Exclusive: Nigeria’s Alarming Femicide Surge – Legal Gaps, Institutional Weakness, and the Cost of Impunity

On February 10, 2025, Emrich Effanga, a hairstylist in Uyo, was found strangled in her home. The alleged perpetrator? Her boyfriend, Ndifreke Isaiah – the supposed love of her life. Just weeks earlier, in the same month, Mutiat Sholola suffered a near-fatal attack at the hands of her husband, Kazeem Sholola, in Owode Egba, Ogun State. He poured hot oil on her and stabbed her in the head.

Both men were arrested by the Nigeria Police Force (NPF), but these incidents are just a fraction of the growing crisis of gender-based violence (GBV) in Nigeria. Activists and human rights organisations warn that femicide – the gender-related killing of women and girls – has surged alarmingly. According to a report by the Femicide Observatory, January 2025 alone saw a 240 per cent increase in femicide cases compared to the previous year. By mid-February, 22 women had been killed in reported GBV-related incidents. These figures, as activists stress, only represent the reported cases.

The frequency and brutality of these attacks have reignited calls for a state of emergency on GBV. Activists worry that despite previous government declarations and interventions, the justice system remains inadequate in addressing violence against women.

“Apparently as the trend is globally, home is also the most dangerous place for Nigerian women and girls. Perpetrators operate with impunity because there’s hardly appropriate consequences for this crime”, said Ololade Ajayi, founder of Document Our History (DOHS) Care Foundation, as quoted by The Guardian.

A History of Violence and Inaction

The rise in GBV cases today echoes past tragedies. In 2020, Vera Omozuwa, a 22-year-old microbiology student at the University of Benin, was raped and murdered while studying in a church she often visited. As with every homicide, a life entire of dreams and potential was stolen. The case drew international attention and led to mass protests. In response, Nigeria’s 36 state governors declared a state of emergency on rape and GBV. However, despite the outcry and promises of reforms, violence against women has remained a growing crisis.

A national GBV dashboard, an initiative of the EU-UN Spotlight, recorded 27,698 reported cases of gender-based violence between 2020 and 2023. Meanwhile, the Salama Sexual Assault Referral Centre (SARC), which provides medical and legal support for survivors, has reported 3,977 cases of sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) since its inception in 2019.

The Lagos State Government (LSG) alone documented 24,009 GBV cases between January 2019 and December 2023, spanning sexual, physical, and psychological abuse across the state’s 20 local government areas. Regardless of growing media coverage, protests, and international pressure, the violence has not stopped. In 2024, over 100 femicide cases were recorded, marking yet another tragic repetition of history. Once again, activists demand a state of emergency, but by past experience, declarations alone have failed to curb the crisis.

The Nation’s Legal Framework: A Flawed System

Nigeria’s primary legal response to GBV is the Violence Against Persons Prohibition (VAPP) Act, signed into law on May 28, 2015, by former President Goodluck Jonathan. The Act was an important step forward, as it expanded the legal definition of gender-based violence to include various forms of abuse beyond rape, criminalising all forms of violence, including against men, and prescribing mandatory imprisonment for rape convictions.

However, Nigeria operates a federal system, meaning individual states must adopt laws passed at the national level before they can be fully enforced. The VAPP Act requires domestication by the 36 states and the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) for it to be applicable nationwide. This decentralisation has led to significant inconsistencies in legal protection for survivors of GBV, as not all states have adopted the Act.

Legal Gaps: States Without VAPP Implementation

As of the time of this report, West Africa Weekly gathered that 33 out of 36 Nigerian states (including the FCT) have domesticated the VAPP Act. However, Rivers and Taraba have passed the law in their state legislatures but have yet to secure the governor’s assent. Kano State remains the only state that has neither passed nor assented to the law. The state relies instead on the outdated Penal Code Act, which has been criticised for failing to protect victims adequately. 

The absence of the VAPP Act in these states makes it much harder for survivors of GBV to access justice.

The Reality of Justice: Convictions vs. Reported Cases

Despite the push for legal reforms, conviction rates for GBV remain shockingly low. According to NAPTIP (National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons), which maintains Nigeria’s Sex Offenders Register, between 2020 and 2024, the agency recorded 1,767 cases of SGBV, 362 convictions, 893 cases still in court, and 204 under investigation.

West Africa Weekly looked closely at NAPTIP’s conviction records and found troubling disparities. Kano State, which has yet to adopt the VAPP Act, recorded 77 convicted sex offenders – one of the highest numbers. However, some argue that this may be due to reliance on the Penal Code rather than a commitment to survivor-centred justice. Edo State, which has adopted the VAPP Act, follows with 68 convicted cases.

Despite recording 24,009 GBV cases from 2019 to 2023, Lagos State has only two convictions on NAPTIP’s database. This is an alarming statistic that raises concerns about enforcement. Ekiti State, which domesticated a key provision in the VAPP Act, recorded 33 convictions, while Akwa Ibom State had 41 convictions. Sadly, justice that ought to be served upon conviction went unreported in 21 of Nigeria’s 36 states.

The disparities in convictions versus reported cases point to systemic failures in legal enforcement, judicial delays, and underreporting. Many survivors never see justice due to institutional bottlenecks, corruption, fear of retaliation, and lack of support systems.

A Nation on Edge 

On March 8, 2025, International Women’s Day, hundreds of Nigerians took to the streets in Lagos and Abuja, marching under banners reading “End Femicide Now.” Organised by the State of Emergency GBV Movement and Amnesty International Nigeria, the protests aimed to draw attention to the government’s sluggish response to recent femicide cases.

Until legal reforms are fully implemented and enforcement is strengthened, Nigerian women remain vulnerable to unchecked violence. The pressing questions are:

• How can Nigeria ensure legal accountability for GBV cases beyond mere declarations?
• What policies must be enacted to guarantee survivor protection, rehabilitation, and reintegration?
• Can the federal government mandate VAPP adoption in all states, or will legal loopholes continue to hinder justice?

We must remember that behind every statistic, there is a life forever altered. In Ibadan, 19-year-old Amina (name changed) fled an abusive marriage, her body bearing the scars of burns inflicted by her husband. “I ran to my parents,” she says. “They sent me back, saying it’s my duty to endure.” Now, in a shelter run by TechHerNG, she is piecing her life back together. However, many don’t survive to tell their stories.

Nigeria’s femicide rate is rising faster than in many comparable countries, and campaigners warn that 2025 could be the deadliest year yet. Infographics tracking gender-based violence trends show a sharp increase since January, but no graph can capture the depth of loss – a mother’s wail in Uyo, a sister’s grief in Owode Egba.

A GRIM REALITY: WHAT IS THE WAY FORWARD?

What would a state of emergency on gender-based violence truly mean in 2025? The 2020 declaration led to the launch of a few sex offender registries, but funding dried up, and enforcement lagged. Today’s advocates want more than symbolic gestures.

The question looms: with femicide up 240 per cent in a single month, can Nigeria afford to treat gender-based violence as anything less than a national crisis? Survivors like Amina and Seember, and the memory of Emrich and Mutiat, demand an answer. An actual state of emergency would mean enforcing the Violence Against Persons Prohibition (VAPP) Act, adequately funding SARCs, and reforming policing. But will it be action or just another set of empty promises?

About The Author

Confidence Ubani

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Mayowa Durosinmi

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M. Durosinmi is a West Africa Weekly investigative reporter covering Politics, Human Rights, Health, and Security in West Africa and the Sahel Region

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