A Nigerian father, identified on X (formerly Twitter) as Oluwatobi with the handle @tobyblush, has stirred a heated online debate after declaring that his daughter will not be allowed to make her hair until she finishes secondary school. The tweet, which has now gone viral, reads: “My daughter has no business making hair until after secondary school. Any shakara she wants to do will be done when she's 16yrs old. Her focus will be strictly on her studies.”
What started as a simple parenting statement quickly snowballed into a nationwide conversation about parenting styles, gender expectations, and how far parents should go to enforce discipline. Many Nigerians flooded the comments section with mixed reactions—some applauding his no-nonsense approach to raising a focused child, while others accused him of being overly controlling and out of touch with modern parenting.
Supporters of Oluwatobi’s stance argue that the increasing distractions among young girls—ranging from fashion trends to social media influence—are becoming a real threat to academic performance. To them, his rule is not about suppressing his daughter’s freedom but about instilling discipline and focus. “He’s simply trying to raise a serious-minded young woman,” one commenter wrote. “We have too many kids who care more about wigs and nails than their books. This father knows what he’s doing.”
However, critics wasted no time in calling out what they see as a problematic, even regressive, mindset. “Why do people always tie a girl’s ambition or academic success to her looks?” one X user fired back. “You can let your daughter look neat and still make her hair without it affecting her studies. This kind of thinking only teaches girls that beauty and intelligence cannot coexist.” Others echoed similar sentiments, arguing that restricting a girl from something as simple as making her hair could harm her confidence and sense of identity.
The tweet has also sparked broader discussions about the double standards in parenting, especially between boys and girls. Some users pointed out that many Nigerian fathers would never impose such restrictions on their sons. “If his son wants to get a haircut or wear designer sneakers, he won’t stop him,” another commenter wrote. “But for the girl child, suddenly ‘focus’ becomes the excuse. It’s always girls who are told to sacrifice joy for discipline.”
Oluwatobi, however, seems unbothered by the backlash. In a follow-up comment, he clarified that his decision was not about policing his daughter’s appearance but rather about raising her with clear priorities. “When she’s done with secondary school and turns sixteen, she can do all the shakara she wants,” he reiterated. “But for now, her focus is books. There is time for everything.” His use of the Nigerian slang “shakara”—which loosely translates to “showing off” or “displaying beauty”—added a humorous undertone to an otherwise serious post, yet it didn’t soften the wave of criticism.
The conversation soon spilled beyond social media, with several parenting blogs and online forums picking up the story. Child psychologists and educators weighed in, offering professional perspectives on the potential impact of such rules. Some argued that while setting boundaries is essential, strict prohibitions might have unintended consequences. “Children raised under overly rigid rules often rebel the moment they gain independence,” said one Lagos-based child development expert. “A better approach is to teach balance—let her understand that grooming and studying can coexist. Making her feel deprived could backfire.”
Others, however, saw merit in Oluwatobi’s philosophy. They argued that Nigeria’s current educational system, coupled with peer pressure and social distractions, demands that parents take a firmer stand. “It’s not about denying her femininity; it’s about teaching focus,” said another parent who supported his statement. “If more parents were strict about priorities, we would have fewer cases of students spending hours on TikTok instead of reading their books.”
Interestingly, several teachers joined the conversation, sharing firsthand experiences that seemed to support both sides. Some teachers recounted how excessive attention to appearance often distracts students in school, especially during critical academic years. “I’ve seen girls sneaking in hair extensions, applying lip gloss in class, and even fighting over who looks better,” one secondary school teacher commented. “Sometimes, you really can’t blame parents for setting boundaries.”
On the flip side, others insisted that a neat, well-groomed appearance can boost self-esteem and help students feel more confident in social environments. “A girl who feels good about herself performs better academically and socially,” one teacher explained. “Hair is not just vanity—it’s part of self-expression. Depriving a child of that could make her feel less than her peers.”
The debate took an even more emotional turn when some users began sharing personal stories. One woman revealed that her father had imposed similar restrictions on her while she was growing up. “My dad didn’t let me make my hair or wear nice clothes because he said it would distract me,” she wrote. “I graduated top of my class, but I also grew up with deep insecurities about my looks. I didn’t learn how to take care of my hair until university.” Her story struck a chord with many who felt that cultural expectations often weigh heavier on girls, forcing them to choose between confidence and conformity.
As the tweet continues to trend, the conversation reflects a generational divide in how parenting is evolving in Nigeria. Older generations tend to favor stricter, more traditional methods that emphasize obedience, modesty, and academic focus, while younger parents advocate for more balanced, communicative approaches that value a child’s individuality and emotional growth.
In a society where external appearances often carry cultural significance, especially for girls, Oluwatobi’s stance is a bold one. But it also exposes a lingering tension between modern ideals of freedom and the traditional African belief in discipline as the backbone of success. Some argue that his approach represents the voice of an era struggling to adapt to changing times, where social media and pop culture constantly redefine what it means to be young and expressive.
Yet, others see in his statement a form of protection—an attempt to shield his daughter from early exposure to societal pressures that equate beauty with worth. “He’s not saying she shouldn’t be beautiful,” one parent commented. “He’s saying beauty can wait. Childhood is short, and education is the best kind of beauty she can wear for life.”
Whether seen as wisdom or control, Oluwatobi’s tweet has forced Nigerians to confront uncomfortable questions about how girls are raised and what society expects of them. Should a child’s hairstyle be tied to academic discipline? Does simplicity guarantee focus? Or is self-expression an equally important part of growth?
For now, Oluwatobi stands firm on his decision. And while opinions continue to clash across timelines, one thing is certain—the conversation he sparked goes far beyond hair. It’s about parenting, priorities, and the constant tug-of-war between tradition and modernity in a changing Nigeria.