I remember the day like a bruise. I was organizing TEDxCadjehounWomen, building a platform to amplify African women’s voices, visions, and victories. I spent weeks knocking on doors, sending decks, pitching meaning to people who couldn’t seem to hear it. Some smiled politely. Others ghosted. Most asked for “visibility” they already had and “ROI” that could not be measured in applause or quiet transformation.
The day before our event, a concert went live in the same city. The organizer sold tickets like hot dogs. No PowerPoint decks I guessed. No justifications. Just vibes and volume. And the sponsors? The same ones who hadn’t gotten back to me had suddenly found cash, banners, and branded cups.
And I’ve seen it happen again.
With Afrolivresque, our online media amplifying African literature, I’ve been in the trenches, trying to convince companies that books by Africans for Africans matter. That culture isn’t a charity case, but a force. This week, I saw one of those same companies fund a massive party in Washington, DC.
Let me be clear: I am not against music, celebration, or joy.
But we need to talk about what we’re funding, and what we are not.
We live in a world where entertainment is easy to sell, and education is an uphill climb. It’s not just about “preferences.” It’s about priorities.
Entertainment promises a break. A breather. A beat drop.
Education asks questions. Sometimes hard ones. It invites us to think, to remember, to reckon.
So we choose the quick dopamine hit. We say yes to the concert and no to the collective consciousness. Because it’s easier to dance than to dig. Easier to forget than to face. Easier to fund fun than to fuel freedom.
It’s escapism, yes.
But it’s also something deeper: a global culture that rewards distraction over depth. That treats literature, healing, and truth-telling as optional. That sees African knowledge as adjacent rather than central. That forgets that every revolution started with a story — not a selfie.
There is a violence in what we ignore.
Every time a funder skips the grassroots mental health initiative to sponsor yet another gala, they are choosing silence over soul. Every time African creators are asked to shrink their vision for “alignment,” while champagne flows somewhere else, we are being told what this world values. And what it doesn’t.
Maybe ignorance is bliss.
But whose ignorance? And at whose cost?
We can’t afford to keep throwing parties at the edge of the cliff. We can’t keep choosing spectacle over substance, and calling it strategy.
We need funders with courage. We need institutions with memory. We need partners who see that rest is not only on a dance floor, and that liberation requires more than a playlist.
So yes, keep dancing.
But also, fund the people building meaning, not just moments.
Because the world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more knowing.
And some of us didn’t come to entertain.
We came to awaken.