De-Centering Men in the Nigerian Music Industry

This article was birthed on the premise that music history in Nigeria is incomplete without the contributions that women have made. So far, what we have seem like ghost stories and it’s the same old redundant information that’s available; how so-so was the first woman to do this or that, great records made by women in the past e.t.c. This write up could have gone in a similar direction, a curated list of women we believe you ought to know. However, the realization that a more intensive study of this missing bits of history is required changed the course of the article. Women deserve better than a brief summary of their achievements and when music in Nigeria is in discourse, the names of women shouldn’t be thrown into one messy category.

Lijadu Sisters

The history of the Nigerian music industry has been very male-centred, the contributions and even names of women nearly mythological. Women in Nigeria’s music history remain obscured by the achievements of their male counterparts and mostly come up in conversations that are partial to women, rarely in general terms. The men are idolized, made into pioneers and legends, meanwhile the women remain unacknowledged except for flashy pseudo-feminist references. In conversation and in the historical archives, one realizes how little is known about most of these women, in comparison with their male colleagues.

Mandy Brown Ojugbana


Breaking into the music industry, as with most industries, has always been twice as hard for women. Till date women fight to be taken seriously and given the same respect and benefits men are handed. From the Lijadu Sisters to Tiwa Savage, the narratives continue to share similarities, leaving you to wonder about the so-called progress that is being spoken of. No doubt, the music industry has more female artistes than it ever did, many of whom can boast of as many achievements, if not more, as male artistes in the industry. However, most female artistes do not last long on the scene because the demands made of them by the industry and by society are outrageously biased. The industry goes as far as pitting women against each other in a never ending comparison, often based not on their talents but their sensuality.

Ese Agesse


When one researches music history in Nigeria, there are very few mentions of the women who did music in times past. In fact, the Wikipedia article on Nigeria’s musical history goes into detail on prevalent genres, trends and artistes of the time (50s-90s), all of whom are notably male, afterwards a separate category titled “Women in Music” follows with no more than two paragraphs to summarize the place and influence of women in the industry. This is a reflection of how women singers were and still are being viewed: as complementary fillers. This flippant categorization of women who performed in varying genres and at various points in time, implies that women musicians were never given the same credit and status that their male peers were. That is to say, women who did music were not appreciated for their musical genius only because they were women in a male dominated industry. One can also say that they were viewed as a monolith and that “women in music” may as well be a music genre.

Christy Essien Igbokwe


Nigerian pop music has been heavily contributed to by women like Evi-Edna Ogholi, Mandy Brown Ojugbana, Esse Agesse, Nelly Uchendu and Christy Essien Igbokwe. These women each brought distinct flavour to the Nigerian pop scene. From reggae to highlife to disco, women were heavily involved in the industry, churning out albums and singles. Their songs were nationwide hits during the 70s to 90s, several of them achieving platinum status. Ironically, only their most popular songs have, however, survived the period of their creation, and there’s still talk of missing discographies. One can almost say with certainty that the higher percentages of missing discographies are those produced by women.

Evi Edna Ogholi


Furthermore, the music produced by female artistes in Nigeria has rarely ever been given the critical attention that men’s music has received. Few look past the women to the arrangement of their music, the innovations that they came about or their stylistic input to the industry as a whole. For instance, no one talks about the evolution of the musical style of Asa or the distinct style of reggae that Evi-Edna Ogholi played. Until recently, few people knew about the politically charged music of the Lijadu Sisters who began performing Afrobeats before Fela Kuti came onto the scene. Others like Onyeka Onwenu also remain in the shadow of Fela in terms of her political activism. At the height of the popularity of rock and roll, funk, jazz and disco, Nigerian musicians began to incorporate these genres into their soundscapes. However, only the name of IK Dairo is mentioned when this innovation is spoken of. The Lijadu Sisters did it flawlessly, but it’s out of the history books.

Salawa Abeni


Till now female artists have their personal lives in the spotlight, way more than their careers. A quick Google search of artistes like Ese Agesse and Salawa Abeni reveals tabloid articles pertaining to their sexuality and morality. The former has articles about her lack of a husband, while the latter has articles written about a man threatening to publish her nudes. It is not uncommon to have men take centre stage in discussions about female singers, whether or not the context is positive. Although someone like Salawa Abeni has more introspective articles written about her career due to her popularity, for most others these are few and far between. Writings and conversations exploring the lives of female artistes, in terms of their influences and inspirations, are rarities.

Onyeka Onwenu

The music industry in Nigeria has indulged in donning its female historical figures with interesting titles. Batile Alake is regarded as the mother of Waka, Salawa Abeni, the queen of Waka; Onyeka Onwenu, the elegant stallion; Christy Essien Igbokwe, Nigeria’s lady of songs and so on. A simple minded glance might leave one with the belief that these women were being honoured with these titles. However, there is more than a hint of underlying misogyny. The titles seem more like a replacement of the singers’ personalities, a compensation for their ability to penetrate a system set up without them in mind and one that still isn’t willing to give them their proper accolades. It is perhaps why Christy Essien Igbokwe was not the first president of the Performing Musicians Association of Nigeria (PMAN), but its first female president despite spearheading the project. The so-called appreciation that leads to the bestowment of these titles have apparently not been extended to the work it takes to maintain the legacy of their music. When it comes to women’s music, the industry has been unwilling to exert itself and therefore their work rarely outlives them. Whatever impact women had on the Nigerian music scene in the past has definitely not been of lasting effect because the universal model of significance or greatness is inherently masculine.
Therefore, what is needed is a rewrite of the music history of Nigeria, one that is all encompassing, blind to gender and clear-eyed to achievements and talent. Women in Nigeria’s music history are not only relevant for the purpose of writing Women’s Day articles. Neither should we bring them up only to say that they in fact exist.

Adeyosola is a writer, photographer, fashion enthusiast and of course intersectional feminist.

Kissing up to Kiss Daniel – A review of Mama

The adulation and objectification of Women (aka Shorty, Ukwu, Waist, Ada, Mama, Baby, Bebe) in the hip-hop industry, is a daily subject that masculates the musicality of the masculine artists in this genre.

Once a vixen got lectured on the visibility of misogyny in the hip-hop industry and was asked how it feels to be the subject of hyper-sexualisation and objectification. Well, all she wants is her money and this of course, aligns with the feminist theory of Bodily Autonomy, as long as she is of age to decide what she wants to be, video vixen or rocket scientist, all join.

But then this could also bring about the question: How does one differentiate trying to fit into the image of the woman as a sexual objectfrom when a woman is sexually empowered?

Usually, when a woman is not being sexually objectified in the music industry, she is depicted as Miss Needy; the beggar who sticks to a man because of money or Miss Bitchy, the woman who uses her sexual wiles to take everything a hardworking man has spent all his life gathering. This has been delineated in songs like PSquare’s Chop My Money. Atimes the woman is portrayed as this totally innocent person who has absolutely no need for material wealth, but only NEEDS to be loved. This is encapsulated perfectly in Davido’s ‘Aiye’ – she no wan Ferrari, she no wan designer, she say na my love o!

Whether she’s an angel or a bitch, the woman portrayed in almost all the songs, produced in the Nigerian music industry, is almost, always IN NEED of something,

But, this is not about PSquare or Davido or any other artist that may or may not have contributed to the longevity of misogyny in the music industry.  This is about Kiss Daniel and his ‘single hit’ called Mama.

This Mama, who is a reflection of a built beauty; tall and thin, silky and smooth skin, seamless straight hair and hair-extensions, becomes the role model of the African woman. You must take note that she is not only unconventionally perfect, she is also always available to use her perfect body parts to make you feel better about yourself. She is not thinking, well… nobody expects her to think . She is a thin thing begging to be entertained, but then she doesn’t say it, she should be seen and touched, but not heard. So, she uses her sexualized parts to paint an ideal picture, where she fits in perfectly as an object; an object that is desired because of her nudity and the beauty she had to nearly kill herself to attain.

Women’s depiction in musical videos doles out expected behaviour for the woman, just like the stereotype that stands taller than the true story. A good woman is the woman who cooks all, and not the woman who knows all. She should be primed and neat, reserved and hot for her lord only. And for Kiss Daniel to really know if this woman cherishes him or not, all she has to do is wash his plate.

He is the seeker, she is the prize. Although he has seen all the qualities he needs in her (being that marriage is the ultimate reward a man can give a woman), she still needs to wash his plates in order to prove her worth, and also fetch water.

The reason Kiss Daniel emphasizes these two very important domestic activities is because nothing shows love than for a woman to shun all gadgets like dishwashers and pipe borne water in favour of drawing water directly from a well and hand-washing all HIS dishes.

To be Kiss Daniel’s Mama, biko my sister, fetch water for him and wash his plates!

Where Kiss Daniel veers off from the usual narrative that’s the staple of the male dominated Nigerian music industry is that he did not put her in a position of NEED, in this case, Kiss is the supplicant and she the one doling out the cash.

She can afford to buy him an Infinity. She is not a lover in need. She is not Miss Dependant, she is Miss Independent.  .

Adichie avers that masculinity is a hard, small cage, and men are placed in this hard small cage. The truth remains that strength ought not to be measured for any gender, and Kiss Daniel notes that he can be in captivity. This song is noteworthy because it stands out in this one aspect, although it fits in, with every other narrative that seems to oil the wheels of the Nigerian Music Industry.

And with this glowing review, Kiss Daniels might get bolder and admit, one day, that his ‘Mama’ doesn’t necessarily have to handwash his underwear to prove her love to him.

Or P-Square might end up singing –She can chop my money,She no wan chop my money, Cos she got her money

Peace out!

IMG-20150506-WA0006-1
Ada Chioma Ezeano

Bibi Bakare-Yusuf on Bey’s Lemonade and bell hooks’ critique

bibi
Bibi

Just finished reading bell hooks analysis of Bey’s Lemonade and I am struggling to understand what the attack on her is all about. Even though I have been the subject of a public attack by bell hooks in my mid-20s, I always appreciate her theorising.

In relation to Lemonade, hooks has provided a necessary critique that builds on and expands the scope of the film’s narrative arc beyond just the naming of: black sisterhood of pain and trauma, our power of self-objectification and naming, our continued investment and participation in both the white scopic regime and our excavating of a repressed and liberating Africanity.

hooks’ critique is an invitation to enjoy Lemonade without completely losing ourselves in the saccharine and slick celebration of freedom and black female empowerment. It is very easy to be seduced by the self-styling, the gorgeous presentation of the black female body in pain and in exquisite defiance and camaraderie; and we must be allowed that therapeutic moment of total absorption and sheer pleasure in watching black/female ownership of the means of production, naming of pain and its transcendence.

Lemonade is mellifluous, a sensuous and mesmerizing visual feast. We should enjoy it, without apology. Yet, so that we don’t completely fall, we need to be vigilant about the global status of women who do not have the economic freedom that Bey has or the ability to always participate in the very sensuous commodified fetishsation of the black female body that assures Bey’s own economic freedom and defiance.

Yes, I do think she glamorises violence. But I also believe that there is a space

bell hooks
Bell

fortherapeutic violence. Bey’s anger and glamorisation of violence was just not excessive enough, it is too demotic and sugary. The only excess was the sugar in her lemonade which tamed the tartiness of the lemons (lesbians).

It would have been a more empowering and radical gesture had she performed an artistic death on the cheating man. Abeg, where else can we go if not to the imaginative or the thought murder of our minds to exert bone crushing revenge that would not land us in jail?

Instead, with all her performativity violence and righteous anger, she simply returned to the cosy embrace of the Cheat, an act no different from the demotic.

For me, she therefore lost an opportunity to be truly radical or transformative. At the end of the day, both patriarchy and the heterosexual script remained intact and unworked. Had Bey killed the Cheat, I am sure hooks would have been on her side because she would have read it as defiance against patriarchy and the ‘straight mind’.

I like artistic or literary deaths as an unwillingness to accept or continue with norms; it is an opportunity to really jam the convention and ensure that all subjugating powers always sleep with one eye wide open. With Lemonade, the power structure is unprovoked and remained unshaken. This, is at the core of bell hooks’ critique, I believe. This is one of the reasons why I think a mother killing her own child in Morrison’s ‘Beloved’, is such a stunning and painful moment in literature, but a revolutionary act, that threatened the core of white plantocracy.

bey
Bey

Bey should have gone all the way jor. And not doing so made the whole thing ultimately unsatisfying for me.

Personally, I believe Bey’s presentation of her autobiographical moment and bell hooks critique of it should be consumed side by side; they are both a reminder that there is still much work to be done in dismantling patriarchal domination and destructive hetero-normativity which Lemonade rightly names and then reconstituted in the family romance at the end.

We need both Beyonce and bell hook’s brand of feminism to continually interact and intersect, this is the only way each can refine and strengthen their position. I am grateful that they both exist.