Bride price or bride pride?

Is it a symbol of love, a token of appreciation, or a price tag on a woman’s worth?

I have asked myself this question many times, quietly, honestly, sometimes with a lump in my throat. Bride price. Two words that sit heavily on the tongue, like a proverb whose meaning has been argued over generations. To some, it is culture. To others, it is honour. But to many women, including myself, it can feel like standing on a scale while people decide your value in cash, livestock, or envelopes passed discreetly from hand to hand.

I speak from my heart, not from books or borrowed opinions. I speak as a woman who understands tradition but also feels its weight. I understand the intention: appreciation to parents, gratitude for upbringing, a symbolic handshake between families. In its purest form, bride price was never meant to be a receipt. It was meant to be a bridge. But somewhere along the line, the bridge became a marketplace.

When love knocks on the door, it should come with humility, not a calculator. Yet we have turned marriage negotiations into auctions, where a woman’s education, complexion, profession, and even obedience are silently converted into figures. A degree adds zeros. Fair skin raises the stakes. A quiet nature attracts a premium. It is as though a woman is being wrapped, priced, and displayed, while her heart waits in the background, unseen.

I have watched young men stagger under the burden, borrowing pride and dignity just to “meet the list.” I have seen love delayed, sometimes destroyed, because the price was too high. And I have seen women, good women, spoken of like goods on a shelf: “After all we paid, she must behave.” That sentence alone can bruise a soul. When money enters the room without wisdom, respect quietly slips out the back door.

Does bride price make a woman valuable, or does it quietly suggest she was purchasable? That is the question that keeps me awake. A woman’s worth is not wrapped in envelopes. It is not measured in cows, cars, or currency. Her worth is in her character, her compassion, her resilience, her ability to build a home where peace can breathe. You do not put a price tag on the sun because it lights your world.

Bride pride, to me, is different. Bride pride is when a woman walks into marriage knowing she is chosen, not bought. When she is honoured, not traded. When her family receives appreciation without turning her into a transaction. Bride pride is dignity standing tall, shoulders back, eyes clear, knowing that love led the way, not money.

I am not calling for the burning of culture. Roots matter. Traditions matter. But even roots must breathe, or they rot. Culture should serve humanity, not cage it. A tradition that crushes love, delays commitment, or silences women needs reflection, not defence. We must ask hard questions, not hide behind “this is how it has always been.”

Marriage should begin with mutual respect, not silent debt. A man should not feel he has bought authority, and a woman should not feel she has been sold into obligation. Love is not a contract of ownership; it is a covenant of partnership. When bride price becomes bride prison, something has gone terribly wrong.

So I ask again, softly but firmly: is it bride price or bride pride? If it strips a woman of dignity, it is too expensive. If it feeds entitlement, it is too costly. If it overshadows love, it is too loud.

Let appreciation remain appreciation. Let honour remain honour. And let women enter marriage with pride in their hearts, not price tags on their heads.