Nigerian weddings are usually a full-blown community affair, complete with family expectations, age-old customs, and plenty of unsolicited opinions. But what happens when young people flip the script and do things their own way?
We spoke to nine Nigerians who are ditching tradition and choosing what feels true to them.
“My mother will walk me down the aisle” — *Precious, 26
Some people dream of the moment their dad walks them down the aisle. For *Precious, that dream has always belonged to her mum.
“My parents separated a long time ago, and since then, my dad has been completely absent. He’s been a deadbeat, and my mum had to step up and play both roles — emotionally, financially and physically too. She raised me and my siblings single-handedly, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my dad in the past ten years. The last time was at my university convocation. He showed up, acting like a proud father, even though my mother’s sweat funded everything.
Now that I’m in a committed relationship, I’ve been thinking a lot about my wedding day and how I want it to go. I know I can’t exactly stop my dad from attending, but he definitely won’t be the one walking me down the aisle. That honour belongs to my mum. She’s been both mother and father to me in the truest sense of the words.
When I brought it up, she hesitated because “people will talk”, and even suggested one of my uncles could do it instead. But those uncles barely know me. I’ll convince her to do it. The least I can do is let her walk me into the next chapter of my life.”
“I’ll personally refund my bride price” — *Amaka, 28
*Amaka grew up watching her mother endure marriage as a transaction. But the buck stops with her.
“Growing up, I watched my father use the bride price he paid as a weapon against my mother. He constantly reminded her of it, as if it gave him permission to treat her however he pleased. It was degrading, and I swore I would never let that happen to me.
Now, I’m engaged to a genuinely kind man, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve decided that I’ll personally refund my bride price after our wedding. I’ve mentioned it to him before, but we haven’t had a serious conversation yet, especially because our families are both traditional. The items on the list have already added up to ₦400,000 for my introduction alone. I expect the bride price itself will be somewhere between ₦300,000 and ₦500,000. I’m putting money aside for that. It’s a small price for my independence.”
“My siblings will not attend my wedding” — *Cecile, 24
For *Cecile, peace is more important than appearances. She’s known too much hostility from her half-siblings to pretend it’s all kumbaya on her big day. She shares:
“I’m my parents’ only child together. They both had children before meeting, so I have older half-siblings on both sides. But they’ve never really cared about me; honestly, the feeling is mutual.
What bothers me the most is how my dad’s children talk to my mum. They’ve never liked her, and they don’t hide it. I don’t want that kind of energy around me on one of the most important days of my life. Having all of them in one room feels like setting off an atomic bomb.
I already know my dad won’t be happy about it, but I’ve decided I’ll elope. I’ll have a private ceremony with the love of my life and tell everyone afterwards. It may not be traditional, but I’ll have my peace.”
“I’ll have a virtual wedding on Zoom or Google Meet” — *Yomi, 30
*Yomi’s biggest fear is having all eyes on him on his wedding day, Soo he’s doing it his way: online, low-key and on his terms.
“I have social anxiety and don’t do well in crowded spaces. I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes person, and being the centre of attention makes my anxiety spiral. Just imagining myself standing in front of a room full of people on my wedding day makes my chest tighten.
That’s why I’ve decided to have a virtual wedding. Whether it’s Zoom or Google Meet, I want a ceremony that feels safe and comfortable for me. If our families insist on a physical celebration, they can go ahead and organise it. But my partner and I will attend virtually from wherever we are.”
“My best friend is officiating my wedding” — *Chinonso, 32
*Chinonso doesn’t care much for religious clerics who are clueless about his life’s journey. For him, it’s more special to have a friend who’s seen it all pronounce him married. He shares:
“I’m marrying my dream woman in a few months, and I’ve decided I don’t want a pastor at my white wedding. My best friend will officiate it instead. My partner and I aren’t religious, and she fully supports the idea.
The only pushback is from my parents, who believe that without a pastor, the marriage won’t be spiritually recognised. I understand why they’d feel that way, but I honestly don’t care. It’s my wedding, and I want it to reflect my personal values.”
“I’m wearing a tux to my wedding” — *Ella, 29
*Ella doesn’t remember the last time she wore a dress, and her wedding day isn’t going to be an exception.
“Growing up, people always said I acted like a tomboy. I spent years trying to fit into their idea of what a girl should be. But now that I’m older, I no longer care about fitting into anyone’s box. I dress and live how I want.
I have a boyfriend, and we’re planning our wedding. But I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore a dress. I’m not about to start on one of the most important days of my life. I’ll be rocking an expensive tuxedo, and I don’t care if my parents lose their minds. I want to feel like myself on that day.”
“I’ll print out a banner with pictures of my guests” — *Ayana, 26
*Ayana’s not taking chances with gatecrashers. For her, a face-to-face screening is a must at her wedding ceremony.
“I hate how Nigerians feel entitled to crash weddings they weren’t invited to, especially when weddings are so expensive these days. I stopped trusting access cards after my cousin’s wedding. Despite having a strict guest list, the hall was jam-packed. We found out people were sharing their access cards with uninvited guests.
That experience taught me a lesson. For my wedding, I’ll print a large banner with pictures of every guest beside their names. You won’t even get the invite without submitting your picture. On the day, we’ll verify your face before you enter. People laugh when I say this, but I’m serious. I’m not feeding strangers on my big day.”
“I’m skipping all the traditional ceremonies” — Mustapha*, 28
*Mustapha knows what’s expected of him as a Yoruba Muslim son. But after years of feelings boxed in by cultural expectations, he’s calling the shots on his own terms.
“I come from a deeply traditional Yoruba Muslim family, but my fiancée and I are doing things differently. We’ve decided to skip the entire traditional ceremony. No introduction, no engagement, no traditional wedding.
Instead, we’re planning a simple, intimate beach wedding here in Nigeria with just close friends and a few loved ones. Our families have kicked against it and threatened not to show up. Honestly, that’s okay. We’ve made up our minds.”
“My husband and his friends must prostrate to me too” — *Toke, 23
For *Toke, the bride also deserves her own gesture of honour on such an important day.
“You know that tradition where the groom and his friends lie flat on the floor to beg the bride’s family to release her? I must flip that script.
After all the grovelling to my family, my husband and his boys must prostrate to me too. He’s not marrying my people, he’s marrying me. He should beg me to follow him to his house, too. It’s only fair.”
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