WHEN THE BEDROOM BECOMES A BATTLEFIELD
In this our country, we don’t like to talk about what happens behind closed doors especially, when it concerns sex. Ah! Once the matter enters the bedroom, we quickly lock it up with shame, padlock it with culture, and throw the key into the deepest part of the river. “That one is husband and wife matter,” we say, as if marriage is a license for suffering.
But let us ask ourselves honestly: since when did intimacy become intimidation? When did “come closer” start to sound like a threat instead of an invitation? Many women, and yes, men too, though we hardly admit it, go to bed at night not out of love, not out of desire, but out of fear. Fear of a quarrel. Fear of a slap. Fear of being called names that strip them of dignity. In some homes, sex is no longer a language of affection; it has become a weapon of control. And we, the society, are standing outside the window pretending not to hear the cries muffled under pillows. We hear things, oh. We are not deaf.
We notice that the once lively woman now walks like someone carrying a basket of sorrow on her head. We hear the arguments that start at dusk and stretch into the night. We see the man who smiles outside but becomes a tyrant once the door clicks shut. Yet, we adjust our wrappers, clear our throats, and say, “It is not my business.” But it is our business. Because when a person is forced, coerced, or emotionally blackmailed into intimacy, that is violence. Call it by its name. Not “marital duty.” Not “wifely submission.” Violence. So, what then should be done? How do we move from this dangerous culture of silence to a culture of courage?
Sincerely, Non-governmental organisations must begin to enter these conversations the way light enters a dark room gently, but unapologetically.
First, they must make it clear that consent does not expire after marriage. This idea that once a ring is on the finger, the body becomes public property. Who started it? NGOs need to drive this message home in simple, relatable ways. Use stories. Use drama. Use real-life scenarios that make people pause and think, Ah, so this thing I thought was normal is actually wrong.
Second, create safe and discreet reporting channels. Let us not deceive ourselves, many victims will not walk into an office and announce, ‘I am being abused in my bedroom.’ The shame alone can silence a whole village. But if there are confidential hotlines, trusted community agents, or even coded ways to ask for help, more people will speak. Sometimes, all a victim needs is one safe ear.
Third, take the conversation to places people actually gather. Markets, salons, motor parks, churches, mosques and others. These are our real conference halls. Let the message go there. Let the woman braiding hair hear it. Let the man playing draughts under the tree hear it. Speak in the language they understand, not grammar that flies over their heads.
Fourth, empower neighbours and family members to stop minding their business all the time. Yes, I said it. That your neighbour is shouting every night is your business. That your sister suddenly avoids going home early is your business. NGOs can train communities to recognise signs of abuse and, more importantly, what to do about it. Not gossip. Action. We need real action.
Fifth, provide real support systems. It is easy to say, ‘Leave that abusive situation.’ Leave and go where? To who? With what money? NGOs must back their advocacy with shelters, counselling, legal assistance, and even economic support. Courage grows faster when there is somewhere soft to land.
Sixth, involve men because, my people, let us not be deceiving ourselves, who are we really talking to? If we keep speaking only to victims, we are treating symptoms and ignoring the disease. Engage men in honest conversations about power, respect, and what true intimacy means. A man who understands that love is not force is less likely to turn the bedroom into a battleground.
And finally, tell the stories. Carefully, respectfully, but truthfully. Stories have a way of entering where lectures cannot. When people hear that the smiling couple next door is actually fighting silent wars at night, something shifts. Awareness is no longer abstract. It becomes real.
At the end of the day, this matter is not merely about a particular gender. It is about dignity. It is about choice. It is about the right of every human being to feel safe in the most private part of their lives. Because if a person cannot find peace on their own bed, then tell me, where exactly is safe?
We must stop decorating silence and start confronting truth. The bedroom should be a place of rest, not a war zone. And until we say that loudly again and again, we will keep raising generations who inherit both the silence and the scars.
Anthony Ekpo Bassey PhD, teaches Journalism at the University of Calabar
