I have often wondered why national news, especially the so-called political news rarely holds the attention of many women the way it does men. A casual glance at living rooms offers a clue. While channels such as NTA, AIT, Channels TV, Arise TV, CNN, or BBC hum with policy debates and government briefings, many remote controls drift instead toward ROK, Africa Magic, or EPIC, where Nollywood and Kannywood dramas reign. Music channels, food networks, and reality shows such as Big Brother Naija, Shoot Your Shot, and Date My Family command loyal audiences. On phones, YouTube and TikTok glow with skits, lifestyle vlogs, and trending dances. I remember, with mild amusement, how my wife rarely unfolded the newspapers I brought home in those days when the scent of fresh print still felt like the fragrance of democracy.
Test this observation with a simple challenge: ask for the names of ministers, deputy governors, chiefs of staff, local government chairmen, commissioners, or the Secretary to the Government. The hesitation, the uncertain smile, the quick change of topic, these reactions often tell their own story. Awareness appears selective; attention awakens only when a controversy, scandal, or dramatic policy directly intrudes into personal space.
My reflections deepened recently when a lady in one of the WhatsApp groups I belong to protested passionately against the steady stream of political debates flooding the platform. With visible irritation she wrote, “You guys are dragging us into what does not interest some of us.” Her statement was not merely personal fatigue; it echoed a wider sentiment. In many professional, alumni, community, and religious groups, political discourse dominates unless expressly banned, and men are usually the loudest voices in the arena.
Of course, there are admirable exceptions. On one online news platform, a contributor named Judith, whom I suspect to be a pharmacist stands tall in a field largely commanded by men. On another forum, Uduak and Miriam consistently defy the pattern, plunging into heated national debates. Yet even in these refreshing departures, one sometimes senses a cautious engagement, as though politics is visited occasionally rather than inhabited passionately. Compare this to the zeal often displayed in conversations about fashion, music, relationships, or culinary arts, and the contrast becomes vivid.
This imbalance reflects in professional spaces as well. Few women serve as media aides, spokespersons, or public relations strategists for politicians, despite the historical fascination many once had with studying mass communication. There was a time when the 9 p.m. network news was a sacred ritual in almost every household, and figures like Eugenia Abu, Fatima Abbas Hassan, and Aisha Katung inspired young girls to dream of newsroom prominence. Back then, access to global media was limited; NTA was the principal window to the world. Yet many who studied mass communication eventually steered away from political reporting, perhaps discovering that their strengths lay elsewhere, or perhaps recoiling from the combative turbulence that often defines political spaces.
It is curious because communication and politics are intertwined. Political scientist Harold Lasswell famously described politics as the study of “who gets what, when, and how.” If journalism interprets events, explains policies, and interrogates power, can it truly detach itself from that central question? Government policies shape sports funding, regulate businesses, influence health systems, and even determine the creative industries. To report on society without interest in governance is to read a novel while skipping its central plot.
University enrollment trends reveal another paradox. Many women now gravitate toward theatre arts, business administration, sociology, psychology, microbiology, biochemistry, nursing, and public administration. Ironically, political science and public administration often record high female enrollment, yet a significant number of these students profess distaste for politics itself. Administration without politics is like management without decision-making; sooner or later, policy confronts practice. The realization sometimes dawns only after admission letters are printed and lectures begin.
One undeniable consequence of limited female engagement in political discourse is the dominance of a single perspective. When men monopolize debates, narratives risk becoming skewed, sometimes blind to lived realities women understand intimately. Social psychologists argue that identity shapes perception; standpoint theory in feminist scholarship insists that those who experience social structures differently see aspects of reality others overlook. A man, no matter how empathetic, reasons partly from male socialization. In our homes, it is often a woman’s intervention, her caution, her alternative framing that refines decisions. Silence rarely improves outcomes; engagement does.
Political conversation, especially on social media, also functions as an informal academy. It sharpens analytical thinking, strengthens communication skills, and cultivates leadership instincts. Scholars of civic engagement have long argued that participatory dialogue builds democratic competence. Leadership is not conjured at election time; it is rehearsed daily in debates, negotiations, and public reasoning. While some women lament exclusion from leadership, sustained withdrawal from political conversation inadvertently deepens that gap.
The irony is striking: many women who dismiss politics as chaotic or distasteful lead vibrant organizations such as religious associations, professional bodies, community initiatives, family networks. Yet politics, in its broadest sense, is the art of managing relationships, negotiating interests, and distributing responsibilities. It demands emotional intelligence, empathy, strategic communication, and alliance-building, the qualities frequently celebrated as feminine strengths. Imagine a society where these attributes infused national debates more consistently.
It is also unrealistic to imagine that news can be neatly separated from politics. A religious controversy may carry policy implications; a health crisis may expose governance failures; an entertainment scandal may ignite regulatory reforms. Interpretation itself often splits audiences into pro-government and anti-government camps. Politics, like gravity, exerts influence even when unacknowledged.
When women lament marginalization, the roots sometimes lie not only in external barriers but also in internal disengagement. Cultural constraints are real and should never be trivialized, yet awareness does not violate modesty. Political literacy does not demand aggression. On the contrary, it equips individuals with the vocabulary to challenge injustice intelligently and to advocate effectively.
A deficit in political awareness can foster dependence, weaken bargaining power, and reduce participation in decision-making spaces. Empowerment thrives on information. As civic theorist Robert Dahl argued, democracy depends on enlightened understanding; citizens must grasp alternatives to make meaningful choices. Ignorance, however unintended, narrows options.
Historically, society has stereotyped women’s interests as revolving around music, films, drama, and social life. There is nothing dishonorable in these passions; culture enriches humanity. But it becomes a double standard to celebrate entertainment while scorning politics, even though political decisions shape the very industries that entertain us. Governments regulate broadcasting rights, fund cultural initiatives, and determine economic policies affecting creative sectors.
Politics is not merely the shouting match on television screens; it is the subtle negotiation at the dining table, the compromise between neighbors, the policy that decides school fees, fuel prices, and hospital standards. If we all approached civic life with the pragmatism politicians often profess, having no permanent enemies or permanent friends, only permanent interests, the society might be calmer and more balanced.
Perhaps, then, the issue is not a phobia but a perception problem. Politics has been branded as toxic, masculine, and combative. Yet beneath the noise lies the simple question of collective destiny. To disengage entirely is to surrender influence. To engage thoughtfully is to claim it. And in a nation where every policy echoes in kitchens, markets, classrooms, and churches, political awareness is not a hobby; it is a shared responsibility.
Bagudu can be reached at [email protected] or on 0703 494 3575.
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