In recent days, Nigeria’s political space has been shaken by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s bold and unsettling revelation. She accused Senate President Godswill Akpabio of making sexual advances toward her in the past—an allegation that immediately sparked mixed reactions across the country. While some praised her courage, others predictably asked, “Where’s the evidence?”
But before we reduce a serious issue like sexual harassment to courtroom technicalities, it’s important to understand what sexual harassment actually means.
Sexual harassment is not always about dramatic evidence or public confrontation. It is any unwanted sexual behavior—verbal, non-verbal, or physical—that creates an intimidating, hostile, or offensive environment. This can include repeated unwanted sexual advances, suggestive comments from someone in a position of power, unwelcome touching, sexual jokes, or propositions disguised as “friendly offers.”
In many cases—especially when the alleged harasser holds significant power or influence—victims stay silent for years. Not because they are weak, but because they fear the consequences: being disbelieved, professionally blacklisted, or socially ridiculed. That silence is a survival strategy, not an admission of doubt.
So when Senator Natasha made her claim, those demanding “hard evidence” ignored some hard truths. Sexual harassment often happens behind closed doors, with no witnesses or cameras. The power imbalance alone can silence a victim. And most importantly, survivors don’t owe the public their trauma or a televised breakdown to be believed. Coming forward is already a courageous act.
Calling for instant proof in such situations only discourages others from speaking out. It reinforces a dangerous culture where silence is safer than truth—and where perpetrators continue with impunity.
That Nigeria’s Senate President is being publicly accused by a fellow senator is not a light matter. Whether Akpabio responds or not, this allegation has reignited a necessary conversation about sexual misconduct in Nigerian politics. If it can happen at the top, imagine what everyday Nigerian women endure without the benefit of public platforms or media attention.
Sexual harassment isn’t about desire—it’s about power, control, and intimidation. We must stop demanding scars to believe women. We must begin by listening, supporting, and creating systems that protect the vulnerable and hold the powerful to account.
Senator Natasha has spoken. The question now is: will we keep making excuses, or will we finally confront the culture that keeps enabling silence?
