In Conversation With Chiamaka: Life As A Nigerian In The Diaspora

 In this conversation with the Uprising Platform, a Nigerian in the diaspora, Chiamaka Ichoku, narrated some of the cultural differences between home and abroad.

During the session, she highlighted how she is fascinated by the newfound phase in her life and several things that she has been able to attain while away from her home country, Nigeria. She didn't stop there; she disclosed that while Europe is an impeccable society, the system cannot be compared to the extroverted nature of the most populous black nation.

 

Chiamaka Ichoku

How will you describe the Nigerian privilege?

 

Chiamaka is enjoying her time in the diaspora

The Nigerian privilege, to me, is not always something you see, but something you feel deeply in the way Nigerians carry themselves and navigate the world. It is the gift of being born into a people who are bold, expressive, and unafraid to take up space. Growing up Nigerian means I have learned to speak with my whole self; my voice, my hands, my presence. There is a confidence that comes with saying, “I am Nigerian,” because it instantly connects me to a legacy of resilience, creativity, and strength.

 

One part of this privilege is warmth and community. Nigerians are naturally hospitable; we know how to make people feel seen and cared for. Wherever I go, I carry that sense of generosity, whether it’s offering a meal, sharing laughter, or simply being present. It gives me ease in building relationships and creating bonds, because my culture has taught me that no one should feel like a stranger.

 

Another layer of this privilege is resilience. While Nigeria is not an easy place to grow up, the challenges have shaped me into someone who does not easily back down. I have learned to adapt, to innovate, and to find joy even in difficult situations. That grit is something I see as a superpower because where others might give up, I push through, because being Nigerian means finding a way where there seems to be none.

 

There is also a cultural pride that runs deep. Our music, food, languages, and fashion are bold and unapologetic. I walk into rooms knowing I represent a nation of over 200 million voices, diverse yet united by a shared vibrancy. That pride fuels me to excel because I know the expectations that come with being Nigerian; we are known to succeed, to lead, and to leave an impression.

 

And finally, there is joy. Nigerians know how to celebrate life, to dance, to laugh, and to love loudly. That energy is part of the privilege I carry; it reminds me to live fully, no matter where I am.

 

So, when I think of Nigerian privilege, I see more than just nationality. It is the courage to dream bigger, the resilience to pursue those dreams, the pride of identity, and the strength of community. It is a privilege that shapes my worldview and gives me a foundation I would not trade for anything.

Chiamaka Explains What She Misses About Nigeria

The everyday things that I once took for granted, while small, are the privileges I miss about Nigeria since living abroad. I have now realized these were parts of what made life feel so rich. The first is the deep sense of community. In Nigeria, there is hardly such a thing as loneliness, as you are always surrounded by people, whether it’s neighbors greeting you, family dropping by unannounced, or friends checking in just because. Abroad, life feels quieter, more individualistic, and I often long for that communal warmth where you know you’re never truly on your own.

 

I also miss the vibrancy of Nigerian life. While I earlier thought the streets chaotic, I now realize the streets were alive with sound and color. The music blaring from the shops, food sizzling by the roadside bukka’s, voices raised in conversation, laughter, and sometimes outright disagreement or fights. There’s a constant energy that feeds you, that makes even ordinary days feel dynamic. Abroad, life is more structured and subdued, and sometimes I ache for that spontaneous spark of Nigerian liveliness that keeps your spirit awake.

 

Another privilege I miss is the food. Nigerian food is not just about taste; it’s about connection, tradition, and identity. The aroma of jollof rice with dodo and peppered kpomo at a party, the comfort of pepper soup and agidi on a rainy day, or the joy of eating suya at night with friends, these are experiences that carry emotion. While I can recreate some of these dishes abroad, they never taste quite the same without the environment, the people, and the culture that gave them life.

 

There’s also the privilege of shared understanding. In Nigeria, there are things you don’t need to explain, jokes, cultural references, and even struggles. Everyone just gets it. Here, I sometimes find myself translating who I am or why I do things a certain way, explaining why I love to wear patterned, colorful clothing or my hair worn the way it is, and honestly, this can be tiring. At home, identity feels natural and effortless.

 

And then, of course, I miss the joy of our celebrations. Nigerians know how to throw a party like no other; music, dancing, fashion, and an atmosphere so infectious that you forget your worries. Those moments of collective joy are privileges I cherish and deeply miss.

 

Being abroad has taught me that Nigerian privilege isn’t only what I carry within. It’s also the beauty of what I left behind.