How to Defeat The Feeling of Helplessness Over Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s Persecution

Few plenary sessions have generated the kind of controversy that stirred on Thursday last week when Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan was suspended for six months, after accusing Senate President Godswill Akpabio of sexually harassing her in 2023. Her suspension—which came after The Senate Committee on Ethics, Code of Conduct, and Public Petitions hastily dismissed her petition against Akpabio as “dead on arrival”—is beyond shameful. But what’s even more appalling is the slew of head-turning meta-narratives that have sprung up in its wake. 

As if the brazen display of injustice wasn’t disgraceful, several individuals joined the fray, populating it with opinions that would be hilarious if they didn’t ring so loudly with the hollowness of stupidity. Senate majority leader Opeyemi Bamidele accused her of trying to pull the Senate president down and urged her to use her suspension to “learn the rules of the Senate” —whatever that means. The First Lady, Remi Tinubu, couldn’t resist the urge to chime in to the conversation. Her statement, perhaps the most inane of the lot, commended the Akpabio-led witch hunt and blamed Akpoti-Uduaghan for making herself vulnerable to sexual harassment. “Women should learn not to be cheap for men to harass,” she said. Her comments are especially curious considering that years ago she accused Senator Dino Melaye of threatening her with sexual harassment. On Thursday evening, on Arise News, former lawmaker and APC chieftain Cletus Obun, while discussing Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s suspension, dismissed women as being inherently hysterical and floated the idea of mandatory mental stability test for prospective female lawmakers. 

As if the hubbub that has unfolded in the past few days isn’t jarring enough, certain aspects of the plenary session raise questions about the legality of her suspension. For one, Akpabio sat atop the Mace Seat, with a mix of boredom and contempt on his face as he presided over the hearing of the petition (against him) before delivering the verdict relieving her of her legislative duties for six months, but not without adding that the verdict is up for reconsideration if she publicly apologizes. It goes without saying but the plenary session was bizarre—Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan addressed her petition to its target; she also addressed him several times with a reverential “sir” and bowed before she submitted the petition to his desk. 

In regular court proceedings, it’s illegal for an accused person to preside over their hearing. But in the Senate, which operates under a different rubric, how legal was Thursday’s plenary session? It turns out that no legislation requires the Senate President to recuse themselves from presiding over sessions where they are personally involved in the matters under discussion. So, while the subject of Akpabio presiding over the hearing remains a subject of debate, no explicit rules are preventing it.

However, a Federal High Court in Abuja had issued an order restraining the Senate Committee on Ethics, Code of Conduct, and Public Petitions from conducting disciplinary proceedings against Akpoti-Uduaghan. Despite this order, the Senate proceeded with this suspension. This has raised questions about the legality of it all. Also, while there are historical precedents for a six-month suspension—In 2018, Senator Ovie Omo-Agege was suspended for 90 legislative days (approximately six months)—suspensions exceeding 14 days have been deemed unconstitutional by Nigerian courts. 

In the wake of all of this, it’s hard not to feel defeated, not to feel helpless at a targeted attack against not just any woman but one of the four women in the 108-seat Senate. It’s especially saddening that this attack is proceeding smoothly and brazenly before our eyes. It’s a situation Nigerian women are all too familiar with. Female students have to tread carefully around lecturers, efface themselves, laugh at stale and often unfunny jokes, and lacquer requests in overt deference, all to avoid being targeted by their male lecturers. Despite their efforts, they often get targeted and have to swallow indignities, such as being harried in an exam hall, without recourse. It’s depressing to watch Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan receive the equivalent of this treatment, without feeling like one can meaningfully help. 

Since the End-SARS protests—which saw a record number of youths troop out to demand an end to police brutality and bad governance—were quelled violently during the Lekki Massacre, the Nigerian youth have largely been deflated, sapped of the will and mental fortitude to rail against the government. What’s the point? It’s fated to end the same way—in a blood bath. Following the Lekki Massacre, optimists who hoped for some kind of intervention from the U.N. or the United States were left sorely disappointed. The genocide in Gaza has further elucidated the reality that nobody is coming to save us. 

So, what can one realistically do about all of this? We need to keep talking about it. We need to keep the conversation alive. We need to resist the urge to accept this as normal or slip into apathy. Tweeting or sharing an Instagram explainer may seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. But as the saying goes, little drops of water make an ocean. There’s a reason the Buhari administration banned Twitter for a year after the #EndSARS protests—they know these conversations keep our spirits alive and lead to real-world impacts. Think of totalitarian regimes throughout history, they don’t just skip to imposing straitjackets on their citizens, they start with controlling the flow of information. Consider how the Mao administration outlawed non-propaganda books during the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Or how North Korea is effectively disconnected from the rest of the world. Your voice doesn’t just matter, it’s the only defense we have against allowing the tyranny of the past week to become the new normal.