The Pressure To Marry By 30 Is Killing Me!

I turned 28 last month, and you'd think I'd celebrated a funeral the way my family reacted.

My aunty actually said, "Ah ah, 28 already? Time is going o." As if I wasn't aware. As if my phone isn't filled with wedding invitations after wedding invitations. As if I don't see the worry creeping into my mother's eyes every time we attend an owambe together.

The thing about being a Nigerian woman approaching 30 is that suddenly, nothing else you've achieved matters. For goodness' sake, I have a master's degree and a good job that pays my bills. I've even travelled to three countries this year alone, and I'm genuinely happy with my life. But at family gatherings, nobody wants to hear about the promotion I got or the project I'm leading at work. The question is always the same: "So, when are we eating rice?"

My mother has started making comments that cut deeper than she probably realises. "Your mates are already on their second child," she'll say, as if life is a competition with a finish line I'm desperately behind on. She's started introducing me to random men at church, men I have absolutely nothing in common with, but apparently, that doesn't matter because "marriage is not by love alone."

The WhatsApp messages from well-meaning relatives have become unbearable. "I know a nice boy for you o," they'll say, sending me the profile of someone's son who works in Canada or the UK, as if geographical location is a personality trait. And God forbid you try to explain that you're focusing on yourself or that you haven't met the right person yet. The response is always some variation of "You're too choosy" or "All those your standards, you will use them to marry abi?"

What frustrates me the most is how society has made it seem like a woman's worth expires at 30. Like we're products on a shelf with a best-before date. I've watched brilliant, accomplished women be reduced to their marital status. I've seen the subtle shift in how people treat you when you're "still" single at a certain age, the mixture of pity and judgment in their eyes.

Don't even get me started on social media. Every day, another person from secondary school is posting "He put a ring on it" or "God when?" captions under couple photos. The algorithm seems determined to remind me of what I don't have, showing me wedding videos and "journey to marriage" testimonies that I never asked to see.

And the church, oh the church. The prayers that start with "Every good sister believing God for a husband" while the men get "God bless your hustle, your business, your career." As if our primary purpose is to be married while they're allowed to be full human beings with diverse aspirations.

I'm legit tired of being made to feel like I'm running out of time, like my life is on pause until a man validates it with a ring. I'm tired of the subtle suggestions that maybe I'm too educated, too successful, too independent, too something. I'm tired of defending my single status as if it's a disease that needs explaining.

Here's what I know: I am not incomplete because I'm unmarried. My life is not less valuable because it doesn't follow the timeline society has prescribed. I refuse to marry just to tick a box or silence the questions. That can never be me, God forbid it! I refuse to settle for less than I deserve because people are uncomfortable with my singleness.

But some days, I won't lie, the pressure gets to me. Some days I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Some days I'm just tired of fighting against the current, of being the one who has to constantly justify her choices.

To every Nigerian woman feeling this pressure, you're not alone. Your worth is not determined by a ring on your finger or your ability to meet an arbitrary deadline. You are enough, exactly as you are, whether you marry at 25, 35, or never.

I honestly wish I could make my family understand that before the next family gathering.