Cutting off a parent isn’t a decision anyone makes lightly. Sometimes, it’s a last resort after years of trying to fix something that refuses to get better. For some Nigerians, it’s about peace, choosing silence over the endless cycle of hurt, guilt and disappointment.
We asked five Nigerians to share why they went no contact with their parents. Here’s what they said.
“He didn’t even show up for my mother’s burial” — Tunde*, 32
For as long as Tunde can remember, his relationship with his father has been fractured. It wasn’t caused by one big fight, just a lifetime of absence, neglect and a distance that grew farther as the years went by.
“I’ve had a fractured relationship with my dad for as long as I can remember. My parents separated when I was two, and my mum raised me alone. He never showed up for school activities, never called to check on me, and never sent money. The few times I saw him were purely circumstantial— once when my parents were fighting for custody at the child welfare court, and twice at my step-siblings’ weddings. Each time, it was like meeting a distant relative. He’d nod when I greeted him, ask what I was doing with my life, and walk away.
Growing up, everyone around me made excuses for him. My aunties would say, “You have only one father,” and my uncles would remind me that “no matter what, he’s still your blood.” So, just to do the right thing, I tried to maintain contact. I’d call on his birthday, send him messages during festive periods, even text him on random days just to check in. But it was always one-sided. He never called first, never asked how I was doing. It felt like I was forcing a connection that didn’t exist.
When my mum died, I thought he’d at least reach out. She was the one who’d held things together, even when he didn’t deserve it. But he didn’t call or send a message. He didn’t even show up for the funeral. I found out later he’d heard the news and still chose not to come. That was the moment I decided I was done trying.
After the burial, I deleted his number, blocked him everywhere, and stopped asking questions about him. It’s been six years, and I haven’t heard from him. Sometimes, relatives still tell me to “take the high road” and call him, but I’ve taken the high road all my life. Now, I just want peace.
He’s still alive, but to me, he’s a stranger who happens to share my DNA. I used to think cutting him off would feel wrong, but it’s the calmest decision I’ve ever made.
“My parents haven’t spoken to me since I became Muslim” — Idera*, 29
When Idera decided to convert to Islam, she didn’t expect her parents to take it as a betrayal. They’d both come from Muslim families themselves, so she assumed they’d understand. Instead, it became the reason they stopped talking to her.
“I haven’t been in touch with my parents since I converted from Christianity to Islam. It’s still strange to say that out loud because I never imagined religion would tear us apart the way it did.
Both my parents actually come from Muslim families, but they converted to Christianity before I was born. So, when I told them last year that I’d decided to become Muslim, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I assumed they’d at least understand that faith is personal, that it was still the same God I was praying to. But they took it badly. Very badly.
My mum cried like someone had died. My dad went completely silent at first, then exploded. He accused me of betraying everything they stood for and warned me that I was “turning my back on salvation.” I tried to explain that my decision had nothing to do with rejecting them, but he refused to listen. He gave me an ultimatum to return to Christianity or stop calling him “Daddy.”
What followed was months of heated back-and-forth. My mum would call to beg me to “come back to Christ,” then my dad would snatch the phone and start yelling. I couldn’t take it anymore. Around that time, I relocated for work, and I thought maybe the distance would help everyone cool off. But instead, it made things worse.
They stopped calling completely. Whenever I called, it was the same conversation about religion. At some point, they even started sending family friends and church members to “talk sense into me.” I got tired. I just stopped picking up.
It’s been almost a year now. The last time I heard from them was in February, when they sent a long message telling me they were still praying for me to “return home.” I didn’t reply. I’m deeply hurt that they could so easily abandon their only daughter over religion.
I know Islam doesn’t permit cutting off one’s parents, and I think about that often. But for now, I’m choosing my peace of mind. When they’re ready to see me as their daughter again, maybe we’ll find our way back.
“I realised my dad only kept me close because of what he could get” — Ifeanyi*, 35
For most of his life, Ifeanyi* tried to keep a relationship going with his dad even when it was clear he was the only one putting in the effort.
“My parents separated when I was little, but my dad and I still had a relationship. I’d spend holidays with him, visit whenever I could, and call often. He rarely called first, but I kept at it because I didn’t want to be like those people who don’t talk to their parents. My mum used to say, ‘He’s still your father,’ and the church preached forgiveness and honouring one’s parents, so I tried.
However, as I grew older, it became clear that our relationship was one-sided. He never took responsibility for anything, yet he always had demands. Anytime I visited, it was either that he needed money or wanted something done for him. I didn’t mind helping once in a while, but it got exhausting.
The breaking point came during my wedding. This man didn’t contribute a single naira. But he wanted to control everything — the clothes he’d wear, where he’d sit, how he’d be introduced. It was like he wanted all the glory without any of the work. I still tried to maintain peace because, well, he’s my father. But after the wedding, things became unbearable. Every call was about money or what he felt I owed him.
That was when it clicked that our relationship was never about love. It was about what he could get. I pulled back gradually until the relationship died a natural death. I stopped calling and stopped visiting. He hasn’t met any of my three kids, and honestly, I’m fine with that.
There was a time I’d feel guilty because of what the Bible says about honouring your parents, but peace of mind has to count for something. Maybe things will change in the future, but right now, we’re not in contact”
“My dad changed completely after he started a new family abroad” — Tonia*, 30
For Tonia*, going no contact with her dad wasn’t something she planned; it happened gradually, one disappointment at a time.
“My dad and mum were never really together in the typical sense. They had me when they were both still young, and by the time he relocated abroad, their relationship had already faded. So when I heard he’d gotten married over there, it wasn’t shocking. I just told myself, ‘As long as he still remembers he has a daughter in Nigeria, I’ll be fine.’
And for a while, everything was fine. He used to call often, send money, and ask about school. Anytime he came home, he’d visit, bring gifts and make sure I felt included. He might not have been physically present, but I still felt like I had a dad.
Things started changing about four years after he relocated. The calls became fewer, and sometimes when I called him, it was his wife who picked up. You could tell she didn’t like that he had a family here. Her tone was always sharp, and she’d say things like, ‘He’s not around,’ even when I could clearly hear him in the background.
At first, I brushed it off. I told myself he was probably trying to avoid drama. But it kept happening, and soon, even when he picked up, he sounded distant. Then came the day that broke me. I was in my final year and needed money for my project. I called him, expecting our usual small talk before I made my request. Instead, he snapped. He said, ‘You girls are doing all sorts of things for money these days, so don’t tell me you’re stranded.’
I couldn’t believe those words came from my father. I didn’t argue, just said ‘okay’ and ended the call. I didn’t reach out for a long time after that. When I finally did, he didn’t pick up. After a few more failed attempts, I stopped trying altogether.
That was in 2017. It’s been eight years now, and we haven’t spoken since. I heard he has two kids with his wife abroad, and I guess that’s where all his attention is. My mum doesn’t talk about him; I think she’s still hurt, too.
Sometimes, I wonder if we just drifted apart or if he truly chose his new family over me. Either way, just hope wherever he is, he’s happy even if I’m no longer part of his world.”
“My stepmum changed completely after I got married” — Funke*, 42
For as long as Funke can remember, her stepmother was more of a mother to her than anyone else. Her biological mum died when she was young, and it was her stepmum who raised her, cared for her, and filled that gap she thought could never be filled.
“My stepmum came into my life when I was about eight. From the very beginning, she treated me like her own child. I never felt the absence of my mum because she was kind, patient and always looking out for me. We had such a beautiful relationship that even my friends used to say they couldn’t tell she wasn’t my real mother.
For years, she was the person I ran to for advice, the one who helped me make sense of things. That’s why it shocked me how quickly everything changed after I got married.
It started with my wedding. She was unusually cold throughout the planning, but I thought maybe she was stressed. Then I noticed she was monitoring my dad’s spending and dictating what he could and couldn’t do. I didn’t understand it because my dad had always been generous, and she never acted like that before. Still, I brushed it off.
After the wedding, her attitude became worse. She stopped calling, stopped checking in, and when I gave birth to my first child, she refused to come for omugwo. She said she had a professional exam she was studying for, but even after that period passed, she still didn’t reach out. It hurt, but I tried to make excuses for her, hoping things would return to normal.
They never did. When my dad passed away a few years later, she completely withdrew. I tried to comfort her and keep the relationship going, but she didn’t want it. She stopped taking my calls, and even my step-siblings became distant. It felt like I lost my entire family in one swoop.
The last time we were all together was at my dad’s five-year remembrance, about seven years ago. Since then, nothing. At some point, I realised I was the only one trying to hold on to a bond that no longer existed. I decided to stop reaching out.
I didn’t make a formal announcement or send any angry message. I just quietly cut them off. I figured if they could live comfortably without me, I could do the same.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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