A simple question posed by a Lagos-born resident, Sir Dickson, has ignited a wide-ranging public debate on what it truly means to be a Lagosian in Nigeria’s most diverse state.

“I was born and raised in Lagos. Apart from my time abroad, I’ve spent all my life here. Am I not a Lagosian?” Sir Dickson asked, describing himself as “gbo from Delta State” while insisting that Lagos remains his home.

The comment triggered sharply divided reactions across social media, reopening long-standing conversations around indigene versus resident status, ancestry, citizenship, and belonging in Lagos — a city shaped by migration, commerce, and history.

Residency vs Ancestral Roots

While some respondents argued that Lagosian identity is rooted in ancestral ties to Awori Yoruba communities, others countered that birth, residency, contribution, and lived experience should define who qualifies as a Lagosian.

One contributor, Big Cheks, dismissed the controversy as unnecessary, noting that in many countries, long-term residence leads to citizenship. “If you can live abroad for 10 years and become a citizen, why is Lagos different?” he asked.

Similarly, Opulence clarified a key distinction often blurred in public discourse:

“Lagos is a state, not an ethnic group. Anyone born, raised, or living in Lagos is a Lagosian. But that doesn’t automatically make them an indigene.”

Governance, Taxes, and Exclusion

Others highlighted the structural inequalities embedded in Nigeria’s “state of origin” system. Mike Oshadami, who has worked and paid taxes in Lagos for over two decades, questioned why his Lagos-born children remain excluded from state benefits reserved for indigenes.

He argued that the system rewards ancestry over contribution, calling it an imbalance that undermines fairness and national unity.

Historical and Cultural Perspectives
Some voices, including Dipo Awojide, grounded the debate in constitutional and historical realities, noting that Nigeria formally recognises state of origin rather than place of birth.

Drawing comparisons with the UK, he explained that one can be British without being English — a distinction between citizenship and ethnicity.

Others, like Legendary Joe, took a cultural position, arguing that Lagos is historically Yoruba land and that identity cannot be separated from ancestry. He stressed, however, that Yoruba communities across the Southwest share deep historical links with Lagos, including Awori, Ijebu, and other sub-groups with roots stretching from Badagry to Ikorodu and Epe.

A City at the Centre of Nigeria’s Diversity

The exchange reflects a broader national challenge. Lagos, like Badagry, has long been a meeting point of peoples — traders, settlers, returnees, and migrants — making it both inclusive and contested.

While some warned against political weaponisation of identity ahead of elections, others urged Nigerians to separate love for place from ethnic ownership, arguing that criticism of governance does not equate to hatred of culture.

As Gucci Starboy put it, calling oneself a Lagosian should not be seen as a threat:

“Identifying with a place doesn’t mean you want to take it over. It means you belong to it.”

An Unresolved National Question

In the end, Sir Dickson’s question exposed more than personal frustration. It revealed a national tension between heritage and habitation, one that affects access to education, jobs, scholarships, political participation, and social acceptance.

Until Nigeria resolves the contradictions within its indigene–settler framework, debates like this are likely to persist — especially in cities like Lagos and Badagry, where history, migration, and modern identity intersect daily.