Several years ago, an old friend completed her PhD at a prestigious program. Family and friends surrounded her and showered her with love. It was a joyous day and a significant accomplishment in advancing her life and career. When I checked in on her later on, I asked how she was feeling after all the celebrations. She responded that she was unhappy. I asked her why, and she said she was feeling down because she was reflecting that she couldn’t share the experience with a partner; despite her accomplishment, she was not where she wanted to be in life with respect to having a husband and children. I was taken aback. Honestly, it was not a response I expected, and I was confused as to why she would let that cloud such a momentous milestone for her. Yet, it did.
Unfortunately, my old friend was one of many women whose longing to be partnered was a sore spot that clouded the accomplishments others dreamed of. I reflect now: some of the client situations that challenge me most involve women in their mid-20s to 40s who are successful, accomplished, and financially comfortable, yet come to sessions in tears over the difficulty of finding a compatible partner and the weight of what that uncertainty can mean, from cultural expectations to concerns about their biological clocks. It’s complicated because, on one hand, my role is to provide support and ensure they have the proper tools to cope with the disappointment of loneliness and build a supportive community around them, and on the other hand, I can only ask myself: how does one even navigate these deeply entrenched expectations?
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Our Inherent Expectations
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We are all aware that marriage is a fundamental expectation in Nigerian culture. From when a baby is born to their naming ceremony seven days later, the prayer is that they find their spouse, the “bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh.” In church, we again start the prayers for our children to find their spouses at a young age. Adolescents are typically discouraged from dating and encouraged to “face their books,” but are not necessarily taught the foundations of self-love and self-esteem, how to find the right qualities in a partner, and how to be a partner themselves.
Young girls, especially when they come of age, start to feel the pressure and the prayers to prepare themselves for a spouse. A funny memory comes to mind: I was at a family friend’s wedding many years ago and was called up with other single women for the bouquet toss. It made me incredibly anxious to have my dating status so public, and I was even more mortified when my family kept encouraging me to go. However, I went, and it got hectic: the tension, being elbowed, and almost being tackled. Then came the loud, raucous praise for the woman who caught it. She looked so pleased. Though I was anxious about it, I felt a pang of disappointment walking back because part of me did want to catch it. My family chuckled and just said, “next time.” The next time came, and I did end up catching the bouquet, so watch out, world. In all seriousness, though, the intensity of that moment stuck with me because as fun as a bouquet toss is, and it is, it also shows how the plight of the single woman can become a spectacle. And that is where I will dive in.
Finding love is a never-ending endeavor for humans. Frankly, man was not meant to be alone, and dare I say, the longing runs even deeper for us as Nigerians. We are romantics at heart. It is evident in our creativity and our art. So many of our popular songs are love songs. We may not be able to name the song, but we all know a musical reference to a Toyin Tomato, an Iyawo, or the Angel of Our Lives. Most Nollywood movies are centered around marital and relationship drama; we all love and root for the man and woman to end up together (e.g., Achalugo and Odogwu in Love in Every Word). Even in Western society, TikToks of Nigerian weddings have taken the algorithmic world by storm. Honestly, it is something I truly love about us: our way with words and creativity when it comes to displays of love, and our seriousness when it comes to marriage, commitment, and honoring our spouse.
However, it can become even more intense when you layer in religion and the prevalence of singles conferences, matchmaking conferences, watch nights, Valentine’s singles nights, and more. The most intense example I can reference was a video I saw of a watch night service where women wore wedding dresses to manifest and pray to God for their husbands. Whenever I attend a Nigerian-centric church, in any state I’ve lived in, the service tends to include multiple references to praying for the unmarried, especially young women.
At one Sunday service I attended, a Nigerian pastor mentioned that his marriage sermons are typically his most watched on Instagram and YouTube, surpassing his more doctrinal sermons on salvation.
Beyond religion, consider the things we say to young women: “You need to learn how to cook so you can find a husband,” “How will you find a husband if (insert what you don’t do),” “One day we will celebrate you and your husband.” Though we laugh them off, these expectations are extremely pervasive.
So many of us joke that whenever we go to a gathering with mostly older Nigerians, whom we love and appreciate dearly, we can expect questions about our relationship status, where the ring on our finger is, or when a celebration will come. These questions come regardless of whether we are having a good day or not. I almost died laughing when a friend retorted by asking a church aunty whether she planned to find her a husband, then. There is a reason behind the questions, though. Many of our parents married in their early to mid-20s, and it was the natural progression of their time. Today, that timeline has shifted considerably: according to the U.S. Census Bureau, the median age at first marriage for women has risen from 21 in 1975 to over 28 in 2025, and for men from 23 to nearly 31. What our parents expect is shaped by what they lived, but the world their daughters are dating in looks very different.
Alas, the most heartbreaking part in all of this, for both men and women and despite our progress as a people and society, is the rush to say “I do.” Sometimes, the desire to reach the altar can make significant incompatibilities seem manageable. The wedding, the relief from expectations, the opportunity to say “my man, my man, my man,” the lavish Instagram celebration, and, perhaps most of all, the hope of no longer feeling alone can become more compelling than asking whether the relationship is truly right for them. The rush, paired with the desire to not feel alone, is what keeps people stuck in unhappy relationships, sometimes unseen or unheard, and even worse, in abuse. I previously interned at a domestic violence shelter for several months, and I heard a common pattern in the stories: the genuine desire for love and safety, and giving their all to someone who was inherently unsafe.
From my lens, the covert pressure and cultural expectations placed on marriage within the diaspora can prove harmful, specifically for young women, if left unbalanced. When the desire for marriage outweighs celebrating a milestone, overshadows genuinely checking in on someone, or leads someone to accept less than they deserve, we have to ask how much harm this is causing and whether it’s truly worth it.
It is not wrong to ask if someone is married. It is wrong, however, to reduce all of who they are to whether they are wedded or not. In a discussion with my brother-in-law, he asked me how one could matchmake without asking whether someone was married. I paused and reflected: maybe it’s not the question, but how it’s asked. “When are you getting married?” lands very differently than “Are you open to meeting someone? I’d love to introduce you.” One assumes something is missing; the other offers something and lets her decide. When the first kind of question is asked over and over to someone who genuinely wants to be in a relationship, married, and with kids, it can suggest that something is inherently “wrong” with her, or reflect a failure to see her beyond who she fully is in the moment.
This is why the tears are so prevalent in sessions. There is a silent sense of shame and failure that sits within the individual. In their words, there is a sense of “missing out,” of “missing their window” to have kids or meet a man, or a fear of “disappointing their family.” I look at these women powerhouses in the boardroom, classroom, hospital room, labs, etc., yet they cannot move past the shame and expectation of finding a husband. I wish they could see and internalize what I see in them, but it’s not so simple, because hearing it from me, as a friend, colleague, coach, or therapist, is not the same as believing it themselves.
Sometimes the better question is simply “How are you, really?” (a question I explored in my last piece on Nigerians and mental health) or “What’s been making you smile lately?” And if you know she is hoping to find her person, try “How are you feeling about dating these days?” Questions like these leave room for her to share as much or as little as she wants, and they remind her she is seen as more than a status.
Alternatively, there may be some women who simply don’t want to get married for their own reasons, and the fuss becomes more othering than welcoming. While we love union and aspire to marriage early on, we also have to recognize that some women may not want that, and that’s okay.
So I implore you: before asking a young woman if she is married or when she will get married, please reflect on whether the question is for you or for her. If you are seriously concerned or genuinely looking to support her dating journey, approach the conversation as a safe, curious space rather than one of judgment. Life is already heavy enough.
If you are a parent raising young kings and queens, continue to teach them about boundaries, self-esteem, self-worth, and self-love, and, when the time is right, how to be good partners and recognize the right ones. Even if those things were not taught to you, these are things you can learn together; we have enough tools out there to embark on the journey.
Please hear me well: I am a lover girl through and through. I am a product of my parents’ 42 years of a beautiful marriage. I encourage marriage if it is something someone truly seeks.
My hope moving forward is that we start to focus on the whole person and how incredible they are, rather than whether or when they will marry. One, because it probably does not feel good to want to be married and have people point that out constantly. Two, because perhaps they genuinely want to be single and be accepted for it. Three, because when that marriage does come, it will be them and their partner, not you and them. Therefore, in this time, encourage them and build them up, because ultimately, if marriage is what they aspire to, it should come from a place of security rather than anxiety, fear, and shame.
To my women in waiting, especially my friend on her graduation day, know this: there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. As my mom always told me, no fingers on one hand are equal. We are all on our unique journeys in life.
In this moment, know you are whole, loved, and complete. Your worth is not defined by the expectations attached to you, and you are allowed to let that be known. You are allowed to be handled with care.
This is Nwaka’s third contribution to The Nigeria Brief, and unfortunately, it will be her last for a while as she steps back to focus on her workload. We are incredibly grateful for everything she has contributed to our Sunday Editions. Her essays have consistently brought thoughtfulness, care, and a perspective that has made us stop and reflect. We will miss having her voice here. If you would like to read more from Nwaka or connect with her work, please visit her website at https://nwakaisamah.com/. Thank you, Nwaka.
