By Sadia Uba Musa
There is something increasingly troubling about the relationship between political mobilisation, public entertainment and women’s participation in politics in Kano. During political rallies and gatherings, a particular category of female political supporters popularly described as Gida-Gida TikTokers has become increasingly visible. Some are recognised through their performances, provocative displays and sometimes controversial public conduct, often presented as expressions of political loyalty. Beyond the videos, dancing and social media attention, however, lies a more uncomfortable question: Why are politicians willing to financially reward and publicly empower these forms of political entertainment?
Political support should ideally be about ideas, policies, leadership and accountability. Yet, when political patronage increasingly rewards spectacle over substance, we must ask what kind of political culture is being cultivated. Are we creating meaningful opportunities for women to participate in governance, or are we making political visibility dependent on performances that serve particular interests?
The concern is not that women should be excluded from political participation, entertainment or public expression. Women have every right to express themselves and earn a living. Rather, the concern is the political environment that appears to reward certain forms of public performance with money, influence and recognition. If politicians are willing to finance and celebrate these activities, they must also take responsibility for the culture their patronage helps sustain.
This conversation becomes even more significant when we consider Kano’s cultural identity. Historically recognised for its scholarship, commerce, Islamic intellectual traditions and rich cultural heritage, Kano occupies a significant place in Northern Nigeria’s history. What kind of cultural identity are we projecting to younger generations when political entertainment becomes more visible and rewarding than meaningful civic participation? Are we creating opportunities for women to become community leaders, entrepreneurs, intellectuals and policy advocates, or are we building a political environment where visibility is exchanged for patronage?
It would, however, be intellectually dishonest to place the entire responsibility on the women involved while ignoring the political structures that reward and promote these activities. The conversation must extend to the politicians who control the resources and create the incentives. Giving a woman money to perform at a political rally is not necessarily empowerment. Providing her with opportunities to acquire skills, build sustainable businesses, participate in decision-making and exercise independent political influence is an entirely different matter. Women deserve more than temporary relevance in someone else’s political project.
Perhaps the real question is not simply why these women are dancing, but why our political environment has made such performances commercially and politically rewarding. What are we actually investing in when we reward these activities, and what message does this send to the next generation?
For a city with Kano’s cultural heritage, this is a conversation we cannot afford to avoid. Women’s participation in politics should create opportunities for influence, independence and meaningful representation, not simply make them visible during political seasons. We must begin to distinguish between genuine empowerment and political patronage.
Ultimately, the question is: What are we rewarding, who benefits, and what kind of cultural and political legacy are we building?
Sadiya Uba Musa. Writes from Kano.
Can be reached via ubamusasadia957@gmail.com