‘Because I like you’: The daily reality of female harassment in Port Harcourt

Melody Eze had walked through Diobu Market Road countless times, and like many residents of Port Harcourt, she knew the rhythm of one of the city’s busiest commercial hubs.

Every day, the road came alive with traders calling out to prospective buyers, buses struggling through traffic, motorcycles weaving between vehicles and pedestrians squeezing through every available space.

The smell of roasted corn mixed with fresh vegetables and dried fish wafted through the air, while loud bargaining and laughter formed the soundtrack of the market.

It was a place where thousands came to make a living, but for Melody, it was simply another route home, and she had no reason to believe that this walk would become another reminder of a reality many women silently endure.

With one hand holding her handbag and the other clutching a small shopping bag, she made her way through the crowded road, carefully avoiding puddles left behind by the previous night’s rain, as her only concern was getting home before the evening traffic worsened.

Then she heard it; “Fine girl!” She kept walking. The voice grew louder. “Beautiful! Wait now.” She did not turn.

Read also:  Nigerian female journalists face digital threats, mental strain-activists

As she approached another row of shops, she suddenly felt a hand brush against her arm and she froze.

For a brief moment, the sounds of the market seemed to disappear beneath the shock of what had just happened, then she turned around.

A man stood smiling at her as though nothing unusual had occurred, and she asked: “Why did you touch me?”

The question caught him off guard, and he looked at her with genuine surprise, as though he had expected her to continue walking without saying a word.

“Because I like you,” he replied. His answer came without hesitation because to him, the touch appeared harmless, but to Melody, it was something entirely different.

It was a reminder that a woman’s body could be treated as though it were open to public access simply because someone found her attractive.

“If you like me,” she asked calmly, “why didn’t you just talk to me? Why did you have to touch me?”

The man shrugged, saying “That’s just the way I do it.” His response lingered in Melody’s mind, as she wondered how many other women had heard those same words.

How many had remained silent simply because they feared confrontation or believed no one would take them seriously?

Instead of walking away immediately, she probed again, “Why didn’t you ask for my permission?”

He hesitated before replying, “If she’s your girlfriend, that’s different.” “But I’m not your girlfriend,” Melody answered.

Again, he fell silent, and she asked another question, “If another man touched your sister or your daughter the way you touched me, how would you feel?”

He shifted uneasily before giving a revealing reply that it was “their business, they’re adults.”

Rather than acknowledging that unwanted touching could make someone uncomfortable, he saw nothing wrong with what he had done.

Melody thanked him and continued walking. A few metres away, she approached another man standing beside a shop.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“What do you think about men touching women without asking for their permission?”

Unlike the first man, his response was immediate.

“It is better not to touch the person,” he said. “If you like somebody, you should ask politely first.”

“What if she’s very beautiful?” Melody asked.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he replied. “You can admire someone without touching them.”

His answer stood in sharp contrast to the first encounter.

Two men. Two opinions. One believed that attraction justified physical contact. The other believed that respect should come before admiration.

As Melody continued walking through the crowded road, she realised that the issue extended far beyond one uncomfortable encounter.

It reflected a larger question confronting society.

When did unwanted touching become so normal that some people no longer recognise it as crossing a boundary?

Walking through markets often involves preparing mentally for comments about their appearance, unsolicited attempts at conversation and, in some cases, physical contact from complete strangers.

For Melody, what happened on Diobu Market Road was not simply about one stranger reaching out to touch her, it was about the assumption that a woman’s personal space becomes negotiable the moment someone finds her attractive.

And that assumption is one many Nigerian women continue to challenge every day.

She replayed the conversation repeatedly in her head, wondering whether she had overreacted or whether society had simply become too comfortable with behaviour that should never have been normalised.

For the first time that day, Melody became acutely aware of every passer-by. Every voice calling “Fine girl” made her tense. Every stranger who walked too closely caused her to instinctively step aside.

That is one of the least discussed consequences of street harassment. The incident itself may last only a few seconds, but the emotional impact often lingers much longer.

For many women, it creates a heightened sense of alertness whenever they moved through public spaces. Some begin to avoid particular roads, markets or motor parks.

Some wear earphones not to listen to music, but to discourage unwanted conversations. Others lower their heads and quicken their pace, hoping not to attract attention.

Melody’s experience is far from unique, as across Nigeria, women continue to recount similar stories of being grabbed, touched, blocked from walking or subjected to sexually suggestive remarks in markets, on public transport and along busy streets.

These experiences may differ in intensity, but they are connected by one common thread which is the absence of consent and the disregard for personal boundaries.

Evidence suggests that this problem is more widespread than many people realise.

A 2019 survey conducted by a newspaper in Nigeria found that 76.2 percent of women surveyed had experienced harassment in Nigerian markets.

The same survey reported that 69.8 percent had experienced physical or verbal harassment, including unwanted touching, catcalling, whistling and sexually suggestive remarks.

Even more telling, 85.5 percent of respondents believed such behaviour continues because perpetrators are rarely challenged or punished.

The findings indicate that Melody’s experience reflected a pattern affecting women across different parts of the country rather than an isolated incident.

Public frustration over this reality came into sharp focus in 2019 during the Market March Movement in Yaba, Lagos.

Tired of repeated incidents of unwanted touching and harassment while shopping, women organised a peaceful march through the market carrying placards bearing messages such as “Stop Touching Us.”

The reaction to the protest exposed how deeply divided public opinion remained. While many Nigerians expressed support for the women, reports showed that some traders mocked the protesters and sections of the crowd reportedly chanted, “We must touch.”

Rather than discouraging the demonstrators, the response strengthened the conversation around consent and highlighted how deeply normalised street harassment had become.

The march transformed what many had dismissed as a private inconvenience into a national conversation about dignity, respect and the right of women to move freely through public spaces without fear.

Nigeria’s legal framework also provides important context for understanding the issue.

Section 34(1)(a) of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended), guarantees every individual the right to the dignity of the human person and protects citizens from inhuman or degrading treatment.

Section 42 of the Constitution further guarantees that no citizen shall be discriminated against on the basis of sex, ethnicity, religion or circumstances of birth.

These constitutional protections reinforce the idea that women should be able to occupy public spaces without fear of intimidation, humiliation or unwanted physical contact.

In addition, the Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act, 2015 (VAPP Act) represents a significant step in addressing different forms of violence and abuse.

Although implementation varies across states because each state must adopt the legislation or enact equivalent laws, the Act reflects a growing recognition that personal autonomy, consent and protection from violence deserve legal attention.

Families, schools, religious institutions, market associations and community leaders all have roles to play in teaching respect for boundaries and emphasising that attraction never overrides consent.

Melody eventually reached home that evening, but she carried more than the shopping bag in her hand. She carried questions that thousands of Nigerian women continue to ask every day.

Why should an ordinary walk through a public market require constant vigilance? Why should women be expected to adjust their behaviour while those who invade their personal space excuse their actions as compliments?

Respect should never depend on whether a woman is someone’s wife, sister, daughter or girlfriend.

It should exist because she is a human being. Until every woman can walk through a market, board a bus or stroll down a street without fearing that a stranger may decide her body is his to touch, the conversation about street harassment in Nigeria remains unfinished.

The challenge, therefore, is not only legal but cultural.

For decades, women have been told to ignore catcalls, avoid eye contact, walk faster or simply “get used to it.” Some are blamed for the clothes they wear. Others are asked why they respond instead of remaining silent.

Rarely is the same level of scrutiny directed at those responsible for the behaviour. Changing this narrative requires collective responsibility.

Parents must teach boys from an early age that admiration does not give them ownership over another person’s body.

Schools should educate young people about boundaries, respect and consent. Bystanders matter too. Too often, incidents of harassment are dismissed as entertainment.

Respect should never depend on whether a woman is someone’s wife, sister, daughter or girlfriend. It should exist because she is a human being.

The touch lasted only a second. The conversation it started may last much longer.

And perhaps, real change will begin the very day every person understands that admiration for another person ought to be expressed in words, respect and consent, and not with hands that were never invited.