In our hyper-connected digital age, social media has transformed into a modern-day coliseum of public judgment—where voices rise, fall, and often clash with striking contradictions. One phenomenon that has become increasingly apparent is the spectacle of individuals who vehemently denounce behaviors they may secretly partake in or identify with. This paradox—where public outrage conceals private realities—is not a new facet of human psychology, but in the age of digital transparency, its visibility and complexity are markedly amplified.
Viewed through a psychological lens, such contradictions often stem from projection, a defense mechanism described by Freud and elaborated upon by later psychoanalysts. Projection involves unconsciously attributing one’s own forbidden or distressing thoughts, desires, or impulses onto others. For individuals grappling with internal conflicts—such as same-sex attraction or nonconforming gender expressions deemed “shameful” in their cultural context—public condemnation becomes a psychological strategy of self-distancing. By attacking in others what they deny in themselves, they gain a fleeting sense of control and moral superiority.
In the case of the man in the video, his virulent outburst can be interpreted not just as ignorance, but as a revealing glimpse into a deeper internal struggle. His language may betray a subconscious identification with what he outwardly despises. In Nigerian society—deeply conservative and often overtly homophobic—this pattern is particularly pronounced. The public space becomes a battleground where people perform virtue as a shield against suspicion.
Psychologists also suggest that this behavior can function as a survival mechanism. In environments where deviation from societal norms carries real consequences—legal penalties, social ostracization, or familial rejection—publicly disavowing one’s own impulses or history can serve as a form of self-preservation. Many who project hostility toward others are, in fact, trying to silence parts of themselves. This creates a tragic cycle: the more they deny their truth, the more aggressively they police it in others.
Empirical studies support this. Individuals who take extreme moral stances on issues related to gender and sexuality are often engaged in unresolved internal conflicts. The repression doesn’t disappear; it finds expression in judgment, shame, and moral posturing.
The Nigerian context adds another intricate layer—where masculinity is often narrowly defined, and queerness is not only stigmatized but also weaponized. Men are expected to perform strength, stoicism, and heterosexual dominance. Deviation from these norms—even aesthetically, such as wearing earrings, growing long hair, or adopting effeminate mannerisms—invites suspicion. Ironically, some of those who condemn others for “acting gay” may themselves adopt styles or behaviors coded as queer, often for attention, validation, or even financial gain. This contradiction reveals a complex dance of identity, survival, and moral distancing.
This man’s performance of outrage may not simply be about what he sees in others—but about what he fears in himself. It’s a desperate attempt to separate from the stigma by lashing out at it.
Until Nigerian society moves from moral posturing to psychological honesty—until people are allowed to live their truths without fear of reprisal—such performative outrage will continue. The collective denial only deepens the hypocrisy.
Few Nigerians understand that traits such as effeminacy can have biological underpinnings, influenced by chromosomal variations and hormonal profiles. To condemn a child exhibiting these traits—traits potentially shaped by one’s own genetic contribution—is not only ignorant but cruel. Demonizing what we do not understand only perpetuates generational harm and internalized self-hatred.
True liberation begins when we stop punishing others for being mirrors of the parts of ourselves we’re too afraid to confront.
Conclusion:
Beyond the individual, this paradox invites broader reflection on the kind of society we are shaping. Are we building communities where people can seek understanding and connection, or are we fortifying echo chambers of shame and judgment? Public figures, influencers, religious leaders, and policymakers all play a role in either breaking or reinforcing these cycles.
The future of Nigerian society—and indeed, any society—depends on the courage to break the chains of inherited prejudice. It calls for a collective awakening where personal authenticity is not punished but celebrated, where diversity of identity is not feared but embraced.
In confronting the paradox of public condemnation, we are not just addressing the hypocrisy of a few loud voices—we are holding up a mirror to the society that produces them. And perhaps, in that reflection, we find the first spark of real change.
