The Politics of Crumbs and Wheels: When Empathy Becomes an Insult -By Abdulazeez Toheeb Olawale

In the delicate art of governance, language is a tool of empowerment. But when used without a deep, lived understanding of the struggles of the average citizen, that same language becomes a weapon of alienation.

The recent counsel from Nigeria’s First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, urging women to embrace small-scale trades like frying akara, roasting corn, or producing kuli-kuli, was likely intended to be a message of resilience. To those in the halls of power, it perhaps sounded like a call to “hustle” and dignity. But to the Nigerian woman—the mother struggling to bridge the gap between a stagnant minimum wage and the skyrocketing cost of a bag of beans, gas, and transport—it sounded like a retreat into subsistence in an age of technological and industrial advancement.

The backlash that followed was not born of disrespect for the dignity of labor. Nigerians are among the most industrious people on earth. The anger, rather, stems from a profound sense of “elite disconnect.”

There is an uncomfortable, palpable optics problem in the First Lady’s recent record. Only a few months ago, the same office was celebrated for distributing luxury vehicles to APC women leaders—a strategic move framed as “logistical support” for political mobilization.

When the political class gifts cars to their own, it is branded as empowerment and leadership development. Yet, when the same First Lady speaks to the mothers of the nation, the vision offered is not one of scale, industrialization, or structural support, but the return to the ancient, back-breaking labor of the roadside stove.

The optics are devastating: Some get wheels to cruise through the corridors of power; others get advice on how to stand behind a fire for the rest of their lives.

This is not a criticism of akara or corn; these are noble, honest trades that have built homes and sent children to school for generations. However, a First Lady’s office and a government under the “Renewed Hope” banner—should not be aiming to trap the Nigerian woman in the survivalist loops of the 1960s. We are in 2026. While other nations are debating artificial intelligence, clean energy, and manufacturing hubs, our official economic advice to the teeming population is to pick up a frying pan.

If the state truly wants to empower women, the difference lies in policy, not just rhetoric.
True empowerment is not a grant of a few thousand naira to start a roadside stall; it is the deliberate creation of an environment where a woman doesn’t have to rely on a roadside stall to survive. It is the provision of affordable energy so a small business can actually turn a profit. It is the removal of the double taxation and harassment by local touts that crush informal traders. It is the guarantee of security,so that when a mother leaves her home at dawn to earn a living, she is not preyed upon by the same bandits who are currently holding children hostage in our forests.

When a First Lady distributes vehicles to party loyalists, she signals what the government values: political mobilization. When she tells the struggling masses to sell corn, she signals what she thinks we deserve: the bare minimum.
We must ask: Why is our government’s strategy for the elite one of comfort, while its strategy for the masses is one of survival?

The women of Nigeria do not need “palliative” advice that keeps them in a cycle of poverty. We do not need our potential limited to the size of a frying pan. We need policies that lower the cost of living, stabilize our currency, and provide an ecosystem where our hard work results in wealth, not just daily bread.

Until the First Lady’s office can reconcile the cars it gives to the elite with the manual labor it suggests for the poor, this “Renewed Hope” will continue to feel, for many, like the same old struggle, rebranded.

Abdulazeez Toheeb Olawale is a freelance journalist based in Kano state, Nigeria
He can be reached via toheebazeez200@gmail.com.