Every day that female genital mutilation persists in Nigeria, many girls lose sensitive body parts, their dignity, and the future they might have dreamed of. According to UNICEF, nearly 20 million women and girls in Nigeria — about 10 per cent of the estimated global total — have been subjected to FGM.
This makes Nigeria the third-highest country in the world for the absolute number of FGM survivors. Although there has been a perceptible drop in prevalence among women aged 15 to 49, and a sharper decline among girls aged 0 to 14, the pace is far too slow if Nigeria were to meet the goal of ending FGM by 2030.
At a recent two-day media dialogue organised by the Oyo State Ministry of Information and Orientation in partnership with UNICEF, experts renewed calls for stronger stakeholder action to eliminate FGM in Nigeria by 2030.
FGM development expert, Aderonke Olutayo, urged deeper collaboration across health, justice, and media sectors, stressing that men and boys must be involved in ending the practice.
UNICEF’s Celine Lafoucrier noted that nearly 20 million Nigerian women and girls have undergone FGM (most before age five), underscoring the urgency of coordinated national efforts to dismantle this harmful tradition.
FGM has survived for so long, being rooted in cultural and social norms, gender inequality, lack of awareness and legal ambiguity.
In many communities, FGM is seen as a “rite of passage,” a symbol of chastity, purity, or preparation for marriage.
It is passed down through generations as a communal expectation. Any family that refuses risks social ostracism.
Belief in myths that FGM ensures fidelity, or that it has medical or moral benefit, persists. Those beliefs are powerful, especially in areas where education is low and traditional authority is high.
FGM is about control. It represents an extreme form of discrimination, one that limits female sexuality, agency, and sometimes even mobility and participation in public life.
It is deeply tied to patriarchal structures: control over girls’ “purity,” bodies and prospects.
Many people in affected communities do not know what the law says or believe that laws — even where they exist — will be enforced.
Also, reporting gaps in survivor support and in how health care providers, law enforcement, local leaders, and the media handle the issue fuel the practice.
Most girls undergo FGM in Nigeria before they are one year old, well before they can resist or even understand.
Imo, Osun, Ondo, Ekiti, Ebonyi, and Kwara still report among the highest prevalence levels. In Imo, over 60 per cent of women aged 15 to 49 have undergone FGM. Because Nigeria has the largest population in Africa, even relatively moderate percentage rates translate into millions of girls at risk, and many survivors who carry the physical and psychological scars.
If Nigeria is to end FMG in five years, it needs an urgent, multi-pronged strategy.
Law enforcement and judicial systems should prosecute perpetrators, including traditional cutters, medical practitioners, and parents who consent.
Confidential reporting systems should be established, so survivors and witnesses can report violations without fear of retaliation or stigma.
Nigeria must deploy community-driven change through traditional leaders, religious leaders, men and boys in campaigns. Society should amplify the voices of survivors; support their healing with psychosocial care, medical care, and legal aid. Their stories humanise the issue, cutting through denial and stigma.
So, the country should train healthcare personnel, midwives, and patent medicine vendors not only to refuse to practise FGM but also to identify and manage complications.
The elimination of FGM by 2030 is not just a lofty ambition: it is a necessity. The evidence shows that Nigeria can change course: prevalence among younger girls is falling. But as long as millions of girls are still at risk, the practice will endure.
