By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
There is a device we all carry, a small rectangle of plastic and glass, yet it has become the window to our world, our link to opportunity, and strangely enough, the confessional of the African woman. I call it my phone, not because it belongs exclusively to me, but because it is where I have come to understand much of what is wrong with the African woman today.
Social media has become the stage where these women perform their most compelling drama. Soon as you say “hi” on Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp, or Instagram, you begin a journey you did not sign up for. There is rarely a simple greeting in response. Instead, what follows is a parade of stories that are tragic, desperate, and carefully curated to elicit sympathy.
“My mum died yesterday, I am an orphan now.”
“My husband or partner abandoned me. I have no one.”
“I am suffering. No one understands me.”
“Oh my phone has camera issues.”
“Oh, I need to recharge my phone. Can you please send USD$ 50, please handsome?”
These are not just messages. They are performances, carefully designed to manipulate emotions and capture attention. You feel compelled to respond, to console, to empathize. But here is the truth. While one woman is telling you this story, somewhere else another woman is telling the same story about the same man to someone else. Sympathy becomes currency. Attention becomes payment. And the very energy that could have gone into building businesses, communities, or families is spent on a performance designed to manipulate.
This is not an indictment of all African women. There are exceptional women, strong, hardworking, ethical, who contribute meaningfully to society, business, and politics. These are the women building Africa, fighting corruption, and innovating. But far too often, patterns emerge where women use stories, emotion, and sympathy as tools for personal gain, leaving society distracted, misled, and stagnant.
The African woman of whom I speak has mastered the art of storytelling. She knows the words, the timing, the images to post, and the responses to expect. Sympathy becomes her currency, and she spends it liberally. I have seen it firsthand. A colleague of mine, exhausted from work, responded to a story of heartbreak, only to later find that the “tragedy” had been shared with multiple men in similar ways. The attention, gifts, or promises that followed are part of a calculated system, whether consciously or unconsciously employed.
This behavior stretches far beyond personal relationships. Look at our politicians, corrupt and self-serving, whose excesses are fueled by similar appetites. Businesses fail, communities struggle, and energy is wasted satisfying insatiable desires. The drama that begins in a phone screen often mirrors the drama that holds back the continent, distraction, manipulation, and exploitation of trust.
The consequences are visible. Africa stagnates. Communities spend more energy negotiating personal dramas than building infrastructure, businesses, or policies. Marriages and partnerships strain under constant emotional manipulation. Resources are diverted toward personal desires instead of collective advancement. Even media coverage and public discussions, in some cases, amplify these cycles, treating drama as news while ignoring structural solutions.
It is not always malice. Structural, cultural, and historical factors shape these behaviors. Societies that limited women’s economic and educational opportunities inadvertently incentivized alternative avenues of influence. Where genuine power is denied, mastery of persuasion, storytelling, and emotional influence becomes a survival tool. But when left unchecked, these patterns harm both individuals and society.
This is not simple condemnation. It is a call for awareness and balance. Men must understand the patterns and not be swayed by narrative alone. Attention, kindness, and generosity are finite. Protect your time, resources, and emotional energy. Women must pursue empowerment, education, and independence through action, not manipulation. Africa needs women who build rather than exploit, who inspire rather than deceive, who lead rather than beg for attention.
Let my phone be a mirror, not a trap. Let it reflect truth, not curated fiction. Let it be a tool for learning, connection, and growth, not for draining resources, energy, and trust. The African woman must be seen in her full potential, strong, independent, fearless, capable of shaping Africa’s destiny, not merely narrating a version of it that benefits herself.
Every story we tell, every interaction we participate in, every desire we satisfy ripples outward. Until we recognize this, until we stop letting our phones dictate morality and empathy, Africa will continue to lose ground. African women, the continent needs you fully: your strength, vision, and integrity. Not just your stories. The world is watching. My phone is watching. And one day, the African woman must show us what she can truly be.