Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti: How Do We Preserve The Legacy of Our Women Heroes?

As a child who didn’t grow up around history books, one of my first introductions to Nigerian history was our currency notes. I could mention the names of each person printed on them, even in my sleep. I became more curious to read about them, learning who Sir Ahmadu Bello, Nnamdi Azikiwe, Aliyu Mai Bornu, Clement Isong, and others were. The innocent child in me even dreamt of being printed on the notes someday because I thought anyone could appear there.

I remember telling one of my primary school classmates about my dream to be on our currency notes. Specifically the N20 note because I would join the military and fight for my country. My classmates and I shared a lot of things and the moment I mentioned that dream, she also expressed her desire to have her face on the N5 note because every child was given N5 at the time, but I told her she was never going to appear on any. She asked why, and I told her to look through the notes to see if she could find any note with a woman’s face on the front. She affirmed she was going to be the first female to appear on the front.

One of the things I was curious about as a child was the exclusion of women’s faces on the front page of the Nigerian currency notes. The few that are printed on it appear at the back and only one of them, Ladi Kwali, had her name on the note. Others are lacking in that regard, thereby having no historical affiliations or sparking curiosity in those who see the note. 

As I grew older, I realised this erasure of women wasn’t confined to our currency notes. It reflects and has permeated across various areas and disciplines in Nigeria. There seems to be an obliteration of women’s contribution to society, despite making up nearly half of the population. Across sectors, women hold a minuscule percentage of elective offices and these barriers are not just legal or political but deeply cultural, rooted in patriarchal norms that discourage female leadership, acknowledgement and recognition. Point: Women’s achievements are often underreported, and their contributions to society are overshadowed by a culture that prioritises men’s roles. And when women are featured, it is frequently in stereotypical contexts that reinforce outdated gender norms.

Since Bolanle Austen-Peters’s eponymous biopic of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti has been made available on streaming platforms, many Nigerians have come out to appreciate the movie for enlightening them more on the life and historical contribution of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti who was a political and women’s rights activist. For many Nigerians, before that movie, Funmilayo was simply the first woman to drive a car in Nigeria and the mother of Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Most likely nothing else, just that. Her contributions to taxation levies, being the first female student to attend Abeokuta Grammar School, the first president of Abeokuta Women’s Union, one of the influential people who negotiated independence with the British and other outstanding contributions were not mentioned. But she was more than an activist and Fela’s mom. She was a lioness and nation builder. 

A fraction of people have blamed Nigerians’ reading culture for not knowing about Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti and Nigerians’ inherent lack of research interest. While this might seem true in a general assessment of history, it isn’t valid in this context, particularly when it comes to women. We didn’t have to research or read widely to know Awolowo or Azikwe or understand what happened to MKO Abiola. We knew because these stories were talked about and these people were in our faces – in Naira notes, statues, on TV, in stories, names after streets or buildings. Everywhere. It is not the same for women who have equally played a significant role in shaping and building our society. There is relegation and erasure of women’s contributions to history and this is evident in how much or less people know about Funmilayo. This means that the death of our female heroes most likely means the end of their heroic stories. These layers of marginalisation reflect a broader societal issue: that even in our collective fight for a better society, women are undervalued and unseen.

As I ponder on why women’s contributions have been minimised or erased – the faces on our currency notes, the stories shared in our classrooms, and the narratives that shape our collective memory frequently overlook the remarkable achievements of women – I have concluded that the exclusion, erasure or relegation isn’t just an oversight; it reflects deep-seated biases that are present in every aspect of our society. These biases not only hinder women’s progress but also stifle the nation’s overall development and depreciate the quality of knowledge the next generation gets.

The story of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti is an example of this. The legacy of a pioneer in women’s rights and a formidable force in Nigeria’s political landscape was reduced to a trivia fact – a car — until a movie brought her story to the forefront. This revival of her memory projects the importance of representation and the need to celebrate women’s contributions as vigorously as we do men’s.

It is not only about adding more women to our currency notes or history books, it’s about recognising the systemic structures that have long silenced half of our population. Young women need to see a reflection of themselves. They deserve to see that they can always achieve something long achieved by the women before them. Women’s stories are not just additions to history, they are integral to it. Therefore, how can we ensure that the contributions of women are not just remembered, but revered and integrated into the fabric of our national identity? What steps will we take to rewrite our narratives, making room for the countless women who have shaped, and continue to shape our world? We have a movie that projects Funmilayo’s efforts. Who is next?