By Osuolale Oluwatomilayo
Music can be many things, a balm for the soul, a vessel of memory, or even a bridge to lost years. For many, it offers comfort in the quiet assurance that when no one else is listening, a good lyricist might still speak to the heart. Among the countless artistes who have mastered the art of turning thoughts into rhythm and emotion, Damini Ebunoluwa Ogulu, known to the world as Burna Boy, stands tall. Through his music, he has not only voiced his truth but also captured the hearts of millions who find pieces of themselves in his sound.
Burna Boy, born Damini Ebunoluwa Ogulu on July 2, 1991, is a 34-year-old Nigerian musician whose rise to fame redefined the landscape of contemporary African music. Though he began recording as early as 2010, releasing his first official track “Freedom Freestyle”, it wasn’t until 2012 that his breakout single “Like to Party” catapulted him into the limelight. The song marked not just a turning point in his career, but also the beginning of a new era in Nigerian music, one that blended Afrobeat, dancehall, reggae, and contemporary pop with unapologetic African pride and lyrical intelligence.
Over the years, Burna Boy’s artistry has evolved from youthful experimentation to cultural declaration. Each album tells a story of growth, struggle, and triumph, reflecting a man deeply rooted in his heritage yet unafraid to challenge global norms. From Outside to African Giant and Twice as Tall, his music has carried the weight of identity, resilience, and self-belief.
Today, Burna Boy stands as one of the most influential and globally recognized musicians to emerge from Nigeria, often described as the voice of a generation that refuses to be confined by borders. His confidence radiates through his lyrics, a sentiment he powerfully echoes in his 2023 album I Told Them, where he declares: “I told them that I was the realest, For some reason they didn’t believe it. So here we are.”
Yet beneath the sheen of success and the loud proclamations of social awareness lies a thread of contradiction: the widening gap between music that indicates injustice and a public persona that seems increasingly detached from activism.
The Beginning of a Voice
From early on, Burna Boy aligned himself with protest and commentary. In 2020, he released 20.10.20, a haunting tribute to the victims of the Lekki Toll Gate shooting during the End SARS protests — a moment that symbolized youthful defiance against police brutality and state repression in Nigeria. The song, driven by pain and rage, seemed to stake his claim. Here was an artist ready to carry the memory of October 20 on his back.
At that point, Burna Boy was not just making music, he was making meaning. He donated funds to support protest victims, commissioned billboards to amplify the movement, and called out government negligence. For fans and observers, he became more than an entertainer. He was a cultural spokesman, an heir to Fela Kuti’s radical musical activism. His mother, Bose Ogulu (Fela’s former translator and manager), once said, “Burna doesn’t just sing; he speaks truth to power.”
But as the years rolled on, that conviction appeared to wane.
The Decline of Activist Energy
In recent years, critics have pointed to what they describe as a retreat from Burna Boy’s earlier activism. In a 2024 feature on The Conversation Africa, music scholars observed that while many Afrobeats artists rode the wave of political consciousness sparked by End SARS, only a few sustained the momentum beyond social media. Burna Boy’s voice, once loud and charged, began to fade from the public protest space.
Part of this perception stems from his own words. In interviews, Burna Boy has stated bluntly that he no longer considers himself an activist, saying in one Instagram Live session, “The fight in me died in October 2020.” While some interpreted this as exhaustion from disillusionment with Nigeria’s political system, others saw it as a surrender and a withdrawal from the collective cause he once championed.
The dissonance between Burna Boy’s lyrical consciousness and his real-world engagement became increasingly glaring. Tracks like Monsters You Made, Another Story, and Collateral Damage all tackle themes of colonialism, corruption, and state failure, yet outside the studio, he seemed reluctant to assume the activist mantle. As Pulse Nigeria put it, “For all the Fela-inspired posturing, Burna Boy has carefully avoided the risks Fela took.” And yet, on October 20, 2025, he flooded social media with posts referencing “20.10.2020,” as he does every year, seemingly to show solidarity or to deliver a familiar sermon. It raises the question: was this a genuine act of activism or merely performative? One cannot help but wonder if his gesture stems from true concern for the core purpose of that day, or simply sympathy for the lives lost.
Fela’s Story and the Burden of Comparison
No Nigerian artist of Burna Boy’s stature has escaped comparison to Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the Afrobeat pioneer, fearless dissenter, and symbol of resistance. Burna Boy has often invoked Fela as both muse and mirror, sampling his songs, referencing him in interviews, and adopting his Afrocentric defiance. His Grammy-winning album Twice as Tall even opens with Fela’s spirit hovering over its Afrobeat rhythms.
Yet, this connection has become a double-edged sword. Fela was not merely an artist; he was an institution of rebellion, one who suffered imprisonment, raids, and censorship for his unflinching critique of Nigerian leadership. Burna Boy, on the other hand, operates in a more globalized, commercialized Afrobeats ecosystem, one less tolerant of political disruption and more focused on cross-continental marketability.
Critics argue that while Burna Boy channels Fela’s aesthetic, he has not inherited his courage. His concerts and interviews often spotlight African excellence and self-worth, but his silence on pressing national issues such as police brutality, governance failures, and youth unemployment, speaks volumes. In the words of The Guardian Nigeria, “Burna Boy wears Fela’s crown but not his scars.”
The “Afrobeats Has No Substance” Controversy
Another episode that reignited debate about Burna Boy’s authenticity came in 2023, when he declared in an Apple Music interview that “most Afrobeats artists have no real-life experience; they just sing about parties.” The statement sparked outrage across the Nigerian music scene. Artists like Davido and Rema subtly responded, while fans accused Burna Boy of elitism and hypocrisy.
He later apologized, claiming he had been misunderstood and “in a dark place” during the interview. But the damage was done. To many, the comment revealed a widening gulf between Burna Boy, now a global superstar living between The big leagues, Lagos, London, and Los Angeles, and the everyday Nigerians whose struggles once animated his music.
The episode raised questions about his empathy, particularly since he had once positioned himself as a voice for the marginalized. Music journalist Joey Akan described the controversy as “a symptom of disconnect,” arguing that Burna Boy’s global success had insulated him from the raw realities that fuel true protest art.
Between Global Stardom and Local Relevance
Burna Boy’s evolution mirrors a larger tension in Afrobeats itself: the struggle between global recognition and local authenticity. As the genre dominates international charts, its artists walk a fine line between maintaining African identity and appealing to global tastes.
Burna Boy’s achievements are monumental. He has sold out Madison Square Garden, become the first African artist to headline the London Stadium, won multiple BET Awards, and clinched a Grammy in 2021 for Twice as Tall. His collaborations with global stars like Ed Sheeran, Beyoncé, and Justin Bieber have cemented his position as a world-class act.
Yet, this global acclaim has also distanced him from grassroots activism. Unlike Fela, whose art and politics were inseparable, Burna Boy’s politics now seem occasional — reactive rather than revolutionary. While he may champion African excellence onstage, as his nickname “African Giant” clearly depicts, he rarely speaks out about Nigeria’s leadership crises, inflation, or insecurity.
This shift reflects a broader phenomenon: as artists ascend the global stage, their radicalism often softens under the weight of fame, endorsements, and diplomacy. The price of international acceptance can sometimes be political silence.
The Accountability Question
Still, the question remains: can Burna Boy be both a global superstar and a voice of resistance? Or has his success neutralized his activism?
In an era where social media amplifies voices instantly, fans expect their idols to do more than entertain. When Burna Boy once declared that he “carried October 20 on his back,” he symbolically accepted the moral responsibility of speaking for a generation. To step away now, without explanation or follow-up, feels to many like a betrayal of that promise.
However, others argue that it is unfair to demand activism from every artist. Nigerian writer Damilola Odufuwa notes, “We romanticize protest musicianship, but activism is a choice, not a duty. Burna Boy has given Nigerians pride through cultural power that, too, is resistance.”
This perspective sees Burna Boy’s global success itself as activism, a soft power statement of African excellence. His performances on stages once dominated by Western acts challenge global cultural hierarchies, proving that African art can lead the world. In this view, his silence on domestic issues does not erase his contribution, it merely redefines the form activism can take.
