Most Nigerians reach the legal age for sex having already absorbed too many lessons about it. We’ve been taught that desire should be quiet, pleasure should be restrained, and asking for what we want makes us “bad”. Sexual confidence isn’t something you stumble into, especially as a Nigerian. In certain circumstances, you have to fight for it. Usually alone and late. These seven Nigerians tell us how they achieved it.
1. “I had to unlearn the idea that wanting sex made me a bad girl” – Momo*, 27
For most of my life in Lagos, people rarely talked about desire like it was something I was allowed to have. Sex was something women were expected to endure and partake in with shame. In my mid-twenties, after a relationship where my partner kept asking me what I liked and I realised I genuinely didn’t know, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I started reading about sex, talking to trusted friends and slowly gave myself permission to figure out what I actually wanted. I grieved the version of me that believed that being sexual meant being shameless. They’re not the same things. Some days I feel fully comfortable with knowing I like sex. Other days, the guilt worms itself back in. But I know for a fact that wanting sex doesn’t make me a bad person.
2. “I was always so worried about how I was being perceived” – Tunde*, 26
I used to think that sexual confidence meant bravado. Acting unbothered, never admitting ignorance and talking loudly. Nigerian men are supposed to know things, especially in bed. So I acted like I knew it all, all the time.
But this one time, I had a partner that told me to slow down. She basically said “You’re not here with me.” She wasn’t wrong. I was in my head the entire time, imagining how I looked and worrying about how long things lasted. I started therapy around that period, mostly for work stress, but the conversations kept pulling me back to the issues I had with intimacy.
It was then that I realised that I’d never actually been present during sex. I ask more questions now, check in and admit when something isn’t working.
3. “My body was the first thing I had to make peace with” – Qiyammah*, 24
Before I could even get to the confidence part, I had to deal with accepting my body. I believed for the longest time that sexual confidence and appeal was for thinner girls and I’d earn it as soon as I looked different. But when I went to Uni, it was my first time being truly alone from what I was used to. I started existing in my body without judging it.
I dressed for myself and thought about myself with kindness. My sexual confidence started in letting myself take up space in a room. It’s still fragile, to be honest, and I know a bad comment can still weigh me down. But I’m progressing. I don’t see myself the way I used to anymore and I like knowing that.
4. “Men aren’t taught to want things softly” – Chi*, 29
The men I grew up watching treated desire like something to take. If you wanted sex or intimacy, you had to go for it and take it. Asking felt weak and if you were unsure of yourself, that was even worse.
Then I had a breakup that completely blindsided me. She said she never really knew me. Mind you, that was after three years of being together. I thought about that sentence over and over again, months after. I spent the next year in what I call the most honest period of my life. It was very uncomfortable. But I feel like the PTSD forced me to do it. I didn’t want to end another relationship like that. So I started telling my partners what I actually wanted and I sat with how exposing that felt.
The first few times, I wanted to disappear into the floor. But when I stopped hiding, intimacy actually became intimate for me.
5. “I Used to Turn the Lights Off Every Single Time” – Nini*, 26
When I started having sex, I kept it under wraps. Both my involvement in and enjoyment of the activity. A “good girl” can’t enjoy that kind of thing openly. I didn’t want my sexual partners to think I was loose, so I never communicated what I wanted. I felt like being confident about having sex was shameful. Every time, I would turn off the lights and get it over with.
Shout out to the partner whose constant ‘What do you actually want?’ finally made me realize I had absolutely no idea. I had never really thought about my own pleasure as something that actually mattered. Now, I speak up and communicate. It sounds small, but for someone who never wanted to be seen, I think it’s a refreshing change that I’m getting used to.
6. “Body Count Comments Used to Wreck Me” – Samm*, 30
People don’t talk about how wrecking body count comments are. It sounds like jokes and banter, but for me, it was beyond that. My friends once asked what my body count was, and telling them the truth? Biggest mistake ever. It started as a joke, but I realised it was getting to me. They asked if my body count was zero because I couldn’t get it up or I didn’t have a penis. I started overthinking.
What fixed my self-esteem was seeing a therapist. It feels weird saying this out loud, but therapy worked for me. Apparently, sex wasn’t an exam that I could fail with one wrong move.
7. “A Horrible Comment Followed Me For Years” – Zee*, 27
My ex made an offhand comment about how my body felt on his. I was fat at the time, so the comment stayed with me for a really long time. The comment followed me into every relationship after him. I felt bad about wanting sex because I thought it was probably bothersome for the other person. Most times, I found myself wondering if they were even enjoying themselves.
It took having a completely different partner, who constantly reassured me, to finally heal from that. He made me feel wanted in a way that fixed me.
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