BY ABDULKADIR M. LAWAN, MAY 22, 2026 | 03:54 PM

As Nigeria edges toward the 2027 general elections, political activity is already humming across the country. The ruling All Progressives Congress has held most of its primaries, and in states like Borno, the slate for the next cycle is nearly set.

In Borno, the APC has produced candidates for almost every elective position contested in the just-concluded primaries: 28 seats in the State House of Assembly, 10 House of Representatives seats, 3 senatorial seats, and the governorship ticket. Yet out of more than 40 slots, only one woman emerged as a candidate. The rest went to men.

This pattern is not new in the state. In Borno’s political reality, securing the APC ticket is often tantamount to securing the seat. With no strong opposition presence, the primary election frequently decides the outcome. That makes the composition of that ticket more than a party matter—it shapes who sits at the table where decisions affecting millions are made.

Here lies the contradiction. Women in Borno are not absent from politics. They organize, mobilize, attend campaigns, hold meetings, and turn out to vote in numbers that often exceed men’s on election day. Their energy fuels the process from the ward level upward. But when it comes to the final list of candidates, their presence shrinks to a single slot.

Is this tradition, or is it a persistent gap in gender equality?

If it is tradition, it is a tradition worth questioning. Culture evolves when it confronts its own blind spots. If it is inequality, then it is one with consequences. Women and children are among the most vulnerable in Nigeria’s NorthEast.

Issues of maternal health, girls’ education, early marriage, displacement, and social protection touch them most directly. When the people making laws and budgets have lived those realities, the policies tend to look different. Representation is not symbolic; it changes priorities, language, and outcomes.

Having more women in the State House of Assembly and in federal seats would not be charity. It would be practical governance. It would mean that the half of the population most affected by policy failures also has a hand in designing the solutions.

Borno has a history of resilience and of making hard choices in difficult times. Expanding the political space for women fits that same spirit. It means parties and party leaders looking beyond the familiar list, creating space for women who have proven their capacity in party structures, civil society, and communities.

The 2027 elections are still ahead. The primaries may be over, but the conversation about what kind of representation Borno wants is not. If the goal is a government that understands and responds to the lived realities of its people, then the next step is clear: the state needs more women on that ballot, and more women in the chambers where decisions are made.

For Lake Chad Times, this is not an abstract debate. We report daily on how decisions made in Maiduguri and Abuja shape the education of a girl in Bama, the healthcare of a mother in Dikwa, and the livelihood of a widow in Monguno. Women deserve more than one slot in 40. They deserve a seat at every table where Borno’s future is being written.