A column by Yamah Yemisi Dorcas
In the early hours of rural Nigeria, while much of the world still sleeps, thousands of women are already on the move. They trek long distances along muddy paths, carrying sprayers, hoes and sometimes children. Some head to farmlands they do not own. Others serve as extension workers, educating communities. Regardless of their roles, they all bear the weight of Nigeria’s food system.
These women are the backbone of agriculture, yet the pressure placed on them is unsustainable.
They do far more than plant and harvest. They carry tools too heavy, perform tasks without formal training, and are rarely compensated fairly. Despite making up as much as 70% of the agricultural workforce in rural areas, women remain starkly absent from leadership and decision-making spaces. This mirrors a broader African trend: women dominate the labor, but are consistently excluded from power.
From Policy Tables to Village Clusters: A Chain of Exclusion
In Nigeria’s agricultural institutions, women are conspicuously underrepresented. Only 7% of senior roles in the Ministry of Agriculture are held by women. Policies often emerge from rooms where women are missing, and even when gender provisions exist, their enforcement is weak or inconsistent.
But the exclusion doesn’t begin in the capital, Abuja. It begins in the villages.
During a recent Focus Group Discussion (FGD) in Awaye, a peri-urban community in Oyo State, Nigeria, my team and I facilitated the creation of a cooperative cluster. When it came time to nominate leaders, the men quickly stepped forward. Some encouraged the women to volunteer but they hesitated.
“Let someone else do it,” one said.
“I’m not the type,” another whispered.
To disrupt this quiet reluctance, we distributed executive tags: Leader, Treasurer, Secretary. No names. No pressure. Just possibility.
Still, the silence lingered.
What we witnessed wasn’t a lack of ambition, it was internalized exclusion. Years of being told, directly or indirectly, that leadership isn’t for them had taken root. And when that belief settles at the grassroots, it doesn’t stay there, it climbs, infecting even the highest levels of representation.
Creating positions isn’t enough. We must rebuild confidence and prepare women to see themselves in those roles from the village to the boardroom.
“For many rural women, stepping into leadership means stepping into vulnerability.”
The Hidden Barrier: Fear of SHEA
Beyond mindset, many women are also held back by fear, especially the fear of SHEA (Sexual Harassment, Exploitation, and Abuse). This fear isn’t imagined; it’s carved from lived realities, where leadership often brings visibility but not protection.
In agriculture, where fieldwork, travel, and informal power structures dominate, these risks become even more acute. For many rural women, stepping into leadership means stepping into vulnerability. It’s no wonder that even when roles are available and support is offered, some women withdraw not because they lack the will, but because they lack the shield.
Silence Isn’t Disinterest
As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once said, “Power is not about who speaks, but who is heard.” Nigerian women in agriculture speak every day, through their labor, their nurturing, and their resilience. But when it comes to decision-making, they are rarely heard.
Their silence isn’t disinterest; it is conditioning. It is the product of generations of messaging, subtle and overt, that tells them, “This space is not yours.”
Yet women’s leadership is not symbolic. It is transformative.
Why Women’s Leadership Matters
When women lead, practical needs come into sharper focus: access to water, child-friendly training spaces, gender-sensitive tools. Their lived experiences as farmers and caregivers enrich agricultural policy and ground it in reality.
Programs like Women-in-Agriculture (WIA), launched in 1989, demonstrated the power of inclusive extension services. But decades later, progress remains slow. Women still occupy only 10–15% of leadership roles in agricultural cooperatives. They receive less than 10% of credit and extension services. In Kwara State, only 6.6% of agricultural extension agents are women. And though they cultivate the land, women own just 10–13% of it.
What Needs to Shift
To close the gap, we need a multi-tiered transformation.
At the top, more women must be appointed to policymaking positions. Gender advisors should be embedded within ministries not as a gesture, but as a necessity to ensure that policies reflect the realities of both men and women.
At the grassroots, leadership training and mentorship must empower rural women to view leadership not as a distant aspiration, but as a natural progression. Cultural norms must be challenged through sustained community engagement and through visible female role models who normalize authority. Structural barriers such as limited access to land, credit, tools, and training must be dismantled.
Change must flow both ways: from capital cities to village clusters and from village clusters back to the capital.
Women Are Ready. Is the System?
Nigerian women in agriculture are not short on resilience, intellect, or vision. They run farms, homes, markets, and entire communities. But they are held back by more than just a lack of opportunity. They are held back by a system that too often excludes them, a culture that conditions them to defer, and a fear that visibility might cost them safety.
The issue isn’t readiness. Many women are prepared. But countless others are still unlearning a lifetime of disqualification.
So, the real question isn’t: “Are women ready to lead?”
It is: “Have we built a system that is ready for women?”
Until we shift both the structures and the stories, the seats at the table will remain empty not because women can’t lead, but because we’ve yet to fully convince them that they should.
This article was published in the summer issue of Women in Ag Magazine.
