It starts with a beat. A stupidly good one. Before you know it, you’re singing and rapping along, word for word. Then you hear the line — the one where he calls women out by their names, for sport.
You pause. Then you don’t. Because the song slaps. But your brain is already spiralling: “Can I call myself a feminist and still vibe to this?”
This is the dilemma many listeners with feminist views face when they come across misogynistic lyrics, tweets and statements from musicians like OdumoduBlvck. It’s a tension many feminists have to navigate daily if they want to keep vibing to rap music.
Isn’t it worth a second thought when you read on his X feed, “Women should not be allowed to act like rabid dogs because they know they can’t be spanked.” Or that, “Not all beating is abuse. I agree that some parents abuse their kids. No one loves me more than my mother. No one. She beat me when I was little. I put aloe vera in my housemaid’s vagina. I dey mad?”
I asked Salawa*, a feminist who also enjoys OdumoduBlvck’s music, what it means to constantly renegotiate the terms of her values with her taste in music. The answer, it turns out, is a complex one.
This is Salawa’s story as told to Tomide
I first heard about OdumoduBlvck, the person, on my X timeline sometime in 2021 — the same year I discovered his music. His charisma was undeniable, and that’s what initially caught my attention. I tilted towards his music after I heard Alpha Ojini’s “Vigilante Bop,” which he’s featured on.
My first reaction was, “What type of audacity is this? Why is he so lewd? Ewww.” But at the same time, I couldn’t help thinking, “Why is he so good?” I remember getting goosebumps when I heard his verse on that track. My brother introduced me to the song when he randomly played it in the kitchen one day, and I was instantly intrigued. I added the song to my library, and I have been actively listening to his music ever since.
It seems like he’s innovating a new sound that’s hard to copy because of its uniqueness. I remember watching him perform at Show Dem Camp’s Palmwine Fest in 2022. His crude personality was obvious then, but it wasn’t an ick…yet. It felt more like an accessory to his showmanship. Everything fit quite nicely, including the Igbo cap — until I started seeing some of his opinions on Twitter.
As a feminist, I hold certain values that don’t align with his kind of persona: that women deserve dignity and respect, that we are equal to men, and that stereotypes are harmful and untrue.
OdumoduBlvck once joked about putting a woman in her place by hitting her. I understand there was some context to it — he was referring to a woman who had beaten up a child. But in the now-deleted tweet, he said, “Women should not be allowed to act like rabid dogs because they know they can’t be spanked. There’s a difference between a good spanking and a good beating. No! Don’t punch her. That’s too much. A nice, ordinary Ahmed combo is a good resting device for those who are foolish.”
There’s a dismissive tone to that tweet, but even worse is how it endorses violence, reducing all women to a single entity and stripping us of individuality, as if we are undeserving of regard or respect.
That said, I don’t think this behaviour is rooted in a deliberate desire to be wicked. I think it’s the result of a deeply ingrained social conditioning that’s been upheld for a very long time. That’s why I don’t listen to “Cast” by Shallipoppi and Odumodu. I’ve never sung along to that infamous line. I can never dance to it either. It just can’t happen. But again, when I’m with the people whose opinions I rate, there’s no scrutiny, we’re just having a good time.
I carefully select his songs that I listen to. I regularly put “Commend” on repeat. As a matter of fact, I need to play it right now. I like it because he references consensual sex, one of my core principles. But also because it’s a damn good song.
If you’re wondering whether I have tried to hide the fact that I listen to him: no, not really. Unfortunately, all my friends are hypocrites like me. I’ve never hidden the songs I listen to in real life. We play everything when we link: house parties or even at work, when it’s just us Black folks around. I’ve done that many times. My friends are mostly like me. There are only a few reasons we’ll refuse to play a good song. (Naira Marley, however, is a no-go)
But on the internet, it’s a different story. I think that social media has become so polarising over time that it feels like a literal minefield. People are quick to brand anyone anything based on their preferences or opinions. The idea that a person can be multifaceted or multi-dimensional is not something the internet accepts. If you listen to Odumodu, you must be a misogynist. You don’t like Beyoncé, you must be a pick-me. (For the record, I love Beyoncé.)
I’m not saying he’s a good artist or praising his music to show anybody that I’m gang. It’s just me doing the little that I can to practice what I stand for. If it gets worse, like allegations of assault or crime, I can easily stop playing the guy altogether. But for now, avoiding his disrespectful songs is the least I can do to practice my feminism.