By Babafemi Ojudu
I find it deeply troubling—and frankly, disappointing—the virulent mob outrage currently directed at a young woman whose only real offence appears to be that she dares to be different. That she dressed in a way some consider unconventional, that she spoke in a 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. Instead of welcoming her with understanding and grace, many have met her with condemnation and scorn. Her 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 the way she addressed an elder. But even that must be viewed through the lens of cultural relativity. Respect is essential, yes—but the way it is expressed varies across societies. What seems like insolence to one generation might be seen as boldness or self-expression to 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, of dress, of behavior. We treat divergence as rebellion and creativity as threat. In doing so, we risk silencing the very voices that could 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, we would not have the global literary icon we so 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, message, and style still resonate across continents.
Growing up, when we dressed or behaved in unconventional ways, we were warned: “Ṣé o fẹ́ sọ ara rẹ̀ di ọmọ Fẹlá ni?” That wasn’t a compliment. It was a rebuke, a warning not to follow his path. And yet, the very people who once condemned him are forgotten—Fela endures.
This pattern is not unique to Nigeria. Around the world, those who dared to step out of line were, in their time, ridiculed and rejected.
Lady Gaga, with her outlandish fashion and provocative performances, was once labeled bizarre. Today, she is hailed as a cultural icon and humanitarian. Steve Jobs was fired from the very company he founded because his ideas were seen as too radical. Yet his so-called madness reshaped the way we live, work, and think.
Closer to home, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has faced backlash for challenging entrenched norms and speaking uncomfortable truths. But her voice continues to inspire generations to think critically and speak boldly.
There is something essential—even noble—about being different. Every generation has its non-conformists—those who experiment with language, fashion, music, and ideas. These are often the ones who drag society, sometimes kicking and screaming, into the future.
So why do we fear difference so much?
The young woman at the center of this uproar wore a design made from Aso Oke, a proud, traditional Yoruba fabric. Instead of applauding her attempt to blend heritage with innovation, she was mocked. And yet, it is entirely possible that this very style—scorned today—might grace the runways of Paris, Milan, or New York tomorrow. Should that happen—and it well might—she would have done immeasurable good for Nigeria’s textile industry and the global reputation of our cultural design.
I say this from personal experience. I recently had a beautiful piece designed from Aso Oke by Afromorgan, one of my former students, now making waves in New York’s fashion scene. I wore it proudly, but not without a snide remark from a friend. He thought I was old and should venture into the fashion of the young. It didn’t bother me. It looked good, and more importantly, it felt true to me.
But if we shame her now, if we bully her into silence, we risk extinguishing a spark before it has a chance to ignite something greater.
We must stop enforcing a singular, rigid idea of what it means to be Nigerian, or African, or even respectful. We must create space for dissent, for reinvention, for freedom. Youth has always been a time of experimentation. We must allow young people to stumble, to explore, to question, and to grow. None of us emerged fully formed. We have all done things in our youth we might not do today—and that’s what growth is.
A free society cannot thrive on sameness. Creativity dies where there is no room to breathe. If we truly want a dynamic, confident, and forward-looking Nigeria, we must learn to let people be.
Let her be.
Let them all be.
* Babafemi Ojudu is a journalist, writer, former Senator, and former political adviser. He is passionate about youth development, freedom of expression, and preserving Nigeria’s creative spirit.