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By Peter Bakare
Ondo State, fondly called the Sunshine State for its rolling hills, fertile soil and deep cultural heritage, carries a contradiction rarely discussed in public. Beneath the warmth of its people and pride in tradition lies a harmful practice that continues to violate the bodies and rights of girls and women: Female Genital Mutilation (FGM).
Despite laws outlawing the practice, increased advocacy and years of public awareness campaigns, FGM remains quietly entrenched in some communities across the state, sustained by cultural myths, silence, fear and weak enforcement.
Hidden scourge beneath tradition:
In several Ondo communities, FGM is still seen as a rite of passage into womanhood. Families justify it as a way to preserve chastity, suppress sexual desire, and ensure marital fidelity. These beliefs, handed down through generations, have endured despite overwhelming medical and human-rights evidence proving that FGM has no health benefits and causes lifelong harm.
Studies conducted in the state reveal that a troubling number of women still support the practice, not necessarily out of cruelty, but because of cultural conditioning, social pressure and limited access to accurate information. Often, the procedure is carried out in secrecy by traditional birth attendants or elderly women, using crude instruments without anaesthesia or sterile conditions.
Lived realities in communities:
Behind the statistics are real people, girls whose cries go unheard and women who carry scars they never chose.
One such voice is Funke Adeyemi, now in her early thirties, the scars are both physical and psychological. Circumcised shortly after birth in Akoko land, she grew up believing her pain during menstruation and intimacy was “God’s will.”
“It was only when a doctor explained it to me that I realised the truth,” she said. “Something was taken from me before I could speak.”
Another survivor, Adebimpe (surname withheld) from a riverine community in Ilaje Local Government Area, recalls being cut at the age of ten.
“I was held down by women I trusted,” she said. “I bled for days. No one took me to the hospital. They said it was normal.”
Years later, Adebimpe still battles chronic pain and emotional trauma. During childbirth, complications linked to the mutilation nearly claimed her life. “That day, I understood that what they did to me was not love or culture, it was violence,” she said.
For Ololade Margret Lawal, a mother of two, whose life was upended by a practice she desperately tried to resist.
Her ordeal began when her first daughter was circumcised at the age of seven, without her consent or even her knowledge. The act shattered her peace and triggered deep conflict between her and her husband’s family, who insisted the procedure was “necessary” and “traditional.”
When she later gave birth to her second daughter, fear consumed her. Fear that history would repeat itself, fear of violent confrontation if she resisted again. With no protection or support system, Ololade made a life-altering decision: she fled her marital home with her children.
Her story mirrors the silent struggle of many women in Ondo State, women who oppose FGM but lack the power, protection or community backing to stop it.
The Health and Human Cost
Medical professionals across Ondo State continue to see the devastating consequences of FGM.
According to healthcare workers, complications range from severe bleeding and infections to obstructed labour, sexual dysfunction and long-term psychological trauma.
A senior public health physician in Akure, who requested anonymity, described FGM as a “preventable medical tragedy.”
“We see women with complications that could have been avoided entirely,” the doctor said. “FGM increases the risk of childbirth complications and maternal mortality. Beyond the physical injuries, many survivors suffer depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress.”
Nigeria has one of the highest absolute numbers of women and girls affected by FGM globally, and Ondo State remains among states with historically high prevalence rates. While national legislation criminalises the practice, enforcement at the grassroots level remains weak, allowing perpetrators to operate with little fear of consequences.
Cracks in the Old Walls: Rising Advocacy:
In recent years, however, resistance to FGM has grown louder.
The Ondo State Government, working alongside UNICEF and civil society organisations, has intensified public sensitisation campaigns.
Community dialogues, school-based education programmes, engagement with traditional rulers and the establishment of technical committees are gradually challenging long-held norms.
Human-rights advocates say survivor voices are now at the centre of the movement.
“FGM is not culture. It is a violation of human rights,” said a gender-rights advocate working in the state. “Culture evolves, and anything that endangers life and dignity must be abandoned.”
Some traditional leaders and health workers have begun speaking out publicly against the practice, while more parents are choosing not to circumcise their daughters. Yet activists warn that progress remains fragile and easily reversible without sustained community engagement and firm law enforcement.
Turning point
Ondo State stands at a crossroads, caught between tradition and transformation. The testimonies of survivors like Ololade, Adebimpe and Funke expose a painful truth: until communities collectively reject FGM and authorities enforce the law, girls will continue to suffer in silence.
Ending Female Genital Mutilation will require more than policies on paper.
It will demand courage from mothers and fathers, traditional rulers and lawmakers, religious leaders and institutions, to protect girls not as cultural symbols, but as human beings with rights, dignity and futures worth defending.
