“Tribalism Is Spreading Fast and It’s Disgusting” – Online Personality Raye Raises Alarm Over Growing Division

In a world already fractured by racism, xenophobia, and prejudice, Nigerians now face yet another layer of division from within—the rising tide of tribalism. Online personality Raye has taken to social media to sound the alarm, lamenting how this once subdued and subtle problem is growing into a full-blown crisis that threatens the unity of Nigerians. According to her, the alarming trend is being fueled not just by private biases but by influencers and public figures who are normalizing tribal sentiments for their followers.

“Tribalism is spreading fast; the funniest thing is that we are encouraging it,” she tweeted, in what has now sparked intense conversations across platforms. “A lot of people with a huge following are choosing a side and making side comments about how they are this and that. It never used to be like this. I don’t know why it’s so common now.”

Her words echo a growing frustration among Nigerians who have witnessed tribal loyalties morph from subtle stereotypes into blatant discrimination in social and professional settings. Raye’s recount of a recent experience drives the point home. She narrated how, while searching for a house to rent, she was quizzed by a landlord about her state of origin. When she replied that she was from Cross River, she said the landlord immediately asked if she was Igbo. Upon clarifying that she wasn’t, she was told they would “get back to her.” They never did.

This single incident, according to her, reveals a deeper problem. It is no longer just about jokes or harmless banter. Tribal identity has now become a barrier to opportunities, a filter for acceptance, and a wall that divides people who should otherwise live as one. For many Nigerians, this mirrors the discrimination they face outside the country, but the irony is that it now thrives within their own borders.

“In South Africa, Nigerians face xenophobia. In white countries, we face racism. And here at home, we face tribalism. The only one within our control is tribalism, so every day you wake up, choose not to be a tribalist, it’s not hard I promise,” Raye concluded.

Her statement has triggered widespread debates about how Nigerians treat one another, often prioritizing tribal affiliation above merit, competence, or even basic humanity. Social media has been flooded with people sharing similar experiences—from job interviews where names on a CV led to instant rejection, to relationships cut short because families disapproved of partners from different ethnic groups, to business deals stalled by biases rooted in long-standing stereotypes.

The rise of tribalism is particularly disheartening because Nigeria has always prided itself on being a multi-ethnic nation with diverse cultures. From the Hausa-Fulani in the north to the Yoruba in the west, the Igbo in the east, and minority groups spread across the south-south and middle belt, the country has over 250 ethnic identities. In theory, this should be a celebration of diversity. But in practice, it has become a fault line that fractures national unity.

Analysts point to several reasons behind the resurgence of tribal sentiments. Political manipulation tops the list. Every election cycle, politicians stoke ethnic loyalties to gain votes, framing themselves as protectors of their people against “others.” These tactics sow seeds of distrust and resentment that persist long after campaigns end. The media also plays a role, often highlighting ethnic identities when reporting crime or controversy, reinforcing dangerous associations between ethnicity and behavior.

On social media, where influencers hold immense sway, casual tribal jokes and offhand remarks quickly go viral, shaping the views of impressionable followers. What begins as a joke often takes root as a belief, and before long, the lines between humor and hate blur. This, Raye warns, is the most dangerous form of encouragement—when prejudice is normalized under the guise of entertainment.

For many Nigerians, the pain of tribalism is personal and immediate. Students often find themselves ostracized in schools outside their regions. Workers face subtle exclusion in offices dominated by one tribe. Couples in inter-tribal relationships are forced to fight endless battles for acceptance. Landlords, like the one Raye encountered, make housing decisions based on origin instead of ability to pay rent. The ripple effect is a society where suspicion trumps trust, and identity becomes a weapon instead of a unifier.

The tragedy of it all, many point out, is that Nigerians already have enough external battles to fight. Raye highlighted xenophobia in South Africa, where Nigerians are often attacked for being foreign. She mentioned racism in Western countries, where skin color becomes a lifelong hurdle. The heartbreak is that within Nigeria itself—where these external identities should be stripped away, and everyone should simply be Nigerian—the battle is against one another.

Calls to action have since flooded social media following her tweet. Many agree with her assertion that tribalism is within the control of Nigerians themselves. Unlike racism abroad or xenophobia in other African nations, which individuals may not be able to influence directly, tribalism is a homegrown plague that can only be dismantled if people collectively decide to stop fueling it. The solution, according to some, is as simple as Raye suggests: choosing daily not to be tribalist.

But choosing not to be tribalist is easier said than done in a country where tribal identity is deeply entrenched in family upbringing, cultural narratives, and even language. Parents, often unintentionally, pass down stereotypes to their children, telling them who they should or should not marry, trust, or befriend. These lessons, absorbed from childhood, form the foundation of biases that play out in adulthood.

Civil society organizations and activists have also joined the conversation, insisting that systemic reforms are needed alongside personal choices. They argue for stricter laws against discrimination in housing and employment, more inclusive political systems that reduce the appeal of ethnic-based voting, and media responsibility in reporting without tribal coloration. Schools, they argue, must also play a role in reshaping mindsets, teaching young Nigerians about unity, empathy, and the strength of diversity.

Yet, as powerful as these structural reforms may be, the everyday choices of ordinary Nigerians remain the most critical factor. If landlords stop rejecting tenants based on origin, if employers stop dismissing candidates because of their names, if influencers stop normalizing ethnic slurs, and if individuals stop asking “where are you from?” as a way to determine someone’s worth, the tide could slowly turn.

Raye’s voice may be just one among millions, but her message has struck a chord because it reflects a painful truth many already live with. The question is whether Nigerians will heed the call. Will tribalism continue to grow unchecked, feeding division and resentment? Or will people pause, reflect, and choose unity over prejudice?

For now, her words linger in the air like an uncomfortable mirror, forcing Nigerians to confront themselves. “It never used to be like this,” she said. Whether it remains this way or worsens will depend not on politicians or outsiders, but on Nigerians themselves.