Emeka Ike & why Nigerians must agree on how to speak about domestic violence

For years, the actor Emeka Ike had told the story of his marriage and how it ended offering only enough that the public is aware that it was bad, but are left guessing how bad it was.

As he returned to the spotlight promoting his latest film Malaika, again, his marriage and how it ended has dominated the news cycle.

In an interview, he spoke about his missing properties, accused his ex-wife of unkindness, and blackmail, seemingly with little pushback from his interviewers. How could they have? Only his side of the story had been made public.

This time things are different. In an extremely rare interview, his ex-wife Suzanne Emma has for the first time publicly accused him of emotional, physical and financial abuse. In the interview she was flanked by their son who corroborated her allegations. After her interview aired, social media was furious.

Since Saturday evening, Emma’s story has been torn into pieces with allegations of her lying, leaving Ike celebrated as an angry man who needed space to vent. One would expect that the allegation of abuse, of domestic violence is the focus. That it is investigated. And that many Nigerians will want to know how true they are.

 “Does it mean there's no way to resolve conflicts in marriage other than divorce?” one frustrated user blasted in the comment section of a popular Instagram blog.

Here is an allegation of abuse. And here is someone wondering why divorce is even on the table.

The truth, or at least what I know to be true is that in our culture, abuse is too familiar, too commonplace, too public, that it has become for too many of us part and parcel of our love stories, to give and to receive abuse.

In the moment, it is abuse, then it becomes a fight, then it becomes a problem of miscommunication, then we rise above it and it goes back to being a love story again. And the cycle continues.

Toxicity and abuse in relationships have been for too long celebrated as love stories on our reality shows, in the media, in Nollywood, and for many in our own homes.

In this setting, the kind of cannibalisation of people who speak publicly about abuse, to tear their story apart, to reduce the torment, minimise the shame and deny the trauma is palpable. For many who have chosen this path, they might have gotten to this point where denying trauma seems like a noble cause for a myriad of reasons.

But what remains potent is that they must remain in this space for their fairytales to remain fairytales, especially to them. To them, it is deeply personal and of grave importance for a victim not to be believed if the foundations of their love story must hold, the love story of both the abuser and the victim still in the throes of abuse.

There is also an underlining factor here, of whether or not in our society women are even human beings, deserving not to be treated less than human. This is a women’s rights issue and while we have pursued keeping foundations standing, we have completely forgotten that. How is it that we have remained here for centuries?

For even the most forward-thinking of us, there is a sense that in our culture to be female to begin with is a joke. Femininity wherever it's found, both in men and women has been found wanting, out of place, too needy, too dramatic, too hysterical. In our society, we laugh at women just because they are women.

When this is the tone, someone raising an alarm of domestic violence then is someone being something along the lines of too dramatic. There is only one way forward. We need to disavow abuse first in our own homes. Then we can have a public dialogue.