What Do Indigenous Nigerians Benefit From Diaspora Inclusion in Fashion? 

Before landing what she thought was her dream job, a young woman allegedly spent three grueling days crafting mood boards, writing essays, and developing a social media strategy for a diaspora fashion brand. It seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to contribute to an international brand that claimed to celebrate African stories. But that excitement quickly faded. Bound by an NDA and false hope, she endured nearly a year of exploitation, working tirelessly without pay as her mental health deteriorated. 

Foxx & Company, under Isi Braimoh’s leadership, launched in 2023 as a “creative arts collective focused on fashion, image enhancement, and media.” At face value, the brand promises to “amplify African stories” and present a fresh perspective on fashion from the diaspora. According to the young woman (with X handle _Quemz), this brand abandoned ethical business practices and subjected herself and other interns to verbal abuse and neglect. Brands like this operate on a cruel but calculated truth: the lack of awareness and enforcement of labor laws in Nigeria gives them free rein to exploit.

It’s worth noting that economic challenges have forced many Nigerian fashion brands to focus on international markets. The naira’s devaluation has redefined what is affordable for most Nigerians. Fast fashion brands like Shein, once accessible to the middle class, are now out of reach—not because their prices have increased, but because the naira’s value has plummeted. 

As a result, brands like Fisayo Longe’s Kai Collective have thrived by pivoting outward. Kai Collective is a £6 million empire, built on the spending power of American consumers rather than Nigerians. Similarly, renowned designers like Lisa Folawiyo and Rendoll have turned to global markets, producing high-quality goods that appeal to international consumers. While this focus on external markets is a practical response to economic realities, it often leaves Nigerian consumers and workers on the margins.

For exploitative brands, the situation is even grimmer. They abandon the Nigerian market entirely while continuing to extract value from Nigerian talent. Unlike platforms such as Upwork, where global wage disparities are openly acknowledged, these diaspora brands use their knowledge of local struggles to manipulate young Nigerian creatives. They know the limited opportunities available to Nigerian youth and prey on their hope, exploiting their shared cultural identity to gain trust, only to perpetuate the very systems they once fought against. The betrayal runs deep because these employers know better—they come from systems where value is often placed on work, yet they choose to continue the cycle of exploitation.

Diaspora employers must make a choice. If you’ve built your empire abroad, then fully commit to that choice. Enjoy your December visits to Lagos, but stop taking advantage of talents from the homeland you’ve left behind. Additionally, Nigerian creatives must learn to recognize and reject these situations. This isn’t just about fair wages or ethical practices—it’s about the future of Nigeria’s creative industries. Nigerians can benefit from diaspora interest if this form of creative colonialism ends. Nigeria’s talent is rich and boundless, but its potential will never be realized if those who should champion it instead choose to misuse it.