From Adire to Ankara
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Yoruba fashion and fabric have proven resilient. Despite a proliferation of Chinese-made textiles in the market, locally-produced fabrics continue to hold high value and regard. However, the Nigerian textile industry continues to stand under a general threat of preference for cheaper, foreign-made goods.

In early 2016, following the fall in oil prices and an economic recession, the Buhari administration launched “Buy Naija to Grow the Naira,” an initiative aimed at promoting locally produced goods and services. Nigerian designers responded positively, agreeing that increased support from fellow Nigerians was necessary to advance manufacturing, foster economic development, and promote Nigerian pride on a global scale. Purchasing “Made in Nigeria” products has now become an admiral display of patriotism. Why have female Yoruba designers, characterized as members of an elitist and widely inaccessible industry, responded so positively to the “Buy Naija to Grow the Naira” movement? The assessment of dress as a political phenomenon within Yoruba’s pre-colonial, colonial, and contemporary eras can provide insight.

Bùnú Yoruba Women Pre-Colonial Political Dress – Community and Cloth Production

The Bùnú, a sub-ethnic Yoruba group in North-central Nigeria, is a testimony to the political and cultural value cloth holds for women. A Bùnú Yoruba prayer – “Cloth only wears, it does not die” – reflects its permanence and importance. Precolonial Bùnú women used cloth to express royalty, health, and other forms of individual identity. Cloth served (and still serves) as a tangible revelation of changing and stagnant social life.

Like other precolonial West African kingdoms, cloth production and trade among the Yoruba served as vital sources of wealth. Prior to the standardization of cowrie shells as the sole form of currency, cloth was used as a unit of exchange. Women oversaw and maintained the local economic structure of the entire fashion trade, employing girls, coordinating the dyeing process, and controlling profits. The high value of cloth granted women within the industry a high status; while men grew the cotton, women processed, spun, dyed, wove, sewed, and sold the product in the marketplace. Women purchased raw cotton products from male producers, but profits from their cloth production always exceeded those from agricultural products, making those in the textile industry independently wealthy.

Additionally, varieties of cloth were sold, with specific types marketed at higher prices. For example, àdìrẹ, indigo-dyed cloths, sold successfully at prices three to five times higher than the cost of white clothing due to its use in marriage ceremonies.

The necessity of clothing granted Yoruba women “great respect for their contributions to the social, economic and political growth of their society”. Ultimately, the pre-colonial era textile industry reinforced Bùnú female power within the household and greater community, increasing female economic independence.

Renegotiation of Power Under Victorian Colonialism

The late 19th century marked the early establishment of British colonialism in southwest Nigeria. Territorial advances by British colonial forces, the spread of Christianity, and weak Yoruba political consolidation created the chaotic environment necessary for European exploitation. By 1901, the southern half of the country was formally recognized as the Southern Nigeria Protectorate, and by 1914, Nigeria was formally recognized as an amalgamated colony of the British Empire.

Colonization significantly affected Yoruba women’s roles in familial and social organization. Through enforcement of Victorian-era values, British missionaries and colonial officers unsettled precolonial Yoruba gender norms, introducing European fashion and relegating women to the private sphere. However, Yoruba women were not idle observers of such trends. As power dynamics shifted within their communities, they adopted, adapted, and resisted European fashions and trends to renegotiate their own personal and collective power.

Christianity played a large role in the subjugation of Yoruba women under colonization. Christian Yorubas were unequally granted opportunities for Western education and often became evangelists or employees in the colonial administration. Yoruba converts, encouraged to equate European civilization to piety, adopted British behavior (i.e., drinking tea and donning British styles) to distinguish themselves as modern and pious. For some Yoruba women, abandoning indigenous dress for European styles was a mandatory element of conversion; numerous missionaries required European clothing for baptism and communion. This context made the adoption of European clothing a complex process. Through evangelism and Christianity’s association with education, aso òyinbó (white people’s cloth) became associated with an ‘enlightenment’ concept known as òlàjú (opening of the eyes”).

Many Yoruba women – Christian and otherwise - began to adopt European fashions to align themselves with òlàjú. They slowly began replacing kíjìpá (handwoven everyday cloth) with imported aso òyinbó. Aso òyinbó became especially popular in the 1940s and 1950s when more families needed European uniforms to send their children to colonial schools. This further connected aso òyinbó to education and social standing; therefore, the donning of aso òyinbó “made [Yoruba women] feel more important.” The promotion of imported cloth corresponded to the decline in the popularity of kíjìpá.

However, Yoruba women did not blindly accept British fashion standards, and neither did their acceptance of imported textiles “indicate an absolute decline” in the use or production of handwoven cloth. Most aso òyinbó were sewn into pre-colonial styles suitable to traditional aesthetics, such as ìró (skirt-like wrapper) and bùbá (blouse). As these fabrics grew in popularity, they became less associated with European indoctrination, and more associated with Yoruba culture at large. Yoruba women were intentional in their adoption of certain styles, and did so not out of shame, but out of “the social stigma of not keeping up with fashion”.

Furthermore, Yoruba women continued to use indigenous cloth. Traditional cloths, such as those for marriages and funerals, were fiercely guarded for special occasions and continue to be employed today in celebratory events. Others, such as àdìrẹ, continued to be popular throughout colonialism, albeit in new ‘enlightened’ styles. Àdìrẹ’s preservation “placed twentieth-century women in the same cultural universe as women of the mid-nineteenth century, but they had modernized that universe through the use of imported cloths, resist patterning, tailored blouses, and shoes.”

Not all Yoruba women adopted European fashions. Some, in resistance, denounced its use. This began in the 1890s when cultural nationalists began to launch “consciousness” campaigns to promote Yoruba heritage. These protestors, often educated and wealthy, called for a return to ‘traditional’ Yoruba clothing and for the abandonment of European values. The daughters of Richard Blaize, a wealthy Yoruba merchant in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, were vocal cultural nationalists and regularly used their platform for political action. Intentionally wearing traditional clothing to high-profile events, the sisters donned àdìrẹ wrappers with gèlè (head-ties) and bùbá fashioned from European prints to call attention to indigenous aesthetics and beauty. Their decision to exclusively wear Yoruba-style clothing reflects the sartorial agency women exercised during the colonial period.

Anticolonial Dress (and Undressing) within the Abeokuta Women’s Union

Resistance continued throughout the colonial and independence struggle era. In the 1950s, Yoruba women from all backgrounds employed dress and undressing for political protest. In Abeokuta, southwest Nigeria, Ẹ̀gbá (another sub-ethnic Yoruba group) women explicitly used fashion to make political statements against colonial and traditional government structures through the creation of the Abeokuta Women’s Union (AWU), under the leadership of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti.

AWU’s resistance techniques reveal how women employed dress and undressing for power gains. Under the leadership of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, AWU intentionally incorporated fashion and dress standardization into its membership regulations for activist organization and solidarity purposes.

Despite colonial marginalization, Yoruba women were integral to Nigeria’s early political and economic development. In Abeokuta, women àdìrẹ producers were key stakeholders in the economy, constituting about 11 percent of the female workforce in 1926.

However, as colonialism persisted, opportunities for women began to dwindle. While the importation of inexpensive cotton allowed more women to profit from àdìrẹ production, older female weavers were left behind. The colonial government also prioritized cocoa, which further harmed the textile industry. Growing demand for cocoa exports led to an increase in cocoa plantations, shifting production away from small farms. As the price of cocoa rose, men began to depend on wives and children for affordable labor, curbing female participation in textile production and processing. Female independence through àdìrẹ was further diminished through heavy taxation, leading to a significant decline in production and profit. It is this context that gave rise to the Abeokuta Women’s Union (AWU).

In 1944, Ransome-Kuti served as the head of the Abeokuta’s Ladies’ Club (ALC), an organization for wealthy women. ALC was originally created for sewing and etiquette lessons, but Ransome-Kuti extended its objectives to include female social issues, in the hopes of filling a female political power vacuum left by the death of an Iyalode (female chief). After realizing the “big gap between the life led by the educated women and the suffering of” market women, Ransome-Kuti and the ALC began to advocate for lower-income women working in the market. This collaboration across classes led to the 1946 abandonment of the ALC for the Abeokuta Women’s Union (AWU), a non-elitist advocacy organization aimed entirely at Ẹ̀gbáland women issues.

Ransome-Kuti was extremely conscious of the politics of dress and intentionally employed it for advocacy purposes. Desiring to further align the AWU with the market women struggle, Ransome-Kuti abandoned English wear for standard Yoruba dress in all public settings, and spoke only Yoruba to colonial authorities, forcing them to use a translator. Donning the typical gèlè, ìró, and bùbá, Ransome-Kuti employed dress to foster trust among Ẹ̀gbá market women, who wore identical clothing.

Ransome-Kuti also enforced dress standards in the AWU, implementing fashion protocol to promote an image of cohesion and solidarity. Such values were reflected in the AWU constitution, which stated:

“No member of the Union should think herself better than others; all must move freely and happily.

There should be moderation in the way the members dress for public occasions.”

AWU members adhered to a strict dress policy and were required to wear standardized forms of Yoruba dress during protests, portraying a vision of unity.

Undress was also a powerful technique employed by the AWU. In Abeokuta and Yorubaland, nudity is perceived as an extreme protest dress used against “male sociopolitical dominance”. It is taboo in Yoruba culture to view an elderly woman naked; “in the context of troubled relationships” Yoruba men were believed to be permanently cursed if women threatened “to undress, kneel down and curse him”. During Nigeria’s precolonial era, women of the Oyo Empire recognized the notoriety of female nudity and stripped naked to protest a new head of state. Similarly, AWU members understood the power and fear of a nude woman and used the act of undressing to protest the Alake (traditional Yoruba king in Ẹ̀gbáland).

By the late 1940s, the AWU increased efforts to remove the Alake for excessive taxation. Bolstered by the number of new market women members, the AWU concentrated their efforts on repealing taxes on women and attended numerous government meetings to vocalize their grievances. The government’s lack of response motivated the AWU to organize several public displays of undressing across the city. Elderly women across Abeokuta shed their clothes to call for tax repeals and his removal. The AWU’s coordinated nudity protests were highly effective, as they physically and figuratively stripped the Alake of societal respect, traditional authority, and popularity. As a result, the Alake temporarily fled Abeokuta for two years, awarding the AWU a major political victory. By employing dress for protest, the AWU was able to effectively express disapproval of oppressive political institutions.

Change and Continuity of Yoruba Fashion in the Contemporary Era

Significant social and political developments, such as independence in 1960 and the rise of female education, led to an increase in the use of indigenous fabrics and hairstyles among Yoruba women. Employing ‘traditional’ fabrics, styles, and hairstyles, Yoruba women used fashion to express newfound political and socioeconomic freedoms. Independence brought greater opportunities for female employment, leading to an increase in disposable income. This allowed women to purchase tailor-made Nigerian outfits and expensive ready-made European dresses and also led to women’s adoption of more masculine clothing, including suits, pants, and traditional Yoruba male clothing.

Unfortunately, national optimism quickly dwindled as military coups, the Biafra Civil War, and a 1981 collapse of oil prices led to an economic recession. To combat economic stagnancy, Nigeria implemented a Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) in 1986, forcing privatization, deregulation, and liberalization. SAP cut funding for social service programs, harming Yoruba middle and lower-class women, and led to an increase in cheap second-hand clothing imports. This, coupled with globalization and poor political leadership destroyed most local textile industries in the early 1990s. In 1980, Nigeria’s textile sector was the second-largest employer with over 175 mills in operation and an annual growth rate of 67%. Today, the weaving industry is feeble at best, with only 13 mills in operation.

Today, most Nigerian prints and fabrics are produced in China. The importation of Chinese textiles has created some employment opportunities for Yoruba women who purchase bulk materials to sell in local markets. However, this job creation is not in the lucrative and profitable processing sector. As a matter of fact, Nigeria struggles to process raw cotton for mass production. Initiatives such as Fashionomics and Nigeria’s “Buy Naija to Grow the Naira” aim to counter the rise of cheap imports and are quite gendered; after agriculture, the clothing and textile industry is the largest employer in the developing world. Thus, Yoruba women have been extremely involved in the attempted revival of the fashion industry.

Lagos Fashion Week and The Resurgence of Yoruba Dress, Politics, and Patriotism

Lagos Fashion Week (LFW) began in 2011 as the brainchild of Omoyemi Akerele, the director of Style House Files, a Nigerian fashion business development agency. Akerele recognized the need for a national fashion platform to improve Nigeria’s fashion industry, which largely operates on boutique scales due to high production costs. These costs are then passed down to the consumer, making locally-made Nigerian fashion expensive and largely inaccessible.

LFW runs for four days and features a select list of designers and fashion entrepreneurs from all over the continent, with particular care to raise the profile of Nigeria’s fashion sector. Akerele echoes the Buhari administration’s sentiments toward Nigeria-made products, stating “we need to ensure that production, manufacturing, and distribution is in place for designers, and that consumers understand the need to support Nigerian designers or brands.”

A partnership beyond Nigeria that attracts Africans, the African diaspora, and other global markets create a pathway for the revival of Nigeria’s textile industry. LFW offers a platform for national and international well-established designers to display their latest collections throughout scheduled shows over the four-day schedule. Smaller and younger designers are also encouraged to participate via the “Fashion Focus” platform, a collaborative effort between LFW and the British Fashion Council. Fashion Focus provides emerging designers with free global exposure, workshops, mentorship, and networking sessions. Participation in “Fashion Focus” is competitive; designers must have at least two years of working experience, editorial features, and formal fashion design training to qualify for consideration. In 2021, LFW introduced Woven Threads, an annual showcase of Nigerian brands particularly focused on implementing sustainability into their supply chain to “highlight the link between the future of fashion and the preservation of textile craftsmanship… for cultural and socioeconomic sustainability."

Expanding Nigeria’s fashion industry is dependent on bolstering designers’ capacity and product quality. LFW also works to promote this through high-level panels. These are critical elements of LFW, as designers, investors, and retailers discuss topics ranging from supply chains to investment. By maintaining a strict criterion for designers at every level, LFW has upheld a perception of Nigerian fashion as professional, luxurious, and competitive, furthering the politicization of Yoruba fashion begun by earlier generations of Yoruba women.

Today, LFDW is a major display of Nigerian and African designers, boasting almost 53 designers in the 2022 Spring/Summer collection – most of whom are women. Many of these female participants also channel political and historical themes for their work and marketing. Lisa Folawiyo, the founder of Lisa Folawiyo Studio, exemplifies this. Folawiyo’s brand competes with Chinese and European textile companies to produce embellished ankara (cotton cloth with colorful wax prints) for womenswear. By adding beads, crystals, and sequins to ankara made by local artisans, Folawiyo has been able to “imbue traditional clothing with a very modern look”, reinterpreting Yoruba traditional fashions for the contemporary Nigerian woman. Folawiyo’s line is also aligned with the “Buy Nigerian” movement. By marketing her studio as a locally sourced and produced brand at LFW, Folawiyo has promoted her product as a tangible emblem of Nigerian empowerment. Similarly, by capitalizing on ankara’s newfound popularity in the West, Folawiyo has renegotiated Yoruba fashion’s space in the global fashion and textile industry, increasing its prominence and significance in an international industry that has long excluded African creatives.

Conclusion

Yoruba women have always employed fashion as a form of political, economic, and social power, and continue to do so today. During pre-colonial Nigeria, Yoruba women relied on cloth and the textile industry for economic freedom and influence. As leaders of the textile industry, they created remarkable, sustainable supply chains to establish sources of income independent from their spouses, fathers, and other male family members.

As British rule changed social and gender divisions, women changed too. Adopting Western dress, Yoruba women donned ìró and bùbá in the style of their colonial leaders, and renegotiated their power by imitating European styles while retaining their individualized identities. While this period oversaw the downturn of local textile production, the blending of European and Yoruba female fashions during the colonial era emphasizes the agency of Yoruba women, who chose to incorporate African fashions into European standard dress for resistance and preservation purposes. During the independence struggle, female activists drew upon tradition for organizing purposes, using dress and undressing as tools for gaining and consolidating political power. Such tactics continue to be used today; in 2015, Yoruba women in Ekiti State publicly stripped half-naked to protest the arrest of their children in connection with a youth protest against the local electricity distribution company. Finally, female Yoruba designers today continue to use dress and cloth to deconstruct European ideology, decolonize Africa, and negotiate their economic and political power within the world.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not represent those of any previous or current employers, the editorial body of SIPR, the Freeman Spogili Institute, or Stanford University.