By Samuel Wise Bangura
Sierra Leone has never had a First Lady like Fatima Maada Bio. Traditionally, the spouse of the president has occupied a role defined by social ceremonies, advocacy for charitable causes, and being a supportive, often quiet, partner. Figures like former First Lady Sia Koroma exemplified this model, focusing on health and education initiatives while steering clear of the political fray. Fatima Bio has shattered that mould. From the moment her husband, President Julius Maada Bio, was declared winner in 2018, she stepped into a space no First Lady before her had dared to enter: the arena of daily, bare-knuckle party politics.
This has not gone unnoticed. As a journalist who has interacted with her professionally from planning media for the inauguration to hosting youth empowerment events she championed, I have witnessed her formidable political energy firsthand. Her journey has ignited a fierce national debate: Is she a pioneering woman rightly claiming her political space, or is her conduct a dangerous overreach that undermines democratic norms? This question lies at the heart of the nation’s evolving political identity.
Fatima Bio’s political baptism by fire came during the tense 2018 campaign. With her husband abroad, she was tasked with leading the crucial SLPP campaign in the volatile Kono district, a strategic decider. She didn’t just make an appearance; she led, demonstrating a determination that many believe was pivotal to the party’s eventual victory. This was not a one-off. Since then, her influence within the ruling Sierra Leone People’s Party (SLPP) has grown exponentially.
She has moved beyond supporting her husband’s agenda to shaping the party’s internal dynamics. In 2025, an ideology dubbed “EBEHMA” emerged, explicitly linked to her. While officially described as a mindset to prevent the opposition APC from winning in 2028, it’s being promoted through campaign flyers bearing her image and slogans like “After Bio Na Bio,” directly fueling speculation about her succession ambitions. Her rallies have taken on the tone of a candidate, with supporters chanting her name with the same fervor reserved for the president. She has publicly positioned herself as a power broker within the SLPP, even declaring herself the “First Lady of the SLPP” and asserting authority over the wives of other party leaders, a claim with no basis in the party’s constitution.
Amidst this whirlwind of political activity, Fatima Bio has officially denied any presidential ambition. In July 2024, she took to Facebook to “openly debunk the rumours,” affirming her steadfast support for her husband’s “Big 5 Game Changer” initiatives and stating she has “no intention of pursuing the presidency”.
However, actions speak louder than words. Critics argue that her deep involvement in party machinery, the cultivation of a personal political brand (“Ebema”), and her statements about stepping into her husband’s shoes create a stark contradiction. This gap between official denial and perceived action is the core of the controversy. Is she a loyal spouse being unfairly scrutinized, or is she carefully navigating a path to power while maintaining plausible deniability?
The criticism directed at Fatima Bio is intense and multifaceted. Critics accuse her of causing “rancor and pandemonium” within the SLPP, sidelining elected party officials, and fostering a culture of intimidation and financial patronage. Commentators have asked, “How do you solve a problem called Fatima Bio?” framing her as an enigmatic force disrupting the political order. Others label her actions a “dangerous overreach,” accusing her of declaring herself “the power behind the SLPP” and undermining democratic institutions.
This raises a critical question: Why is the scrutiny of Fatima Bio so uniquely vehement? The country has other formidable, ambitious women in politics. Mayor Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr has openly declared her intention to run for president in 2028, outlining a detailed platform. Dr. Sylvia Olayinka Blyden has declared her intent to lead the APC in the same race. Unity Party leader Femi Claudius-Cole has also announced her 2028 bid. While these women face political opposition, the nature of the criticism differs. They are challenged on policy, party loyalty, or electability, but not fundamentally on their right to be ambitious political actors.
The distinction for Fatima Bio lies in her dual identity. She is not just another politician; she is the sitting First Lady, a role steeped in tradition and perceived neutrality. Her critics, including many within her own party, are not merely opposing a rival; they are reacting against what they see as a violation of a constitutional and cultural boundary. The office of the First Lady, while influential, is not an elected or officially mandated political position. By operating as a de facto party boss, she is perceived to wield power without accountability, blurring the lines between state, party, and family in a way that makes established power structures deeply uncomfortable.
This discomfort inevitably intertwines with issues of gender and tradition. As the political scientist Jimmy Kandeh notes, “Sierra Leone is genetically patriarchal,” socialized to see women in supportive, not leading, roles. Fatima Bio is irrepressibly vocal and assertively ambitious, traits that are often celebrated in male politicians but condemned as “too vociferous” in a woman, let alone a First Lady.
The argument in her defense is powerful. Why should marriage to the president extinguish a woman’s personal political aspirations? Why must she be confined to a ceremonial box when her male counterparts operate without such constraints? Supporters see her as a trailblazer, “daring our daughters and sisters to dream a little bigger.” She is breaking the ultimate glass ceiling, demonstrating that the spouse of a leader can be a leader in her own right.
However, the counter-argument is equally grounded in democratic principle. The concern is not about a woman’s ambition, but about the unelected nature of her influence. The fear is that her proximity to presidential power grants her access to state resources and party funds that other aspirants, male or female do not have, creating an unlevel playing field. The question is about transparency and the separation of powers, not merely about gender.
Fatima Bio represents a fundamental challenge to the nation’s political status quo. She has forcefully rejected the traditional script for a First Lady and is writing her own, one that merges spousal support with raw political ambition. The intense reaction she provokes is a measure of how significantly she is disrupting entrenched norms.
The path forward requires nuanced judgment. On one hand, her right to individual political aspiration must be respected. The democratic project is hollow if it denies qualified citizens regardless of their marital status the chance to compete for leadership. On the other hand, healthy democracy requires clear rules, accountability, and a level playing field. The concentration of immense, unofficial power in an unelected office is a legitimate concern for any country.
The “problem called Fatima Bio” is, in essence, Sierra Leone’s problem. It is the tension between embracing a more inclusive, competitive politics where women can lead from any position, and safeguarding against the risks of opaque, personalized power. How the nation resolves this tension whether by confining her, cheering her, or crafting new rules of engagement will tell us more about the maturity of Sierra Leone’s democracy than any election result could. Fatima Bio is not just playing politics; she is forcing a national conversation about power, gender, and the very rules of the game. And for that, love her or loathe her, she has already made history.
