I remember telling one of my
primary school classmates about my dream to be on our currency notes. Specifically the N20 note because
I would join the military and fight for my country. My
classmates and I shared a lot of things and the moment I mentioned that dream,
she also expressed her
desire to have her face on the N5
note because every child was given N5 at the time, but I told her she
was never going to appear on any. She asked why, and I told her to look through
the notes to see if she could find any note with a woman’s face on the front.
She affirmed she was going to be the first female to appear on the front.
One of the things I was curious
about as a child was the exclusion of women’s faces on the front page of
the Nigerian currency notes. The few that are printed on it appear at the back
and only one of them, Ladi Kwali, had her
name on the note. Others are lacking in that regard, thereby having
no historical affiliations or sparking curiosity in those who see the
note.
As I grew older, I realised
this erasure of women wasn’t confined to our currency notes. It reflects and
has permeated across various areas and disciplines in Nigeria. There seems to
be an obliteration of women’s contribution to society, despite making up nearly
half of the population. Across sectors, women hold a minuscule percentage of
elective offices and these barriers are not just legal or political but deeply
cultural, rooted in patriarchal norms that discourage female leadership,
acknowledgement and recognition. Point: Women’s achievements are often
underreported, and their contributions to society are overshadowed by a culture
that prioritises men’s roles. And when women are featured, it is frequently in
stereotypical contexts that reinforce outdated gender norms.
Since Bolanle
Austen-Peters’s eponymous biopic of Funmilayo
Ransome-Kuti has been made available on streaming
platforms, many Nigerians have come out to appreciate the movie for
enlightening them more on the life and historical contribution of Funmilayo
Ransome-Kuti who was a political and women’s rights activist. For many
Nigerians, before that movie, Funmilayo was simply the first woman to drive a
car in Nigeria and the mother of Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Most
likely nothing else, just that. Her
contributions to taxation levies, being the first female student to attend
Abeokuta Grammar School, the first president of Abeokuta Women’s Union, one of
the influential people who negotiated independence with the British and other
outstanding contributions were not mentioned. But she was more than an
activist and Fela’s mom. She was a lioness and nation builder.
A fraction of people have blamed
Nigerians’ reading culture for not knowing about Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti and
Nigerians’ inherent lack of research interest. While this might seem true in a
general assessment of history, it isn’t valid in this context, particularly
when it comes to women. We didn’t have to research or read widely to know
Awolowo or Azikwe or understand what happened to MKO Abiola. We knew because
these stories were talked about and these people were in our faces – in Naira
notes, statues, on TV, in stories, names after streets or buildings.
Everywhere. It is not the same for women who have equally played a significant
role in shaping and building our society. There is relegation and erasure of
women’s contributions to history and this is evident in how much or less people
know about Funmilayo. This means that the death of our female heroes most
likely means the end of their heroic stories. These layers of marginalisation
reflect a broader societal issue: that even in our collective fight for a
better society, women are undervalued and unseen.
As I ponder on why women’s contributions have been minimised or
erased – the faces on our currency notes, the stories shared in our classrooms,
and the narratives that shape our collective memory frequently overlook the
remarkable achievements of women – I have concluded that the exclusion, erasure
or relegation isn’t just an oversight; it reflects deep-seated biases that are
present in every aspect of our society. These
biases not only hinder women’s progress but also stifle the nation’s overall
development and depreciate the quality of knowledge the next generation gets.
The story of Funmilayo
Ransome-Kuti is an example of this. The legacy of a pioneer in women’s rights
and a formidable force in Nigeria’s political landscape was reduced to a
trivia fact – a car — until a movie brought her story to the forefront. This
revival of her memory projects the importance of representation and the need to
celebrate women’s contributions as vigorously as we do men’s.
It is not only about adding
more women to our currency notes or history books, it’s about recognising the
systemic structures that have long silenced half of our population. Young women
need to see a reflection of themselves. They deserve to see that they can
always achieve something long achieved by the women before them. Women’s
stories are not just additions to history, they are integral to it. Therefore, how can we ensure that the contributions of women
are not just remembered, but revered and integrated into the fabric of our
national identity? What steps will we take to rewrite our narratives, making
room for the countless women who have shaped, and continue to shape our world?
We have a movie that projects Funmilayo’s efforts. Who is next?
