"Submission" Isn't What Most People Think It Is

 I'm going to be careful here, because this word has been used to hurt a lot of women.

Let's start with what it isn't.

It isn't silence. A wife who never voices an opinion isn't submissive. She's absent.

It isn't obedience to abuse. No scripture, no tradition, and no elder's opinion makes it holy to stay in danger.

It isn't one person making every decision while the other pretends not to have a brain.

It isn't a personality trait. Some women are quiet. Some are loud. Neither is more "submissive."

Here's what I've come to believe it actually means:

It means order, not inferiority. Two people, one home, moving in the same direction — with a clear sense of who leads and who partners. Not a hierarchy of worth. A structure of function.

It's mutual. The same passage that asks a wife to submit asks a husband to love as Christ loved the Church — which, in practice, means laying down his preferences, his ego, and sometimes his comfort for her. Most people quoting the first part conveniently skip the second. Submission without sacrificial love isn't submission. It's just control with a scripture attached.

It's not a gag order. A submissive wife still says "I disagree", still says "that hurt me", still says "I need help". Submission is about the posture, not the volume.

And it goes both ways. In a healthy marriage, both people defer. Both yield. Both submit to the good of the us over the good of the me. That's the whole thing.

The word has been weaponised. I get why some women flinch at it. But I refuse to hand it over to the people who misused it.

Submission, lived well, looks less like a woman shrinking and more like a home with order, safety, and two people pulling in the same direction.

Neither the wife erased. Nor the husband unchecked.

Just a marriage that works.

Tell me below: what did you think submission meant before marriage — and did that change?

Aso-Ebi Is Out of Control. Can We Finally Talk About It?

 Aso-ebi started as a beautiful thing.

A family, dressed as one. A celebration where everybody belonged to somebody. A way of honouring the couple with colour and pride.

Somewhere along the way, it became a bill.

The bride's cousin's friend's sister wants ₦80,000 for a fabric she'll wear once… Three different groups are selling three different fabrics for the same wedding… Guests are quietly declining invitations because they can't afford to attend… And brides are being told they must provide fabric for hundreds of people, or face family disapproval.

Let's be honest about what's actually happening: aso-ebi has quietly become a financial and social burden, and we're all pretending it's still just tradition.

Here's what I think we need to say out loud:

Guests should be able to attend without buying fabric. A wedding is a celebration, not an invoice. If someone can show up, dress well in what they own, and dance for you: that's honour, not disrespect.

Brides should be allowed to keep it small. Two groups, not ten. One fabric for the people who actually want it. Permission to say "no aso-ebi, just come."

Families should stop using fabric as a loyalty test. "So you won't buy it? Are you not part of this family?" is manipulation wearing tradition's clothing.

Prices should be honest. If a fabric costs ₦20,000, don't sell it for ₦85,000 because it's "for a wedding."

And guests, you're allowed to say no. Politely, warmly, and without guilt. "I can't join the aso-ebi this time, but I'll be there with joy." That sentence is not a betrayal. It's a boundary.

Tradition should bring people together. The moment it starts dividing families and emptying pockets, we've stopped practising culture and started practising pressure.

Aso-ebi can stay lovely. It just needs to go back to being a choice.

Tell me below: what's the most you've ever paid for aso-ebi — and was it worth it? 👀