As Nigerians increasingly seek opportunities beyond the country’s borders, traffickers are exploiting economic desperation, social pressure and digital platforms to lure women and girls into situations of sexual exploitation, abuse and forced labour. Michael Olukayode examines the hidden SGBV crisis behind irregular migration and the struggle of survivors to rebuild their lives.
For many Nigerians, the decision to leave the country begins innocently enough.
It begins with a dream.
A young woman wants a job that pays enough to support her child. A graduate wants to escape unemployment. A mother wants to give her family a better life. A young person sees photographs of friends abroad—new cars, houses, fashionable clothes and seemingly limitless opportunities—and begins to believe that the road to prosperity lies somewhere beyond Nigeria’s borders.
Then someone arrives with an offer.
A job abroad.
A scholarship.
A lucrative domestic position.
An opportunity in Europe, Asia or the Middle East.
The offer appears to be the answer to everything.
But for some Nigerian women and girls, the journey towards that promised better life becomes a descent into sexual exploitation, trafficking, physical violence, forced labour and psychological trauma.
The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) Chief of Mission in Nigeria, Ms. Dimanche Sharon, has seen the consequences repeatedly.
Her warning is stark: migration itself is not the problem. Unsafe migration is.
And at the heart of that danger is a form of violence that often remains hidden behind the statistics of irregular migration—sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV).
When migration becomes a trap
Irregular migration places people outside formal systems of protection.
Once a migrant travels through unofficial or unsafe channels, access to legal protection, healthcare, documentation and support can become severely restricted.
For women and girls, the consequences can be particularly devastating.
Sharon explains that women and girls travelling through irregular routes face increased exposure to sexual exploitation, gender-based violence and other forms of abuse.
Children travelling alone or separated from their families are equally vulnerable.
The trafficker understands this vulnerability.
The promise may be a legitimate job, but the reality can be forced prostitution.
The promised employer may become an abuser.
The person arranging the journey may confiscate the victim’s passport.
The debt incurred to finance the journey may become an instrument of control.
And what initially appeared to be an opportunity becomes captivity.
This is why the language of “migration for greener pastures” can sometimes conceal a much darker reality.
Behind the journey may be coercion, exploitation and violence.
The story of a woman who had nothing to return to
Among the cases Sharon recalled was that of a young Nigerian woman from Edo State.
Like thousands of others, she believed migration would transform her life.
She discussed the opportunity with her mother.
The family believed in the dream enough to make a painful sacrifice: her mother sold a property to finance the journey.
But abroad, the promised opportunity did not materialise.
Instead, the young woman experienced exploitation and abuse.
She became ill.
She was frightened.
Eventually, she managed to escape.
Yet escape did not immediately bring relief.
She was afraid to return home.
She had nothing.
Her mother’s property had been sold to finance the journey.
She feared the shame of returning empty-handed and being regarded as someone who had failed.
Even more painfully, some relatives reportedly encouraged her to remain abroad and continue looking for another opportunity despite what she had experienced.
Eventually, her mother persuaded her to come home.
With support from the Nigerian Government and IOM, she began rebuilding her life.
Today, she belongs to a cooperative, has acquired land, is building a livelihood and is able to send her child to school.
Her story illustrates a fundamental truth about trafficking and SGBV: survival does not necessarily end when a victim escapes.
The trauma can travel home with the survivor.
The violence that nobody sees
Sexual and gender-based violence leaves injuries that are not always visible.
A survivor may return physically safe but emotionally devastated.
There may be anxiety, depression, fear, shame, loss of confidence and social isolation.
Some survivors struggle to reintegrate because they fear being judged.
Others conceal their experiences because they believe their families or communities will blame them for what happened.
For women who have experienced sexual exploitation, the stigma can be particularly severe.
Instead of asking, “Who abused you?” society may ask, “Why did you go?”
Instead of asking, “How can we help you recover?” some may ask, “Why didn’t you come back earlier?”
Such questions shift responsibility from the perpetrator to the victim.
That is precisely what survivors do not need.
They need protection.
They need medical care.
They need psychological support.
They need legal assistance.
They need economic opportunities.
Above all, they need to know that they have not lost their dignity because somebody violated their rights.
Poverty is not the only driver
It is tempting to explain irregular migration simply through poverty.
But the reality is more complicated.
According to Sharon, unemployment and lack of economic opportunities interact with climate-related pressures, displacement, misinformation and social expectations.
Floods and droughts can destroy livelihoods.
Conflict can force families from their homes.
Loss of income can make people vulnerable.
And traffickers know exactly where vulnerability exists.
They present themselves as rescuers.
They offer the solution.
For women who have few economic choices, the promise of financial independence can be particularly powerful.
This is where gender inequality becomes intertwined with migration and trafficking.
A woman without access to stable employment or financial resources may have fewer choices when an apparently lucrative opportunity comes her way.
And when that opportunity turns out to be exploitative, her economic dependence can make escape even harder.
The family pressure nobody talks about
There is another uncomfortable part of the story: sometimes the pressure does not begin with the trafficker.
It begins at home.
Sharon recalls conversations with returnees who said they felt pressured by relatives to travel because their peers appeared to be succeeding abroad.
They were asked why they were still at home when friends and neighbours were returning with cars, building houses and sending money.
The message was clear:
Go abroad.
Make money.
Come back successful.
For some young people, that pressure becomes unbearable.
They may borrow money.
Their parents may sell property.
The family may invest its savings.
Once the money has been spent, returning without the promised success can feel impossible.
For a survivor of sexual exploitation, the psychological burden becomes even heavier.
She may feel that she cannot return home because she has failed the family.
She may remain in an abusive environment because she is afraid of returning empty-handed.
This is why families have a crucial role in preventing trafficking.
Home must remain a place where a person can return safely—even when the dream has collapsed.
The trafficker is now in the phone
Perhaps one of the most disturbing developments in the trafficking landscape is the growing use of technology.
Traffickers no longer need to meet their victims physically before recruitment begins.
They can find them online.
They can advertise fake jobs.
They can create convincing profiles.
They can establish relationships through WhatsApp.
They can use video calls to create an illusion of legitimacy.
And, increasingly, artificial intelligence can make deception even more sophisticated.
Sharon recalled the case of a Nigerian man who responded to a Facebook advertisement offering employment in Thailand.
He communicated with the recruiter through WhatsApp.
The conversations appeared genuine.
There were video calls.
Travel arrangements were made.
He was eventually flown out of Nigeria.
But what awaited him was not employment.
His passport was confiscated and he was moved across borders before being forced into online criminal activities.
The person with whom he had communicated through video calls, Sharon said, was not actually a real person. Artificial intelligence had been used to create a fake identity.
If technology can be used to construct such elaborate deception, the implications for women and girls searching for employment abroad are profound.
The first encounter with a trafficker may now occur while a potential victim is sitting safely in her bedroom.
SGBV does not end at the border
One of the greatest misconceptions about trafficking is that the danger ends once the victim returns home.
It does not.
For many survivors, return marks the beginning of another difficult journey: reintegration.
There may be physical injuries.
There may be psychological trauma.
There may be financial debt.
There may be stigma.
There may be damaged relationships.
And there may be the difficult task of rebuilding an identity after an experience that stripped the survivor of control over her own life.
Sharon describes recovery as more than bringing people home.
It is about restoring dignity.
IOM says it has assisted more than 68,000 returnees to return home safely and in a dignified manner and provided reintegration support to more than 53,000 people through economic, psychosocial and community-based interventions.
Such interventions are important because economic independence can be a critical part of recovery.
A survivor who has a livelihood is less likely to remain trapped in dependency.
A woman who has skills and income has greater control over her future.
And a young person who has realistic opportunities at home may be less vulnerable to fraudulent promises abroad.
The message must change
For years, the campaign against irregular migration has largely focused on its most dramatic dangers: deaths in the desert, drowning at sea, detention and abandonment.
Those warnings are necessary.
But the SGBV dimension must receive equal attention.
Young women need to know that trafficking may begin with what looks like an ordinary employment opportunity.
Parents need to understand that selling property to finance an unverified migration scheme can expose their children to devastating consequences.
Schools need to teach young people how to identify fraudulent recruitment.
Religious leaders need to challenge the stigma attached to returning home without money.
Communities need to stop celebrating only the apparent success stories of migration while ignoring the suffering behind them.
And the media must tell the whole story.
Not simply how many migrants returned.
Not simply how many people were arrested.
But what happened to the human beings caught inside these networks.
Safe migration is possible
The answer is not to tell Nigerians never to leave the country.
That would be unrealistic—and undesirable.
Migration can be beneficial.
Nigerians living abroad contribute billions of dollars through remittances. Skilled migrants acquire knowledge and experience that can benefit their families and communities. International education and employment can transform lives.
The issue is how people migrate.
IOM identifies regular pathways including education, employment, skills-based migration and family reunification.
The critical requirement is reliable information.
A prospective migrant should verify an employment offer through official channels.
They should understand visa requirements.
They should know who their employer is.
They should understand their rights.
And they should be suspicious of anyone demanding large sums of money while promising an unusually easy route to wealth.
If an opportunity sounds too good to be true, verification should come before payment.
From victims to survivors
The language used to describe people who have experienced trafficking also matters.
They are not failures.
They are not foolish.
They are not responsible for the violence inflicted upon them.
They are survivors.
And survivors can rebuild.
The Edo woman whose mother sold property to finance her journey is proof.
Her story did not end with exploitation.
It continued with recovery.
She acquired land.
She joined a cooperative.
She built a livelihood.
She sent her child to school.
She regained hope.
That is the kind of story that needs greater prominence in Nigeria’s migration conversation.
Not because the danger should be minimised, but because prevention and recovery must exist alongside warning.
The choice should remain a choice
Ultimately, the battle against irregular migration and trafficking is a battle over choice.
A young Nigerian should be able to decide whether to travel because she sees an opportunity—not because she sees no future at home.
A woman should be able to migrate without surrendering her body or dignity.
A child should not be treated as a commodity by criminal networks.
A family should not have to choose between selling its property and watching a loved one remain unemployed.
And a survivor should never feel ashamed to return home alive.
Government has a responsibility to strengthen migration governance, create opportunities and combat trafficking. IOM and other partners have a role in protection, reintegration and the creation of regular migration pathways. Communities must challenge stigma. Families must replace pressure with support. Young people must be equipped with accurate information.
And society must recognise that sexual and gender-based violence is not an unfortunate side effect of migration.
It is a grave human rights violation that can be enabled by unsafe migration systems and exploited by criminal networks.
The dream of a better life is legitimate.
The desire to travel is legitimate.
The search for opportunity is legitimate.
But no dream should require a person to gamble with her body, freedom or life.
As Sharon puts it:
“Dream big, but do not gamble with your life.”
For Nigerian women and girls confronting the promises of a better life abroad, perhaps the most important part of that message is this:
A better future should never come at the price of your dignity.
