One experience I will never forget is one that happened during our undergraduate school days at Bayero University Kano (BUK). One of my roommates was offered an expensive phone by a relatively well-to-do course mate, but refused to collect it. She said “If I take this phone home, the first thing my father will ask is: what did you give them in return?”
Her honest response, which made all of us laugh at the time, conveyed several messages that we couldn’t decipher due to our our useful exuberance. Now we know better. Our roommate’s father, as a man, knew clearly that ‘nothing goes for nothing’. And accepting these ‘Greek gifts’ often ends up as a prelude to something sinister.
Sadly, parents today have abandoned their responsibilities. Our young girls are being pressured to toe a dangerous path all in a vain effort to belong, to look rich, to keep up with peers on social media. The craze to own expensive phones, wear designer clothes, and appear as ‘a big girl’ has turned so many of our young girls into prostitutes. They call it ‘runs’, ‘hustle’, among others. The get-rich-quick syndrome has taken over.
Today, a 19-year-old girl, whose parents cannot even afford a good accommodation and food, returns home with the latest iPhone, expensive branded handbags, and wads of cash, and no questions are asked. And the parents will not ask — as our roommate’s father will do — how a secondary school leaver or even drop out suddenly affords an expensive lifestyle. Instead, there is quiet celebrationthe assumption that the child is “blessed” or “connected.”
This silence is dangerous and the consequences are enormous. It sends a message that wealth, no matter how it is acquired, is acceptable. It normalises a culture where materialism trumps values, and where survival is equated with selling one’s body. Some parents, overwhelmed by their own financial struggles, may even turn a blind eye because the money helps pay bills or support siblings. What they fail to see is that they are trading short-term relief for long-term destruction.
The consequences, like I said, are severe. Beyond the risk of sexually transmitted diseases, drug abuse and unwanted pregnancies, these girls lose self-esteem, educational opportunities, and sometimes their lives. The cycle is vicious: once they enter that world, it becomes harder to leave. Shame, stigma, and fear of judgment keep them trapped, while society looks away until tragedy strikes. It is so bad that a 20-year-old girl is now considered too old in some circles because of the rate at which young girls are slipping into prostitution.
We as parents and guardians must confront the culture of materialism that fuels this crisis. Social media has created an illusion that everyone is living a luxury life, and young people feel inadequate if they are not part of it. That illusion is now costing lives and futures.
Parents have a critical role to play. They must ask questions. They must pay attention to sudden changes in lifestyle, unexplained wealth, and late-night movements. Silence in the name of peace or pride only enables harm. A child who cannot explain the source of an expensive gift should not be allowed to keep it without accountability.
Schools, religious institutions, and community leaders must also step in because parents can do this alone. We need honest conversations about values, self-worth, and the dangers of chasing validation through material possessions. Young girls must be taught that dignity and integrity are worth more than any designer label or overnight wealth.
Government and civil society organisations should strengthen support systems for vulnerable young women. Vocational training, mentorship programmes, and economic empowerment initiatives can provide alternatives to the streets.
Ultimately, we must rebuild a society that values character over appearance and substance over show. Until we do, more young girls will continue to trade their future for the illusion of belonging. And parents who choose not to ask questions today may be forced to answer harder ones tomorrow.
