Detty December, Lagos Girls & The Reality of It All

My Thoughts on what Detty December really means.

First off, a huge thank you for over 200 subscribers (lol, I drafted this when I was at 200! And wanted to leave it in there) even while I took a whole month off to fully immerse myself in Detty December.

This year, turning 21 meant I had full freedom to indulge in all that December in Lagos had to offer. Days spent at Ilashe, nights hopping between clubs and lounges, coming home at 5 AM only to be back outside by 2 PM. A month of nonstop activity, networking, and partying. Yet, while I was out experiencing it all, the one conversation that dominated my timeline was the same old discourse: “Lagos girls are mean.”

Are Lagos Girls Really Mean?

It’s funny how this narrative resurfaces every year, almost like a seasonal tradition of its own. The idea that Lagos girls, particularly in nightlife settings, are hostile or unapproachable isn’t new, and while I do think there’s a level of misogyny baked into the conversation, I also believe the only people who push this rhetoric are the ones already insecure about their social standing. I had no issue connecting with people, both men and women because I understood the social dynamics at play. If you’re joining someone’s section at a club, you’re not going to be instantly welcomed like a long-lost bestie. People stick to their circles, and that’s just how these spaces work.

The complaints about mean girls feel more like a reflection of unspoken hierarchies than anything else. The reality is that nightlife in Lagos and Detty December as a whole is built on exclusivity, status, and social capital. There’s an undeniable element of classism, a male-centred validation that fuels a lot of these interactions, and, honestly, a sense of entitlement that some people refuse to acknowledge. This year, it felt even more exaggerated when Madame Joyce decided to add her take to the discourse, amplifying a conversation that was already being stretched beyond reason. And went on to wear her high-profile t-shirt.

The Reality of Detty December

But beyond the surface-level complaints, what this whole discussion really highlights is the wider issue with Detty December and what it represents. Every year, the same patterns emerge: who can access the most exclusive events, who gets seen with the most celebrities, who buys the biggest tables at the club. It’s a game of hierarchy, and what makes it even more jarring is the backdrop it plays out against. Lagos is a city of extremes, and nothing makes that contrast clearer than December. One moment, you’re spraying money onto the floor, watching people scramble to pick it up, and the next, you’re stepping outside to be met with the harsh reality of a city where poverty is inescapable.

Does participating in this culture make us bad people? Tbh, I don’t know. That’s just the reality of Nigeria no matter how high you climb, you’re constantly reminded of how many people are struggling. But what does leave a bad taste is the arrogance that some people carry, the dismissiveness, the condescension. I’ve experienced it firsthand, even from an influencer’s friend (I’m sure you can guess who), while I was directing media and socials for an event. And yet, I know this isn’t just about individual people being rude it’s a reflection of a deeper issue: a country where the class divide is so stark that it naturally breeds tension. It’s only made worse by the influx of Nigerians and other people from abroad, stepping in with currencies that stretch further and widen the gap even more.

Still, despite all of this, I had the time of my life. I won’t lie; I think I over-centred myself in the moment, maybe too much. By the end of it, I could feel the effects, that quiet distance from God that creeps in when distractions take over. But I’m grateful. Grateful for the memories, the connections, and the sheer joy of experiencing it all. And honestly? I can’t wait for the next one.

"Anything that inflates your ego and dopamine to the point of distraction is never good!"

💖