SENATOR NATASHA: THE LIONESS DNA IN A SENATE OF SHEEP

There is something about the African soil that conditions the child. It shapes the bones and stiffens the spine with its heat and hardship. Yet, there is also something about the African society that suppresses boldness, especially in women, because this society has mastered the art of silence. Silence when abused, when cheated, and even in the face of cruelty. The African woman, born and bred in this silence, is raised to adjust, to endure, to surrender. Her dignity is considered a gift to power, and her voice, a threat to patriarchy. It is within this decaying culture that we must place the defiance of Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, a woman whose very existence seems to threaten the bones of Nigeria’s political gods.

It is not enough to say she is brave. That would be insulting. What this woman is doing in the face of institutional torment, coordinated blackmail, and organised conspiracy goes beyond what Nigeria has been trained to comprehend. Since she exposed the Senate President for what she described as sexual harassment, what has followed has not been justice or investigation. It has instead been vengeance. A ruthless, systematic kind of vengeance. They suspended her, ostracised her, sponsored media attacks, lured compromised voices to defame her, and even weaponised the legal system. They brought in a mentally unstable character from America, the one who calls herself Scamdra Dupe-U, to launch a smear campaign, thinking perhaps that madness would be more believable than truth. All of it was just to break her. Yet, she has refused to bend.

There is something in her DNA that they did not calculate. The Nigerian society raises girls to become women who obey before complaint, but Natasha is not just Nigerian. She carries in her blood the legacy of a Ukrainian mother, a Russian maternal root and Nigerian humanitarian father from Kogi. Two nations with a history of rebellion, resistance, and resilience. There is something about the Russian spirit that does not kneel. There is something in the Ukrainian soul that does not beg and there’s something in the Nigeria spirit of “We no dry gree.” It fights, it burns, it breaks before it bends. So, when Natasha stood up and pointed her fingers at the seat of the Senate, they mistook her for a regular Nigerian woman. They thought she would cry and retreat. They did not realise they had summoned a storm whose roots go far beyond their comprehension.

Many Nigerians, both men and women, do not realise what she represents. In a country where female political leaders are expected to flirt, trade dignity for survival, and offer their bodies to rise, Natasha’s presence has become a mirror that is not to shame others, but to challenge them. Women who once believed survival required surrender are beginning to see that power does not reside between the thighs. Men who have grown fat on patriarchy are now waking up to the reality that a woman who is not afraid to fall cannot be broken by threats. What Natasha has done is not only political, but cultural. She has shattered the unwritten agreement between fear and survival.

Let no one make the mistake of thinking this fight is only about her. This is bigger than Natasha. It is a referendum on womanhood in Nigeria. It is a question on whether the Nigerian Senate belongs to all or to a few men who believe every woman must spread her legs before them to belong. Her suspension was never about misconduct but a punishment, a warning and a coded message to other women that power is only for those who play by the dark rules. She broke the rules, and she is still here. They threw her into fire, but they forgot she was born of iron.

There are those who scoff, who say she should have kept quiet and should have allowed the harassment pass. That she should have endured it for political stability. This is the poverty of spirit that has kept Nigeria where it is. We have become a country that celebrates silence and rewards the wicked. If she had opened her legs instead of her mouth, they would have applauded her, but since she opened her mouth instead of her legs, they want to destroy her. If she had compromised her dignity to gain peace, they would have offered her protection, but because she refused to trade her soul for comfort, they are bent on dragging her name into the mud. Still, she stands.

When you think about it, Nigerians should be ashamed. This woman has done what many men could not do. She is fighting a battle that thousands of politicians have avoided all their lives. She has taken a bullet on behalf of a generation that mocks her from the sidelines. Yet, some of you are still attacking her, praying that Akpabio will throw you scraps. Some of you have no food on your table, but you are defending a system that has never fed you. You have made enemies of your saviours, and friends of your oppressors. What madness is this?

Those who know history will remember women like Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti. Women who stood when it was dangerous to stand. Women who spoke when silence was law, but even Funmilayo had her era, and this is Natasha’s era. She has become the moral line that separates submission from courage. She is the standard by which political integrity will be measured in years to come. If she perishes, history will record that she stood, and she fought, and she refused to bow. If she survives, Nigeria may have just found its first true female political lion in decades. Either way, she wins, because the battle is not just political. It is spiritual. She is revealing demons in high places, and dragging secrets into the light. She is rewriting the rules of the game.

The question now is no longer whether Natasha is telling the truth. The confessions have already begun, and the lies are falling apart. Those who conspired against her are already turning on themselves, as the spell is breaking, and the tide is changing. What remains is whether Nigerians, especially Nigerian women will recognise the hour. This is not just about one senator and one Senate President. This is a moment of national reckoning. What happens to Natasha will echo into the future. If you allow them destroy her, they will come for the next woman, and the next. Until the only women left in politics are the ones who have given up their voice.

So ask yourself this: if you had her courage, what would you have done differently? If you had her spine, what would you have refused to accept? If your daughter were Natasha, what would you be saying now?

The answer lies not in what you feel, but in what you fear. And that, my fellow Nigerians, is why Natasha remains the bravest soul in Nigerian politics today.

By: ILUO DePOET

Lawyer | Political Analyst | Speaker | Pan-African