Marriage in west Africa has played a central role in shaping aspects of society, and has evolved over time. While traditional heterosexual unions dominate discussions, a lesser-known but significant practice – woman-to-woman marriage – has existed for centuries.
In my research, I examined this institution, which allows a woman to assume the role of a husband by marrying another woman. There’s evidence of woman-to-woman marriage in more than 40 societies across west Africa, including the Igbo of Nigeria, the Frafra of Ghana and the Dahomeans of present-day Benin.
How it works is that a woman – often wealthy or of high status – pays a bride price and takes on a wife who is expected to bear children. A male relative or chosen partner, known as the genitor, fathers the children. The children will legally belong to the female husband and are considered part of her lineage. This reinforces kinship structures, or family ties within traditional communities and clans, vital to west African societies.
Unlike romantic same-sex unions, these are social contracts. They aim to preserve lineage, secure inheritance, and enhance a woman’s economic and political agency.
Female husbands gain significant control over property by assuming the role of head of household. This enables them to own and manage assets independently, a right typically reserved for men.
Securing heirs through their wives ensures the continuation of their lineage and the inheritance of their property and status. It solidifies their long-term agency and influence within the community.
The union also grants them more legal standing – they can enter into contracts, resolve disputes, and represent their family in legal matters, further empowering them in a patriarchal society.
This all translates into considerable influence. Female husbands can hold positions of authority, and command respect. They challenge traditional gender roles.
Colonial distortions and modern misconceptions have obscured the meaning and function of this historically prevalent practice. Despite its important role, it has declined over time. With growing stigma, the old customs have become less common.
My research seeks to underscore the historical value of woman-to-woman marriage. It offers a lens for understanding the complexities of African gender systems, female agency and social structures.
Tradition rooted in kinship and social stability
Using a combination of oral interviews, archival research and literature reviews, I found that there are various scenarios in which woman-to-woman marriage is practised in west Africa.
In Okrika, in Nigeria’s Rivers State, for example, I was told how a married woman who has no male child in her family is allowed to marry a woman so that a male child can be born into the family. If her marriage does not produce a male child and she has money, the culture allows her to marry more than one wife as long as she can take care of them and the union can produce a male child to carry the name of her family.
In my interview with Chief Nkemjirika Njoku, of the Mbaise Igbo in Nigeria, he described another scenario. He explained that if a man died without male heirs, his daughters could pay a bride price for a woman to bear children in his name. This ensured his lineage did not disappear.
Similarly, among the Frafra people of Ghana one study shows how:
a wealthy woman may marry one or more women for her husband by providing the bridewealth. These women bear children in her name in the event of her being childless or to offer extra labour.
These accounts illustrate how marriage and kinship complement each other and how this practice provided women with economic influence and social mobility, often rivalling men’s.
Colonial disruptions and modern challenges
Despite the tradition’s important role, during the 19th century European colonial officials and Christian missionaries misunderstood and condemned the practice.
Viewing it through a Victorian moral framework – rigid and conservative values of 19th-century Britain which emphasised strict gender roles, sexual restraint and moral purity – they mistakenly equated it with homosexuality and sought to outlaw it. For instance, in 1882 British colonial authorities in Ghana criminalised same-sex relations. These laws included woman-to-woman marriages, despite their deeply rooted cultural significance.
The practice persisted in various forms, however, but did become less prevalent.
In some cases, the unions were subtly restructured to avoid colonial scrutiny. Participants framed them more as business partnerships or familial arrangements rather than marriages. For instance, many prominent traders would use the unions to expand their wealth and business networks. Among the Hausa-Fulani textile traders of the Sokoto Caliphate, for example, a wealthy widow could marry a woman to manage her trade. This ensured that children born within the union inherited her wealth.
Subverting or reinforcing patriarchy?
Today, woman-to-woman marriage remains misunderstood. Some argue it reinforces patriarchal structures, while others conflate it with lesbian relationships.
The growing influence of Christianity and Islam has led to its stigmatisation. Meanwhile modern legal systems fail to recognise the unions, leaving female husbands and their children vulnerable in inheritance disputes.
Advancements in reproductive technology provide alternative means for childbearing, reducing the need for these marriages.
In my opinion, though, this tradition remains a valuable and powerful system. It highlights the ingenuity of African societies in creating alternative structures of power, kinship and economic security – especially for women.
Based on my research I concluded that woman-to-woman marriage is an example of flexible African gender constructs. Gender is not strictly tied to biological sex but to social roles and responsibilities. African societies have creatively adapted marriage and kinship to meet economic and social needs.
More than a marriage practice, woman-marriage has been an assertion of female agency, an economic strategy, and a means of preserving lineage.
Bright Alozie does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
