Leading a quiet yet transformative movement in Nigeria are the Mu Gudu Tare fellows, participants in a groundbreaking programme funded by the Interfaith Dialogue on Violent Extremism. This initiative empowers women to confront entrenched patriarchal norms that often sideline them in efforts to prevent and counter violent extremism. Though supported by international funding, the fellowship was meticulously designed to ensure sustainability beyond external resources. By combining small grants for advocacy and community development projects with communal-focused technological tools—like WhatsApp and Signal groups for mentorship and knowledge exchange—the programme creates a model for enduring, community-led solutions. 

For me, Imrana, this work is deeply personal. In 2010, I survived a Boko Haram attack that left an indelible mark on my life and fuelled my resolve to counter the violence devastating my community. Over the years, I noticed a troubling pattern: in mixed-gender capacity-building programmes, men dominated applications and discussions, while women, even when selected, rarely participated actively. This imbalance drove me to create a women-only fellowship, ensuring that women’s voices and leadership in early-warning systems and peacebuilding receive the attention they deserve. Mansurah, my co-author and consultant on the Mu Gudu Tare project, played a crucial role in documenting its impact. Through carefully listening to participants’ powerful testimonies and capturing their transformational journeys, Mansurah revealed the profound resilience and agency of these women. Together, we recognized that their stories needed a larger platform. By sharing these narratives, we aim to amplify their achievements and underscore the importance of empowering women in the fight against violent extremism. 

During the peak of the Boko Haram insurgency in 2013, the insurgents’ strategy of employing women and children as suicide bombers prompted some women to join the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF), a civilian defence militia that supports the Nigerian military in protecting communities from Boko Haram attacks. These women took on critical roles, including frisking women at checkpoints, gathering intelligence, guarding women in camps for internally displaced persons and occasionally engaging in combat against Boko Haram. A prominent example is Aisha Gombi Bakari from Adamawa State, widely known as the ‘Boko Haram huntress’ for her fearless efforts in tracking insurgents in the Sambisa Forest and assisting in the search for the abducted Chibok schoolgirls.  

Though women were allowed to participate in counter-insurgency efforts during the chaos of the Boko Haram attacks, patriarchy swiftly reasserted itself as Boko Haram was driven out of the major towns. After formalization of the CJTF in 2015, the structure became increasingly patriarchal and hierarchical, further marginalizing women. Male CJTF members reinforced traditional gender roles, relegating women to secondary positions. Women were often confined to office roles or deployed for women-specific tasks, such as searching homes for female suspects, due to cultural and religious norms prohibiting men from searching women. Over time, more women left the CJTF, driven out by societal stigma and accusations of impropriety for working in a male-dominated security sector. 

In today’s north-east Nigeria, where state forces and the formalized CJTF dominate the security landscape, the role of civilians has increasingly shifted towards Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (P/CVE). This agenda represents a pivot away from hard-security approaches, focusing instead on addressing the underlying factors that drive recruitment into armed groups. However, entrenched patriarchal norms in the region often limit women’s involvement in P/CVE to roles as nurturers and moral guides. Stakeholders frequently emphasize their ability as mothers to detect early signs of radicalization within their families—a perspective that, while valuable, risks reducing women’s contributions to the private sphere. Such framing overlooks their broader capacity to engage as leaders, strategists and active participants in peacebuilding and P/CVE initiatives, which is essential for sustainable and inclusive conflict prevention efforts. 

The Mu Gudu Tare Fellowship seeks to challenge these limitations, advocating for women’s active participation in policy, programming and on-the-ground peacebuilding initiatives, aligning with its name, which translates to ‘let’s run together’ in Hausa. As Hadiza, a fellow from Dapchi, reveals: 

For so long, we watched from the sidelines, knowing we had valuable insights but unsure if anyone would ever listen. The fellowship taught us not only to speak up but to believe that we deserve a seat at the table. Now, we are part of the solution, not just the victims. 

When the Mu Gudu Tare Fellowship opened applications in March 2024, more than 500 young women applied within just two weeks. Selecting only 30 participants, aged 18 to 35, was no easy task. Applicants completed online forms that had them detailing the violent extremist threats in their communities and their motivation for joining the fellowship. Many cited personal losses, such as the death of a loved one to Boko Haram, as a primary drive in their commitment to countering extremism. To ensure inclusivity, especially for those with limited internet access, eight fellows—five from rural areas and three with disabilities—were selected through collaboration with local partners and phone interviews. These applicants expressed their desire to create change but noted a lack of support from other women. 

The fellowship prioritized diversity and required at least a secondary school education, offering training in both Hausa and English. Participants represented Yobe State’s ethnic and religious diversity, including Hausa, Kanuri, Fulani, Ngizim and Bolewa communities, as well as Muslim and Christian faiths. This approach fostered inclusivity and aimed to break socio-economic and cultural barriers.