For the Girls Special: How women’s place in music has changed over the the decade
we take a look at the women who came before and those dominating at the moment
The music scene in Nigeria has benefitted from a large crop of women who have come in and out of the limelight, and played a part in making afropop the profitable and domineering genre it is today. Now more than ever, we’re gaining visibility all over the globe, the world is looking to Africa and paying attention to her sounds, and for once, not just the men.
Back in the late ’90s to early 00s, the music scene in Nigeria witnessed a defining moment where most of the mainstream songs mirrored American hip-hop, owing to the rising mainstream popularity of the genre at the time. This saw many Nigerian artists adopting similar versions of the late 90s and ’00s trends, like we saw from artists like Tony Tetuila to the Plantashun Boiz, Ruggedman and many others.
This is not to say that any of the women were left out of this monumental time in music history, as we had a crop of female rappers leading the charge and redefining what it meant to be a rapper in Nigeria. Like you’ll find with other indigenous rappers who are left out of rap conversations, Weird MC at the time was one of the unsung heros of the 00’s hip-hop/rap era. Most people from our generation would probably only know her two most popular songs, “Ijoya” & “Allen Avenue”, even though she had been in the game for most of our lives at these points. Beyond the music and her position in the rap scene, her androgynous style set her apart, and created a space for women like her who didn’t stick to the norms.
Following quickly on her heel, Sasha P, crowned ‘First Lady’ of rap at the time went on to achieve a number of firsts for female artists in Nigeria. In 2008, she became the first Nigerian female artist to perform at the World Music Awards, and two years later was the first Nigerian to win the Best Female Award at the MTV Africa Music Awards. Although some of the fiercest MCs at the time, Weird MC and Sasha P both retired from the mic; where Weird MC took on a more mentor-ey role in the industry to push younger artists, and Sasha P went into the fashion industry.
This is in stark contrast to the male counterparts from that time, who are revered today for their status as industry veterans, while the women are usually looked upon as a distant memory. Although Plantashun Boiz eventually split up, the group’s lead member, Tu Face, became one of the biggest household names in the history of Nigerian music, and has maintained mainstream relevance over the past two decades. Furthermore, the most popular female artists today are the women who came much later on in the next decade, such as Tiwa Savage, Simi, Asa, Teni the Entertainer, when attitudes towards women had changed and we began to take charge of our own narratives worldwide.
In addition, men always found a way to feed off each other, while the women typically didn’t come together and were rarely ever even featured on the men’s songs. This is not to say, however, the male artists weren’t collaborating with the women around them – Sasha P was part of hip hop collective, Trybesmen and had standout verses on songs like “Oya“, and just last week we had a look at how Lagbaja’s “Never Far Away” was an all-time classic particularly due to the song being helmed by Ego Iheanacho Ogbara, whose career never took off after she split from the band.
Music consumption back then was also very different to what it’s like today. To listen to music, you would have to buy physical albums or tune into radios or TV stations, therefore to really excel as artist, listeners had to buy your albums and tapes. The most successful arists were the most popular ones, and the women at the time weren’t given the same treatment and opportunities that the men were.
Female artists at the time were not what’s considered mainstream entertainment. In fact, women were fighting for their voices to be heard and also for the one seat at the men’s table allocated to them. Looking back, knowing what we know today, it would have served them better to come together, rather than compete.
These days, however, things are different and women are able to gain more visibility on their own thanks to the Internet and streaming, which makes profiting from your music much easier. Today, to access a musician’s entire discography is one search tab away, and the success of this is evident in independent artists such as Tems and Lady Donli, who with no label backing have towed their own paths and made their voices heard.
Prior to Tiwa Savage, it would be difficult to point to a female afropop superstar, thanks to this unspoken idea that there’s only space for one women at a time, alongside all the other men dominating the scene together. Growing up, as a young Nigerian girl, there was no one in Nigeria who held the same reverence to us that Britney Spears or Beyonce were in ’00s pop culture.
Currently jarring numbers show that only 21% of the global music industry are women and within that, only 3% produce and another 2% mix and master their music. We’re sure that within the Nigerian music industry, these numbers are even lower, within the different areas of the ecosystem from DJs and producers to songwriters and rappers. While the rap scene in the country is still finding it’s feet, the number of female rappers are basically zero to none, with only a few like newcomer Yazavelli and old timers such as Eva Alordiah spitting their truth.
Everywhere else in the world, women creating space for themselves, as we’ve seen over the years with artists like Lil Kim, Remy Ma, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, Tierra Whack and many others. It would be very difficult to point to that many women in our industry, and we all know what the reason for that is.
The progress women have made generally from the public’s reception of them to the amazing sounds they produce is immense, now we have a younger set of artists who are willing to put each other on and are even creating space for each other to win together. We’ve seen this from Tems to Dami Oniru, Bella Alubo, Tomi Agape, Efe Oraka, Ictooicy and many more. As the world became more aware of the importance of women’s place in society, so did the notion that more than one woman can win just like her male counterparts.
Lady Donli’s stunning debut album ‘Enjoy Your Life’ had more than its fair share of collaborations from other women such as 234jaydaa to Somadina to even Ghanaian pop princess, Amaarae; Bella Alubo’s recent EP, ‘Summers Over’ had Ezi Emela on the project’s standout track “Don’t trust Geminis” showing just how much growth and good sounds can come out of women working hand in hand to create their own legacy.
Even the existence of the more contemporary r&b, lo-fi sounds from Solis, LunaLovesYou, 234jaydaa, Merry-Lynn and our entire list of discoveries this month, is just further proof that there is space for more than one woman at a time, and also that we don’t need a seat at the boys’ table to be seen.
It’s important for us to keep this momentum going, and support women in music as much as we can, so that younger generations to come can look back with even more respect and reverence for the women who have come before them.
Featured image credits/native
Tami is a lover of astrology, music and women. Tweet your fave female artistes at her @tamimak_
ICYMI: First half of 2017 in review – women in music
NATIVE PREMIERE: Rigo Kamp Runs Ahead Of The Pack With The Visuals For “Marathon”
Rigo Kamp’s Marathon video is an intimate Afro-juju revival that pays homage to Sir Shina Peters and stamps...
Last Friday, Rigo Kamp, a NATIVE uNder alum and one of the architects of an equal parts nostalgic and refreshing sound released his self-titled debut EP, delivering a propulsive fusion of Alte, R&B, Funk, and Soul-infused rhythms.
Featuring previously released singles “Morning Sun” and “Summer”, the six-track eponymous EP executively produced by Odunsi The Engine sees Rigo lean heavily into his element as a sonic alchemist, jumping from silky falsettos to gritty grooves without losing an ounce of cohesion, and ultimately stamping the Abuja-born, Lagos-based singer-songwriter as a mad scientist of sound.
Just last November, Apple Music named Rigo Kamp as its Up Next artist, an acknowledgment that underscored his potential and confirmed what the tastemakers and underground scene already knew. Weeks later, he delivered an exhilarating live set for Spotify Fresh Finds in Lagos, proving he’s just as compelling live as he is in the studio.
On “Marathon”, the refreshing opener to the Rigo Kamp EP, Rigo borrows the bounce and swagger of Afro-Juju legend, Sir Shina Peters’ golden-era, fusing nostalgia with re-imagination to birth a vintage performance that feels like a private party for two, where it’s just Rigo, and you.
Get an exclusive first look at the video for Marathon here:
Listen to the Rigo Kamp EP:
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South African House Duo, Black Motion, Return With Rhythmic “Khululeka”
The SA house music pioneers are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release.
South African house music pioneers, Black Motion, are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release titled “Khululeka.” True to its meaning in isiZulu— “be free” or “find peace”—this track is an anthem of liberation, urging listeners to let go, embrace love, and heal through the power of music.
With their signature percussion-driven melodies and the soul-stirring vocal chants of King Monopoly, “Khululeka” transcends the dancefloor. It is a spiritual and emotional journey, carrying an energy that is both uplifting and transformative. Whether in personal reflection or in the collective movement of a crowd, the song invites listeners to surrender to its message and rediscover love—both within and around them.
Since their formation in 2010 in Soshanguve, Black Motion—made up of Murdah Bongz (born Robert Mahosana), and Thabo (born Roy Thabo Mabogwane)—has become a dominant force in global house music. Their debut single, “Banane Mavoko,” put them on the map, and their albums, including the gold-certified Fortune Teller and the platinum-selling Ya Badimo, have cemented their status as pioneers of the genre. Their collaborations with artists like Oskido and Black Coffee, along with accolades such as multiple South African Music Awards (SAMAs), have solidified their place at the forefront of African electronic music.
Over the years, Black Motion has partnered with brands like Ballantine’s, Sony Xperia, and Coke Studio, and they are looking to partner with more under their new label Intascore, expanding their influence beyond music. With a combined social media reach of over 2.2 million followers, their music resonates with audiences worldwide, uniting people through rhythm, culture, and movement.
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KEMENA FINDS BALANCE
Following the release of '888', Kemena reflects on artistic evolution, self-acceptance, and balancing...
A little over two weeks after the release of his first project of 2025, Kemena and I sat down to discuss the joys of creating art, the clarity that powers ‘888,’ and the freedom he found in surrendering to his path. Even though we were speaking virtually, his presence feels steady. He is speaking with the quiet confidence that defines his music–intentional yet fluid, deeply personal yet resonant. Over the years, his artistry has evolved, shaped by a desire for creative independence and the pressures of an industry that often demands compromise.
With ‘888,’ Kemena has reclaimed his space. The project neither chases the mainstream nor rejects it; instead, it exists on its terms, rooted in self-assurance. Across seven tracks, he weaves through stories with a sharp lyrical style and layered production, a testament to an artist fully in tune with his craft. In many ways, ‘888’ feels like an arrival—not to the commercial peak the industry might expect, but to something more valuable: a place of artistic certainty.
Standout tracks like “Rainy Day” and “Bola” remind you that Kemena is a storyteller in more ways than one. On “Rainy Day” he flexes his production prowess but the summery vibe of the song does not blunt the sentimentality of his lyricism. With “Bola,” Kemena taps into his element, deploying witty puns and his brilliant approach of social commentary and “I’m not mad, just hungry” is as relatable as it is envy-worthy—to be so intertwined with a lover that they can complete your lines.
Totaling seven tracks with a runtime of 16 minutes, ‘888’ is brief but expansive, a collection of ruminative thoughts, nimble melodies, and declarations of self-assurance. There is no hesitance in Kemena’s voice when he speaks about the album, no lingering doubt about whether he made the right choices, which is the same confidence he’s communicating in “You don’t need me”. ‘888’ is the product of someone who knows who they are and, more importantly, knows that they do not have to prove it to anyone. From the powerful declaration of “I Will Never” to the easy groove of “Evelyn’s Vibration,” the album takes you on a journey. It is a return to himself, a rekindling of the mindset he had before industry expectations clouded his creative instincts. It is also reminiscent of ‘Bond,’ the project that first put him on the radar of music lovers.
“I made ‘Bond’ as a student,” he reflected during our conversation. “I wasn’t trying to be anything. I just wanted to make music. And then all of a sudden, people started calling me—people I never expected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But somewhere along the line, I forgot what it felt like to make music just because I wanted to.” When I asked him how he found his way back, his answer was certain: “I stopped overthinking. I just made what felt right.”
Our conversation, lightly edited, follows.
‘888’ just dropped. How are you feeling?
I feel cool. It’s been nice. I feel like a celebrity, to be honest. I’ve done a couple of interviews already, and I feel like I’m saying the same thing over and over again. But that’s a good thing, right?
‘888’ feels different from ‘Guitars and Malaria.’ Did you approach this project differently?
‘888’ feels like me making music the way I want to again. With ‘Guitars and Malaria,’ there were a lot of industry conversations and people saying, “Work with this guy, collaborate with that person, do this to make the music more commercial.” I don’t regret making that album, but looking back, I think I was trying to fit into something instead of just being myself. I wouldn’t say I lost myself completely but, I lost the balance between the business and my authenticity. I started to feel like my music wasn’t valid unless it was getting industry attention. And for a while, I was chasing that. I was doing what I thought I should be doing, instead of what I wanted to do. I had to learn that I’m probably a project artist. I needed to stop feeling like my music wasn’t enough just because it wasn’t ‘blowing up.’
I started thinking about why people liked ‘Bond’ and, back then, I wasn’t overthinking it. I was a student just making music because I loved it. I wasn’t trying to force anything. But then, suddenly, things started happening—I started getting calls from people I never expected. That’s actually how I got into songwriting for other artists. People in the industry heard ‘Bond,’ reached out, and asked me to write for them. And before I knew it, I was deep in that world. But in the process, I started to forget what it felt like to just make music for me.
Was there a specific moment that made you realize you needed to return to that authenticity?
Yeah. At some point, I just stopped overthinking. I realized [that] I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. I didn’t have to chase industry validation. I could just make what felt right. That’s where ‘888’ came from.
One of the things that stands out about your music is how it feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. Do your lyrics come from lived experiences?
Not exactly. I think the way my music is put together—the energy, the emotions—is influenced by what I’m going through at the time. But the actual content? Almost none of it comes from my personal life. I don’t write songs like, “Oh, this happened to me, let me put it in a song.” Instead, I take a feeling, a perspective, or something I’ve observed and build a fictional story around it. I also like humor. I like to be witty, to play with words in a way that feels natural but unexpected. That’s always been part of my music.
That makes sense. Your lyrics often have a layered meaning like they say one thing on the surface, but there’s a deeper story underneath.
Exactly. I like to phrase things in ways that make people stop and think. I want someone to hear a line and go, “I’ve thought about this before, but I never knew how to put it into words.” Or sometimes, I just want the music to feel good. It doesn’t always have to make sense, it just has to resonate.
Would you say that’s why artists like Omah Lay and Jon Bellion resonate with you? Because they do something similar with their songwriting?
Yes! Jon Bellion especially. His music is almost like sermons sometimes. He says things in a way that makes you pause and reflect. Like in “Conversations with My Wife,” when he sings, “What if all the things I’ve done were just attempts at earning love? Cause the hole inside my heart is stupid deep” That’s the kind of songwriting that gets to me. That’s such a simple way to express love. He could have said it in a hundred different ways, but he chose that one. That’s what I admire. Not just what they’re saying, but how they say it.
That approach is very present in your music, especially in ‘888.’ What’s your favorite lyrical moment on the album?
It’s a conversation. It’s not one person talking. On ‘I will never,’ there’s this part where one voice says, “The things you want for me, I want it too. The things you like for me, I like it too.” And then another voice—almost like a god-like figure—responds: “Hope you know that I would never say something I don’t mean.” That moment feels special to me. It’s basically a prayer, but I don’t like to box my lyrics in, I keep it open-ended.
With the album it feels like you weren’t just making music but you were reclaiming something. Would you say this project is a turning point for you?
Yes, I think so. It’s not my first turning point, though. ‘Bond’ was the first one. ‘Bond’ was the project that put me in rooms I never expected to be in. Before that, I was just a student making music. Then, suddenly, people were calling me—people I respected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But then, in trying to navigate that world, I lost a bit of myself. ‘Guitars and Malaria’ was me trying to find that balance, and ‘888’ is me realizing that I don’t have to balance anything, I just have to be.
You’ve mentioned that you’re at peace with not chasing commercial success. Is there a part of you that wants mainstream recognition?
If it comes, great. But I’m not going to force it. I know how the game works. I’ve written for big artists, so I know the kind of songs that work in that space. And if I wanted to, I could sit down and make those songs. I could make music that fits neatly into what’s trending. But that’s not why I do this.
Does songwriting for other artists help you keep your music pure?
Yes! That’s a big part of it. Since I also write and produce for other artists, I don’t have to rely on my music to pay my bills. That takes a lot of pressure off. It means I can release what I want, when I want, without thinking, “Will this chart? Will this go viral?”
That freedom must be refreshing.
It is and it’s why I don’t overthink my releases anymore. I’m constantly creating. So when something feels ready, I put it out. I don’t have to wait for industry validation or the “perfect” timing.
What does that mean for the future? More projects?
A lot more. I’ve realized that my way forward is to just keep giving. The Lord has put me in a position where I can create without stress, so that’s what I’m going to do. No long breaks. No holding back. I’ll just keep releasing.
What is the biggest takeaway from ‘888’ for you?
That you don’t have to force anything. Whether it’s love, creativity, or success—what’s meant for you will come when you’re aligned with yourself. And if you have to fight too hard to keep something, maybe it was never really yours to begin with.
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