Who Owns a Story? Notes on Cultural Legitimacy and Creative Freedom

by 'Joba Ojelabi

I have avoided the Owanbe vs. Owambe conversation on Twitter for as long as I could because it became too sentimental. Beyond a few constructive comments guided by serious cultural and linguistic perspectives, the conversation mostly descended into insults and needless disrespect.

Mukoma Wa Ngugi at the Quramo Event.

However, at a recent conversation with Mukoma Wa Ngugi in Lagos, hosted by Quramo Publishing, a lady asked an important question about legitimacy. As much as creative license allows a storyteller to use what is necessary to tell a story, what criteria grant them legitimacy to own that story, especially when it is not primarily theirs? How does a Kenyan author write an Ethiopian story? Or how does an Igbo visual artist curate an exhibition around Yoruba expressions of mirth?

Mukoma addressed the question thoughtfully, but I knew it was one I had heard before and one that would keep resurfacing.

Human behaviour remains one of the most fascinating subjects to study. Shaped by motivations, orientations, and social triggers, it continually evolves. At the communal level, behaviour crystallizes into culture, which in turn shapes individual and social identity. That identity then influences how new members are socialized, creating a feedback loop of reproduction and reinforcement. Pierre Bourdieu’s Cultural Reproduction Theory explains this process well.

This framework suggests that the legitimacy to tell a culture’s story rests primarily on socialization, which is often experiential. But what happens when someone outside that culture undergoes similar socialization or conducts rigorous research to understand it? Can they earn legitimacy too?

Much of the backlash in cultural debates stems not from outsiders telling stories, but from misrepresentation, when elements of a culture are distorted or romanticized. This is where cultural appropriation enters the picture.

For instance, if a Yoruba filmmaker produces a movie about the Nwa Boy experience, the immediate question becomes: what gives him the right? Must he have been an Nwa Boy himself, or can deep study and immersion suffice?

In a world increasingly interconnected through technology, birth within a culture is no longer a sole claim to custodianship. Legitimacy, I believe, comes from understanding, whether through lived experience or rigorous engagement. Anything less risks becoming a disservice to the culture itself.

Conversely, those born into a culture must understand that reckless gatekeeping can be equally harmful. Cultural preservation should not mean isolation. Protecting a culture’s integrity should be grounded in awareness, education, and the promotion of its essence. That way, misrepresentations can be challenged without stifling cross-cultural creativity.

In 2025, no culture exists in a vacuum. What matters most is respect, accuracy, and depth of understanding, because in the end, storytelling is both a right and a responsibility.