By Babafemi Ojudu
I FIND it deeply troubling—and frankly, disappointing—the virulent mob outrage currently directed at a young woman whose only real offense appears to be that she dares to be different. That she dressed in a way some consider unconventional, that she spoke with a cultural tone shaped not by our narrow expectations but by her personal history, has somehow sparked a national frenzy.
We forget, or perhaps choose to ignore, that this young woman grew up in a culture vastly different from ours. She is only now returning to reconnect with her roots. Rather than welcome her with understanding and grace, many have met her with condemnation and scorn. Her style of dress, her speech, her choices…everything is being dissected and dismissed by self-appointed cultural purists and fashion police.
Let me be clear: I take exception to her manner of addressing an elder. But even that must be viewed through the lens of cultural relativity. Respect is fundamental, yes, but the manner in which it is expressed differs across societies. What seems like insolence to one generation might be seen as assertiveness by another. That is the evolving nature of culture.
What worries me most is our increasing inability, as a society, to tolerate difference. We demand conformity of thought, dress, language, and even emotion. We treat divergence as rebellion and creativity as threat. In doing so, we risk silencing the very voices that can move us forward.
We have been here before.
If Wole Soyinka had been smothered in his youth for daring to speak his mind and defy convention, would we have the global literary icon we proudly claim today? Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, once dismissed and vilified by the so-called moral gatekeepers of his time, is now remembered as a revolutionary genius whose music, style, and message still resonate across continents. Growing up, when we dressed or behaved in a manner not seen as conventional , we are told ‘se o fe so ara e di omo Fela ni’. That was negative. We were simply admonished not to copy his lifestyle. The very people who once condemned him have long been forgotten—Fela endures.
This is not just a Nigerian phenomenon. Across the world, those who dared to step out of line were, in their time, ridiculed and rejected.
Take Lady Gaga, for instance. When she first emerged with her outrageous fashion and boundary-pushing performances, she was dismissed as bizarre. Today, she’s recognized not just as a music legend, but as a cultural force and humanitarian. Steve Jobs was fired from his own company because his ideas seemed too radical. But his so-called madness eventually birthed innovations that have reshaped the way the world lives, works, and communicates.
Closer to home, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has often faced backlash for her strong, feminist positions and for challenging deeply held societal norms. And yet, her voice continues to inspire a generation of Africans to think independently and speak boldly.
There is something vital about being different. Every generation has its non-conformists—those who experiment with language, with fashion, with music, with ideas. And it is these people who often drag society, sometimes kicking and screaming, into the future.
So why do we fear difference so much?
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The young woman at the center of this current outrage wore a design fashioned from Aso Oke, a proud and traditional Yoruba fabric. Instead of celebrating her creative attempt to fuse heritage with modern expression, she was mocked. Yet it’s entirely possible that the very style we are criticizing today may one day walk the runways of Paris, Milan, or New York. Should that happen—and it very well might—she would have done immeasurable good for Nigeria’s textile and fashion industries. She would have brought attention, relevance, and perhaps even global demand to a centuries-old craft. I recently got a beautiful piece designed for me with Aso Oke by Afromorgan, one of my former students who has become big in New York fashion circle. I wore it one day, and the retort from one of my friends was not so cheery. But it looks good on me and was happy with myself.
But if we kill her confidence now, if we force her to apologize for being who she is, we may lose all of that before it begins.
We must stop enforcing a singular idea of what it means to be Nigerian—or African, or moral, or respectful. We must make space for dissent, for questioning, for reinvention. Youth is, and has always been, a time of experimentation. We must allow the young to stumble, to try, to fail, and to grow. None of us was born fully formed. We have all done things in our youth that make us cringe today. That is part of the journey.
A free society cannot thrive on uniformity. Creativity dies where there is no room to breathe. If we truly desire a nation that is dynamic, modern, and relevant on the global stage, we must let people be.
Let her be!
Let them all be!
Ojudu is a journalist, writer, former Senator and former political adviser. Passionate about youth development, freedom of expression, and the preservation of Nigeria’s creative spirit.
