“I started understanding why mothers pray at early hours of the morning” – Jumoke*, 58

I usually have a regular period, and it’s only ever off by a day or two, so when three months passed and no blood, I became  suspicious. Then came the insomnia. I’d heard a lot about how bad hot flashes could be, but nobody warned me about being unable to sleep. I’d toss and turn for hours but I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. I started understanding why mothers pray at early hours of the morning. It’s not just because they love their children, it’s because menopause isn’t letting us go to bed. 

One thing I’ve learnt that helps is a cup of tea right before bed. I got a blend of chamomile and lavender, and it helps relax my body. I still don’t sleep as long or as well as I used to, but it allows me to get four to five hours in. 

READ ALSO: Being a Pastor’s Wife Was Not the Plan

“Because of menopause, my hair keeps falling off. Why did nobody tell me that could happen?” – Oluchi*, 55

The one symptom I didn’t expect to happen to me was hair dryness. I’d comb my hair and see strands on the comb. When I wake up, I notice hair on the bedsheet. When I tried to make braids to protect what I had left, there was so much of my hair everywhere. It was so bad, I never did braids again. At a hospital check-up, I mentioned it to my doctor, and she said the reduction in estrogen production was leading to thinning hair. Because of menopause, my hair keeps falling off. Why did nobody tell me that could happen?

Balding at 53 wasn’t something I ever expected, so my way of getting ahead of it was shaving my head completely. I’ve realised that the older you get, the less people care about what you do with your body. So, do whatever you can to manage what menopause is doing to you. 

“I could be going about my day and then a feeling of intense cold washes over me” – Yewande*, 50

From the periods that came and left as they liked to insomnia and waking up in a pool of my own sweat, I felt like I had been dealt the worst hand in menopausal symptoms. It started with my period playing hide and seek for months before it completely vanished. Then came cold flashes. While my mates were complaining of intense heat, I was cold a lot. I could be going about my day and then a feeling of intense cold washes over me. My teeth would start clattering and I’d start shaking. Then, before you know it, it’s gone, and my body no longer feels like I’ve been transported to Alaska. 

I started menopause earlier than most of my friends, so I became the point of contact for a lot of them when they eventually started experiencing symptoms. One thing to remind yourself is that it’s not a death sentence, and a community of women experiencing similar things will save you. You can exchange tips, share  tricks, and figure out a system that helps you manage your symptoms effectively.

“You know how car radiators bring out smoke when the coolant has finished? That’s exactly how I felt” – Ose*, 56

Everyone warns about the , and for good reason. It’s the most uncomfortable I’ve been in a long time. Sometimes, it feels as if my body is overheating. You know how car radiators bring out smoke when the coolant has finished? That’s exactly how I felt— like smoke was coming out of my head. It also doesn’t give you any warning. When my daughter showed me the trend of mothers dressing like their daughters and asked why I’m always tying a wrapper, I had to explain that part of it was for comfort. The materials are light and breezy, and I can adjust them easily when I start overheating. 

I now walk around with a cold bottle of water and a rechargeable hand fan. That’s my little way of combating the heat I feel both on the outside and inside.

“I wasn’t aware how much estrogen affected the mental state of a person” – Bisola*, 57

My children always said I had slight anger issues, and I’d spent the bulk of my life trying not to go off the rails. But menopause came with an irritability I can’t explain. I’m always snappy and have basically become a nightmare to be around. If it’s not that, it’s the mood swings or the melancholy that washes over me from time to time. I don’t think I’m suicidal, but I do have moments where life feels so heavy and death seems oddly welcoming. 

My daughter convinced me to start seeing a therapist. I wasn’t aware how much estrogen affected the mental state of a person. The therapy helps, and I’ve started talking to other women experiencing the same things I am. 

READ ALSO: My Mother Made Me Hate My Body

“No woman should feel scared of menopause, because it’s just another phase of growing up” – Joy*, 52

I wasn’t quite aware that menopause was so discomforting. It didn’t just start all at once, my menstrual cycle started reducing gradually. It would disappear for four months, appear for two, then disappear again for six . By the time when I was 49, it had stopped completely. Initially, I didn’t feel much, but by 50, it started getting uncomfortable. I had hot flashes and would break into sudden sweats, then be fine after. There was also fatigue and a lot of back pain. When I spoke to my friend about it, she told me she couldn’t even sleep at night and didn’t understand what was happening. 

No woman should feel scared of menopause, because it’s just another phase of growing up. It’s a stage, and it will come and pass, and there are drugs to help cushion the effects.

“It’s not like I wouldn’t want to have sex, but it’s  be uncomfortable and irritating” – Aminat*, 52

As someone who was still sexually active up until menopause, vaginal dryness was the most frustrating symptom I had to deal with. It’s not that I didn’t want to have sex, but it was uncomfortable and irritating. I had to deal with rashes and even burns from the friction. When I went to the hospital, they asked when I last saw my period. They gave me a flyer talking about menopausal symptoms. They also asked that I reduce sexual activity until I was fully healed from the damage. 

If you’re like me and want to keep being sexually active even in the later stages of your life, you should listen to your body. Only have sex when you really feel like it, and invest in a good lubricant.

Editor’s Note: The image and names used in this article bear no relation to the subjects as the subjects are anonymous

READ ALSO: I Almost Gave Up on My Dream of Going to Culinary School

This is Princess’s story as told to Itohan

I’ve always enjoyed cooking and baking. Ever since I was a little girl, one of my favourite places to be was the kitchen. While my other sisters grumbled whenever it was time to cook, I enjoyed it. As  I got a little older, my mother started letting me work in the kitchen. I loved experimenting with flavours and textures. When I learnt about culinary school, it became my dream to attend. Even if I didn’t use the skills I learnt for anything, I wanted to know more about something I was passionate about. Every spare naira and kobo I had went into my culinary school fund. 

When I was 24, I met a man, Uche* when I served as a corper. We ate lunch at the same place, and one day, while I was eating, he sat beside me and we talked.  Having lunch together became a regular thing. Eventually, we moved to seeing each other outside of the office. He was decent, funny, and I genuinely enjoyed his company. He always talked about the big dreams, and I told him about my dream to go to culinary school. Whenever we talked about our dreams, his eyes would light up. He once told me it was rare to find women who were as passionate about something as he was. His dream was to open a business. He wasn’t sure what he’d sell, but he was confident he’d make it big someday. I believed him.

Two years after we met and started dating, he proposed. I accepted. A  year and some months later, we got married. During that time, he’d left the company we both worked at for a better offer elsewhere. Things were going great.  We were even discussing having a child when he told me he planned to quit his job to focus on his business, importing and exporting goods. He was so certain it would work, and I wanted to encourage him however I could. I started making snacks to sell at the office to supplement our income while we waited for his business to take off. Everyone loved the snacks, doughnuts, chin-chin, puff-puff, and more.  Some started booking me for church events and children’s birthday parties.  I put some of the profit into our household, and the rest went into my culinary school fund, but  the fees kept increasing

A few months after he started the business, he came to me with an idea. He said he needed money to bring in some goods and that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I told him I didn’t have much in my personal savings, but he asked if he could borrow the money I had set aside for culinary school. At the time, the money was almost a million. He promised that once he made a profit, he’d personally pay for culinary school. I agreed. I gave him the money. 

READ ALSO: Since I Became the Breadwinner I Started Resenting My Husband

The following year, I got pregnant. It was a stressful pregnancy, and it made me tired a lot. Since my husband was now making more money, he encouraged me to quit my job. I didn’t enjoy it anyway, it had always just been a means to an end. I also stopped accepting bulk orders because of how stressed and tired I felt. Luckily, I survived the stressful pregnancy and had a baby boy. The plan was to rest and start culinary school once the baby turned one and I was no longer exclusively breastfeeding.  But my husband had different plans. He insisted that we spend more time bonding with our first child and that I should wait at least two and a half years before returning to work.  He said it would give him more time to get back the money that he had spent on pregnancy and other expenses. I agreed. 

I spent over two years at home taking care of the child. Eventually, I felt better and reached out to my former customers. Some were happy to hear from me, so I started making some savoury snacks; meatpies, sausage rolls, and bread rolls. I made snack boxes for gifting. Most of the money went back into buying ingredients like flour, sugar, and oil, but I was happy to be working again. 

When my husband found out, he asked if I’d like to open a shop. I refused. I didn’t want the pressure of daily baking. Plus, I preferred handling orders in batches so I could rest. Besides, once I started culinary school, I’d have time to keep a shop running. He nodded and never brought it up again. A few months later, I got pregnant again. 

Honestly, I don’t understand how it happened. I had told him I didn’t want to go through pregnancy again, and we used condoms because every birth control I tried affected me negatively. The pregnancy came as a shock. Our first child was about to turn four, and now I was pregnant with another. Just like before, I slowed down with orders,  the pregnancy knocked the wind out of me.  

READ ALSO: My Mother Made Me Hate My Body

Throughout the pregnancy, culinary school was all I could think about. On days when the hormones messed with my brain, I reminded myself that where I was going would be better than where I was. After giving birth,  my husband once again insisted I stay at home to rest, as culinary school was taxing and I’d need to regain my strength. He wasn’t completely wrong,  but raising a child was just as stressful.  My strength never fully returned until more than a year later. 

One day, I told him enough was enough. If he wasn’t going to enrol me, he should return the money he owed me with interest, so I could register myself. He said he didn’t have the money because he’d just imported a large quantity of goods. He showed me messages with business partners and receipts. I understood, so I waited. 

Another two years passed.  Still, no culinary school. That Christmas, we hosted a party, and everyone kept asking which caterer we used.  When I said  I made everything, friends and family kept talking about how great of a cook I was and how I should take a class. I had to excuse myself because I kept crying.  That night, I confronted my husband again, tears in my eyes. I reminded him of his promise. He told me culinary school was a waste of money and time, especially as I was almost 40 that women my age should focus on raising children and being good mothers, not some “stupid” class. He added that the money could go into our children’s university education instead. I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. I felt like I was losing my mind so I excused myself and slept in one of the guest rooms. 

The next couple of months, I was miserable. I kept thinking of how I had waited, accepted every excuse about money, pregnancy,  health, time, only for him to say that. That’s why I called my sisters. I had kept my marriage issues from them, but at this point, I had nobody else to talk to. I sent a message to our group chat, telling them I needed to see them. That week, we met up at the hotel where our oldest sister was staying. That’s when I told them everything that had happened and why I kept telling them to stop asking me about culinary school. They hugged and comforted me.  For the first time in years, I remembered I was someone’s baby too. I had a village behind me. With their help, I could do anything. 

The first thing they did was register me in culinary school. The money I’d begged my husband for over the years, they raised it in days and paid in full. They also booked me a spa session because, in their words, “You have tension in your body.” When I got home, I showed my husband my confirmation letter for culinary school. He started shouting, asking where I got the money. He even accused me of having sex for the money. I told him my sisters paid as a gift, and the accusations changed to me undermining him, and that I was telling him he couldn’t take care of me.   He kept shouting. I tried to walk past, but he grabbed my hand, pushed me into the chair, and slapped me. That was the first and last time he ever hit me. 

I calmly walked to the room, packed a small bag, and went to my sister’s house. He called, but I never picked his call. My sisters picked up my children and moved some of their things out of the house. They also rented an apartment for us while encouraging me to file for a divorce. 

I’m 37 now, and I still haven’t gotten around to filing for that divorce, but I’m finally in culinary school. My children love that I come home from classes with tasty snacks they can enjoy, and my sisters are encouraging me to take a pastry class abroad once I’m done here. It took me a while to finally pursue my dreams, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been in this moment. I don’t speak to my husband. Apart from the money he sends for the children, he doesn’t seem interested in being an active participant in their lives. But my sisters, their children, and I try to make up for it as much as we can. 

Editor’s Note: The picture and names in this article are not related to the subject in the story

READ ALSO: Being a Pastor’s Wife Was Not the Plan

This is Ese’s story as told to Itohan

My mum had always been skinny. From the pictures I stumbled upon, she looked like she hadn’t had a single child, even though both my older siblings were in the picture with her.

For the longest time growing up, my mother blamed me for her weight. Nothing too serious, but she’d make snide comments about how her last pregnancy was the most stressful one and how her body hadn’t been the same since then. Then she’d talk about how I wasn’t even supposed to be born, but for some reason, she got pregnant with me five years after she had my older brother. 

Whenever she went on her “I miss how my body was” rants and started blaming me, I never knew if I should apologise or not. On one hand, I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. On the other hand, she felt very strongly about it. I remember thinking  about saving up money for liposuction, hoping  it’d make her feel better. That’s how much it bothered me. 

Not long after my 13th birthday, her comments shifted. It was no longer about how I ruined her body, but about how I was ruining mine. I wasn’t the skinniest girl at the time, but I thought I looked normal for my age. Turns out she didn’t carry the same sentiment. 

My mum watched what I ate like a hawk. I couldn’t even have crackers without her talking about calories and insisting I needed to go on one diet. When we went out together, she’d point out skinny girls and talk about how I should aspire to look like them. I was miserable, and I wanted it all to stop. This went on for years, and I was sick of it. 

READ ALSO: Being a Pastor’s Wife Was Not the Plan

I was about 19 the first time I decided to starve myself. The “baby fat” they told my mum I was carrying never left, so it intensified her efforts to make me lose weight. I’d wake up earlier than I should to exercise before school. Then she’d pack me a salad or something similar for lunch. After school, I’d come home to exercise some more before dinner. I was constantly tired and barely sleeping. In all of this, I just wanted to lose the weight, maybe then I’d finally have some peace. The exercise and diets weren’t  working, so I tried something different. 

I can’t remember when I started skipping meals, but I know it became a habit. I was attending university from home, so my mother monitored my meals. Even when my friends invited me out, I’d decline because it was harder to skip eating around them. Every day, I used a measuring tape to track the size of different parts of my body. I documented it all so I could monitor the weight loss. After a few weeks, I started dropping weight. My mother was ecstatic. It didn’t matter that all I ate was water and crackers every two days or that I hadn’t used the stove in weeks. What mattered to her was that I was losing weight. I think that was the first time she spoke about me without disgust, hatred, or blame in her voice. 

I had kept up that behaviour for almost a year. Food started making me uncomfortable, and the thought of eating made me want to throw up. I was weak most of the time, and eating food and gaining weight terrified me. I thought all was well until I fell sick. 

They rushed me to the hospital because I collapsed. There was nobody at home except for me and my brother. He’d sent me to buy something for him, and as I walked to the gate, I collapsed. He said he thought I was joking at first, but when I was unresponsive, he took the car and drove me to the hospital. When I opened my eyes, I was hooked to an IV machine. A few minutes later, the doctor came in. He said I was dehydrated, not consuming enough vitamins, and my was low. I also had malaria, and because of how weak I was, I had to make sure I ate enough before taking my medication.

I didn’t realise I was crying while he spoke until my brother pointed it out. After the doctor left, my brother started asking questions about how things had gotten to that level. I planned to ignore him, but he didn’t rest. When he tried to hold my hand so I’d look at him, the sleeve of my hoodie rolled up, and he saw the scars on my hands. I remember the frightened look on his face. He asked me if I was dating a guy who did that to me or if I was hurting myself. I couldn’t answer, I just cried. 

READ ALSO: After My Parents Died, My Uncles Came for Everything

Later that day, our parents came to meet us in the hospital room. When they told my mother the diagnosis, the first thing she said to me was, “Don’t use this as an opportunity to get fat.” I don’t think she expected my brother to hear her or care enough to respond, but shouted at her. He said it was irresponsible of her to think that way when I could have died. She looked so shocked and stuttered, because she couldn’t come up with an answer, then left the room. I couldn’t stop crying. I’d always wanted to stand up to her and tell her to get out.

Even though I couldn’t do it, it was nice seeing someone defend me. That’s why I told my brother everything. I told him about the comments, the forced exercise, the eating disorder, and how losing weight was the only way I knew to make her love me. He was disgusted. When I was done, he left the room and confronted her in the hallway. He screamed at her, called her a murderer, said he was ashamed to call her his mother. My father was confused, but after my brother explained to him, he was livid too. He came into the room and apologised to me for not being there to stop it. He told me what my mother did was wrong. I cried so much that day. I couldn’t believe that my family was on my side. 

It’s been about four years since I landed in the hospital. When I was discharged, I moved in with my older sister because my brother didn’t want me to stay in the house with our mother, but they also didn’t want me on campus with zero supervision. My brother paid for my therapy sessions and encouraged me to build a healthy relationship with food again. 

I’ve gained  some of the weight back, and I’m trying to be comfortable with how my body looks now. But some days, I hear my mother’s voice, and suddenly I’m 15 and hating my body again. A couple of months after I was discharged, she apologised for hurting me. She said she thought she was doing the right thing for my health and didn’t know it would end up that way for me. I’ve been trying to forgive her completely, and maybe I have. But I can’t forget the damage it did to me. I won’t say I  love my body yet, but I tolerate it. It does what it needs to and takes me where I need to go. Maybe one day, my sentiment will change, but for now, this is where I stand.

Editor’s Note: The image and names in the story have no relation to the subject

READ ALSO: Since I Became the Breadwinner, I Started Resenting My Husband

Table of contents

Trying to figure out the right Ankara short gown style for any occasion can be a real hassle. That’s why this article has 35 simple Ankara short gown styles you can actually wear to work, weddings, parties, brunch, church, and more.

To make sure this wasn’t just another random style list, we spoke to a fashion designer with over 25 years of experience. She shared tips on what works for different body types, how to elevate your design, and so much more.

So yes, we brought you 35 gorgeous Ankara short gown styles — but also real, expert advice to help you avoid disappointment, feel confident, and step out in something made to fit you, not just the trend.

Simple Ankara Short Gown Styles for Everyday Slay

These are simple Ankara short gown styles you can wear while running errands, taking a stroll, or just enjoying the sun. They’re simple, low-pressure, and will leave you feeling beautiful every  time.

Off-the-Shoulder Tube Flared Dress

This is a simple, gorgeous ankara short gown style for when the sun is out but you still want to slay. The tube top effect is perfect for women of every bust size, and the flared bottom allows for easy movement, especially during sunny days. 

Off-Shoulder Tent Dress with Bell Sleeves

Another pretty simple ankara short gown style: The sleeves add a little drama, but the overall style remains doesn’t make it any more “dressy” than it has to be. Great  for when you want something simple, but the weather might be a bit chillier than you’d like.

Short-Sleeved Short Boubou

Boubous have been really popular in 2025 and for good reason. This short-sleeved boubou is flattering on all body types and comes with pockets. And honestly, who doesn’t love a dress with pockets? 

Halter Neck Tent Dress

This simple Ankara short gown style is perfect for occasions where you want to be comfortable yet stylish. Unlike other halter neck styles, this doesn’t draw a lot of attention to your bust. 

Strapless Gown with Ruffles

Beach day? Walk? Dash to the supermarket? This simple Ankara short gown is the final boss of casual fashion. The strapless gown with ruffles is for the woman  who chooses comfort over anything in terms of style.

Cinched Boubou

If you want a boubou that still shows off your curves, try the cinched boubou. The elastic drawstring helps on those days when you’re feeling a bit more bloated than usual. 

ALSO READ: 25 Beautiful White Lace Styles That Give Main Character Energy

Classy Simple Ankara Short Gown Styles for Everyday Slay

If you’re looking for classy, simple Ankara short gown styles that work for everyday slay: These styles are proof that you don’t need to overdo it to make a statement. 

A-line Short-Sleeved Wrap Dress 

This is one of the classy simple Ankara short gown styles that just screams, “I am a boss”. It is covered up and professional enough to wear to the workplace, while still accentuating your figure and showing off your love for fashion. 

Ankara Pinafore

If you want to add a splash of color to an otherwise boring workplace outfit, this classy Ankara short gown style is perfect for you. When paired with a button-up long-sleeved shirt, it strikes the right balance between professional Ankara office wear and effortless fashion. It’s one of those simple Ankara styles that makes you look polished without trying too hard.

Monostrap A-Line Dress

If drawing attention to yourself isn’t the goal but you still want to look polished, a monostrap A-line dress is one of those classy simple Ankara short gown styles that flatters without doing too much. It’s subtle, stylish, and perfect for everyday slay.

Ankara Blazer dress

There’s something about a blazer that says, “I know what I’m doing,” and that’s exactly why every working woman should own an Ankara blazer dress. It’s one of the few classy, simple Ankara short gown styles that gives structure, elegance, and just enough boldness to stand out without being loud.

Puff Sleeve with Front Slit

Straight dresses can sometimes be tricky to move in and that’s why many have slits. While we’re used to slits at the back or sides, this front-slit straight dress is a stylish twist.

Mermaid Dress with a Shirt Collar

Can’t decide between a shirt or Ankara? Go for the best of both worlds. A shirt-collar Ankara dress with matching sleeves! This is another classy, simple Ankara short gown style that turns heads without trying too hard, especially since it’s not something you see every day.

Flared Dress with Short Bell Sleeves and Belt

If you want the illusion of bigger hips, or you have a rectangle-shaped body and want to take attention away from that, then this is the perfect ankara short gown style for you.  Try rocking this with a tribal braid hairstyle, it is conservative enough for the office and will get you enough compliments.

High Neckline Dress

If you’re a busty babe, this short ankara gown style is perfect for you. It covers your chest area completely while still looking cute and professional.

ALSO READ: 22 Best Bubu Gown Styles with Ankara You’ll Love in 2025

Ankara Short Gown Styles for Ladies

Whether it’s a wedding, birthday party, brunch with friends, or just a “soft life” kind of weekend, these Ankara short gown styles for ladies are made to turn heads. They’re stylish, youthful, and perfect for showing up dressed up without doing too much.

Straight Gown with Bell Sleeves

This Ankara short gown style proves you don’t need to do too much to look good. The bell sleeves make it stand out from a basic straight dress. With the right accessories, it works for weddings, parties, and brunch.

Boubou with fringe

Looking to elevate a simple look and make it into  something you can wear for birthdays, weddings, or Sunday service? Then, you should try adding fringes to your bubu design. Add a matching headwrap, and you’re good to go. 

Statement One-Shoulder Flared Dress with Pockets

If you’re attending an event where you want to stand out, your best bet is to make a statement. Ankara short gown styles for ladies are bold enough to do the work for you — no need to overspend on jewellery when the dress is already the star of the show.

Cold Shoulder Halter Neck Dress

If you want to walk into a function and have all eyes on you, this is the dress. The sleeves of the dress can be the same Ankara material, but if you want to take the Ankara short gown style to the next level, you can use a different material that complements the colours of the Ankara or your accessories. A great choice for parties and weddings.

Asymmetrical Neckline with Puff Sleeves and a Cut-Out

The cut-out on the side of the dress creates that skirt-and-blouse illusion, but with way more edge. If you’re into Ankara short gown styles for ladies that feel flirty without being over the top, this is an easy win for hangouts and casual events.

Three-Step Halter Dress

If you’ve ever wanted to feel like a ballerina, this Ankara short gown style is for you! However, if you’ve got  a fuller bust, the halter neck style might strain your back.

Square Neck with Ruffled Sleeves and Slit

This outfit screams “brunch with the girls.” The ruffles on the sleeves are not loud enough to overshadow the neckline, while the front slit makes walking easier. If you’re someone who can never decide between showing off legs or cleavage, this dress lets you do both.

Off-Shoulder Puff Sleeves with Cut-Out

This style is all about showing cleavage — confidently and unapologetically. If that’s not your vibe, feel free to skip it. But if you’re exploring bold Ankara short gown styles for ladies, this one makes a loud, flirty statement without needing much else.

Square Neckline with Puffy Sleeves

If dramatic sleeves aren’t your thing, but you still want the silhouette of a straight dress, puff sleeves are the way to go.

Flared Dress with Thin Straps and Sweetheart Neckline

Perfect for women who want to look good without constantly adjusting their dress.

Sweetheart Neckline with Puff Sleeves

Looking for a more dramatic sleeve for your ? This one brings the drama without doing too much. It’s a great pick if you prefer covered arms — and a standout among Ankara short gown styles for young ladies who love a soft, elegant edge.

Straight Ankara Gown Style with Flared Cut-Out

The layered bottom is what really sets this piece apart — it gives movement, shape, and that extra edge. If you’re into Ankara short gown styles that feel a little elevated without being loud, this one delivers.

Monostrap Bell Sleeve with Asymmetrical Strap

The only word that can accurately describe this dress is DRAMA. The dress compensates for the fact that it has just one sleeve by making the sleeve as dramatic as possible. The asymmetrical strap on the neckline is just the perfect added touch for a loud yet cohesive look.

ALSO READ: 40 Braid Hairstyles for Ladies That Are Trending in Nigeria Right Now

Plunging Neckline with Statement Straps

One trend we’re loving in Ankara short gown styles for ladies is the power of a well-placed dramatic sleeve. This dress may be sleeveless at its core, but the fabric attached to the straps gives it that elevated, statement-making finish — proof that you don’t always need volume everywhere to stand out.

Straight Dress with Bow Illusion Sleeves

Your beauty is a gift, and this bow-sleeved dress is the perfect way to show that. If you like attention on your neck and bust, or prefer your arms covered, this one’s for you.

Corset Dress with Off-Shoulder Puff Sleeves

A mini corset dress with puff sleeves, like the one on the model, is a playful yet striking pick for any owambe. Pair it with a bold gele and the right accessories, and don’t be surprised if people start asking if you’re the bride. For young women who love bold Ankara short gown styles, this look brings all the drama in the best way.

Flared Dress with Asymmetrical Neckline

Want to give off “rich aunty” vibes without wearing a boubou? This flared asymmetrical dress will do wonders for you.

Off-Shoulder Dress with Ruffles

One of the best things about Ankara short gown styles for ladies is how easy it is to mix in other fabrics like lace, tulle, organza, you name it. This look does it beautifully, with ruffled shoulders that frame your face and add just the right amount of drama.

Jewel Neckline with Puff Sleeves

This might not qualify as office wear, but it earns its place among bold Ankara short gown styles for ladies. The beauty of this dress lies in the length, it’s either floor-sweeping or thigh-high. Anything in-between just won’t do it justice.

Ruched Boubou

Boubous are in, but this ruched version stands out. It is elegant enough for church or to attend a wedding.

Corset Dress with Sweetheart Neckline

A corset paired with a sweetheart neckline is always a flirty combo — feminine, fitted, and just the right amount of bold. Whether it’s date night or dinner with your partner, this is one of those Ankara short gown styles for ladies that knows how to set the mood.

ALSO READ: 280+ Instagram Captions That’ll Get You Likes, Saves, and Maybe an Ex’s Text

How to Pick the Right Ankara Short Gown for Your Body

Let’s be real: the prettiest ankara short gown in the world won’t greet your body well if it’s not the right fit for you. Before you fall in love with another hot style on Instagram, here’s how to choose an Ankara short gown that makes you look stunning:

1. What’s your highlight zone?

Everyone has that one feature they love showing off, maybe it’s your waist, your legs, or your shoulders. Start there. Love your shoulders? Try off-shoulder or halter gowns. Got legs for days? A high-slit or mini style will do you justice.

2. Pick your print on purpose

Small, subtle motifs create a slimming effect. Big, bold prints? They add volume and are great for curvier or slimmer shapes, depending on what you’re going for. Don’t just pick the fabric because it’s “fine”, pick it because it works for you.

3. Fabric weight matters (trust us)

Lightweight Ankara fabrics are great for flowy gowns, think A-line, kaftans, or anything you want to move with the wind. Heavier Ankara is perfect when you want structure and shape, like a cinched waist or puff sleeve drama.

4. Match the gown to the vibe

Where are you wearing it to?

• For weddings or formal events, go with a mermaid cut or something with a dramatic train.

• For church or brunch? A-line, midi-length, or even a stylish skater gown works.
  
• And for casual slay? You can’t go wrong with a cute mini and sneakers.

5. Your tailor is your bestie

Seriously. A good tailor can take an “okay” gown and make it look like custom couture. Small tweaks: taking in the waist, adjusting the neckline, fixing the hem—make all the difference. Don’t be shy, ask for the extra effort.

So, Which One Are You Sending to Your Designer?

Scroll back and screenshot your top 3 favorites. Send them to your tailor before that fine fabric finishes in the market. And when you finally step out looking like hot pepper, don’t gatekeep—tag us. We want to see the slay in action.

Editor’s note: All images used are gotten from Pinterest and the users are credited in the image caption

READ ALSO: 60 Ankara Short Gown Styles That Will Make You Stand Out in 2026

Aren’t you tired of feeling confused about how much sunscreen you should actually use, and why we even need it in the first place? Well, you’re not the only one. That’s why we caught up with Dr Isima, an aesthetic physician at , to give us all the tea about sunscreen. 

So, doc, why should we use sunscreen in the first place?

Sunscreen is important for many reasons. The first is that it helps to prevent your skin from burning due to sun exposure. It also helps protect your skin from skin cancer and it prevents photoageing—a condition where a person begins to look older as a result of excess exposure to the sun. 

Also, when people are treating skin conditions like hyperpigmentation and acne, their skin becomes more sensitive due to the products being used. In that state, the skin needs extra protection to prevent darkening. For those with darker skin tones, our bodies tend to respond to pressure or drama on the skin by darkening. 

But how much sunscreen should we actually be applying? 

The recommended amount is 2mg per cmÂł of skin. That’s not so easy to measure this in everyday life, which is where the estimates come in: 2 tablespoons, a shot glass, or sunscreen spread across the length of your index and middle fingers. These are all estimates but should typically give a good measurement of the face.  A trick is to build up this application. It can be challenging to apply in one go, so consider splitting it into two applications, 30 minutes apart, to achieve the ideal coverage. 

Since sunscreen is so important, can I use any type? 

There are various things to consider when choosing sunscreen, and one of the most important is your skin type. If you have oily skin, go for lightweight sunscreen. If your skin is dry, a heavier one works. One thing is non-negotiable: you should never use sunscreen with less than SPF 30.

READ ALSO: Talk True: Is Period Syncing

Why?

SPF stands for Sun Protection Factor.  It measures how well a sunscreen will protect your skin from UVB rays. SPF 30 protects against 97% of UVB rays, while SPF 50 protects against 98%. The margin might seem small, but when it comes to your skin, you’ll want as much protection as possible. That’s why we say SPF 50 is the best bet for sun protection, but SPF 30 is far better than no SPF at all. 

Another thing to understand is what the SPF number (15, 30, 50) means. If your skin would normally take 1 minute to burn without sunscreen, SPF 30 means it will now take 30 times longer, that is 30 minutes. However, everyone’s skin is different, so the time it takes to burn can differ. The higher the SPF, the longer you can go without reapplying it, but we advise reapplying every 2-3 hours during the day.

Why do we need reapply sunscreen? 

Because sunscreen only protects the skin for a limited time before it loses its effectiveness. That’s why there’s a need for a top-up. 

But won’t all that  product cause buildup? And isn’t Nigeria too hot for this? 

Yes, Nigeria is very hot, and sticking to a skincare can be challenging, especially  during the dry season.  That’s why it’s important to consider your lifestyle when choosing products. If you spend a lot of time outside, and in the sun, you can use lighter serums and  swap your moisturiser for a hydrating sunscreen that does both jobs. 

If you have access to running water, it’s best to cleanse your skin before reapplying sunscreen to remove oil and product buildup. But if you’re always on the move because of work or school, and don’t have time to cleanse and skincare redo, you can use a sunscreen that comes as a spray or sunstick for reapplication on the go. There are even , though some of them don’t work well with darker-skin tones because of shade matches. 

So basically, everyone should be using sunscreen and reapplying?

Yes, that’s exactly it, and not just for your face. It should be used on any area of your body that gets exposed to the sun or UVB rays.

READ ALSO: Talk True: What’s the Deal With Vaginal Yeast Infections?

This is Isioma’s story, as told to Itohan

The first time my husband, John*, and I met, he tried to preach to me on the campus road. Normally, I don’t give these evangelists the time of day, but he had a beautiful smile and kind eyes, so I took the tract and let him tell me about Jesus being my Lord and personal saviour. 

The second time we met, I had followed my cousin to one of those campus youth fellowships. It turned out that was the church he had been preaching to me about that day. After the service, I waited behind, as all newcomers do, and that was how we got each other’s numbers. 

He’d text me every week to find out how I was doing with classes and other things. It was my first year living on campus after staying with family for two years, and he was very helpful. He showed me where to buy cheap food and where to get quality furniture. He was the friend I didn’t know I needed. 

A couple of months after we started talking, he told me he had prayed, and God had told him I was his wife. He felt there was no need to waste any time, and we should get married. At first, I thought he was insane because I was just 22 and he was talking about marriage. But he was so serious. 

This was a man who had never even kissed me before because we had to avoid temptation. In fact, we were not even dating, and he still referred to me as his friend, yet he was asking us to get married? 

I told my mum that day, and she asked to talk to him. After their phone conversation, she told me she approved of the wedding. I felt like the only one out of the loop. So, I went back to talk to John. 

We met up at a restaurant and he explained that he had feelings for me that he’d never felt for anyone else.  He said he had spoken to God about it, and God revealed to him that I was destined for him. He mentioned things about me being his universe and crown. I won’t lie, I don’t remember much of the speech now, but it was long and serious. He asked me to go and pray about it as well, and I agreed to. 

Looking back, it was funny that I did, because I wasn’t a prayerful person. On some days, one might even argue I was borderline . But that night, I went on my knees and prayed. When I went to bed, all I saw was John’s face in my sleep. Some might take it as a sign. I took it to mean I’d been thinking about him so much that he popped up in my dreams. 

The next week, we met up as usual and discussed our relationship. He said he wouldn’t have sex with me until we got married, and he didn’t plan to marry me until I was done with university. The information made my head spin, but I was resolved to go through with it. I knew enough about my emotions to know he loved me and would take care of me. So, I said yes. A couple of months after graduation, John and I got married in church. I was 24, and he was 27. 

READ ALSO: Feminism, Religion and Spirituality: What Has to Give? 

One thing I learnt from the first two years of our marriage is that John and I understand each other. We’ve never had to argue or fight over who does what. Our simple motto was that whoever is available and capable should take charge. 

The second thing I learnt is just how much my husband loves God. I had an idea when we were in university, but living with him was a whole new ball game. He’d thank God for the sex we had during morning prayers and thank God for the sleep we’re about to have during night prayers. 

Sometimes, he’d call me while I was at work and say a quick prayer because he felt I needed something to calm me down. He wasn’t wrong, and it was a bit scary how he knew almost everything that happened in my life, but he said his love for me is so strong, he could detect any change in my feelings and emotions. I think it makes me a lucky girl. 

READ ALSO: I Dated a Man of God. It Was the Closest Thing to Hell

His love for God made me want to find something I was just as passionate about. While I was searching, they made my husband the pastor in charge of the youth church we attended.

I had never in a million years imagined  I’d be in this kind of situation. When it comes to Christianity, I am on the fence. I don’t go to church every week, I don’t pay tithe every month, I don’t belong to any department, and I hardly pray. If I have to pray, I’d rather be the one saying “Amen.” I was the worst candidate for a pastor’s wife, and I didn’t know how it was going to play out. I was scared. 

There were so many adjustments as a pastor’s wife. The first was that I now spent much more time in church. We’d get there before almost everyone else and be among the last to leave. My first Sunday as the pastor’s wife, I remember packing my things after we shared the grace, ready to go home. That’s when so many women started walking up to me. They were talking about preparing a celebration for the women in the church and things like that. I don’t remember signing up for anything, but they were so sure I was the leader. 

Later, my husband explained that it was usually the pastor’s wife who handled such things. “Such things,” I learnt, included marriage counselling for young couples, which I thought was crazy, considering I’d just gotten married. They told my husband and me that we were supposed to lead people down the path of righteousness. I found it funny because I wasn’t done guiding myself day-to-day, let alone other people. 

Another duty I never really understood was the random fasting. They were almost always fasting in church, and I love food. I remember cooking lunch one day, and when my husband got home, he reminded me we were fasting. When he wasn’t looking, I dished my food and ate in the car. That night, while we prayed, my husband said, “And may God forgive those who pretend to fast while they eat jollof rice in the car.” How he caught me, I still don’t know. But I stopped trying to hide it. 

He’s never forced me to do anything related to church that I didn’t want to do. I still don’t attend every Sunday, but I sometimes pop into midweek service when I have time. My tithe payment depends heavily on whether there’s a new wig catching my eye or not. My husband does all the counselling. He’s the Pastor, not me, and I try to make that distinction very clear to anyone who meets us. 

When I wanted to stop wearing my short clothes, he protested. He told me that being a pastor’s wife didn’t mean I had to change who I was at the core.  He loved me as I was, and that’s why he married me. It made me cry, knowing I had someone who didn’t ask me for too much. 

Still I find myself doing some of the things pastor’s wives usually do. I organised Christmas gifts for the workers last year, and I sometimes visit pregnant members in the hospital. The thing is, my husband loves God with all his heart. Loving God might be his whole thing, but loving me is a choice he made, and he promised to never default on it. 

I know for a fact that if I told him it bothered me that he’s a pastor, he’d drop it for me. But I wouldn’t do that to him. It won’t hurt me to do a few things here and there to make him happy. It’s not like I’m not a Christian, I’m just lazy and uninterested in the entire ministry process. But it is my husband’s life, and I’ll do anything within reason to bring a smile to his face. If wearing a hat and a skirt suit from Turkey is what will please him, then so be it. His ministry is for the love of God, but mine is for the love of him. 

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity

READ ALSO: Since I Became the Breadwinner, I Started Resenting my Husband

This is Yewande’s* story, as told to Itohan

I met my husband while  I was still in university. My friend had dragged me out to a party hosted by one of her “friends”, and that was when I saw him. The first thing I noticed about him was how he seemed to know everyone. There was always someone or a group of people around him, laughing at something he was saying. 

I didn’t get a chance to speak to him until much later in the night. Apparently, the guy who threw the party was toasting my friend, so we stayed later than most people. I got tired, and at my friend’s request, the host gave me the key to one of the rooms in the house to sleep in. While I was there, drunk and exhausted, Folarin*, my now-husband, walked in. He said he was the host’s friend and had been asked to watch me to make sure I didn’t hurt myself or get hurt. He told me I looked beautiful, and we talked for a huge part of the night till I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was alone on the bed, but he had written his number on a piece of paper and placed it under my phone. 

I called him when I got home, and we talked for hours. He was in his final year, and I was still in 200 level, but it didn’t matter to me. He was just four years older. By 300 level, we were officially dating. By my final year, I was pregnant. When I found out, I told him I wanted to get an abortion. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t raise a child outside of wedlock.  He was vehemently against it. He proposed to me on the spot, and the following week, he came with his family to my parent’s house to declare his intention to marry me. It all happened quickly, mostly because I didn’t want to appear visibly pregnant before the wedding. Within three months, I was married, pregnant, and in my final year at 22.

READ ALSO: I Called Off My Engagement Because of a Joke

After I graduated, Folarin and I moved in together. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment, and that’s where we had our daughter. It took me a while to start working again because Folarin insisted I stay home and raise the child until she was at least two years old, and I agreed. He had a decent job that allowed for money not to be an issue and assured me he could handle it. 

However, after a year of staying home, I got restless. I was bored and itching to do something with my life that didn’t require changing diapers or losing sleep to care for a child. Around that time, Folarin got a promotion at work and was earning even more money. When I brought up the idea of returning to work, he was against it, so I didn’t bring it up again. 

Just as I was about to start applying for jobs and register for , COVID-19 happened.  Everyone was at home, and nobody was hiring. If anything, people were losing their jobs. Luckily for us, my husband kept his, but they reduced his salary.  It wasn’t enough to make us homeless, but enough to make us cut down on certain things. 

During this period, I took some free online courses. By the time restrictions were lifted, I had started applying for jobs without my husband’s knowledge. I didn’t tell him until I got an offer at a marketing agency. We needed the extra money, and our daughter was over two years old, so he couldn’t object. 

By 2021, things were better. With our combined salaries, we moved into a bigger apartment and started saving to buy a car. We still kept our finances relatively separate but had a joint account for rent, crèche fees and other household expenses. The rest was for us to spend however we wanted. 

In 2022, my husband got a job offer from a startup. It paid more than double his current salary, but I didn’t want him to take the job. I told him about all the things I’d read about how tend to pay well and shut down suddenly. It felt like I was talking to myself. He kept going on about how this new job would change our lives, introduce us to a new calibre of people, and give our daughter better opportunities. That’s why, despite my pleas, he took the job. My salary also increased around that time due to commissions, so things seemed even better. We bought a car earlier than planned, started going out more, and he started introducing me to his tech friends. I felt like he was living the life he always wanted, and I was content to be along for the ride. I saved as much as I could and worked hard, but I really liked my job. Things were great until tragedy struck. 

READ ALSO: After My Parents Died, My Uncles Came for Everything

In 2023, my husband lost his job. The startup downsized, and let him go. He was upset and didn’t leave the house for weeks. No matter what I did, I couldn’t cheer him up. I stopped telling him about things happening at work because he’d either grumble or ignore me. I understood it was hard, so I let him be. Whenever I mentioned job hunting or asking his tech friends, he shut me down. I became the sole breadwinner, but I didn’t have a problem with it because we could afford it as long as we didn’t do too much. I thought we’d be fine until he got another job, but things got worse. 

Folarin started nagging me about silly things. It started with the time I got home from work. He said I spent too much time in the office, and it made no sense why I’d return at  6-7 pm when the office closed at  5 pm. That annoyed me. We live far from my office because we chose the new apartment based on its proximity to his office. He claimed my lateness delayed his dinner, affecting his health. Then he started complaining about how I spent money, especially on my appearance. I tried to explain that looking good is a part of my job, but he just hissed and walked away.  

Another thing he started doing was asking me to give him my ATM card when we went out with his friends, even though I’m the one paying the bill. The first time, I declined. He accused me of trying to embarrass him. I didn’t understand what was embarrassing about me paying for a meal, but he said it was emasculating. I didn’t answer him and I paid, but he didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. Since then, I just let him. 

The worst was when it came to his family. I found out that Folarin didn’t tell them he’d lost his job.  They believe he’s the boss of the house, and I’m just using my job to keep busy. Almost every week, he asks me for large sums of money to send to his family. ₦50k for his sister in the university, ₦150k for his mum to attend a party, ₦230k for medication for his parents. I understand sending money home to care for the family, but we barely have enough as it is, and I can’t bring myself to tell them. I don’t want to distort their view of him, but I need him to be more reasonable.  

I feel like I’ve come to the point where I kind of hate my husband. He sits at home all day doing God knows what, while I go to work and bust my ass off. When I return, our daughter is home with him, watching TV. Homework not done, shower not had, food not made or eaten. Then, I, the woman who had a busy day at the office, will have to change our daughter’s clothes, instruct her to do her homework, cook, and clean up after. I’m stressed out. I barely have time to do anything for myself.

I look older than I am, and I don’t have the energy to rest and recharge. The weekends I would have typically spent getting my wits together, Folarin insists we go out and hang with his tech friends, another expense I bear. To top it off, he keeps saying we should have a second child. How? I can’t afford to slack off at work or to take leave for so long. It’s such a competitive industry that time away can ruin my career. Plus, who will take care of the children? The bills? Children are ridiculously expensive. One child’s school fees is stressful enough, what happens with two? 

Sometimes, just looking at him, there’s a foul taste in my mouth. My best friend says I indulge him. She’s told me to either get him to help around the house or insist he gets a job so we can afford help, but he doesn’t listen. He’ll say things about how a 9-5 is not meant for him and that the dreams he has are bigger than that. He keeps investing in these ridiculous get-rich-quick schemes with my money, and it bothers me. I’m thinking of leaving him, but I don’t want my daughter to grow up in a broken home. Then again, I also don’t think this situation is ideal for her. I just want a break. 

READ ALSO: It Took Four Marriages for Me to Realise I’m Better Off Single

Now, where does religion and spirituality come in? 

A lot of feminists have argued about the intersection between feminism, spirituality, and religion. Some believe that religion is harmful to the feminist movement and that to truly be a feminist, one must divest from and denounce religious practices. Others, however, believe their religion and spirituality should not, and do not, affect their feminism. 

We sat down with a few women, some of whom identify as feminists and some who do not, and listened to what they had to say about feminism, religion, and spirituality. 

“Religion never felt real to me” – Anjola*, 20

I started questioning religion when I was 15, and it’s been downhill ever since.  

Every time I tried to be religious, it felt like a performance that everyone else seemed good at except me. The speaking in tongues, the long hours of prayer, etc. I could never get into it. Religion never felt real to me. It didn’t help that most of the  Christians I knew were hypocrites. 

Realising I was also played a role. I couldn’t rationalise homophobia, and it didn’t feel right to participate in a religion that stood against who I was. The same thing happened with feminism. There was so much casual misogyny in the Bible. Lots of “Men are the head” conversations while women suffered and were treated as afterthoughts. I don’t think I can fully participate in religion with a clean heart while being queer and a feminist. 

READ ALSO: I Dated a Man of God. It Was the Closest Thing to Hell

“I think a huge part of my hesitancy to accept feminism is a result of my religion” – Christiana*, 23

I believe women should have equal rights with men, but not in every aspect. The Bible and my religion make that very clear. I have never called myself a feminist because I don’t see myself as one. Feminism encourages women to be the head of the family and to not be submissive. But submission in itself isn’t bad; it’s just a sign of respect to your husband. Sure, you can be a feminist and a Christian, but I think my hesitancy to accept feminism is a result of my religion. If I wasn’t a Christian, I don’t think I’d care so much about what the Bible says about submission, but I am, so I do. 

“I am not blinded by faith to look the other way when something is misogynistic” – Blessing*, 18

I’m religious because I don’t believe human beings just spawned; I believe we were created with purpose and that there is a God. I’ve had certain experiences in my life that I don’t believe were just coincidences. I believe in something beyond myself. However, I am not blinded by faith to ignore misogyny, even if it’s in the Bible. I know it sounds contradictory, but that’s how I make it work. People will call it cherry-picking, but I focus on Jesus and His teachings, not what any other man in the Bible says. I am aware that even though a lot of the men mentioned in the Bible were influential figures in the church, they still had their biases. 

“What does Christianity have to do with equality?” – Ose, 66

Feminism is why  I was able to go to school when I did. It is why  I can read, write, own property, and save money. I was born in a time when people said things like, “Why will I send a girl to school?” and “How person go just born girl, wetin you go use am do?” and other demeaning things, and no one batted an eye. Sure, some of those things are still being said today, but at least now people can publicly stand  up for girls being denied education. 

I’ve been Catholic all my life, and that is not going to change. I believe in God the Father, the Trinity, and the Holy Catholic Church. I also believe God ordained different roles for us. A man being ordained to lead a home should have nothing to do with whether a woman can become the General Manager of a company or be paid equally. What does Christianity have to do with equality? 

“When people tell me they’re religious and feminist, it feels like a joke” – Elizabeth, 19

I wasn’t always irreligious, but to be fair, I never really felt the connection to religion like others did. Church and prayer always felt like a chore. I didn’t peg that I was an atheist at first, but I called myself a feminist from secondary school. Still, I used to excuse a lot of bad behaviour with, “Oh, the Bible says,” even when it felt wrong. Ever since I left religion completely, it felt like the scales fell from my eyes. There’s no longer any bias or excuse for misogyny. 

When people say they’re both religious and feminist, it feels like a joke to me. Something would suffer for it.  But I don’t t say it out loud because I know people have different relationships with religion, and they hold on for whatever reasons. 

“If I  ever had  to pick between identifying as a Muslim or a feminist, I’d pick feminist” – Aisha, 32

Most days, I think I’m Muslim because there’s nothing else for me to be. My father, his father, and all the fathers before them were  Alhajis, Imams, and clerics. To be anything else feels like disobedience to an entire generation. Does that mean I always agree with what the clerics teach or what the Qur’an says? No. Do I agree that a lot of men used Islam as a means to control and subjugate women? Yes, I do. Do I also think that some women have found solace and peace in the religion? Yes, there’s that as well.

Still, I saw how  Islam was used to punish my grandmother. I also saw how my mother and sisters fought for me to have peace and comfort. If I ever had to choose between Islam and feminism, I’d pick feminism. I know what my grandma endured at the hands of my grandfather, and I know it was feminism that saved her. If I ever find myself in her position, feminism will save me, too. It would be an insult to the women who risked their lives for me to deny that. 

READ ALSO:

“I am tired of people assuming I’m a feminist because I say I don’t believe in the existence of any god” – Fola, 28

Whenever I tell people I am an atheist, they automatically assume I’m a feminist or that I support the LGBTQ+ community. While I don’t care what a gay person does with their time or body, I’m tired of people assuming  I’m a feminist because I say I don’t believe in the existence of any god. 

Sure, I think women should go to school and have rights, but I don’t believe we can ever be equal. Based on biological and social factors, men are just better suited to leading society, and honestly, let them. I don’t want to have to worry about money or a 9-to-5 job. I want to marry a good man who’ll take care of me, so I can focus on raising our children and building a home. That’s what I believe women were biologically made to do, and it’s the life I want. 

“If some women need to hold on to religion to keep living and they can square off the contradictions, then by all means, they should go for it” –  Amaka*, 24

I think I’ve always been a feminist, I just didn’t have the word for it. I was raised by a single mother, and while it wasn’t easy, it was obvious to me from really early on that a woman can do anything a man can do. Sure, there was a lot of internalised misogyny I had to unlearn. Phrases like “A woman is the neck and a man is the head,” stuck because my mum said them when my sisters got married. Plus, it sounded catchy, so it stuck. But it wasn’t until I started my journey of discovery that I started unlearning all of those things. 

I grew up Christian, but I remember a friend who lost his sister and father within a few years. I tried to comfort him the way I knew how, with the typical “God knows best,” but when he sat in the hospital crying and praying, he concluded that if he lost yet another person after everything, it was either God was callous or didn’t exist. That was the beginning of my journey into spirituality. I just stopped caring. I thought the worst thing that could happen would be I’d die and go to Christian hell, and I was okay with that.  If I died and God was real, I’d make Him answer for the convoluted and messy system he created before I went down to hell. 

Now, I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I can say boldly that I am spiritual. There’s so much about being a human being that we can never understand. I think we live in a largely disinterested universe, and but I also believe in things only the spiritual can touch: love, kindness, music, connection, art. 

At the end of the day, religion has morphed depending on what the times look like. If some women need to hold on to religion to keep living, and they can square off the contradictions, then by all means, they should go for it. Who am I to take that away from them?

READ ALSO: I Called Off My Engagement Because of a Joke

This is Bimbo’s story as told to Itohan 

My first marriage was to a man I still consider the love of my life. We were childhood friends, and people always joked that we would one day get married. Then, when I was 21 and he was 23, we eloped. When we returned, our parents were upset because we’d denied them the opportunity to have a huge wedding, but we were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The two years I had with him were the best of my life, but they were cut short by his death. He was so young and full of life, but God had other plans. I was distraught when I heard the news and even more disappointed by the ways people tried to console me. I was told I was lucky to still be young and without children, so I could easily remarry. Why that was something people felt comfortable saying to my face was beyond me, but it happened regardless. 

After his death, I withdrew into myself. He had left everything he owned to me, and I suddenly had more money than a young woman my age should. My dad warned that it would make me a target for young men looking to take advantage, so he arranged for me to marry one of the young men he mentored. I was 25; he was 34. My dad felt the man had a good head on his shoulders. He was not wrong, but I’m a woman who values her freedom and the ability to have fun. I’m a passionate person, and it was the most passionless marriage I’d ever been in. Our sex life was horrible. He used to schedule sex for 8 p.m. twice a week, and it lasted all of 15-20 minutes on a good day. No foreplay, no passion, no pleasure. Just thrusting and ejaculating. 

I remember once asking my dad if he could reduce my husband’s workload so he might have more time for me. That’s when I found out it was my husband constantly picking up extra work and handling business. My dad told me. I realised my father had done it on purpose. He’d always said I was a bit of a wild child, so this marriage was his way to calm me down. Once I realised that, I filed for a divorce. We’d been married for three years, but I knew I couldn’t spend another second in that marriage. One thing my father did get right was the prenuptial agreement. So all I lost was time, and a bit of my sanity. My money remained intact. 

I met my third husband at a friend’s 30th birthday party. He was 32 and I was 29, and we hit it off almost immediately. The sexual chemistry was electric, and although I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I enjoyed his company. We travelled to several countries together, tried new cuisines and had fun. For the first time in years, I felt like I had something great going for me. I felt young again. We started dating a few months later, and when I got pregnant, we got married. It was a nice ceremony and I felt absolutely beautiful. It truly felt like one of the happiest moments of my life. My parents, friends and I thought this would be the one that stuck. We were so wrong. 

My was difficult. I was pregnant with twins, and they stressed me from the beginning to the end. I couldn’t enjoy many of the things I used to. Morning sickness, swollen feet, heartburn, body pains, etc. At one point in my second trimester, I was rushed to the hospital because I was bleeding. Thankfully, the babies and I were fine, but the whole experience took a toll on me physically and mentally. After I gave birth, I thought things would get better, but I was wrong.

The babies were born through a caesarean section and my body did not snap back as fast as I thought it would. I was stuck at home breastfeeding and cleaning up the babies I was miserable. I was battling , I thought about killing myself and my babies so many times, just so it could end. There was a time I found myself screaming at them as they cried. Our nanny found me on the floor, screaming at them my lungs out while the babies lay in their bassinet. In all of this pain and suffering, where was my husband? He was out. Suddenly, he became much busier than ever. I was left alone with the children and the nanny for days. I needed his help and support, but he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t pick up my calls or respond to messages. I was deeply hurt. 

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A year and a few months after I had the twins, I was slowly getting myself back, but I still wasn’t as active or interested in sex and the partying lifestyle I enjoyed. One night, while getting the twins ready for bed, I received a video from a friend. It was of my darling husband in a club, kissing and touching a woman who looked like she was still in university. That was the first time in a long time I thought of ending my life again. I was disappointed. When he came home a week later, I confronted him with the video. He blamed me for no longer being “fun” and said he had needs that had to be met. That night, I packed a few things, took the twins, and left. 

The following week, I called my lawyer and filed for a divorce. It was the hardest marriage to dissolve because of the children and how long it had lasted, but with evidence of adultery, the court allowed me to end it. Custody was granted to me, with visitation rights for him, and he paid monthly for our upkeep. 

By the time the twins turned seven, I filed for custody to be transferred to their father. I’d gotten a job that required constant international travel, and I didn’t feel I was providing a stable environment for children. Plus, my ex-husband had remarried and they had another child. I believed it was better for the twins to be with them. Luckily for me, the court agreed. At 38, I felt freer than I had in a decade. I decided to start living for myself and enjoying life. I saw my children when work allowed and sometimes took them on trips. Life was good. I was happy, but a bit lonely. 

At 39, I decided to get a “sugar baby”. I was rich, I could afford it, and I wanted regular sex. I had always dated older men, I wanted something different. My friend introduced me to someone she knew. He was 30, smart, and the sex was great, and I was enjoying myself. A year or so later, he said he wanted to be in an actual relationship. I agreed. A year after that, he asked me to marry him. And so, at  41, I was getting married again. It was a small courthouse ceremony with a few friends as witnesses. My parents didn’t  attend, and honestly, I don’t blame them. 

After we got married, he became a househusband. He worked, but I was the breadwinner. He managed the staff and took care of the home. My children liked him, and it was nice to hand over “wife” duties, I’ve never been that type anyway. I was happy and content. That is, until I came home early from one of my trips and found him in the bed with another man. I dropped my bag from my hands, and that’s when they realised I was there. 

My “husband” explained that he was a bisexual and the man he was having sex with was his boyfriend of over five years. Apparently, he only got into a relationship with me for money. He and his boyfriend were planning to relocate and start a new life together, but they couldn’t afford it on their own. After listening, I wish I could say I was angry, but I wasn’t.

I understood why they did it, I was just irritated he hadn’t told me from the start. I would have gone along with it from the very beginning. All the sneaking around was unnecessary and disrespectful. He said their end goal was marriage and a new life together. I called my lawyer and asked her to help them with the process. I also donated some money towards it, called it their wedding gift. Then we began the process of ending our marriage. 

I’m 44 now, and I’ve officially been married four times. I have another sugar baby, but I’m not interested in having another husband. After reflecting on the life I have lived, I think marriage isn’t for me. Being single isn’t so bad. I love my children and get to spend time with some of my friends in their 40s. Life is good, and I’m content.

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This is Gina’s story, as told to Itohan

I’ve always known what I wanted from life. Maybe it’s because I had strict parents or simply my nature, but I’ve always been a planner. In primary school, while other children were uncertain about their futures, I knew I wanted to study and do business. 

The interest I had in business began at the age of 10, in the very same primary school. My eldest brother, then at university in another state, would bring back packets of candy when he came home. My mum included them in my school snacks. I noticed that the candy I had was not the kind everyone else in school had, so when my classmates asked for a taste, I sold it to them. Unfortunately, this only lasted a term; a child took some candy home, and upon investigation by their parents, they reported it to the school. My mother made me promise not to sell candy in school again. I agreed, but the experience taught me that I never wanted to work for anybody. I wanted to run a business, and I wanted it to be a great one. 

In SS2, I was 16 and running a surprise package business for the boarders. In my first year of University, I got my first carryover in the second semester while running a jewellery business and so I switched to helping other people finance their own business ideas. Then, after graduating, I opened a shop and started selling jewellery.

When I turned 26, after running a business for a couple of years, I decided to get my MBA. I had a shop on the island, where I officially sold jewellery; I wanted to close it when I was travelling out, but my mother insisted I leave it open. I am eternally grateful to her. She had retired from her job as a teacher and decided to help me run the day-to-day operations while I went to get my degree. Honestly, she was my best friend and the only person I could truly trust, so I let it happen. 

A couple of months into my stay in the UK, I met someone. His name is Yinka*, and he was two years older than me. We lived in the same building, so I saw him almost every day. Either when he was returning from work, or I was heading to class. Sometimes, we’d stop to chat about life back home, and he’d give me tips on how best to adjust since he had been in the UK for over five years before I arrived. Our friendship was nice and I felt lucky to find someone I could confide in so early into my stay. 

A few weeks after we became friends, he asked me out on our first date, and I agreed. I was about to be done with my MBA, and my mother told me my business was running smoothly (by this time we’d added importation of weave-ons and wigs). Life was going great, and I genuinely believed I’d won the lottery. We started dating a couple of months after that first date. We spent weekends together and went on a few trips. I had shared my plans and my goals with him; how I just wanted to work for as long as I could, and then adopt a child to care for. He seemed so aligned with my vision, I thought it was too good to be true. 

I finished my MBA at 28 and was ready to return home and continue building my business. But Yinka asked me to stay back in the UK with him for two more years before we both moved back to Nigeria. I didn’t want to wait, my body was itching to get back to work. There was so much to do, and my mum was no longer as young as she once was. That caused one of our first major fights, but after not speaking for two days, we talked it through. The plan became that I would go back to  Nigeria, and he’d stay in the UK. Then, when he was ready to return permanently, we’d do our introduction and get married. Simple, right? Well, it should have been. 

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When I got back home, my small shop, thanks to my mother’s help, had grown bigger. Gold, fashion jewellery, lace, hollandaise, weave-ons, we sold it all. We had various smaller shops, plus a main shop for those buying wholesale. The first thing I did when I got back was buy my mother a new car. She had basically helped me build my empire. It was the least I could do for her.

Yinka, however, was not impressed. He complained that I was splurging, instead of saving towards our marriage plans and settling in Nigeria. We fought again. Most of our fights were around money, how to manage it, and investment. We operated a 50/50 household because that’s how I was raised. Your money is your money, my money is mine, and household needs are our money. I was confused as to why these issues kept coming up when we were not even on the same continent. I tried to chalk it up to the distance and stress from work and business, but something just felt off. 

After two years in Nigeria, Yinka finally came to join me. A month later, he proposed after asking my parents for their permission to marry me. I was 31, happy, and finally about to achieve everything I’d planned for myself since I was a teenager. We planned to marry the following year, we saw no need for a long engagement when we’d known what we wanted for years. 

Four months into our engagement, I’d already met with a wedding planner, booked a venue, and sorted some other things. My mum was having the time of her life with the planning, while Yinka was hardly ever around to contribute. He said, “Weddings are women’s things. Do whatever you like, I’ll show up that day and marry you.” And that’s what I did. I chose items that I felt represented both of us. I wanted it to be special. That’s why I decided to have a bridal party. We invited his groomsmen and my bridesmaids and organised a beach party. The plan was for everyone to become friends and just get closer. I didn’t want situations where people would have bad blood. 

That night, Yinka and some of his friends were drinking and chilling by the beach. I had excused myself to go to the bathroom, and on my way back, I overheard their conversation. His friend, Bode*, asked if we’d be moving to the UK after our wedding. Yinka had said no because we’d planned to stay in Nigeria, run my business, and raise our adopted child. Then Bode started laughing. He called Yinka a woman and said, “Are you not ashamed that your wife’s dick is bigger than yours? Instead of getting her pregnant and moving her to the UK where you can open a corner store for her, you’re doing as she says.” All his friends burst into laughter like Bode had just cracked the funniest joke.

But it wasn’t their laughter that bothered me, it was that Yinka laughed too. He laughed as his “friends” reduced my business degree and years of hard work to a “corner store in London.” He laughed, knowing full well I didn’t want to birth children. And when he didn’t correct them but instead shook their hands and patted their backs, I knew I’d seen enough. I quietly went back to the room at the beach house and sent a message to my mother: I’m not interested in getting married anymore. It was a brief summary of what had happened. I knew she wouldn’t see it until the morning, but I sent it anyway. Early the next day, before anyone else was awake, I placed the ring on the table and sent a message to Yinka to tell him I was calling off the wedding.

On my way home, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. My siblings, my mother, Yinka, and his family, everyone was calling. Yinka and his family kept insisting I misunderstood, but honestly, I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand. I thought he was comfortable with the life I’d chosen, but it turns out I was wrong. Instead of keeping both of us in a relationship that would turn sour and miserable, I chose to save us. He begged for months but eventually gave up when he realised I wasn’t changing my mind. 

It’s been years since I called off the engagement. My business is doing great. I still invest in people’s businesses from time to time and work to get loans for female small business owners so they can pursue their dreams. Last I heard, Yinka is seeing someone, and I’m happy for both of them. His mother and I still keep in touch, because unlike her son, she doesn’t make jokes like that at my expense. I’m happy where I am right now, and I still plan to adopt a child. I may not have gotten everything I planned to get, but I got a lesson and a happy life. What more could I ask for?

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