Spend five minutes in any policy meeting about Northern Nigeria and you will hear the same vocabulary. Poverty. Out of school children. Maternal and child mortality. Malnutrition. Insecurity. It is a region discussed like a patient with a long list of symptoms. A region reduced to indicators and deficits. What is rarely acknowledged is the force quietly preventing total social collapse in many of these same communities.
There is a hard truth we do not say often enough. The resilience of Arewa has been heavily subsidised by the unpaid, recognised labour of women. The region is described as fragile, yet families still function, children are still raised, and communities still hold together in the absence of strong systems. This did not happen by accident.
Northern Nigeria is constantly searching for solutions. More security. More infrastructure. More funding. More programmes. Yet one of the most powerful development assets already present in the region remains under-leveraged, under-supported, and poorly integrated into strategy.
That asset is women.
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This is not a sentimental appeal, nor is it an imported gender narrative. It is a question of efficiency. No region facing economic strain, youth unemployment, health challenges, and social instability can afford to operate with half of its human capacity underdeveloped.
Arewa's development conversation has been too narrow. We discuss roads, budgets, and political alignments, but we pay less attention to who actually shapes daily outcomes inside homes and communities. Women do. And until that reality is treated as a core planning factor, progress will remain slower than it needs to be.
Take human capital, the foundation of any society's long-term strength. Nutrition, early childhood care, health-seeking behaviour, and attitudes toward education are not formed in ministries. They are formed in homes. Women are central to those decisions. They determine how limited food is shared, when a sick child is taken for treatment, how hygiene is practiced, and how seriously schooling is taken. These are not minor domestic details. They are the building blocks of a future workforce.
If the people shaping those foundations are themselves undereducated, economically constrained, and poorly supported by health systems, the entire structure is weakened from the base.
The same applies economically. Across the North, women are already active in small trade, food processing, tailoring, and other home-based work. These activities keep households afloat and reduce pressure on already stretched male incomes. But most of this economic participation remains low-productivity and informal, not because women lack ability, but because they lack access to skills, finance, markets, and supportive systems.
From a development perspective, this is inefficient. It is like having machinery that runs at half capacity because no one invested in maintenance or upgrades.
It is also important to be clear about what is and is not the obstacle. Islam, which shapes much of the region's identity, recognises women's rights to property, education, and economic activity. The challenge many communities face stems more from cultural habits, economic fear, and weak institutions than from religion itself. Conflating culture with faith prevents practical solutions and creates unnecessary tension.
Supporting women in Arewa does not mean social upheaval. It means targeted, context-aware investment. Girls' secondary education is one of the most effective interventions available. Evidence consistently shows that educated women have healthier pregnancies, make better health decisions for their children, and contribute more to household income. Their children are more likely to attend school and perform better.
The health sector illustrates another opportunity. Female health workers are both needed and socially acceptable. Expanding training for midwives, nurses, and community health workers who are women strengthens service delivery, particularly in maternal and child health, while also expanding employment.
Technology is opening additional space. Remote and digital work allows women to earn without leaving their homes, fitting within social expectations while still connecting them to wider markets. With the right training and infrastructure, this could shift many women from subsistence activities into more sustainable income streams.
What makes investment in women particularly strategic is the multiplier effect. Gains rarely stop with the individual. Increased income and knowledge often translate into better fed children, improved school attendance, and more consistent use of health services. In fragile environments, these cumulative improvements strengthen social stability.
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Perhaps the most limiting factor at present is not policy but perception. Women in Arewa are often discussed mainly in terms of vulnerability. While challenges are real, this framing overlooks their role as active contributors to household economies and community life. They are not marginal actors. They are already central. The issue is that systems have not been designed with that reality in mind.
Northern Nigeria's future will not be determined only by large-scale projects or security strategies. It will also be shaped by the quality of human capital produced in homes and communities. Ignoring the role of women in that process is not neutral. It is a strategic blind spot.
Arewa does not lack strength. It is simply not using all of it. The question facing policymakers is straightforward: can the region afford to continue trying to solve complex problems while leaving such a significant portion of its human potential underdeveloped?
