When we talk about feminism, we often imagine a woman with a microphone, standing tall and sure of herself, demanding change. It is an image that fits neatly into the kind of feminism that thrives on visibility. But in reality, the story of class and feminism is far more layered than the posters and podiums suggest.
Whose Feminism Are We Really Talking About?
Feminism in Ikoyi is not the same as feminism in Aba. It is not even the same between two women living in the same street but existing in different worlds of comfort and struggle. When conversations about women’s rights begin, there is usually an assumption that all women want the same kind of freedom. Yet the truth is, class shapes not only what we fight for, but how we are allowed to fight.
A woman in Abuja negotiating for a seat in the boardroom does not live the same feminist reality as a woman in Abuja selling vegetables to send her children to school. Both women are affected by patriarchy, but they experience it differently. One meets it in meeting rooms, the other meets it in markets. That difference is where class and feminism start to pull in opposite directions.
At its heart, feminism is the belief in equality between genders. But equality does not exist in a vacuum, it meets privilege, poverty, and survival at every turn. So, when we talk about women’s liberation, we must ask: who is being liberated, and from what exactly?
The Root of Class and Feminism
To understand the tension between class and feminism, we must start from the beginning. Feminism has never been a single, united movement. It has always carried the fingerprints of class.
The first wave of feminism, those early campaigns for voting rights in the 19th and early 20th centuries, was largely driven by middle- and upper-class women. These women were educated, well-connected, and determined to secure a political voice. But in the process, they often ignored the needs of working-class women and women of color who faced entirely different battles.
In the United States, suffragists like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton argued for women’s right to vote, but not for all women, only for white women like themselves. Meanwhile, Black women such as Sojourner Truth were already fighting for something: the right to be seen as both woman and human.
Nigeria tells a similar story. Our feminist roots were never purely elite, even though history tends to highlight those voices first. Educated women, often close to colonial administrators or politicians, led campaigns for marriage reform and women’s representation. But while those efforts were important, they were happening alongside a quieter, more grounded struggle.
In 1929, market women across southeastern Nigeria led what came to be known as the Aba Women’s Riot. Thousands of women protested unfair taxation and colonial exploitation. They were not reading feminist theory; they were living it through survival and defiance. Their activism was not named feminism at the time, but in truth, it was one of the most powerful examples of class and feminism colliding, where working-class women stood against systems built to silence them.
From then until now, feminism has always been a mirror of the societies that shaped it. It has been both liberation and limitation, inclusion and exclusion.
How Class Shapes Feminism Today
Modern feminism likes to speak the language of empowerment, but empowerment looks different when your social class determines your options.
A woman with generational wealth can take bold career risks, leave toxic workplaces, or advocate publicly for equality without fear of losing her livelihood. A woman living paycheck to paycheck often cannot afford that same freedom. She may agree with the ideals of feminism but find that they do not pay her rent or protect her from everyday survival struggles.
That gap, between those who can afford to live out their feminism and those who cannot, is the heart of what makes class and feminism such a necessary conversation.
In Nigeria, feminism has increasingly become associated with visibility: women CEOs, politicians, and influencers who are rightly celebrated for breaking barriers. Their success challenges stereotypes and opens doors. But it also creates a kind of feminism that is aspirational, something to be reached, rather than something that already belongs to all women.
The woman in the boardroom and the woman in the market are both feminists, but the world listens to one and overlooks the other.
When Money Softens Patriarchy
Money changes the terms of oppression. It does not erase patriarchy, but it cushions the blows. Wealth gives room to leave an abusive partner, to afford therapy, to relocate, or to fight legal battles. Poverty often traps women in the very systems they want to escape.
That is why conversations about class and feminism cannot be reduced to slogans about “empowerment.” The realities are far more uneven. For the wealthy woman, feminism may look like negotiating a board seat or leading a women-in-tech initiative. For the woman in the informal economy, feminism may look like forming a cooperative to buy goods in bulk and avoid exploitative middlemen. Both are valid, both are feminist, but they do not carry the same power or visibility.
When rich women talk about “having it all,” they often mean balancing career, family, and personal fulfillment. For poor women, “having it all” might simply mean having safety, food security, and a small business that survives through the year.
This difference does not invalidate either struggle. It reminds us that patriarchy is not a single wall, it is a maze, and we each hit different corners depending on where we start.
Poor Women and the Feminism of Survival
For poor women, feminism is not theory; it is daily resistance. It shows up in small but radical acts, saying no to unfair taxes, forming unions, refusing to be silent about violence, demanding to be treated with dignity.
The woman who sells akara by the roadside at 5 a.m. practices feminism when she raises her daughters to expect more from life. The domestic worker who demands fair pay or stands up to harassment is part of the story too.
They may never use the word “feminism,” but their lives are living proof that class and feminism are intertwined.
Across the world, we see similar patterns. Garment workers in Bangladesh, domestic workers in Latin America, and factory workers in Kenya are fighting for safety, pay equity, and the right to exist as full human beings. Their feminism is not glamorous, but it is essential. It asks for dignity before recognition, safety before spotlight.
Where the Divide Shows
The divide within class and feminism becomes obvious when we compare priorities.
Wealthy women might campaign for gender quotas, better maternity policies, and representation in corporate spaces. Poor women may be fighting for access to clean water, affordable healthcare, and protection from harassment in public spaces.
A Abuja-based executive might be advocating for more women on corporate boards, while a farmer’s wife in Kaduna just wants to get a share from her father land without needing a man’s permission. Both desires are feminist. Both matter. But one voice echoes louder because privilege amplifies sound.
Globally, this pattern repeats itself. “White feminism” in Western contexts often centers on breaking glass ceilings for middle-class women, while women of color call attention to police violence, low-wage labor, and reproductive justice. Again, class and feminism reveal themselves as two sides of the same coin, one polished, one rough, both real.
A Personal Reflection
As first daughters and multipotentialite women, we often find ourselves balancing between these worlds. We know ambition, but we also know responsibility. We have access, but not abundance. We are educated, but still feel the quiet weight of expectations that shape every choice.
Living in this in-between space allows us to see both sides of class and feminism clearly. We understand the yearning for representation and the fatigue of survival. We see how both can exist, sometimes even within the same woman.
That perspective gives us a responsibility, to bridge, to listen, to connect. It means using privilege with awareness, not guilt. It means refusing to dismiss the feminism that looks different from our own.
Maybe that is the quiet duty of women like us: to hold both truths, to insist that equality is not complete until it includes the woman who cleans the building as much as the woman who owns it.
If your job has been taking more than it gives, you might find this piece helpful, Is Your Job Worth Your Mental Health, or Is It Breaking You?
Building Feminism That Works for All
A feminism that does not question class is incomplete. A feminism that dismisses the working class is elitist. A feminism that ignores structural privilege will always lean toward those already standing closest to power.
To make class and feminism work together, we must build bridges, not hierarchies.
We can start by:
- Using privilege as a tool, not a shield, whether that means funding, mentorship, or advocacy.
- Documenting grassroots stories, not just headline successes.
- Challenging performative empowerment, and insisting on practical inclusion.
True feminism should hold room for both the CEO and the street vendor, both the activist and the apprentice. Because when one woman rises while another is left behind, the promise of equality remains half-fulfilled.
At its best, feminism should make life easier, not just louder. It should stretch wide enough to include every woman who dreams of something better, regardless of her bank account.
Let Us Talk
- Do you think feminism in Nigeria truly includes women from all backgrounds, or are some voices still left out?
- Do you think class affects how women experience feminism?
- Have you ever noticed class differences in how women talk about equality?