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.

Next Read: We Can���t Talk About Male Privilege Without Talking About Mothers

We spoke to seven Nigerians about the financial complications that came with their divorce. If you���re married, some of these stories will make you triple-check your joint account(s).

1. ���He took ���19m from our Joint Account and Disappeared��� ��� Ronke*, 34

My ex-husband and I had been saving for a duplex in Lagos for four years. Every month, we would both send some money to a joint account we opened for it. I trusted the process because I was married to him; trusting him was a given until he cheated.

I found out and confronted him about it; he was very defensive and accused me of monitoring him. It was in the middle of us arguing that he told me he wanted a divorce. From where to where? After that, he left our shared apartment and withdrew ���19 million out of the ���20 million in our joint account. Unfortunately for me, by the time I got to the bank to find out what was going on, there was nothing left to argue about. He was gone.

My friend who���s a lawyer said I could pursue it legally. But realistically, the case would drag on for years and probably cost more than what I had lost. I had to let it go. I still think of that duplex sometimes.

2. ���I Paid Her Way Through Law School, Then She Left��� ��� Dami*, 38

I feel like people think men don���t lose anything financially in a divorce, and that���s not true. I singlehandedly funded my wife���s law degree, paid her fees, bought textbooks, an expensive laptop, and more. The plan was that once she started earning money, we���d build together.

Two months after she got called to the bar, she filed for a divorce. We had been having horrible arguments in the months leading up to her bar exams. She didn���t talk to me for a while. I didn���t think it would end in a divorce, yet here I am. No settlement could cover what I spent on her education because it wasn���t structured as a loan or investment. I was just a husband supporting his wife, so there was nothing on paper.

She���s doing well now, and I see her posts sometimes. I don���t think I regret supporting her, but I���d definitely put things in writing next time.

3. ���My In-Laws Asked for a Bride Price Refund��� ��� Ego*, 29

After my divorce, my ex���s family sent me a message through an uncle asking for the bride price. They even added extra for ���inflation.��� When I first saw it, I laughed till tears came out of my eyes. It was so ridiculous. I told my friends and one of them said she���d heard that some families actually pursue this legally in some states.

Mine didn���t go that far, but their audacity was mind-blowing to me. I spent two years building a home with their son, and somehow I���m the one that owes them money because I want out. I didn���t pay one kobo, but there was a lot of back-and-forth between us before they finally let it go.

4. ���The Business Was in His Name, So Legally, It Was His��� ��� Mayo*, 41

I decided to start a fashion brand in 2015. I had learnt tailoring before that, so I knew that it would work out. I told my husband, and he was happy with the idea. I designed, sourced fabric, managed the tailors, and built an online presence from scratch. My husband handled logistics and funded the business.

When we got divorced six years later, I found out that he had registered the business under his name. We didn���t plan it that way. He offered to handle the CAC registration and never added my name to the paperwork.

I had to walk away from six years of work with nothing but my portfolio and a few clients.

5. ���Child Support Takes All I Earn��� ��� Tochi*, 36

Honestly, I���m not complaining about supporting my children, because that���s a non-negotiable for me. But the arrangement my ex-wife insisted on assumed that I���d keep earning the same amount as my old salary forever. Eight months after the agreement, I lost my job. The payments continued, regardless.

I���m currently sending money that I sometimes don���t have. I have to borrow from my brother just to stay afloat and keep up. My ex says it���s not her problem, and legally, my friend says she���s right.

I love my kids more than anything, but I���m buckling under the weight of all the responsibility.

6. ���I Moved Back to My Parents��� House at 33��� ��� Cynthia*, 33

After the divorce, I had nowhere to go. The house we were living in was his family���s, so I had to move out. I packed my bags and moved back to my old room in my father���s house. I was 33 and sharing a bathroom with my brothers, who are over ten years younger than me.

It took me two years to save enough for my own place. That period humbled me in ways I can���t even explain. I wouldn���t wish it on my enemy. It���s so important for women to have their own money. If anything happens, at least you have a cushion to fall on. And trust me, everything can happen.

7. ���We Split the Ajo Contributions, and I Got Less��� ��� Joke*, 27

We were both in the same Ajo group with fifteen other couples in our estate. When we got divorced, the group had to decide how to split our contributions. Everyone was uncomfortable and understandably so, to be fair. Some of these people were our neighbours and church members. The concluding agreement was favourable to him because he had joined the group a few months before me.

Even though I had been the one paying most of the contributions for over a year, I still got less than him. After that, I left the group chat. I was actually angry that things turned out like that. I started my own savings with an app after that. I���m not mixing finances with any mad person ever again.

Next Read: Anne Njemanze On Survival, Choice, And The Power Of Empathy In A Happy Ending

Dika has made peace with where that path has taken him. “For me, what is important is telling stories and for people to listen to the stories I’m telling. Whatever opportunities provide an audience for these films, whether it’s on YouTube, festivals or whether it’s to take it to the box office, I’m very much open,” he says.

Dika���s brilliance, however, continues to shine, as proven once more in the final drop of 91心頭利嫋���s Life 2: ���A Happy Ending���. In the film, Dika brings Tatiana���s story to life, drawing on a character and experience that feel deeply grounded in the realities of a real woman. It is another example of the filmmaker���s instinct for finding the emotional truth in ordinary, complicated lives.

In this conversation, Dika talks about his journey from making films for YouTube to becoming a familiar name in Nigeria���s film industry, the creative choices behind A Happy Ending, and what it means to keep telling stories without becoming too attached to where they might take him.

Initially, Dika had a casting problem with ���A Happy Ending���. He needed someone who understood the film���s intention to play the lead actress.. Tatiana is a young woman who moves to Lagos to work as a masseuse. Her job exposes her to a wealthy politician who enjoys the add-on of happy endings to his massages. The professional relationship between the pair goes beyond the spa and becomes more than Tatiana intended. He had an actor in mind, but after reading the script, she turned it down.

Her reason stuck with him because two other actors shared the same sentiments. They wouldn’t play Tatiana because she wasn’t written as a victim. She didn���t have a sick mother back home, no pressing issues that required the support of a politician, and no gun to her head. Tatiana was a young woman who weighed her options and chose the one that kept her dreams alive.

Dika found this experience telling. ���It opened my eyes to the sort of society that we live in,” he says. He admits that he’s surrounded himself with “a lot of progressives” for so long that he had “forgotten how conservative our society is.” The truth is that people need it ���to be such a miserable story for them to empathise and understand why a person would get into sex work���.

His refusal to write Tatiana as a broken woman came from the real woman who inspired her story. Speaking about the woman, he says, “What was clear was that she didn’t think of herself as a victim.” “She knew that she was economically disadvantaged, and she wanted a better life for herself, her siblings, and for their parents. Knowing all this, it became important for me that I captured that in the script.”

He is equally clear about why that mattered to him as a storyteller. “It’s so important to give the characters agency to make choices, even under pressure. This person is a human adult, and they can make decisions.”

Dika eventually found his Tatiana in Ifeoma Obinwa, whose Igbo instantly convinced him. “I’m an Igbo speaker, and I can tell when the Igbo is good,” he says. Her audition sealed it. “When I looked at her, I was like, yeah, this is really Tatiana.”

The person who nudges Tatiana into sex work, Madam Ngozi, could easily have been the film’s villain, but Dika refused to do that. “I didn’t want to write her as a villain,” he says. “I never go in thinking, who’s the bad guy here? I don’t think great stories come from writing people as black or white. Where there’s a bad guy, and there’s a good one.”

Instead, he gives her a backstory that mirrors Tatiana’s. “I imagine that the circumstances might have been a lot harder for her than it was for Tatiana,” he says. “And so, she sees Tatiana as her younger self.”

His favourite scene is the one where Madam Ngozi hands Tatiana a contraceptive and tells her to look after herself. “That was the scene where we could really see her as human, outside of running her spa and being a madam.”

He also speaks on how little self-awareness Madam Ngozi has about her role in Tatiana’s situation. “It is not often that people recognise that what they’re doing is not in order.��� He even suggests, almost gently, that Madam Ngozi “could have thought of that as an act of kindness.”

The bond between Tatiana and her best friend Ginika carries much of the film’s warmth. But Dika explains that he wasn’t trying to make a grand statement about women specifically.

“I didn’t go into the story trying to say something about female friendships. I was simply trying to talk about friendship,” he says. “I have male friends, I have female friends, and it’s the same in how we care for each other. We look out for one another.”

Still, he can see how naturally it reads as something closer to sisterhood. Especially watching how easily his two lead actresses built real chemistry. “It feels as though it’s a story about Tatiana, but it’s also very much Ginika’s story, and it’s about their friendship as well,” he says.

Dika didn’t set out to make a film with a message stapled on it. He intended to write characters the way people actually are. Messy and with motives, and let the audience do the work of deciding what they think.

Next Read: Onyinye Odokoro Gets Honest About Before We Fall Asleep and Why Nazo Felt So Real

In this interview, Onyinye talks about the intricacies of what drew her to the role. The intimacy of romantic partnership, and the conversation that started it all. 

This film deals with the difficult side of love, the parts we don���t usually see. What made you want to be part of it?

I naturally lean towards stories that explore nuance. Not stories that are black or white, but stories that sit in the complexity of relationships. Whether romantic, platonic, or family. When I read the script, I remember myself, Blessing, Tobi, and director Kaelo all leaving  with different views. And that���s the thing. It���s a story that drives conversation. It���s not necessarily about right or wrong. It���s open-ended, and it leaves room for the audience to talk.

The film takes a different approach to reproductive responsibility. Usually, the cost falls entirely on the woman. Why does that shift matter?

I think art has a responsibility to shape culture. If there���s something we���d like to see change in society, we as artists have a responsibility to reflect that in our stories. The approach in which reproductive responsibility is portrayed hasn���t been the healthiest.  A child is brought into the world by two people and both of them should be responsible for the child.  From the point of conception until the child leaves this world. So this film asks, how do we move that needle forward? How do we portray something better than what we���ve had?

The story also deals with the pressure of traditional gender roles on couples. What was important to you in portraying that authentically?

What mattered to me most is what the story says at the end. Are we sticking to what wasn���t working, or are we moving forward? The film presents two sides. You see what happens when you hold on to traditional roles, the good and the bad of it. And you see what it looks like when a couple chooses partnership instead. So it���s like presenting two choices, and then letting the audience ask themselves which one they want.

It���s not black or white. Neither is it ���she���s wrong��� or ���he���s wrong.��� It���s just, this is what happens in homes. This is real. So my job was to show that authenticity so that people can have real conversations about it.

What does partnership actually look like in this film?

It���s consideration and difficult conversations. Grace and forgiveness. It���s putting the other person above yourself. And when a child enters the picture, it���s less about both of you and more about the child.

Nazo and Tola are a new couple navigating something neither of them has been through before. They have outside pressure, their families, and ideas of who a husband or mother or career woman is supposed to be. And we see them fail. We see how damaging that failure is. But we also see them win, and we see what partnership produces. The film is basically making the case that when you partner, things just get better.

What was your experience like playing a romantic lead opposite Tobi Bakre for the first time?

It’s not exactly my first time working with Tobi, actually. We worked together on Slum King. So this is the second time, but the first time in a romantic role specifically.

Tobi is a great guy. He was up and ready for rehearsals, very committed. He has a spirit of excellence, like he genuinely wants to do things well. And he���s a friend, so there was a lot of laughter. Even filming late into the night, we were keeping each other going. In between takes, we were having arguments. Not real ones, just like, ���Tobi, they are going to come for your character on Twitter. The way you played that scene, you���ve turned yourself into the villain.��� We���re looking forward to seeing whose side people end up on.

How did you prepare to play the character of Nazo, from the table read to production?

It always starts with asking a lot of whys. But the peculiar thing with this one is that it���s based on a real-life situation. I read the original article it was inspired by. The script itself was also very elaborate and clear.

And then there���s Kaelo, our director, who did something I���d never experienced before. He pulled me and Tobi separately into what I can only describe as a therapy session. He was asking about our childhoods, our relationships with our mothers and fathers, all of it leading us toward our characters. Tobi came out of his session saying he felt like a load had been lifted off him. And honestly, that���s what it was.

After that, it was a done deal. I understand Nazo because I understood why. And that���s really the whole process. Why does she say this line? Why does she think this way? You keep asking why until you get to the root. And when you find it, you can slip into that character���s shoes completely.

What makes going that deep worth it?

Honestly? It���s my job. I don���t take it as a special compliment because depth is what the work requires. I���ve played lighter characters too. The emotional weight is different, but the depth of preparation is always there. For Nazo specifically, it was worth it because that���s what she deserved. I wanted to stay true to her and remain authentic to who she is. That���s what justifies the work.

What was it like working with Blessing Uzzi and BluHouse Studios?

Blessing is someone I���d say yes to any time, any day. There���s something Uzoamaka said at the premiere of Call of My Life that I think captures it perfectly. Blessing is a believer in people. She doesn���t need you to have the numbers or a million followers or to look a certain way. She believes in you, and she takes a chance.

There was a moment during production that really stayed with me. We had delays on set, and we were about to film the high-conflict scene of the film. I was telling someone how exhausted I was. How worried I was about going into that scene on empty energy. And without me even asking, Blessing said we were pushing the scene to the next day. Because her actors were tired. There was no point doing something if they weren���t going to do it at their best.

Not every producer would do that. I don���t know if I told her how much that meant to me then, but it really touched me. That���s what BluHouse is. Quality, care for the work, and care for the people.

How do you think the film will land with audiences? 

I have no idea, honestly. I think it���ll be controversial. The conversations will be polarizing. Some people will be firmly on one side, some on the other, some completely in the middle. And I���m looking forward to all of it.

What do you hope they take away?

What I hope people take away, especially couples who are new parents or going through financial pressure together, is that it���s not you against them. It���s both of us against the world. Because for a partnership to work, it takes love. Real love. Patient, selfless, forgiving love. And if there���s a couple already losing each other through something like this, I hope this film gives them a reason to find their way back. Whatever cracks have formed can be fixed. But it takes two.

Before We Fall Asleep is a BluHouse Productions film, part of the 91心頭利嫋 Life Series Production and directed by Kaelo. Starring Onyinye Odokoro and Tobi Bakre.

Read Next: Kaelo Iyizoba Explains Why Before We Fall Asleep Refuses to Pick Sides 

Before We Fall Asleep flips the script on the typical Nigerian household. When a sudden job loss forces Tola to become a stay-at-home dad while his partner carries the financial load, their seemingly happy life hits a wall. It���s an uncomfortable dive into what happens to a relationship when traditional expectations shatter.

Blessing walks us through being a showrunner of the three-part anthology for the second time. More importantly, her message for the film she wrote is simple. “We are partners. You’re not helping me; I’m not helping you. We are doing what we���re supposed to do.”

Running 91心頭利嫋 Life the second time comes with its own pressure, particularly the pressure not to drop the standard you already set. Blessing Uzzi kept the same directors and writers from the first season on purpose. “I wanted the work to keep the same level of quality,” she says. The only new addition to the team was Kaelo, and even that wasn’t really a gamble because of how familiar his work was. “I barely ever hire a stranger,” she says. “Somebody I don’t know anything about.”

Her vision for the anthology as a whole has stayed consistent too. “My vision was to do something artistic and equally commercial,” she explains, pointing to how deliberate she and her team were about which 91心頭利嫋 articles made the cut. It’s the same bar every time. Something people will actually watch, and something that still says what it needs to say.

The Word “Help” Is Doing A Lot Of Damage

How often have you heard a Nigerian man say he’s “helping” his wife with the kids and household tasks? It sounds generous on the surface. But when you sit with it for a second, the word starts to give itself away.

Helping implies the job was never his. It implies he’s doing the woman a favour by stepping outside his own responsibilities to lend a hand. That he can stop lending it whenever he pleases. But it’s also his child, his home and his mess.

Blessing caught herself doing exactly this while writing the film. “It’s almost the default mentality,” she says. “You think he is helping, but helping with what? It is his child, it is his family. It’s also the woman’s child.” She’s watched this play out even in her own generation, where the shift is only partial. “We’ve made progress on men understanding that they’re part of the family. That they’re not doing their wives a favour by participating,” she said. “But there’s still work to do.”

That’s really what the film is about. Before We Fall Asleep challenges the way we’ve all been trained to think of domestic work as women’s work. With men occasionally popping in to assist. Even when the man isn���t contributing financially.

Choosing Relatability Over Literary Lines

Blessing���s intentionality as the showrunner of the production is evident across many things, even language. In an emotionally charged scene in Before We Fall Asleep, Tola (Tobi Bakre) tells Nazo (Onyinye Odokoro), “I felt naked. I felt like you didn’t cover me.” The line was originally written by Blessing as ���I didn’t feel loved in that moment���, but changed when Tobi asked for the change. Blessing agreed instantly. She says, ���Tola wasn’t written to be somebody you can’t relate to. He’s an average Nigerian man, a middle-class guy, and the new line simply sounded more like him.���

“There’s a slight shift there,” she says, “but it’s a shift towards the everyday language that an average Nigerian would relate to.” Blessing swapped one sentence for another, and the scene moved from something literary into something real. Tola sounds exactly like your uncle, your brother, your ex. Someone you can relate to. This is the vibe of the entire film. Scenes that make up the daily lives of Nigerians.

Married Or Not, Are You Actually Partners?

Tola and Nazo live together, have a child, and argue as every married couple does. But still, there���s something different about them that Blessing decides on.

���I don’t think 91心頭利嫋 set out to tell conventional stories,��� she said. Their unconventional relationship ���adds a layer��� of the exact discomfort Nigerian society is quick to serve. ���Knowing Nigerians, there’ll be a bit of judgment���. But her actual argument goes deeper than the judgment. ���Whether you are married in the Nigerian traditional sense, or not, you’re together,��� she said. ���You’re partners. If not, don’t be together.���

Two Tired People Trying to Make It Work

Blessing says she struggled with drafts of the script because one partner kept showing up as a villain. She scrapped multiple attempts before deciding to write it herself. “I always like to put a mirror in front of everyone,��� she explained.

Her instruction to herself, and to anyone watching the film, is simple. ���You need to understand these two people.��� ���Whoever you feel for is left to you, but understand them. See them as humans. See what they are struggling with, and see how they’re trying to make this work. These people don’t hate each other.���

Wearing two hats for this project, as the showrunner and writer, wasn’t always easy for Blessing. As showrunner, Blessing is usually the one reading everyone else’s scripts and giving notes. Writing her own meant that she had to go looking for that same outside eye. “I remember sending it to Dika, and we all had a conversation that led to some of the rewrites,” she says. “When you’re the one writing, it’s easier to miss a lot of things you don’t see.”

is not about who’s wrong. It���s about whether you’re building a life with someone, or letting them carry it while you lend and call it love.

Go watch the film. Then have an uncomfortable conversation with whoever you’re building your own life with.

Next Read: Kaelo Iyizoba Explains Why Before We Fall Asleep Refuses to Pick Sides

In this interview, Genoveva talks about falling in love with playing Siraam���s character. What it means to see a Nigerian woman be fully herself on screen and why the only thing worth striving for is great work.

When you first read the script for Siraam, what did you think of the character?

I read it and thought, she���s really fun. She felt colourful and animated, and I just wanted to play her. I remember thinking, Uzoamaka is such a phenomenal writer. Because there was something about the way Siraam was written that just jumped off the page. She had this incredible timing, this warmth, this physical personality. Siraam wasn���t just a character. She was a whole experience.

When I was cast, Uzoamaka sent me a message saying she���d had a great feeling about it, and hoped it would mean something to both of us. I thought it was so honest. We make a lot of things and appear in a lot of things, and sometimes you���re just asking yourself, how does this story move the needle? That���s what I hoped Siraam would do.

This is not the first time you���ll be playing a bold, imperfect character. In what ways did Siraam stretch or challenge you as an actor?

Playing her was easy because I loved her. But what she gave me the space to do? That���s where it gets interesting. She has this gift of physical personality. She���s musical, young and unashamed. And she speaks Igbo, that felt so important to me.

Growing up, speaking your language sometimes felt uncool. I was raised between Nigeria and London, so even though my Igbo isn���t perfect, I understand it. I���m proud of that. And Siraam gets to carry that pride on screen. Uzoamaka and Blessing were so generous in guiding me through the Igbo-speaking parts. I felt comfortable exploring it as best as I could. That felt like a gift.

Siraam is a blend of so many things: whimsical, creative, chaotic. Why was it important to bring a story like this to life on screen?

I saw it for the first time at S16. Despite being on set and even having been in the writer���s room, I wasn���t fully prepared for what watching it with an audience would feel like. There���s something completely lost on set that only comes together on screen. And in that room, it hit me. 

Stories like Siraam will find girls who haven���t seen themselves reflected anywhere. Nigeria can be aesthetically and environmentally uninspiring. But Siraam says, you can still build whimsy in your head. You can still decide what your room looks like, where you eat and who you speak to. You have autonomy, even in an environment that rarely encourages it. I���m so glad that this story exists in the Nigerian sphere, told by Nigerians, about a Nigerian woman who wins in the end.

How did you prepare yourself for this story, from the first read to the last scene on set?

It started with a self-tape, and really wanting the role. Once I got the role, I talked to Uzoamaka about her writing, and all the characters Siraam reminded me of. I told her she reminded me of Michaela Coel���s character in Chewing Gum. Someone who wants to explore the world and break free from something. Then there���s the messy, bleeding-on-people energy of Fleabag. Siraam has a bit of both.

From there it became about rehearsing the big monologues. Sitting with the scenes, and allowing myself to feel whatever feelings she had. I think that was my approach. Allowing myself. The pink hair also helped, because in real life I made it a tradition to get pink braids every Christmas from 2018 to 2021. When I saw that was Siraam���s choice too, I was instantly aligned. I also vlogged the entire production. We filmed for three days and I vlogged every single day. It was a way of staying in Siraam���s energy. Whimsical and joyful. I even opened the first vlog with a prayer that we���d have an easy time and that God would give me direction with my choices.

What are the things you loved about this collaboration, and how does it speak to young women navigating the complexities of being themselves in Nigeria?

Blessing Uzzi and Uzoamaka Power knew the story they wanted to tell. From production design down to how Siraam���s hair would be styled. When you find a partnership that aligns in friendship and in work, you feel it. They made the set so comfortable, and that comfort showed up in the delivery.

I���ve always been a fan of Uzoamaka. I watched her on MTV Shuga when I was in uni in London, gathering my friends around my single bed to watch. When I got to Lagos and saw her at an audition, the first thing I said was, I think you���re amazing. Seeing her blossom into this, and finding this partnership with Blessing, it���s not just great for their careers. It���s great for the kind of work that comes out of Nigeria, out of Nollywood. I���m honoured to be part of that journey.

Can you share one thing you particularly love about Siraam that Genoveva would definitely do, and another thing she did that made you think ���oh no���?

The pink hair, absolutely. I already lived that life, so that was instant recognition. As for the oh no moment, I don���t want to judge her. Her experiences are too relatable for that. But what I will say is that I���d want her to be a little more careful with who she chooses to be intimate with. To hold herself like an egg. To pamper herself. But when a girl gets there, a girl gets there. And Siraam does get there.

Sexual agency is a core theme in this story. Why do you think young women need to be unashamed about theirs?

Having sexual agency doesn���t mean being sexually active or ignoring consequences. It means having the freedom to choose. Whether to have sex or not, who to be with, what boundaries to set, when to say yes or no. That autonomy belongs to every woman, whether she���s choosing abstinence, casual dating, marriage, or celibacy.

We only live once, and we���re only young once. Our sexual autonomy needs to be explored confidently. We have to be prepared that not everyone will accept those choices. But the decisions are ours. Society doesn���t get to dictate what���s acceptable. We have to be happy with our own decisions regardless of whether we���re supported.

And part of that agency is showing up for your own health. Going to the clinic and taking the test. I know how scary those spaces can feel. Especially when the person attending to you is a male staff member, and you���re worried about being judged. But prepare your mind, set your goal, and show up anyway. Be cautious about who you���re intimate with. There���s so much we���re not taught about what can be passed between people, even through oral sex. Condoms are non-negotiable. Taking control of your sexual health is part of taking control of your life.

Another wholesome element of this film is the relationship between Siraam and Chidaalu. Can you speak to the critical nature of female friendships in the life of a young woman trying to find herself?

Female friendships are literally the light of my life. And the actress who plays Chidaalu? She and I go way back without even fully realising it. She recently sent me videos from the very first party I ever threw when I landed in Lagos. We���d been in each other���s orbit the whole time. So playing alongside her was easy. We brought our friendship into it, and you can feel that on screen.

There���s also Chidaalu���s brother. That dynamic adds something meaningful to the mix. Siraam respects the friendship so much that she doesn���t even clock that he���s pining for her. Real friendship creates space for things to unfold the right way, and that’s what happens between them. In my life, my friendships with women are everything. They make me laugh when my head is full. 

I have a best friend from uni who used to do my makeup before I���d head to film premieres at Greenwich. When I���d come back, she���d give me mock interviews because she loved watching them on YouTube. She was practising, but she was also helping me dream. Our friendship is over ten years now, and she���s still part of how I show up. There���s just such warmth when women love each other. When it���s completely safe, it���s a beautiful thing.

Can you speak to the importance of not giving up, especially for women whose dreams are unconventional and who tend to be misunderstood?

Being misunderstood is often a side effect of seeing a future that others are yet to see. Especially for women whose ambitions don���t fit into what society expects. Whether that���s acting, entrepreneurship, sports, or activism, the challenge often isn���t the work itself. It���s carrying the weight of not being understood.

But you have to keep going. History is full of women who were considered unconventional and became defining.  Don���t abandon the parts of yourself that feel called to bigger things. Even when you���re the only one who can see the vision.

What we see in Siraam is a woman who had those big dreams. A woman who experienced the backlash and the uncertainty, stuck it out and got her big break. And I think that���s the question she���s asking all of us. Are you going to stick it out? Are you going to keep showing up for the things that matter to you? Strive to do great work. Don���t strive to be liked.

Read Next: Overthinkers Anonymous: EDK Is Not Here For Hot Takes

In this article, four Nigerian university students tell us how pregnancy scares affected their mental health and relationships with others.

1. ���I couldn���t hear anything my lecturer was saying��� ��� Lewato*, 21

The scare lasted eleven days. I was sitting in class and not retaining a single thing, and walking around campus with this weight on my chest that nobody could see.

I didn���t tell anyone. Not my roommate, not even my best friend. I just carried it alone because the moment you tell someone on this campus, it becomes hot gist. I���ve seen it happen before. You tell someone and by next week, everyone knows. The story will even have extra details.

So I just waited. I took three or four different tests within two weeks because I didn���t trust the first result. Each time, I���d lock myself in the toilet, hands shaking, trying to read the result fast before anyone knocked. The anxiety was physical. I was losing sleep, skipping meals, and convincing myself my body felt different.

When my period finally came, I sat on the bathroom floor and cried for a long time. Not just from relief, but exhaustion as well.

2. ���My boyfriend���s first response was ���are you sure it���s mine?������ ��� Debire*, 22

When I told my boyfriend I thought I was pregnant, he asked me if I was sure it was his. That question ended something in me. We had been together for eight months. I went to him scared and vulnerable, and that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

I didn���t even have the energy to fight about it. The rest of that conversation was him talking about what we���d ���have to do��� if it turned out positive. I stayed quiet all through. He was making decisions without asking me anything about how I felt or what I wanted.

Thankfully, I wasn���t pregnant. But the scare showed me exactly who I was dealing with. I broke up him with three weeks later.

3. ���Keeping The Baby Would Have Been My Only Option��� ��� Dammy*, 23

When I got the scare, I wasn���t thinking about telling my parents or what my friends would say. I was already on my phone calculating antenatal costs and imagining what a semester deferral would be like.

I���m currently in my final year. I���ve spent four years working towards something specific and the thought of it all pausing or disappearing because of a mistake was painful. I couldn���t sleep properly and I was very irritable. My group project partners probably even thought I hated them.

It eventually turned out fine. I was so glad about that because trying to comfortably afford a pregnancy would have been impossible for me at that time.

4. ���I was anxious for a long time after the scare��� ��� Mary*, 24

Everyone focuses on whether it���s a positive or negative result. They don���t dwell on what happens to you afterwards even when it���s a negative result. My brain was supposed to go back to normal after finding out I wasn���t pregnant, but I just couldn���t.

I was anxious for weeks, every new random symptom I discovered just made me spiral. If I felt even slightly nauseous, my mind would start thinking and connecting the dots. I was constantly wondering whether I was pregnant even though my period was regular. I couldn���t enjoy sexual activities for a while and I became withdrawn generally. I cried in the bathroom a lot.

I think I needed to talk to a counsellor or therapist, but the ones available on campus have a very long wait list. Also, I didn���t have faith in them understanding me without judgement. So I just managed my emotions alone until it got better.

Next Read: 4 Reasons Why Nigerian University Students Won���t Get Tested For STIs

In this article, four Nigerian University students tell us why getting tested for sexually transmitted infections (STIs) sometimes feels like a nightmare.

1. ���I Don���t Have Money for Treatment, So I���d Rather not Know��� ��� Daniella*, 23

The clinic on campus is genuinely terrible. I went in once to treat malaria and left feeling like I���d done something wrong. The nurse looked at me like I was wasting her time. So the idea of walking in there and asking specifically for an STI test? I can���t even picture it.

It���s not just the attitude. There���s no privacy, either. The waiting area is open; everyone can see who���s sitting where, and people talk. My school isn���t that big. By the time you leave, three people you know have already seen you and started drawing conclusions.

I���ve had unprotected sex before, and I know I probably should get tested, but every time I think about actually doing it, I talk myself out of it. What if it���s positive? I don���t have money for treatment, and I can���t tell my parents. So I���d rather just not know.

2. ���I���d Rather Wait It Out or Pray It Away��� ��� Anna*, 20

There���s a way people in school look at girls who aren���t bothered by sex. The moment they notice you���re not ashamed of it, they start talking about you. Honestly, I���ve seen it happen to other girls in my hostel and class. Just snippets of gist here and there about what they must be up to.

My friend once went to the campus clinic for a routine check. Somebody saw her there and assumed the worst. Now the entire department knows her for being the girl who took tests at the clinic. She hadn���t even done anything, yet that story followed her for the rest of the semester.

I���m in 200 level, so I still have years left in this school. I can���t afford to have a rumour about me being spread. So even when I���m worried or something feels off, I just wait it out and pray it resolves itself.

3. “My Girlfriend Thinks Asking to Get Tested Means I Don���t Trust Her��� ��� Bazzy*, 24

My babe and I have been together for about two years. A few months ago, I brought up the idea of us both getting tested, just to be responsible. She wanted to know why I was suddenly suggesting it, whether I���d been with someone else, or if I didn���t trust her. I dropped it so fast, and I haven���t brought it up ever since.

The thing is, I actually want to get tested, but testing has this loaded meaning in relationships. It feels like I���m starting to make a statement about my babe���s loyalty, and it���s going to keep causing unnecessary drama. I���ll probably just go alone one day without telling anybody.

4. ���My Parents Don���t Know How To Mind Their Business��� ��� Bibi*, 18

I���m really dependent on my parents for all my finances. They pay my fees, my allowance, everything. And because my account is connected to theirs, they���re able to monitor the account. So any unusual transaction is a conversation waiting for me on the next phone call. And that���s assuming they don���t immediately call to ask.

Going to the clinic isn���t free. I���ll pay for registration to get a card, a consultation and the testing. Even if I could explain away a random clinic charge, the follow-up questions are going to be crazy. My mum, especially. She would want to know exactly what I was tested for and why.

I���m not ready for that conversation, and I don���t think I���ll ever be while I���m still depending on them.

Next Read: The Reality of Working as a Tech Babe in Nigeria

Elizabeth was in 300 level, when she decided that waiting to graduate before earning was a plan she wasn’t interested in. Her first check came from interning at a marketing and advertising company. After her internship, she decided to make a full move into tech product management before completing her degree.

Now 24, she already has years of product management experience across FinTech and MediaTech. Her current role as a Product Innovation Associate at a venture building and capital firm has her working directly with start-up founders. Elizabeth���s day-to-day includes running user research, writing product documentation, sitting in stakeholder meetings, and removing whatever blockers are keeping engineers up at night.

But before you start romanticising the trajectory, Elizabeth wants you to know what the path actually looks like up close. Here are five things she’s learned about working in tech and product management that nobody really warns you about.

1. The Job Doesn’t Clock Out When You Do

For Elizabeth, the “end of the work day” has always been more of a suggestion than a rule. An 8:30pm call from her team lead on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. Saturday morning messages arriving with the urgency of emergencies. Sunday evening pings showing up right as she’d finally exhaled. Late night meetings with developers that nobody thought to schedule at human hours.

She absorbed all of it from her very first startup job, and young enough that the chaos became her normal before she had time to be shocked by it. “I’m not unfamiliar with how chaotic, exciting and sometimes unstructured working in a startup environment can be,” she says. Startups move fast and Elizabeth moved with them, even when moving fast meant always being on.

2. Your Personal Life Will Feel The Effects

This is the part Elizabeth tells with a laugh, because what else can you do?The first story involves a guy she’d been trying to meet for a while. They kept scheduling and the schedule kept collapsing because of work, which was a very clear preview of things to come. They finally locked in a date at Hans and Ren辿 on a weekday evening, after work hours. Surely after work hours would be safe territory. It was not safe territory.

A meeting got scheduled and stretched well past when it was supposed to end. Elizabeth sent apologies from her screen while he waited in his car outside for three hours. When she finally got there the place was nearly closing, they squeezed in anyway and got their ice cream. He ended up taking a work call during the date too. Just two tech people, doing their absolute best.

The second date had a different energy entirely. She was already mid-conversation with someone when her team lead called and needed her in a meeting immediately. Elizabeth excused herself, and joined the call on her phone. Then realised she needed her laptop and went back to her bag and date. Elizabeth returned to the table about forty minutes later with apologies. He was understanding. She was grateful. The laptop was completely unbothered.

3. Work-life Balance is Going To Need A New Definition

Elizabeth used to be a loud advocate for work-life balance back in school. She talked about it often and she meant every word. She’s since updated her position, not reluctantly but realistically.

“Nobody needs to tell me there is nothing like that,” she says, “especially if there is a certain level you want to get to.” Weekends started looking like weekdays. Rest became something she had to schedule rather than something that just arrived on its own. The version of herself that kept strict boundaries between work and personal time quietly stepped aside. Now, she���s made room for the version herself that was actually trying to build something.

She’s clear that this isn’t a complaint. It’s just the honest cost of being in a fast-moving industry. And she went in with her eyes open.

4. The Mental Load is its Own Full-time Job

The meetings and the late-night messages are the visible parts. What Elizabeth describes underneath them is a constant background hum of work that doesn’t switch off even when her laptop is closed. Checking messages first thing in the morning just to confirm nothing is on fire. Testing the product before the day properly starts to make sure everything is still working. Her head is a live map of every team she works with: Engineering, design, customer service, stakeholders, all running at once. And she has to know which one needs her attention at any given moment.

“People management is not easy at all,” she says. The job of a product manager is as much about holding people and priorities together as it is about the actual product. That kind of work lives in your head long after you’ve logged off.

5. You���re Allowed to Enjoy Your Money

This is the part Elizabeth wants young Nigerian women to actually hear. She takes herself out, buys herself things and plans annual vacations. She approaches it the same way she approaches any product goal: with a target, a timeline, and full intention to see it through. “Enjoy the money you’re working for,” she says. “Life is too short not to.”

The conversation around ambition for young Nigerian women tends to focus heavily on sacrifice and the grind. Those things are real, but the permission to enjoy what you’ve built is just as important. Building and enjoying aren’t opposites. Locking in at work and treating yourself well can exist in the same life. Elizabeth is proof of that.

For the Girl Who Wants This

If you’re watching Elizabeth’s career from the outside and wanting it, she’d tell you to want it fully, laptop dates and all. The path is worth it and the learning curve is steep. It will ask something of you. Your time, your weekends, and sometimes a version of your personality you were attached to. Go in knowing that.

The rewards are real too. You’ll learn fast, meet people who matter, and do work you’re genuinely proud of. You’ll build something that belongs to you, and when the money arrives, you’ll have earned the right to feel every bit of it.

Next Read: 7 Business Moves That Separate Profitable Brands From Broke Ones

1. Track These Three Things

Customer behaviour, inventory, and cash flow. These three systems stop businesses from leaking money. A basic website logging orders and customer profiles, an Excel sheet watching stock movement, and any tool showing the flow of money, in and out of the business. ���The data you get from that is truly undervalued, especially in Nigeria, where we don���t take data seriously,��� Seun said. They don���t have to be expensive. They just have to exist.

2. Cost-reflective Prices

Copying a competitor���s price without knowing your own numbers is guess work, and guess work keeps brands broke. Start with your actual costs, as regards production, logistics, overhead and marketing. Then factor in your customer type and leave room for inflation. ���You don���t want to be that brand that���s always changing prices every other day,��� Seun said. Buffer it in from the start.

3. Your Content Needs More Than One Function

Entertainment content gets traffic. Getting eyes on your page doesn’t mean getting money in your pocket ��� people who discover you through entertainment content are strangers, and strangers don’t buy on sight. For Seun Mallami, her fix is to use content pillars such as education, product information, behind-the-scenes and founder-led content. ���Traffic is your cold audience. What that means is that they���re just eyes on your page. It doesn���t necessarily translate to sales.��� Brands that only dance are doing one job, when they need to do more.

4. Build a Sales System

Urgent promotions spike demand but they don���t build a customer base. ���If you only sell when you do the urgent ticket promos, I wouldn���t call that your customer base. That���s just a temporary spike in demand.��� The framework Seun Mallami offers is to build consistent sales with consistent traffic. Consistent traffic comes from intentional content and marketing. A business that only sells with discounts doesn���t have customers. It has opportunists.

5. You Don���t Need Capital To Start

Dropshipping, affiliate marketing and made-to-order are all real business models.. Many ���big��� brands on Nigerian social media don���t carry stock. They produce when ordered. ���Even I,��� Seun said, ���before my stock comes in sometimes, use AI to generate pictures. My sales team is using that to convert sales in the DM. We���re getting sales before the stock comes in.��� The excuse of no capital is losing ground fast.

6. If You���re Broke, There Are Three Causes

Bad pricing that doesn���t cover real costs. Stocking up faster than your customers can buy, and dipping into company money before you understand your net. ���For most average businesses, your net is no more than 20, 25%. So they see that cash flow, they see that money enter and they���re like, oh, I have money��� then dip into it.��� Seun says AI tools can help small businesses track this without paying for sophisticated software. But none of it matters if you’re not tracking anything to begin with.

7. Selling to Nigerians Still Works

Inflation is real, purchasing power is unstable, and logistics costs can eat into margins. But abandoning the local market isn���t the answer either. “Don���t abandon Nigeria, just try to think bigger than one market,��� Seun advised.

Founders who are fixated on the USA and the UK underexplore other African markets, such as Kenya and Ghana, which can be very profitable. As a founder, you need to think in economies of scale, explore B2B and bundle products. The goal is bulky cash flow, not just sales volume.

Seun Mallami���s point across every advice she shared is the same. Structure isn���t something that you add when you grow. It���s what makes you grow.

Next Read: Uzoamaka Power Made Call of My Life for Everyone Who Has Ever Loved Too Much