By Adewunmi Oluwaseun

The relentless quest for survival has driven many young women in Nigeria’s Federal Capital Territory (FCT) to embrace a life of prostitution. Unlike other pleasure workers who charge premium fees, these women offer their services at shockingly low rates, with some resorting to paying the police for protection. This is the harsh reality of a profession that society shuns, but which many women are forced into as a last resort in the face of crushing economic pressure.

In many religious circles, sex is regarded as a sacred act, reserved for married couples as ordained by their faith. Even in more liberal social settings, it is viewed as an intimate act that binds lovers. However, in the bustling heart of Abuja, sex has become a commodity, hawked openly on the streets at night for a price that reflects the desperation of those who offer it. In this world, the exchange of money for intimacy is not about pleasure; it’s about survival.

Prostitution is often referred to as the world’s oldest profession. In Abuja, many young women have found themselves entrenched in it, using the proceeds to pay rent, feed themselves, and even establish small businesses. Joy, a 25-year-old sex worker who hails from Nasarawa State, shared her story with Abuja City Journal at a corner shop called HK on 3rd Avenue, Gwarimpa. A widow and orphan, Joy’s life took a dark turn two years ago when her husband died, and her in-laws rejected her, leaving her to fend for herself in Abuja.

Desperation led Joy to accept an invitation from a friend in the city, who promised her a job. That job, however, turned out to be prostitution. Though she initially resisted, the high cost of living in Abuja, combined with a lack of support from family or friends, forced her hand. Joy recounts how she had no choice but to join the profession to avoid eviction from an apartment where the landlady charged N7,000 per week in rent. “I couldn’t pay rent or feed myself. My only option was to either sleep on the streets or join the girls,” she explained.

For Queen Paul, another sex worker in Abuja, the story is all too familiar. With over five years in the business, Queen shared how a lack of parental love and constant pressure from her environment pushed her into the sex trade. “I dropped out of school in SS2 and moved in with my uncle in Benue State. After a failed relationship that left me heartbroken and pregnant, I turned to selling fried bean-cakes (Akara) but barely made ends meet. Then, a friend invited me to Abuja, promising me a job and a new life. It wasn’t long before I realized I had been tricked into prostitution,” she told Abuja City Journal podcast, REALTALK.

Queen’s story echoes the plight of many young women. Earning as little as ₦1,500 per client, these women often find themselves servicing several men a day just to afford the basics. “Men price sex from me like they’re buying a cheap commodity. I do what I must to survive,” Queen admitted. Her dreams of building a better life have been replaced by the harsh reality of daily struggles in Abuja’s shadow economy.

Prostitution is not only for those with no jobs or skills. Some young women in Abuja lead double lives. By day, they are corporate employees in private firms, earning a meager salary. By night, they transform into sex workers, trying to bridge the financial gap between their earnings and the skyrocketing costs of rent, food, and transportation. For many, their monthly salary – often as low as ₦70,000 – barely covers their transportation, let alone rent or food. With a single-room apartment in the outskirts like Nyanya or Idu costing over ₦350,000 annually, young women are forced to find “side hustles” to make ends meet.

These “side hustles” often come in the form of prostitution. Many of these women have multiple lovers, not for love or companionship, but for financial support. “Most of the men know we are struggling and exploit that. They give us just enough for food or airtime in exchange for sex. It’s humiliating, but what choice do we have?” one woman, who requested anonymity, confessed.

In today’s world, social media has amplified the pressures on young women, especially in cities like Abuja. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook show images of a glamorous life filled with luxury cars, high-end gadgets, and fancy meals. For many young women, the desire to attain this lifestyle leads them down dangerous paths. Cute Berry (not her real name), who rents a one-bedroom apartment for ₦1.8 million annually and drives a Mercedes Benz, is an example of this. With an iPhone 15 Pro Max worth over ₦2 million, she admitted that prostitution is the only way to maintain her lavish lifestyle. “A white-collar job can’t pay my bills,” she said, nonchalantly. “Prostitution offers me the income I need to keep up appearances.”

For young women who look up to people like Cute Berry, the allure of a life filled with material wealth is intoxicating. “You see them living large on social media and think, ‘I want that too,’” another woman confessed. The reality, however, is far from glamorous. The high cost of living in Abuja – from rent to transportation to basic amenities – has pushed many young women into making choices they never imagined.

The high cost of living in Abuja has pushed female youth to the brink, with many resorting to prostitution as a means of survival. But the sex trade is not without its dangers. From exploitation by clients and law enforcement to the health risks involved, prostitution is a precarious profession that takes a toll on those who engage in it.

Yet, there are alternatives. Skill acquisition programs, remote jobs, and small-scale businesses could provide young women with a way out. The Nigerian government, civil society organizations, and private sector stakeholders must take steps to offer viable alternatives for these women. Prostitution is not an option; it is a last resort for those who see no other way out. By investing in training and job opportunities, society can give these women a chance to live with dignity and purpose.

Abuja’s sex trade is a symptom of a larger issue – the growing economic disparity and lack of opportunities for young people. Addressing the root causes of this will take more than just moral outrage. It will require concerted efforts to improve the economic situation for all Nigerians, particularly the most vulnerable.