House hunting is one of the most exhausting things anyone can put themselves through. You’re fighting the hot sun, navigating terrible roads, paying agent fees, dealing with tribalism, and still somehow expected to accept the ridiculous prices landlords are calling rent.
And if you are a woman, it gets even worse. Not only do you have to contend with the usual obstacles that come with house hunting, but you’re also forced to come face to face with the blatant misogyny that shows up in the behaviour of both agents and landlords as well.
A woman trying to rent a house without a boyfriend or husband by her side apparently still raises confused brows because, for some reason, society cannot wrap its head around the fact that women can rent houses with their own money.
These warped perceptions certain people already have about women bleeds through every wall. You can hear it in the way these agents and landlords speak to women, question, and generally act like men must be in the picture for their decisions to make sense.
For this article, we spoke to five Nigerian women about the discrimination they faced while house hunting.
“Why must a man always have to be in the picture?” — Kairat*, 39
No one warned me that Lagos landlords could make house hunting a nightmare. I thought I would just meet up with agents and pick an apartment I liked, so I was not prepared when I found the apartment I currently live in, and the landlord’s first question was, “Where is your husband?” While I was still processing the question, he went on, telling me that he would not rent the house to me unless my husband signed the necessary documents.
I was in shock, but apparently, that’s a common thing. Landlords just tend to have a personal vendetta against single women. For my best interest, I was asked to lie about having a husband who lived overseas. I had to because I really needed an apartment, but I was so angry. Why must a man always have to be in the picture? It is a house that I used my hard-earned money to pay for, so till now, I still do not understand why I had to act like Mr Lagbaja’s wife before I could get it.
“Any small thing, they’re trying to include ‘daddy’.” — Chioma*, 20
This has happened to me so many times. My parents are divorced, and my mum raised me. So it’s just been us two for some time, and whenever we go house-hunting, we always face some form of discrimination. The one I remember clearly happened after I gained admission into a university in Lagos. The agent who took us around was very condescending, and whenever he got to a subpar house, he would say something like “Since you people are women, you will know how to manage.”
When I finally found the house we both liked, we met the landlord, who was no different from the agent. He kept making remarks that I was sure were only reserved for women. He would say things like “Shebi, it’s not you that is paying, it’s daddy that is paying,” or ask, “Is daddy coming too? What happened to daddy?” Any small thing, they are trying to include ‘daddy’ as if women are not financially stable enough to rent a house.
I have noticed that many people believe a woman’s financial worth is tied to a man. They think she can’t have her own money to make a big purchase, like a house or a car. It’s a very disgusting line of thinking, because why are they of the belief that a woman can’t have the money to rent a home?
“It felt like she was saying ‘There are no men in your lives, so leave’” — Mayowa*, 28
When I first moved to Lagos and started house hunting, the agent told me to fill out the form saying I was married, and at first, I was very confused about that because what did that even mean? When I asked the agent what he meant by that, his response was “Just do as I say,” and I immediately took offence. I have a coconut head, and no one, especially a man, can tell me what to do.
It was my aunt who calmed me down and let me know that’s what I needed to do, or else the house won’t be rented out to me, and that was very surprising. In the end, I had to house hunt with my boyfriend at the time, and pretended he was my husband so I could get a flat.
A year or two after that, I went house hunting again, but this time, it was with my girlfriend. On one of our hunts, we found a house, and I remember them asking if we were Yoruba. We said we were not, and at the end of the day, the only reason they agreed to let us see the house was because we’re both mixed race. Basically, they felt like there was no strong affiliation to any tribe, and that was less of an issue for them. At the end of the day, we weren’t comfortable with the place, so we left.
At the house we finally rented, we had a lot of queer friends over, and I believe the landlady had suspicions about our sexuality because she asked us to move out of the house. Her reason was that her son was coming back to the country, but he was not. It felt like she was saying, “There are no men in your lives, so leave.”
Now, when it comes to house hunting, I ask the men in my life to handle it because house hunting in Lagos is so bad.
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“They believe that we engage in prostitution.” — Sade*, 24
I was 21 and in my final year at a Ghanaian university when I decided that I needed to move out of the hostel because we had recurrent water and electricity issues. I spoke to my parents about it, and we all decided that it was best to look for an apartment close by.
One day, my friend and I heard of an available apartment and, excited, we headed there with the hope that we would get it. When we got there, we met the landlord, who took his time taking us around the house. Everything was going well with the house tour until he asked if we were both going to stay in the apartment. After we said yes, he asked, “Your accent is different. Where are you guys from?” When we replied with Nigeria, he bluntly told us, “All you Nigerian girls come to Ghana for prostitution. I can’t give you my apartment. Please look for another place.” My flabber was ghasted. It was later that we found out that some landlords in Ghana don’t rent houses to Nigerian girls because, for some reason, they believe that all of us engage in prostitution.
On finding out, I felt very disappointed because while I am fully aware that prostitution exists, the blatant discrimination and stereotyping was so awful.
“In the order of questions I was asked, I would say ‘Where is your husband?’ is at the top.” Mariama*, 24
I have house hunted in Lagos three times now. The first time, I restricted myself to mostly student areas, and even though it wasn’t great because of the constant “are you Yoruba?”, it was a little easier because everyone was a student, and the landlords weren’t too focused on our romantic lives. The second time was a lot more difficult. I was house hunting with my friend, and since we were both single, we faced an entirely different problem with potential landlords. It was no longer “Oh, you are not Yoruba,” but “You are both single women.” It got to a point where I had to enlist one of my male friends to act as my husband, who won’t be around for the whole time.
It was not only the “Where is your husband?” question that we had to deal with; we also heard “What state are you from?” and “What work do you do?” However, in the order of questions I was asked while house hunting, I would say, “Where is your husband?” is at the top.
Once, I found a house, and the landlady had already sent over documents, when, all of a sudden, she texted to tell me she won’t be renting the place to me because the other stakeholders weren’t comfortable with me. When I called to ask what the problem was, her response was, “See, it is because you are a single woman.” Hearing that exhausted me to my core, but I couldn’t do anything about it, so I had to accept my fate and find other alternatives.
You know that phrase ‘once bitten, twice shy’? It was different with me because I’d already been bitten like three times by Lagos landlords before I realised I needed to do something about it. So, the next time I found a house I wanted, I made my male friend act like he was the one getting the house. It was after the deal was sealed and payment had been made that I let the landlord know it was only my name that was on the house documents.
Lagos landlords, 3, Me, 1.
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