on 13 August 2024, only a week after being sworn in.
Zainab Shotayo, councillor of Odiolowo-Ojuwoye LCDA, died five days later on 18 August 2025.
Princess Oluremi Ajose, Vice-Chair of Badagry West LCDA, died on 20 September 2025, only 55 days into office.
Basirat Oluwakemi Mayabikan, councillor for Ward F, Shomolu, died on 21 September 2025, after serving for 56 days in office.
Adebimpe Akintola, Council Manager of Coker Aguda LCDA, died on 29 September 2025, after a brief illness, 64 days into service.
Each death was reported as a “brief illness” or “natural cause.” No autopsy reports, independent investigations or transparent findings. What remains are questions on what could have happened to these women.
When tragedy repeats itself, a pattern becomes a scheme. The lack of further inquiry from the government around these deaths is not just neglect; it is design. It ensures that the public will not probe too deeply, that other women will think twice before entering politics, and that power can continue to operate without being held accountable.
Read also: She Talks Exclusive: How Nigeria loses ground by excluding women from political leadership
Senator Natasha Akpoti’s case: punished for speaking truth to power
Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s experience in 2025 underscores what happens when women challenge powerful men in Nigeria’s political arena. When she accused Senate President Godswill Akpabio of sexual harassment, she was not believed or protected — she was punished. Her claims that Akpabio attempted to coerce her into submission in exchange for legislative progress sparked outrage across the country.
Instead of an investigation, the Senate suspended her for six months on claims of “misconduct.” Courts called the punishment “excessive,” yet she was still fined and barred from the National Assembly complex. Natasha’s courage became a cautionary tale that when women speak out, the system strikes back. The message to women across Nigeria was unmistakable: even at the highest level, your safety and dignity are not yours to control. Natasha’s experience was not just about her — it became a symbol of how institutional power punishes women who refuse to be silent.
Somtochukwu Maduagwu’s advocacy and tragic death
Arise News anchor Somtochukwu “Sommie” Maduagwu was a journalist, lawyer, and advocate who used her platform to push for gender equality and women’s participation in politics. She challenged entrenched power, questioned bias, and mentored young women daring to lead.
In September 2025, Somtochukwu died after jumping from the third floor of her Abuja apartment during a reported armed robbery. Police called it an “accident.” Like the Lagos cases, her death raises unsettling questions about safety, response failure, and accountability.
Somtochukwu’s voice represented courage, and she believed deeply in a country where women could lead without fear. She used every platform available to push that vision, and her loss deepens the fear that women who challenge systems of power are never fully safe, not even in their own homes.
The fears that women in politics live with every day
For Nigerian women in power, the danger is layered: physical, political, and psychological.
Violence and intimidation: women face threats to their safety from both political rivals and social actors emboldened by impunity.
Character assassination: A woman’s integrity is constantly questioned, her private life weaponised.
Institutional silencing: women are sidelined through administrative tactics such as seat changes, suspensions, and procedural traps.
Lack of justice: When harm occurs, investigations are weak or absent. No accountability or closure.
Emotional toll: The persistent fear of attack, isolation, or scandal makes many women withdraw or self-censor.
Every woman in politics is aware of these risks. The recent deaths and high-profile cases make those fears terrifyingly real.
The power of silence and how it maintains control
The refusal to investigate, the speed of burials, and the vague cause of death are not coincidences. They are mechanisms of control. By keeping the truth hidden, the system protects itself. When people cannot connect dots, they stop asking questions, and when fear replaces inquiry, patriarchy wins.
These happenings are expressions of a culture that views women in power as intruders, best silenced through shame or tragedy. The danger lies not only in the violence itself but in the silence that follows.
Every silenced woman in politics weakens Nigeria’s democracy. Representation shrinks as gender-focused policies lose champions and the next generation of women sees leadership as a death sentence, not a duty.
Women in government should be symbols of progress and not casualties of our government’s neglect. The deaths of female government officials in Lagos, the punishment of Senator Natasha, and the loss of Somtochukwu Maduagwu reveal a disturbing pattern that when women rise, systems retaliate. Nigeria’s democracy can not thrive on the silence of its women. The true test of leadership is not in how many women enter power, but how many survive it.
Read more: We need women to purify Nigerian politics through accountability and we need them now
