by Babalola Seyi Emmanuel
In the bustling streets of Kano, tucked within the quiet alleys of Ibadan, and across the rural villages of Benue and Zamfara, the story of the Nigerian girl child is often the same: bright eyes dulled too soon by the weight of tradition, ambition dimmed by the burden of early marriage, and voices silenced beneath the heavy hand of societal norms.
Yet, beyond this challenging reality lies a simple truth: educating the girl child is not just a moral obligation, it is a national necessity.
Education is more than just the act of attending school. It is the process of nurturing a mind, shaping character, and unlocking the potential within every child. For girls, it is the tool that not only empowers them personally but strengthens families, communities, and indeed, the entire nation. But despite growing awareness, millions of Nigerian girls remain shut out of classrooms, their dreams traded for domestic roles, forced marriages, or simply the poverty their families can’t escape from.
In too many homes, a girl between the ages of 12 and 14 is seen as ready for marriage, not mathematics. Her future is determined not by her grades but by the decision of elders who often view her education as a wasted investment. Once married [often to men decades older] she is expected to become a wife, mother, and homemaker, regardless of her maturity or readiness. These decisions aren’t just personal; they are national in their consequences.
Research consistently shows that educating girls has a ripple effect. A single year of schooling for a girl can reduce fertility rates by up to 10%. Educated women marry later, have fewer children, and are more likely to raise healthy, educated families. They are more equipped to participate in economic activities, contribute to community decision-making, and advocate for themselves and others. Their influence is generational. When a woman is educated, her children thrive, and society benefits.
So why, in 2025, are we still battling such deeply entrenched inequality?
Part of the answer lies in socio-cultural practices that still equate a girl’s worth with her marital status. But poverty also plays a significant role. For families struggling to feed five or six children, marrying off a daughter may seem like a lifeline. Education, to them, appears a luxury.
Yet, that perspective must change. As a country, Nigeria cannot afford to sideline half of its population. We cannot aspire to global relevance or economic prosperity while the potential of millions of girls lies dormant in villages and city slums.
“If she’s educated, she will know better,” says Aisha, a mother of five in Bauchi, who now sends her daughters to school after losing her firstborn to complications from an early childbirth. “My child died because I did not know. Now I do.”
The transformation begins with awareness, followed by bold policy enforcement. State and federal governments must strengthen girl-child education programs, invest in school infrastructure, and provide incentives for families to keep girls in school. Civil society and religious institutions also have a role to play, preaching not just morality but the value of education, especially for girls.
The old adage still holds true: when you educate a man, you educate an individual; but when you educate a woman, you educate a nation.
Nigeria’s future depends not just on oil or technology, but on the little girl in Kaduna who dreams of becoming a doctor, the teenager in Enugu who wants to build robots, and the daughter in Osun who’s curious about coding.
Let’s give them a chance. Let’s choose education. Let’s educate the girl child.