Anioma State: A Promise of Power & Representation For Nigerian Women

By PAULINA NZERUBE

IN Nigeria’s long history of state creation, maps have never been mere geography. Each new state is a reordering of power, a redistribution of resources, and a chance to correct political and social imbalances. From the 1967 restructuring that birthed 12 states to the 1996 exercise that gave us Bayelsa and Ebonyi, each moment of boundary redrawing has been an act of justice — bringing governance closer to forgotten communities and opening new spaces for inclusion.

Now, as the National Assembly considers Senate Bill 481 — a proposal by Senator Ned Munir Nwoko to carve Anioma State out of Delta — public discourse has focused largely on geopolitical arithmetic. But the deeper question remains unasked: who stands to benefit most from this exercise of constitutional re-engineering? For many, the answer should include Nigeria’s most underrepresented constituency — women.

Anioma, encompassing the Aniocha, Ndokwa, Ika, and Oshimili regions, represents more than a geographic ambition. It is an identity rooted in shared history, language, and culture — and a longstanding quest for equity. Senator Nwoko’s advocacy to correct the geopolitical imbalance of Igbo-speaking communities within the South-South is gaining ground. But beyond the maps and motions, Anioma’s creation could mark a turning point for women’s political empowerment.

Women make up nearly half of Nigeria’s population but remain largely absent from governance. According to the Inter-Parliamentary Union’s global index, Nigeria ranks among the lowest in female political representation — 143 out of 144 countries. The 10th National Assembly has only 21 women across both chambers — a sobering reminder that gender parity in politics remains far from reach.

Herein lies Anioma’s potential. A new state means new institutions — a House of Assembly, executive council, agencies, and local governments — all requiring leaders, administrators, and policymakers. These are not just bureaucratic positions; they are entry points for representation.

History offers proof. When Ebonyi was created in 1996, it opened doors for women who had been politically invisible under old Anambra. Figures like Senator Grace Obaji and Franca Afebia rose through those new structures, reshaping local governance. Globally, Rwanda’s 2003 state restructuring paired with gender quotas turned its parliament into the world’s most female-represented, at 61%.

Anioma’s creation offers Nigeria a similar opportunity: to embed inclusion into the foundation of a new political entity. With deliberate design — gender quotas in appointments, targeted funding for women’s enterprises, and laws protecting women’s rights — Anioma could model what inclusive governance should look like.

The state-level advantage for women is already clear. Studies by PLAC and UN Women show that Nigerian women fare better politically within states than at the federal level — more women are appointed to cabinets and win elections closer to home. Kwara, for instance, boasts over 55% female cabinet representation, far above the national average.

Local politics is more accessible: less costly, more community-driven, and less bound by national power hierarchies. For many women constrained by economic and social barriers, a new state means a smaller political ring — and a fairer fight.

But the promise extends beyond politics. Economically, a new Anioma State will manage its own budget, contracts, and development programs. Intentional policy can channel these resources into female-led enterprises, rural cooperatives, and microcredit initiatives — transforming economic empowerment from rhetoric to reality.

Culturally, Anioma’s history already holds a blueprint for women’s leadership. The Omu institution, where women hold positions of authority and influence, is an enduring symbol of female power in Anioma tradition. It is proof that gender equality is not a foreign import — it is native to the land itself.

Thus, creating Anioma is not just about redrawing Nigeria’s map; it is about redrawing the boundaries of inclusion. It is about turning political expansion into social justice — ensuring that women are not afterthoughts in the building of a new state, but architects of its foundation.

This is the moment for advocacy and vigilance. The Anioma State project must not become another exercise in elite bargaining. Women’s groups, civil society, and reform-minded leaders must demand binding commitments to gender inclusion in all emerging structures.

Change, after all, is not in the spelling of “Anioma” but in the making of its meaning. The call now is clear: if the creation of Anioma State must happen, let it happen with women at the center — as leaders, decision-makers, and equal stakeholders in a new dawn of governance.

Anioma’s birth could mark a turning point not just for Delta North, but for every Nigerian woman who has ever been told to wait her turn.

The time to claim that turn is now.