Cosmopolitan Civil Societies: An Interdisciplinary Journal

Vol. 18, No. 1
2026

ARTICLE (REFEREED)

From Streets to Screens: Urban Popular Culture and Political Mobilization in Nigeria’s #EndSARS Protests

Seun Bamidele

Federal University Oye-Ekiti, Nigeria

Corresponding author: Seun Bamidele, Federal University Oye-Ekiti, Oye-Are Road, Oye-Ekiti, Ekiti State, Nigeria, oluwaseun.bamidele@gmail.com

DOI: https://doi.org/10.5130/ccs.v18.i1.9739

Article History: Received 19/04/2025; Revised 26/09/2025; Accepted 02/10/2025; Published 10/03/2026

Citation: Bamidele, S. 2026. From Streets to Screens: Urban Popular Culture and Political Mobilization in Nigeria’s #EndSARS Protests. Cosmopolitan Civil Societies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 18:1, 17–38. https://doi.org/10.5130/ccs.v18.i1.9739

Abstract

This paper examines how popular culture and digital media shaped youth-led mobilization during Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests. While scholarship on Nigerian activism often focuses on state violence and democratic struggle, this study highlights the creative cultural practices that energized participation. Drawing on ethnographic observation, social media content analysis, and interviews with 25 activists, artists, and digital creators, the paper shows how music, memes, performances, and protest art transformed demonstration sites into vibrant spaces of resistance. Hip-hop, Afrobeats, satire, and visual art amplified public grievances about police brutality while fostering solidarity across Lagos, Abuja, and diasporic communities. The study also finds that platforms such as Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok extended protest culture beyond physical spaces, enabling local demands to circulate globally. The paper argues that creativity in African urban contexts operates as both political expression and survival strategy, and that understanding these cultural dimensions is essential for interpreting contemporary youth activism and democratic change.

Keywords

Streets; Urban Popular Culture; Political Mobilization; Nigeria; #EndSARS; Protests

Introduction

To understand the entanglements of culture, politics, and technology in contemporary African cities, this paper interrogates how popular culture and digital platforms became central to the mobilization, the formation of protesters’ identities, and global visibility of Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests. While much of the scholarship on African social movements has emphasized state violence, democratic deficits, and structural inequalities (Adebanwi 2005; Branch & Mampilly 2015), there is growing recognition that creativity, popular culture, and digital innovation are equally crucial in shaping political participation and public life (Nyamnjoh 2017; Moyo 2020). The #EndSARS protests, which erupted in October 2020 as a youth-led movement against police brutality, by the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), provide a powerful vantage point for examining these dynamics. At the same time a street-based uprising and a digital phenomenon, #EndSARS illuminates how Nigerian youth mobilized cultural repertoires from music and performance to memes and hashtags to contest state violence while articulating new visions of citizenship, solidarity, and democracy.

Understanding the intersections of popular culture and digital activism in the #EndSARS protests is important because these practices are not simply modes of expression but instruments of political agency. Street protests across Lagos, Abuja, and other Nigerian cities were energized by cultural symbols such as Afrobeats performances, choreographed dance routines, graffiti murals, and fashion statements that transformed protest sites into stages of resistance. At the same time, digital platforms such as Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok amplified these performances to regional and global audiences, allowing Nigerian youth to narrate their own experiences, counter state propaganda, and mobilize resources (Yeku 2018; Dalhatu 2024; Adu 2024; Gerald & Chinumezi 2025). This duality between physical protest spaces and digital networks illustrates how urban residents mobilize creativity not only for cultural consumption but also as tools of political survival and transformation.

Unlike earlier episodes of civic resistance in Nigeria, which were often framed through formal political organizations, student unions, or civil society coalitions (Gabriel 2022; Adeoti 2023; Fadugba 2023), #EndSARS was distinctive for its decentralized leadership and reliance on digital tools of coordination. Youth protesters, many of whom belonged to a generation immersed in globalized popular culture, fused elements of Afrobeats, hip-hop, spoken word, and street performance with digital tactics of trending hashtags, viral videos, and meme culture. Such practices underscore the hybridity of African urban politics, where creativity and technology converge to articulate dissent. Yet, despite the global visibility of #EndSARS, scholarship has only begun to grapple with how popular culture functioned as both aesthetic and political infrastructure in the movement.

The Nigerian state’s repressive response to #EndSARS further situates culture and digital activism as critical arenas of political contestation. On October 20, 2020, the state deployed military force against unarmed protesters at the Lekki Toll Gate in Lagos, in what has since been described as a massacre (Chukwuemeka 2023; Nwagbara 2023; Osisanwo & Oji 2025). In the aftermath, digital platforms became the primary site for documenting violence, archiving memories, and sustaining collective solidarity. Protest songs were recorded, street murals memorialized lost lives, and hashtags such as #EndSARS and #LekkiMassacre circulated globally. These practices highlight the significance of creativity not as a peripheral ornament but as a central logic of urban resistance in Nigeria.

The rise of digital protest cultures in Nigeria must also be situated within broader debates on African urbanism, youth politics, and globalization. As Mbembe and Nuttall (2004) argue, African cities are spaces of experimentation, where residents continuously reinvent forms of sociality, consumption, and belonging. In the case of #EndSARS, youth appropriated global cultural repertoires – ranging from hip-hop aesthetics to the language of human rights – while embedding them in local practices of protest, thereby producing hybrid cultural forms of resistance. Street performances at protest sites often featured dance battles and musical concerts, blurring the line between entertainment and activism. On social media, memes and satirical skits provided cathartic relief while simultaneously critiquing state violence and corruption. Thus, the study of #EndSARS illuminates how popular culture serves as both a strategy of survival and a vehicle for political mobilization in African urban contexts.

Community participation in the #EndSARS movement also resonates with theories of coproduction and the public sphere. Protesters collectively provided security, organized food distribution, coordinated medical aid, and mobilized funds through grassroots networks such as the Feminist Coalition. These practices of mutual aid and collaboration exemplify what scholars describe as the coproduction of public goods (Brudney 1984; Meijer 2016). In this sense, #EndSARS was not merely a protest against police brutality but a collective experiment in building alternative forms of governance and solidarity. The integration of music, art, and digital content into these practices underscores how creativity functioned as an essential resource in sustaining the movement.

At the same time, the commodification of protest culture during #EndSARS reveals tensions between resistance, commercialization, and authenticity. Popular artists who joined the protests – such as Burna Boy, Davido, and Falz – produced songs that became protest anthems, while digital creators circulated branded merchandise and protest-themed content. While these practices expanded the reach of the movement, they also raised questions about co-optation and the boundaries between genuine activism and commercial gain. Similarly, the digital sphere, though empowering, remained vulnerable to state surveillance, internet shutdown threats, and the algorithmic logics of social media corporations (Owen 2015; Fuchs 2015; Cohen 2023). These tensions reflect broader questions of digital governance and cultural politics in African societies: how can protest cultures retain their organic and emancipatory character while navigating the risks of commodification and repression?

The literature on African social movements provides useful comparative insights. Studies in Tunisia and Egypt during the Arab Spring have emphasized how digital platforms enabled decentralized mobilization and transnational solidarity (Carty 2014; Mahmoud 2015; Lafi 2017; El Meadawy 2025), while research on South Africa’s #FeesMustFall highlighted the fusion of protest culture, music, and digital media in shaping student resistance (Buyens 2019; Mofokeng 2021; Leshilo 2024). In Senegal, the Y’en a Marre movement demonstrated how hip-hop culture could galvanize youth political participation (Bassene 2013; Senegal & Dione 2019). Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests align with these broader currents but also diverge in key ways: unlike the Arab Spring, #EndSARS lacked a singular demand for regime change, focusing instead on systemic police reform; unlike #FeesMustFall, it was not rooted in formal institutions like universities but emerged from decentralized networks of urban youth. This study, therefore, situates #EndSARS as a unique case that illustrates how African youth blend cultural creativity and digital activism to reimagine political participation.

Furthermore, the paper engages with theories of youth agency and political subjectivity in the Global South. Scholars argue that African youth are often positioned as marginalized or apolitical, yet in practice, they are central actors in creating new political imaginaries (Durham 2000; Arnot & Swartz 2012; McGee 2019; Enria 2024). In the #EndSARS movement, youth articulated political subjectivity through cultural performances, humor, and digital storytelling, thereby redefining what it means to be politically engaged. Protest sites became spaces of joy and experimentation as much as anger and resistance, illustrating that African youth activism is not reducible to grievance but encompasses aspiration, creativity, and hope.

In theorizing the role of popular culture in political mobilization, this paper contributes to debates on African urbanism, digital activism, and cultural politics. It argues that creativity itself becomes a form of political infrastructure. Just as roads and communication networks enable urban life, cultural practices — songs, memes, graffiti, performances — constitute infrastructures of resistance and solidarity (Murphy & O’Driscoll 2015; Miladi 2018; Hua 2021; Zaimakis & Oikonomakis 2021). In #EndSARS, such infrastructures were visible in street concerts, viral hashtags, online archives, and transnational solidarity campaigns, all of which sustained the momentum of the protests. Recognizing these cultural infrastructures allows us to appreciate how African youth mobilize both tradition and technology to challenge authoritarian structures.

Against this background, the paper investigates how popular culture and digital platforms intersected to shape the #EndSARS protests. Using ethnographic observation, social media content analysis, and interviews with purposively selected activists, artists, and digital creators, this study explores how protest spaces were transformed into cultural arenas and how digital networks extended these performances to regional and global audiences. Findings suggest that the #EndSARS protests were hybrid in character, drawing simultaneously on inherited cultural repertoires and emerging digital technologies. By centering #EndSARS in this analysis, the study illuminates how African cities are reimagined not only through state violence and neoliberal governance but also through everyday practices of creativity, resilience, and resistance.

The paper further argues that integrating cultural perspectives into analyses of social movements is essential for understanding the future of democracy in Africa. The flourishing of cultural protest practices during #EndSARS reveals both the failures of formal political institutions and the ingenuity of African youth. Recognizing these practices as legitimate forms of political participation opens pathways for more inclusive and responsive governance. For policymakers and scholars alike, engaging with cultural protest economies means acknowledging that the struggle for democracy is not waged solely in parliaments or courts but in streets, memes, music, and digital networks.

Most importantly, this paper situates #EndSARS as an important case for studying the intersections of urban popular culture, digital activism, and political mobilization. It underscores how creativity functions as both an expressive medium and a political resource that reshapes urban life. By examining the cultural dimensions of #EndSARS, the study contributes to broader debates in African studies, media studies, and political sociology, highlighting the ways African youth are reinventing activism in an era where streets and screens are inseparably intertwined.

Methods and Research Settings

This study adopted an exploratory qualitative design to investigate how popular culture and digital platforms shaped political mobilization during Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests. The exploratory approach was chosen because the study sought to capture lived experiences, practices, and symbolic meanings attached to the protests, which cannot be fully understood through quantitative techniques. Qualitative methods enabled the researcher to document the hybrid ways in which Nigerian youth fused street-level cultural practices with online activism, as well as the socio-political processes underpinning these practices.

The protests against the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) provide a compelling case for this inquiry. SARS was notorious for extrajudicial killings, arbitrary arrests, extortion, and harassment of young people, particularly those perceived to be ‘yahoo boys’ (internet fraudsters) or members of subcultures associated with fashion, tattoos, or dreadlocks. In October 2020, years of accumulated grievances erupted into widespread demonstrations across major Nigerian cities, with Lagos and Abuja as epicenters, but with resonance in cities such as Ibadan, Port Harcourt, Benin City, and Enugu. Beyond Nigeria’s borders, diaspora communities in London, Toronto, New York, and Johannesburg organized solidarity marches, extending the reach of the protests into a transnational sphere.

The protests were not only political events but also cultural performances. In Lagos, protest sites such as the Lekki Toll Gate became both arenas of dissent and stages of creativity, where music, spoken word, fashion, and street art animated collective resistance. In Abuja, protesters gathered at symbolic landmarks like the Unity Fountain, transforming public space into zones of contestation and solidarity. On social media, platforms like Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp became the connective tissue of the movement, enabling coordination, information-sharing, fundraising, and global advocacy. The hybridity of #EndSARS, as both a street protest and a digital campaign, makes it an ideal case for examining the intersections of popular culture, technology, and political mobilization.

Data collection for this study involved three complementary techniques: participant observation, social media ethnography, and in-depth interviews. Participant observation was conducted at selected protest sites in Lagos and Abuja, where the researcher documented protest activities, performances, and the cultural aesthetics of resistance. Observations included live concerts organized by popular artists, spontaneous dance circles, fashion displays featuring Afrobeats-inspired clothing, and the visual symbolism of graffiti, placards, and banners. Attention was also paid to the affective atmosphere of protest spaces, including collective chanting, moments of silence, and memorial rituals for victims of police violence.

Social media ethnography extended these observations into digital spaces. The researcher followed protest-related hashtags such as #EndSARS, #SoroSoke, and #LekkiMassacre across Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok. Over a three-month period, digital content including memes, viral videos, livestreams, and protest art was systematically archived and analyzed. This enabled the study to capture not only the creativity of online activism but also the strategies used by protesters to counter state narratives, mobilize resources, and sustain transnational solidarity. The inclusion of digital ethnography was crucial for understanding how street-level performances were amplified and reimagined in virtual spaces.

In-depth interviews were conducted with 25 purposively selected participants. These included ten street-level protesters (five from Lagos, five from Abuja), ten digital activists (including Twitter influencers, Instagram content creators, and TikTok performers), and five cultural producers (musicians, visual artists, and comedians) who played prominent roles in shaping the protest culture. Participants were selected to reflect diversity in gender, age, and mode of engagement. Ages ranged from 19 to 38, capturing the generational emphasis of #EndSARS as a youth-driven movement. Interviews explored participants’ motivations for joining the protests, their use of cultural symbols and performances, their experiences navigating state repression, and their perceptions of the relationship between creativity and political mobilization.

Interviews, lasting between 40 and 80 minutes, were conducted in English, Pidgin English, or Yoruba, depending on participants’ preferences. All interviews were recorded with informed consent, transcribed, and translated where necessary. Transcripts were coded inductively, and emerging themes were refined in relation to the study’s objectives. Major themes included creativity as resistance, digital amplification, solidarity and belonging, tensions of commercialization, and transnational circulation of protest culture.

The researcher’s positionality as a Nigerian youth with prior engagement in activist networks facilitated trust-building with participants, particularly digital activists who were wary of surveillance and reputational risks. At the same time, reflexivity was maintained to ensure that participants’ perspectives remained central to the analysis, and that the researcher’s positionality did not overshadow their narratives. Ethical considerations were paramount: pseudonyms were assigned to all participants, identifying details were anonymized, and sensitive digital content was archived in compliance with data protection guidelines. Special care was taken with diaspora-based activists, some of whom expressed concerns about online harassment or reprisals against family members in Nigeria.

The methodological framework and research settings allowed for a nuanced exploration of how popular culture and digital platforms intersected to shape political mobilization during #EndSARS. By situating the study in both physical protest sites and online spaces, the research highlights the hybridity of contemporary African activism, where creativity functions simultaneously as an expressive medium and a political tool. Just as physical gatherings in Lagos and Abuja generated solidarity and visibility, digital networks extended these practices into global arenas, amplifying Nigerian youth voices across borders.

Generally, the study’s design illuminates the importance of cultural and digital infrastructures in contemporary protest movements. The combination of participant observation, digital ethnography, and in-depth interviews enabled the researcher to capture the multiplicity of ways Nigerian youth used music, fashion, performance, and memes to reimagine resistance. This methodological approach foregrounds the agency of young people as both cultural producers and political actors, demonstrating that protest movements in African cities cannot be fully understood without attending to the creative and technological practices that animate them.

‘We mobilize through culture to resist’: Factors Underlying Mobilization into the #EndSARS Movement

Nigeria’s urban centers, particularly Lagos, have long been crucibles of political activism and cultural innovation. In October 2020, these traditions converged in the #EndSARS protests, where young people transformed popular culture and digital platforms into instruments of resistance. The protests emerged in response to systemic police brutality, but they quickly evolved into broader expressions of frustration with unemployment, corruption, and political exclusion. Just as Ibadan’s youth mobilize creativity to survive economic precarity, Nigeria’s youth mobilized culture to demand dignity and justice.

This section discusses the factors underlying mobilization into the #EndSARS movement, the organization of practices in both physical protest grounds and digital platforms, and the strategies adopted by protesters to navigate risks while carving spaces of resilience, solidarity, and belonging.

Police Violence and the Turn to Resistance

The immediate catalyst for mobilization into the #EndSARS movement was the pervasive brutality of the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), a notorious unit of the Nigerian police force. Established in the 1990s to combat armed robbery, SARS gradually evolved into an apparatus of intimidation, extortion, and abuse, especially against young Nigerians. The pattern was distressingly familiar: individuals with dreadlocks, tattoos, flashy clothing, smartphones, or laptops were arbitrarily stopped and accused of internet fraud. Many were forced to pay bribes, beaten, detained without trial, and in extreme cases, killed. What made these encounters particularly traumatic was that they often targeted those simply trying to survive in an already hostile economic environment.

For young Nigerians, harassment by SARS was not an abstract fear but a lived reality. A 23-year-old student from Lagos recalled:

Just because I had dreadlocks and a laptop, SARS stopped me. They called me a fraudster and asked for money. That day, I felt like my life didn’t matter. When #EndSARS started, I joined immediately. For me, it was personal. (IDI/Male/23/Student, Lagos)

His words illustrate how individual humiliation translated into collective outrage. For many young people, joining the protests was less about abstract politics and more about reclaiming dignity and safety in their everyday lives. Resistance became a survival strategy.

Women also narrated their experiences, often involving threats of sexual violence. A female activist from Abuja shared:

SARS men stopped us at night and threatened to rape us if we didn’t pay. I realized this fight is not only for men. It is for women too, because we also suffer. (IDI/Female/26/Activist, Abuja)

Her testimony underscores how police brutality intersected with gendered vulnerabilities. While men were frequently profiled as ‘Yahoo boys’ (internet fraudsters), women were subjected to sexual intimidation, insults, and harassment. This duality of experience ensured that the protests resonated across gender lines, creating a broad coalition of resistance.

Beyond direct abuse, SARS brutality carried symbolic weight. Young Nigerians saw themselves criminalized simply for embodying modern aspirations – owning an iPhone, driving a car, or dressing fashionably. These items, often fruits of hard work or entrepreneurship, were treated by police as evidence of criminality. As a 28-year-old freelance designer explained:

I saved money for almost a year to buy a laptop for my work. The first week I carried it outside, SARS stopped me and said I was a fraudster. They took the laptop. How are we supposed to succeed if our success is treated like crime? (IDI/Male/28/Graphic Designer, Port Harcourt)

This paradox of aspiration and punishment fueled the anger of a generation that felt perpetually denied recognition by the state. Instead of support, their efforts to survive and thrive were met with violence.

The generational dimension of SARS brutality was striking. Older Nigerians, who had lived through military dictatorships, often dismissed youth complaints as exaggerated. But for those under 35, the demographic most affected, SARS epitomized a broken system. A 21-year-old protester in Ibadan explained:

My parents didn’t understand why I was protesting. They said, ‘just avoid them.’ But how can you avoid SARS when they are everywhere? This is our fight because we are the ones dying. (IDI/Female/21/Student, Ibadan)

This generational divide heightened the determination of young people to speak for themselves. The popular slogan Soro Soke (‘speak up’) emerged precisely to assert youth voices in a political landscape where elders often monopolized discourse.

For many, police violence also blurred the boundary between public and private insecurity. Encounters with SARS did not only occur in distant neighborhoods; they often happened on familiar streets, on the way to school, work, or home. This proximity eroded any sense of safety in daily life. A Lagos-based content creator reflected:

It got to a point where stepping out with my phone felt like taking a risk. How do you live when the people who are supposed to protect you are the ones you fear most? (IDI/Male/25/Content Creator, Lagos)

The normalization of fear transformed ordinary acts such as walking, dressing, or using technology into potential triggers of violence. Protesting became a way to reclaim everyday freedoms.

Yet, even under repression, young Nigerians transformed pain into solidarity. Stories of harassment were shared on Twitter under hashtags like #EndSARS and #PoliceBrutality, creating an archive of suffering that validated collective anger. What had once been isolated experiences of humiliation became public testimonies of systemic abuse. In amplifying their voices, young Nigerians recognized that resistance was not just about ending a police unit but about demanding recognition as citizens.

Taken together, these narratives demonstrate that the turn to resistance was not impulsive but inevitable. Police brutality made life unlivable for many young Nigerians, criminalizing their identities, aspirations, and survival strategies. By joining the #EndSARS movement, they sought not only to end SARS but to assert their right to exist without fear. Resistance, in this sense, was both a political and existential act, a refusal to remain silent in the face of violence and a collective reassertion of humanity.

Economic Frustration and the Urgency of Change

Behind the immediate outrage that propelled Nigerians into the streets during the #EndSARS protests lay deeper and more enduring economic frustrations. For many young people, police brutality was not an isolated grievance but part of a wider crisis of unemployment, underemployment, and economic exclusion. Nigeria’s youth unemployment rate had reached historic highs in the years leading up to the protests, with millions of graduates unable to secure stable work. This widespread joblessness did more than erode material livelihoods; it undermined dignity, autonomy, and the promise of upward mobility. When police harassment was layered onto this precarious reality, it compounded the indignity of unemployment by criminalizing even legitimate strategies of survival.

A graduate turned graphic designer captured this intersection vividly:

After NYSC, no job. I started freelancing online, designing logos for clients abroad. But each time SARS saw me with a laptop, they called me yahoo boy. It was like we had no right to survive. (IDI/Male/28/Graphic Designer, Port Harcourt)

His narrative highlights the cruel paradox of Nigeria’s youth economy: in the absence of formal employment, young people turned to informal or digital entrepreneurship, only to be punished for the very practices that allowed them to cope. Here, economic hardship and state violence were inseparable. The indignity of unemployment was intensified by harassment, producing a potent sense of injustice that could not be ignored.

For women, economic precarity carried additional gendered implications. Many emphasized their determination to build independent livelihoods in the face of limited opportunities and cultural expectations. Yet they too faced harassment that delegitimized their efforts. A Lagos-based make-up artist explained:

I worked hard to build my small business. But when police stop you and take your money, it feels like you are not safe anywhere. That’s why I marched. I was fighting for my freedom. (IDI/Female/30/Make-up Artist, Lagos)

Her words situate protest not only in the realm of material survival but also in the struggle for autonomy and recognition. For women entrepreneurs, police extortion represented an attack on both their economic independence and their bodily security. The urgency of change, then, was about more than jobs; it was about reclaiming freedom from systemic exploitation.

The frustrations that fueled the protests were also generational. A 25-year-old unemployed graduate from Abuja expressed the despair shared by many of his peers:

We go to school, we finish, no jobs. Our parents tell us to keep waiting, but how long? Then SARS will still harass you for carrying a phone. It was too much. Protesting was the only way to shout. (IDI/Male/25/Unemployed Graduate, Abuja)

Here, the convergence of unemployment and harassment became unbearable. The absence of work created a vacuum, while the constant policing of youth identities deepened the sense of abandonment. Protest was not a choice but a necessity – a collective response to a system that denied young people both livelihood and dignity.

The rise of digital entrepreneurship further illuminated these contradictions. Platforms such as Twitter, Instagram, and WhatsApp had opened new economic opportunities for Nigerian youth, enabling them to sell products, advertise services, and connect with global clients. Yet these same practices made them targets of police suspicion. A young online fashion trader from Ibadan reflected:

Most of my customers are on Instagram. That’s how I pay my bills. But once SARS sees me with a good phone or laptop, they say I’m a fraud. It’s like they don’t want us to succeed. (IDI/Female/27/Fashion Entrepreneur, Ibadan)

Her frustration illustrates how state violence directly undermined the fragile pathways youth had carved out for survival in a collapsing economy. What should have been celebrated as innovation was treated as criminality, reinforcing the urgency of protest.

Economic frustration also carried psychological weight. The prolonged search for jobs, the stigma of idleness, and the humiliation of being extorted for simply trying to get by generated anger that spilled into the streets. A university graduate in Lagos described the emotional toll:

You wake up every day, no work. You try to hustle small, they arrest you. You start to feel worthless. But when we protested, I felt alive again. I felt like maybe we can change something. (IDI/Male/29/Graduate, Lagos)

His words reflect how the protests were not only about material demands but also about reclaiming self-worth and a sense of collective agency. The urgency of change was fueled by a refusal to remain passive in the face of exclusion.

Diaspora remittances and global visibility added another layer. Many young Nigerians were acutely aware of their peers abroad, whose economic opportunities contrasted sharply with their own. Seeing the diaspora thrive reinforced the perception that their own stagnation was not inevitable but a consequence of state failure. This comparative lens sharpened the demand for change.

These narratives demonstrate that the #EndSARS protests cannot be reduced to outrage against police violence alone. Economic frustration was the deeper current shaping mobilization. The protests represented a collective attempt to transform unemployment and precarity into a political voice. For young Nigerians, survival was already a daily struggle; by taking to the streets, they reframed frustration as resistance and asserted the urgency of systemic change.

Digital Platforms as Political Arenas

While the streets provided visibility, digital platforms served as the lifeblood of the #EndSARS protests. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and WhatsApp were not merely communication tools; they became infrastructures of resistance that enabled decentralized organization, fundraising, and real-time documentation. In a context where state-controlled media often downplayed or distorted events, digital networks ensured that protesters could narrate their own experiences. Hashtags such as #EndSARS and #SoroSoke (‘speak up’) amplified individual encounters with police brutality and transformed them into collective grievances, linking fragmented struggles into a national movement that resonated globally.

A 25-year-old digital activist described his role in these terms:

I couldn’t always be at the toll gate, but I was always online. My job was to tweet, share videos, and make sure the world saw what was happening. That was my own protest. (IDI/Male/25/Digital Activist, Lagos)

His words highlight how digital participation broadened the terrain of protest. Political engagement was no longer confined to physical presence; online amplification became an equally powerful form of activism. For those constrained by distance, work, or fear of violence, social media offered an alternative space to join the struggle without necessarily occupying the streets.

Memes, satirical cartoons, and remixed songs circulated widely, diffusing fear while reinforcing solidarity. Protesters drew on Nigeria’s rich tradition of popular culture to reframe suffering into humor and defiance. Satire was not trivial but strategic: it allowed young people to critique authority, challenge state narratives, and generate optimism in moments of despair. A Lagos-based content creator reflected:

We used jokes and memes to keep people from giving up. Even when the news was heavy, laughter reminded us we were stronger together. (IDI/Male/24/Content Creator, Lagos)

Here, humor becomes resistance, a weapon that disrupted fear and created collective courage.

Fundraising on digital platforms also demonstrated the transformative power of online mobilization. The Feminist Coalition, a group of young Nigerian women, coordinated donations through Twitter, GoFundMe, and cryptocurrency, raising millions of naira within days. These funds were used to provide food, medical supplies, and legal aid for detained protesters. A female organizer emphasized the importance of digital trust:

People sent money because they saw transparency online. Every transaction was shared, every naira accounted for. That trust made the movement stronger. (IDI/Female/27/Organizer, Abuja)

This transparency not only sustained the protests materially but also modeled alternative forms of governance – youth-led, accountable, and inclusive.

Digital platforms also enabled the circulation of live videos and testimonies that challenged state denial. During the Lekki Toll Gate shooting, Instagram livestreams and Twitter threads documented events in real time, forcing the violence into international consciousness. Diaspora activists picked up these materials, ensuring global media outlets carried stories that Nigerian television stations sought to suppress. A protester from Ibadan reflected:

Without Twitter, nobody would believe what happened at Lekki. The government wanted to hide it, but the videos were everywhere. That’s how the truth came out. (IDI/Male/22/Protester, Ibadan)

Such testimonies reveal how digital platforms not only recorded but also authenticated collective memory, making denial difficult.

For many women, online spaces provided safer avenues for political expression. Offline protests often carried risks of harassment and violence, but digital platforms allowed women to assert voice and leadership. A female activist based in Lagos explained:

I was scared to go out every day, but online I could still fight. I organized food deliveries, shared updates, and mobilized other women. We were visible in new ways. (IDI/Female/29/Activist, Lagos)

Her narrative shows how digital activism disrupted gendered hierarchies, making participation more inclusive.

The creativity that flourished online blurred boundaries between art and politics. Musicians remixed popular Afrobeat tracks with protest chants, artists produced viral illustrations of raised fists, and DJs curated playlists that circulated through SoundCloud and YouTube. These cultural productions did more than entertain; they sustained energy, shaped collective identity, and projected Nigerian youth culture to global audiences. A young musician in Port Harcourt put it succinctly:

Our music carried the movement. Even if people were tired, when they heard the songs online, they remembered why we fight. (IDI/Male/26/Musician, Port Harcourt)

This fusion of creativity and activism illustrates how digital culture became the very language of resistance.

Digital activism also strengthened transnational solidarities. Diaspora Nigerians used Twitter to pressure foreign governments, organize demonstrations abroad, and draw attention from celebrities and global institutions. The movement’s global hashtag ensured that protests in Lagos or Ibadan were linked to rallies in London, New York, and Toronto. The visibility of Nigerian youth struggles on international stages highlighted the power of digital platforms to collapse distance and amplify local voices into global causes.

Yet this digital reliance was not without vulnerabilities. Internet shutdowns coordinated misinformation campaigns, and online harassment targeted activists, reminding participants that digital arenas were also contested spaces. Nevertheless, young Nigerians demonstrated resilience, using VPNs, alternative apps, and encrypted communication to circumvent state attempts at control.

These experiences show that digital platforms were not supplementary to the protests but central to their very structure. They transformed the ways people organized, documented, and expressed dissent. They blurred the lines between art, activism, and everyday life, making political participation accessible to anyone with a smartphone. Most importantly, they revealed a generation skilled at harnessing creativity and technology to demand justice, amplify marginalized voices, and reimagine citizenship in Nigeria.

Popular Culture as Resistance

Protest sites during the #EndSARS movement were not only political spaces but also cultural stages where everyday creativity became a language of defiance. Young Nigerians transformed music, fashion, art, and performance into tools of resistance, blurring the line between activism and popular culture. This infusion of creativity not only energized participants but also projected the protests as distinctly youthful, innovative, and unapologetically Nigerian.

Music was perhaps the most powerful cultural medium animating the demonstrations. Afrobeat and Afropop stars lent their voices and soundtracks, with protest playlists filled with songs by Fela Kuti, Burna Boy, Davido, and other icons of Nigerian music. Fela’s decades-old lyrics against military oppression found new relevance, while contemporary tracks carried the energy of a generation unwilling to remain silent. At protest grounds, DJs turned makeshift loudspeakers into rallying points, where chants and songs merged into collective rhythms of dissent. A young protester at the Lekki Toll Gate recalled:

When we sang Davido and Burna Boy songs at the protest, it gave us strength. Music made us feel like we were part of something bigger. (IDI/Female/22/Protester, Lekki)

Her words highlight how music worked not just as entertainment but as a binding force. The familiar beats transformed fear into courage and loneliness into solidarity, allowing protesters to imagine themselves as part of a broader national and even transnational struggle.

Fashion, too, carried symbolic weight. Black T-shirts, headbands, face masks, and Nigerian flags became visual markers of belonging. Dressing for the protest was not a casual choice but a statement of identity and resistance. Black outfits signified mourning for victims of police brutality, while the green-and-white national flag symbolized a reclamation of the nation from corrupt elites. For many young Nigerians, protest fashion was both practical and expressive, allowing them to embody dissent through style. A student activist from Ibadan explained:

The way we dressed was part of the protest. Black meant we were serious. Carrying the flag meant we were saying, ‘Nigeria is ours, not theirs.’ It was more than clothes – it was a message. (IDI/Male/24/Student Activist, Ibadan)

These aesthetic choices redefined the public image of Nigerian youth, countering stereotypes of laziness or criminality with a visual vocabulary of resistance, mourning, and pride.

Visual art and graffiti also played a crucial role. Across cities like Lagos, Abuja, and Benin, walls were inscribed with slogans such as Soro Soke (‘speak up’), ‘End Police Brutality’, and ‘We are the future.’ Artists painted murals depicting clenched fists, blood-stained flags, and portraits of victims, transforming urban landscapes into archives of dissent. A graffiti artist in Lagos described his work as both memory and protest:

Spraying those words on the wall was my way of fighting. Even if the protests end, the wall will still speak. It will remind people what we stood for. (IDI/Male/27/Graffiti Artist, Lagos)

These acts of inscription ensured that the protests left a lasting cultural footprint, embedding resistance into the very fabric of the city.

Performance was another medium through which creativity flourished. Spoken word poets recited verses condemning corruption and injustice, while dancers choreographed routines to Afrobeats that entertained crowds but also dramatized resilience. Religious expressions were also reinterpreted in performative ways: gospel songs and Muslim prayers at protest sites created an atmosphere of unity that cut across faith divides. A female protester in Abuja captured this blend of the sacred and the political:

When we knelt to pray, then stood up to dance, it felt like God was with us. Our culture, our faith, our music — all joined together for freedom. (IDI/Female/28/Protester, Abuja)

Her testimony shows how popular culture provided not only joy and solidarity but also moral legitimacy to the protests.

The creative dimension of the movement also extended online, where memes, viral videos, and digital art proliferated. Protesters remixed songs with protest chants, produced satirical cartoons of politicians, and circulated short videos that blended humor with critique. These digital expressions reinforced the carnival-like energy of the streets while ensuring that resistance reached global audiences.

Yet the use of culture was not without strategic depth. By making protests festive and creative, organizers reduced fear, broadened appeal, and sustained participation over weeks. Parents who might have been skeptical of their children’s involvement found reassurance in the celebratory atmosphere, while international observers were drawn to the movement’s vibrancy. Creativity was not ornamental but essential: it turned public spaces into arenas of joy and resilience, making it harder for the state to delegitimize the protests as mere violence or chaos.

At the same time, popular culture allowed for the reimagining of national identity. By appropriating music, fashion, and art, young Nigerians asserted a vision of citizenship rooted in creativity, solidarity, and defiance against corruption. They transformed the stigma of being unemployed, marginalized, or criminalized into a source of pride, an identity of resistance celebrated both locally and globally.

Taken together, the infusion of music, fashion, graffiti, and performance into #EndSARS protests reveals how popular culture was not a backdrop but a driving force of political mobilization. Creativity offered energy, visibility, and belonging, enabling protesters to transform trauma into solidarity and vulnerability into collective strength. In this sense, culture itself became protest, and protest became culture — a carnival of defiance that redefined what it meant to be young and Nigerian.

Feminist Leadership and Solidarity Networks

One of the most striking features of the #EndSARS protests was the central role played by women in organizing, sustaining, and giving moral direction to the movement. While young men often occupied the frontlines of street demonstrations, it was feminist leadership and solidarity networks that ensured the protests remained viable in the face of state repression. The emergence of the Feminist Coalition — a collective of young Nigerian women committed to justice, equity, and accountability — represented a turning point in the trajectory of resistance. They provided organizational coherence to what was otherwise a decentralized movement, demonstrating how care and solidarity could become the backbone of political mobilization.

The Feminist Coalition’s activities were wide-ranging and meticulously coordinated. They raised funds through local and international donations, sometimes receiving contributions in multiple currencies and even in cryptocurrency when government authorities attempted to block their bank accounts. These funds were used to provide bail for detained protesters, cover medical bills for the wounded, supply food and water to protest sites, and support the families of victims of police violence. Their operational transparency, with detailed daily breakdowns of income and expenditure shared on social media, distinguished them from a government widely perceived as corrupt and opaque.

A female volunteer explained:

People sent us money from all over the world. We used it to bail protesters, treat the wounded, and feed the hungry. It showed that women can organize better than government. (IDI/Female/27/Member, Feminist Coalition)

Her words encapsulate the dual significance of feminist leadership: it was both practical and symbolic. On the one hand, it sustained the logistics of protest; on the other, it challenged patriarchal assumptions about women’s capacities in political life.

The coalition also foregrounded the ethics of care in resistance. Beyond providing bail and medical support, they ensured that protest sites became spaces of nourishment, safety, and solidarity. Volunteers distributed food, masks, and sanitary products, reminding participants that survival itself was a political act. These practices reframed resistance not only as confrontation with the state but also as the collective building of alternative communities where care, rather than violence, structured relationships.

Women’s leadership also altered the symbolic texture of the protests. By embedding transparency and accountability into the movement’s structure, the Feminist Coalition redefined what effective leadership could look like in Nigeria. Their insistence on inclusivity – supporting protesters regardless of gender, class, or location – stood in stark contrast to the divisive politics of the state. A young male protester from Lagos reflected on this dynamic:

We saw how the Feminist Coalition handled money. Every kobo was accounted for. Compare that with our leaders who cannot even explain billions. For me, it was proof that women should be in charge. (IDI/Male/24/Protester, Lagos)

This testimony underscores how feminist leadership did not only empower women but also inspired confidence across gender lines, reshaping public perceptions of governance itself.

Importantly, the coalition built bridges between online and offline spaces. Their digital presence was as significant as their physical interventions. Through Twitter and Instagram, they mobilized donations, shared urgent information about safe protest routes, and coordinated legal aid. The immediacy of these updates allowed protesters to respond quickly to arrests or violence, while international supporters could see in real time how their contributions were making a difference. In this way, feminist leadership exemplified the fusion of digital activism and material solidarity.

Yet the coalition’s prominence also attracted hostility. Government officials attempted to discredit them, accusing them of ulterior motives, while online trolls targeted members with harassment. Bank accounts linked to the group were frozen, forcing them to adopt cryptocurrencies to keep funds flowing. Rather than silencing them, these attacks highlighted their effectiveness and reinforced the perception that feminist leadership represented a genuine threat to entrenched power structures.

Women at grassroots levels also played indispensable roles in sustaining the protests. Mothers, market women, and local activists provided food, shelter, and moral encouragement. In some cities, elderly women stood as human shields between protesters and police, invoking cultural respect for motherhood as a form of protection. These acts of solidarity extended the feminist ethic of care beyond the coalition, embedding it in everyday practices of resistance. A 45-year-old woman from Ibadan explained:

When my son went to protest, I cooked and took food for him and his friends. If the government cannot care for them, we mothers will. This fight is for all of us. (IDI/Female/45/Mother, Ibadan)

Her statement demonstrates how feminist solidarity operated not only at elite organizational levels but also through intergenerational acts of care that sustained the spirit of resistance.

The role of the Feminist Coalition and broader feminist networks reveals how gender shaped the organization and meaning of #EndSARS. Women’s leadership was not peripheral but central, embedding transparency, care, and inclusivity into the heart of the movement. By coordinating logistics, ensuring accountability, and prioritizing wellbeing, feminist actors transformed resistance into a holistic practice that combined confrontation with the state and the creation of alternative communities of solidarity.

Feminist leadership redefined what political organization could look like in Nigeria. It challenged patriarchal models of power, exposed the failures of state governance, and demonstrated that women could lead with both efficiency and compassion. In doing so, it left a legacy that extends beyond the protests, inspiring new imaginations of citizenship, leadership, and justice in Nigeria.

Diaspora Solidarity and Transnational Flows

While #EndSARS was rooted in the streets of Lagos, Abuja, Ibadan, and other Nigerian cities, the movement’s resonance quickly spilled beyond national borders. The Nigerian diaspora emerged as a powerful ally, amplifying the voices of protesters at home and situating their struggle within global conversations about police brutality and state violence. From London to New York, Berlin to Toronto, Nigerians abroad organized rallies, carried placards, and used their social media reach to spread awareness. This transnational dimension reinforced the protests’ visibility and framed them as part of a wider struggle for dignity and justice.

In cities across Europe and North America, demonstrations by diaspora communities mirrored those in Nigeria. Placards carried slogans like ‘Stop killing Nigerian youth’, ‘End SARS now’, and ‘Soro Soke’, drawing curious onlookers who asked what SARS was. A protester in Toronto recalled:

When we carried placards here, people asked what SARS was. We explained, and suddenly, Nigerians abroad felt connected to those at home. It was a shared fight. (IDI/Male/29/Protester, Toronto)

His reflection highlights how the diaspora served as educators and ambassadors, translating local grievances into globally intelligible narratives. These conversations not only raised awareness among non-Nigerians but also deepened the sense of solidarity among Nigerians abroad, many of whom felt reconnected to the struggles of their homeland through activism.

The mobilization of the diaspora was not spontaneous but facilitated by digital networks. WhatsApp groups, Twitter hashtags, and Instagram stories allowed Nigerians abroad to coordinate protests, share logistics, and mobilize funds. Hashtags such as #EndSARS and #DiasporaForEndSARS trended in multiple countries, creating a digital echo chamber that amplified on-the-ground realities in Nigeria. Protesters in London livestreamed their marches, tagging international media outlets and celebrities, ensuring that images of Nigerian youth demanding justice reached millions across the world.

International celebrities including Beyoncé, Rihanna, and John Boyega lent their voices to the movement, tweeting solidarity messages that drew global attention. Human rights organizations like Amnesty International published reports documenting police brutality, further legitimizing the protesters’ claims. This external validation pressured the Nigerian government, exposing it to scrutiny beyond its borders. For many young Nigerians, diaspora solidarity demonstrated that their struggle was not isolated but connected to a global wave of resistance against systemic violence from Black Lives Matter in the United States to student uprisings in South Africa.

Diaspora communities also contributed materially to sustaining the protests. Fundraising drives were launched in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom, with proceeds sent to grassroots organizers in Nigeria. These funds helped to provide medical care, food, legal aid, and protective equipment for protesters facing repression. A member of a Nigerian student association in Berlin explained:

We knew people were being shot at in Lekki and Abuja, so we sent money for bandages and ambulances. Even though we were far away, it felt like our duty. (IDI/Female/24/Student, Berlin)

Her words underscore how diasporic activism combined symbolic support with tangible resources, bridging geographical divides through flows of care and responsibility.

Beyond logistics, diaspora solidarity carried profound emotional significance. For many Nigerians abroad, who often wrestle with questions of belonging and identity, participating in #EndSARS protests reaffirmed their ties to home. It offered a sense of reconnection, transforming distance into political intimacy. A Nigerian-American activist in New York reflected:

We grew up hearing stories of corruption and violence back home, but this time we could do something. Marching in New York, chanting ‘End SARS’, I felt Nigerian again. (IDI/Male/31/Activist, New York)

Such testimonies reveal how transnational flows of protest also reshaped diasporic identities, grounding them in shared struggles for justice.

At the same time, the global amplification of #EndSARS was not without tension. Some critics argued that international attention risked diluting the specificities of Nigerian realities by framing them solely through Western lenses of human rights. Others worried that diaspora-led protests could overshadow the voices of those risking their lives on the ground. Nevertheless, most activists emphasized complementarity rather than competition. Diaspora protests did not replace but reinforced local struggles, ensuring they were harder to silence.

The Nigerian state could dismiss domestic dissent as youthful unrest, but it struggled to contain the narrative once it crossed borders. Images of Nigerians marching in London and Washington, alongside solidarity tweets from international celebrities, constrained the government’s ability to manage the crisis purely as a domestic affair. The diaspora thus acted as a pressure multiplier, making repression at home more costly in terms of international reputation.

Most importantly, diaspora solidarity and transnational flows revealed the global dimensions of Nigerian youth struggles. Through protests, fundraising, and digital amplification, Nigerians abroad transformed #EndSARS from a national outcry into a global movement for justice. They linked local experiences of police violence with broader currents of resistance against racism, state brutality, and systemic exclusion. In doing so, they reaffirmed the power of diasporic networks—not merely as communities of memory but as active participants in shaping the future of their homeland.

Precarity, Repression and Resilience

While the #EndSARS protests embodied energy, creativity, and collective optimism, the movement was also acutely precarious. It operated in a political environment where dissent was criminalized, civic freedoms curtailed, and state security forces empowered to deploy violence with impunity. This fragility was underscored by the tragic events of October 20, 2020, at the Lekki Toll Gate in Lagos, when armed soldiers opened fire on unarmed protesters who had gathered peacefully, waving Nigerian flags and singing the national anthem. The Lekki shootings marked a brutal turning point, shattering the illusion that mass mobilization alone could shield citizens from repression. Yet paradoxically, even in the face of state violence, the movement demonstrated remarkable resilience, turning grief and outrage into new forms of creative resistance.

For many participants, the shootings were not only a physical assault but also a symbolic attempt to silence the collective voice of a generation. A young woman who survived Lekki recalled:

We lost people, but their voices live on. Every tweet, every video is their memorial. That’s how we keep fighting. (IDI/Female/24/Survivor, Lekki)

Her words highlight how memory itself became a site of resistance. By documenting and circulating images, videos, and testimonies, protesters ensured that the dead were not forgotten. Hashtags such as #LekkiMassacre, #NeverForget, and #EndSARSMemorial proliferated on Twitter and Instagram, creating a digital archive that challenged state attempts to deny or downplay the violence. What might have been erased in official narratives was preserved through citizen media, underscoring how cultural practices of remembrance sustained resistance beyond the streets.

Candlelight vigils were held across Nigerian cities after Lekki exemplified this creative endurance. Young people gathered with candles, placards, and music, transforming spaces of mourning into spaces of solidarity. These vigils were not simply about grief; they were also about reaffirming dignity, insisting that lives lost to police brutality and state repression mattered. In Lagos, Abuja, and Ibadan, protesters held moments of silence while artists performed songs of hope and resistance. Such rituals helped to heal collective trauma while reaffirming the movement’s unity.

Digital memorials extended this process globally. Diaspora communities organized online events, shared names and faces of victims, and curated playlists of protest songs on Spotify and YouTube. These digital spaces allowed Nigerians abroad to participate in mourning and resistance, creating transnational forms of solidarity that reinforced the resilience of the movement. The borderless nature of digital activism meant that repression in Nigeria could not easily silence the voices of a connected generation.

Yet repression was not limited to Lekki. Across Nigeria, protesters faced intimidation, arrests, and physical violence. Banks froze accounts linked to activists, while government officials branded the movement as dangerous and sponsored by ‘foreign interests.’ Some organizers were forced into hiding, while others faced surveillance and travel bans. Despite these tactics, young Nigerians responded with innovation. Protest logistics shifted to encrypted apps; fundraising was decentralized through cryptocurrency; and cultural strategies - from music videos to street art - continued to articulate defiance even as physical gatherings became riskier.

This adaptability revealed the resilience of what some called a ‘leaderless’ movement. Without a central hierarchy to dismantle, repression became harder to execute. Each participant, whether on the street or online, embodied the spirit of the protest. A digital activist in Abuja reflected:

When they froze bank accounts, we switched to Bitcoin. When they shut down protest grounds, we moved to Twitter Spaces. Every time they tried to stop us, we found another way. (IDI/Male/27/Digital Activist, Abuja)

Such testimonies illustrate how resilience was not only emotional but infrastructural, embedded in decentralized tactics that enabled the movement to survive even under intense pressure.

At the same time, the repression exposed the precariousness of youth-led activism in Nigeria. The risks of state retaliation, including imprisonment, job loss, and physical harm, reminded participants of the limits of resistance in a militarized democracy. Many protesters spoke of fear, but also of determination. A university student in Ibadan described this paradox:

We were scared, but also stronger. If the government can shoot at us just for protesting, then it means we are right to demand change. Fear turned into courage. (IDI/Female/21/Student, Ibadan)

Her reflection encapsulates the resilience of the movement: the very experience of repression deepened conviction rather than extinguished it.

The interplay of precarity, repression, and resilience defined the trajectory of #EndSARS. The movement’s vibrancy was always shadowed by vulnerability, yet its response to tragedy demonstrated the enduring power of cultural creativity. Through vigils, digital memorials, hashtags, and decentralized activism, protesters transformed grief into resistance. While the Lekki shootings exposed the brutality of the Nigerian state, they also revealed the capacity of youth to reimagine protest as a living archive – one that refuses silence, forgetfulness, or defeat.

Discussion and Conclusion

The mobilization of youth during the #EndSARS protests must be situated within longer trajectories of African urban resistance, digital activism, and popular culture as political expression. Nigerian youth transformed everyday cultural resources into infrastructures of struggle, compensating for chronic governance failures, systemic repression, and the precarious realities of economic exclusion. This dynamic parallels broader African histories of mobilization where creativity and solidarity become weapons of survival and defiance when formal structures fall short (Clark 2009; Nangwaya & Truscello 2017; Mueller 2018; Kilani 2024).

The #EndSARS movement thrived at the intersection of precarity and resilience. Protesters were not only reacting to immediate violence but were also drawing from deeper repertoires of cultural and political practice to shape how survival and citizenship were imagined. The dual emphasis on safety and dignity underscores the layered meanings of mobilization in contemporary Nigeria. Resistance was not reducible to political protest in the narrow sense; it was also a performance of belonging, youth identity, and global solidarity (Noguera, Cammarota, & Ginwright 2006; Pile 1997; Magaña 2017; Caraus & Paris 2019).

The findings from this paper illustrate that digital platforms, particularly Twitter, Instagram, and WhatsApp, functioned as anchor institutions of mobilization, much like markets serve as hubs in cultural economies. These platforms provided infrastructure for fundraising, organization, and amplification that physical spaces alone could not achieve. Yet, the streets remained crucial sites of visibility. The simultaneity of street-based protests and digital activism reflects what can be termed hybrid political economies of resistance, where offline and online strategies were interdependent rather than mutually exclusive (Kama Özelkan 2024; Kilic 2024).

These hybrid practices were sustained through vigilance and visibility, echoing urban theories of performativity and signaling. In the #EndSARS context, inactivity online was framed as complicity or silence, while constant engagement signaled solidarity. Hashtags, memes, and livestreams functioned not only as communication tools but as symbolic practices that embedded resilience into the very act of being visible. This ‘digital signaling’ became a collective ritual, highlighting the extent to which resistance was tied to the management of presence and voice in online spaces (Franklin 2013; Vlavo 2017; Ettlinger 2018; Hatuka 2023).

Structural breakdowns in governance intensified the need for improvisation. Police repression, unreliable electricity, and surveillance threats forced protesters to develop creative solutions such as using VPNs, crowdsourcing legal aid, and pooling resources for medical support. While these practices testified to ingenuity, they also revealed the burdens placed on ordinary citizens to compensate for state failures. Just as scholars warn that the celebration of resilience risks romanticizing suffering, the valorization of ‘youth innovation’ must be tempered by recognition that such creativity often emerges in contexts of structural neglect and repression (Nikulinsky 2022; Zhou & Chen 2025).

Collective mobilization was central to sustaining momentum. Networks such as the Feminist Coalition functioned as informal governance structures, regulating donations, ensuring transparency, and coordinating care. Their practices of accountability contrasted starkly with the opacity of state institutions, highlighting the possibilities of grassroots-led governance. Those who refused to participate in collective resource-sharing or spread misinformation were quickly called out online, illustrating how informal systems enforced solidarity while ensuring compliance (Cornwall 2008; Agnew et al. 2024).

The ambivalence toward the Nigerian state was striking. On one hand, protesters demanded recognition, safety, and reforms; on the other, they distrusted state-led initiatives, fearing co-optation, surveillance, and violence. This reflects broader African debates on the ambivalence of state-society relations, where citizens seek inclusion but simultaneously resist the costs of visibility and formalization (Lund 2006; Lindell 2010). #EndSARS participants thus navigated a precarious terrain — too visible to be ignored, yet too vulnerable to trust state responses.

From a theoretical perspective, the mobilization of popular culture during #EndSARS resonates with scholarship on coproduction and counterpublics. Just as African cities have historically been co-produced between citizens and fragile state infrastructures, the #EndSARS movement demonstrated how political resistance is co-constructed through creativity, solidarity, and digital performance (Simone 2004). The protests revealed the capacity of Nigerian youth to generate forms of political order and cultural meaning that were not reducible to formal institutions yet were nonetheless central to democratic expression.

The implications for political practice and policy are profound. Recognizing popular culture as a legitimate component of political life challenges the binary between ‘serious’ politics and ‘entertainment.’ Rather than treating memes, music, or fashion as peripheral, scholars and policymakers must acknowledge them as infrastructures of mobilization. Investment in digital freedom, accountability mechanisms, and youth political inclusion would significantly reduce the burdens of improvisation while enhancing democratic governance (Asimakopoulos et al. 2025).

Yet caution is required. The strength of the #EndSARS mobilization lay in its decentralized structure, its flexibility, and its embeddedness in everyday culture. Over-institutionalization or state capture risks undermining these qualities, reproducing the very exclusions that protesters sought to resist. Policies must therefore be participatory, engaging youth movements, women-led networks, and digital activists in designing frameworks that reflect their realities and aspirations.

This paper contributes to African urban scholarship by demonstrating how #EndSARS functioned simultaneously as a political protest and a cultural performance. The mobilization of Nigerian youth against police brutality parallels the mobilization of urban residents against unemployment and insecurity: both are responses to systemic neglect, both are organized collectively, and both are sustained through vigilance and visibility. These parallels suggest that African urbanism today is marked by an ethos of mobilization from below, where residents repurpose culture as political infrastructure.

In a nutshell, #EndSARS reveals the complex interplay of precarity, resilience, and cultural expression in Nigerian political life. Protesters transformed brutality into testimony, unemployment into creativity, and repression into solidarity. They mobilized through streets and screens, improvised amidst violence, and governed themselves through informal networks. At the same time, these practices exposed the risks of surveillance, co-optation, and exhaustion that accompany decentralized resistance. The challenge for democratic practice is to recognize and support these forms of mobilization without eroding their autonomy.

The lessons from #EndSARS underline the need for inclusive governance frameworks that treat youth cultural mobilization as integral to democratic development. Three recommendations emerge. First, governments should guarantee digital freedoms and protect online spaces as legitimate arenas of political participation, since these are critical to sustaining youth activism. Second, policy should institutionalize partnerships with grassroots networks, women-led coalitions, and diaspora groups, providing platforms for dialogue and co-designed interventions while safeguarding independence. Third, recognition of youth activism must avoid securitization or criminalization; instead, states should adopt enabling policies that enhance voice, visibility, and safety without undermining trust. By grounding governance in the lived realities of cultural mobilization, Nigeria and by extension African democracies can foster political futures that are both resilient and transformative.

The #EndSARS protests illustrate how popular culture, digital platforms, and solidarity networks can coalesce into infrastructures of political resistance. They remind us that African youth are not merely subjects of governance but active producers of democratic meaning. In their chants, songs, tweets, and vigils lies a vision of citizenship rooted not in state benevolence but in collective creativity and resilience. This vision - fragile yet powerful - marks the enduring legacy of #EndSARS and offers a template for imagining inclusive urban futures where culture and politics are inseparable.

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to express sincere appreciation to the anonymous reviewers for their rigorous evaluation and valuable recommendations, which substantially enhanced the scholarly quality of this manuscript. The author also acknowledges, with gratitude, the professional oversight and editorial guidance provided by Dr Hilary Yerbury, the Editorial Manager of Cosmopolitan Civil Societies, whose commitment and diligence greatly facilitated the review and publication process.