
Voicing Agency: Gender Dynamics and Narratives of Femininity in Yorùbá Wákà Music
Johnson Oluwajuwon Adenuga
University of Pittsburgh
Photo: Album cover for Salawa Abeni’s 1984 album Kolawole mo Ba Lo
While male artists dominate most Yorùbá musical styles, wákà music showcases a strong presence of female band leaders. Yet even in this genre, men often maintain control over the percussion section, which contradicts the prominent idea that “wákà music has strictly been a sphere of interest that women have sustained in the Yorùbá music industry” (Oladejo 2022, 152). One reason for men’s dominance in percussion can be the association of drum ensembles, like bàtá, with rituals involving contact with Òrìsà,[1] in which women were historically prohibited to participate (Omojola 2012, 21). These gender dynamics in wákà music raise a critical question: Does men’s participation limit women’s autonomy and agency over musical content and structure? This paper explores how wákà music simultaneously challenges and reinforces gender roles in Yorùbá society. Through selected case studies, I examine how Yorùbá culture, religion, and epistemes shape women’s musical agency and broader narratives of identity and power in contemporary Yorùbá life.
To better comprehend the gendered dynamics requiring examination, I situate women’s musical participation within the broader historical context of Yorùbá women’s societal roles. The dominance of women in wákà since the 1950s has been under-documented within broader conversations concerning the expansion of women’s roles in Yorùbá society. The dominant role of Yorùbá women has traditionally centered on homemaking, child-rearing, and participating in economic activities such as commerce, production, and providing services (McIntosh 2009, 109). Colonialism impacted women’s roles in contradictory ways. On the one hand, it undermined women’s contributions; for example, colonial governments denied them access to agricultural funding under the assumption that commercial farming was a prerogative of men. On the other hand, it expanded women’s opportunities by rewarding English literacy with access to occupations such as office clerks, secretaries, and teachers (McIntosh 2009, 170-175). Against this backdrop, women in wákà music carved out a distinct economical and cultural niche. Through performance earnings, female wákà artists extend Yorùbá women’s traditional economic agency into the domain of popular culture, transforming music into a platform for financial empowerment and political expression.
Before proceeding, it is essential to introduce some terms and clarify the context. Yorùbá popular music is rooted in the traditional music of the Yorùbá cultural group, where music mostly accompanied ritual rites in times before the Atlantic period of Yorùbá history (around 1630 A.D.). The Yoruba cultural group spans colonial-created boundaries, extending from Nigeria into the Republic of Benin and Togo. As the Yorùbá religious, political, and social status evolved, music became an independent form of performance and commentary, separate from its ritual context, addressing broader political and social concerns (Vidal 2012, 8-21). The music changed through interactions with other African musical traditions, European forms, global pop culture, and religion (Euba 1989, 18-19). Islamic aesthetics influences the styles of music genres like fújì, àpàlà, sákárà, and wákà, while Christianity has shaped jùjú and highlife music. Despite these religious inflections, the texts of these popular music styles remain largely secular, addressing social issues such as identity, governance, and culture. The lyrics reflect Yorùbá philosophy and the lived experiences of artists and the community. Other overarching qualities include call-and-response formats and traditional percussion instruments, such as dùndún and sèkèrè. While this article explores themes relevant to the broader Yoruba community, it specifically focuses on the Nigerian Yorùbá landscape and wákà musicians. With this context in mind, the article analyzes how wákà musicians Batuli Alake (1935-2013) and Salawa Abeni (b. 1961) navigate gender roles and sexuality in their musical practices.
Batuli Alake and Salawa Abeni exemplify women’s economic and cultural empowerment in wákà music, amplifying women’s voices within a culturally resonant framework. Alake, one of the foremost wákà performers, was pivotal in popularizing wákà music in the 1950s. In her 2018-released song “Aje Onire” [Ajé, the custodian of blessings], for example, Alake highlights the significance of women’s economic independence and the value of motherhood, showcasing that women’s autonomy and tradition are not mutually exclusive.[2]
All: Ká máa rìn, ká máa yán, ká rówó fi dáṣọ, káwọ̀ máa bàjẹ́.[3] All: May we walk proudly and be blessed with money to adorn ourselves with fine
clothes and let our skin radiate.
gbogbo wa pátá ni ká jọ rí ṣe. Òbù owó nlá ó yàtọ̀ sí ti ráìsì. Big money differs from rice money.
Owó ìjàkàrà jẹ̀kọ, ìyẹn kọ́ lowó, ka lowo ka láṣọ… (0:49-1:07). Money to buy Àkàrà and Ẹkọ is not enough money, May we have money and
clothes… (0:49-1:07).
All: Kọ́nà ó là ṣàṣà, kówó wọlé, ìbà ògún awéró owó… All: May our path be through, money should come, honor to Ògún, the bringer of
customers…
ká ṣe kẹ́rẹ́, kó dowó, ká sún kẹ́rẹ́ dọlà, káyé máa ṣì wá lọnà, As we journey, may money come our way; as we move about, may we encounter
wealth,
orí kó ṣe wá lábíamọ. May the world not lead us off the pathway. May our head destine us with
motherhood
Call: Kórí kó ṣe wá lábíamọ Call: May our head destine us with motherhood
Response: Orí kó ṣe wá lábíamọ… Response: May our head destine us with motherhood…
Call: Kórí ṣe wá lọ́lọ́mọ, máà màà jẹ́ àwa ó yàgàn o. Call: May Destiny fill our home with children; we should not be barren
Response: Orí kó ṣe wá lábíamọ… (2:29-3:06). Response: May our head destine us with motherhood… (2:29-3:06).
In the opening lines of her lyrics, Alake expresses a desire for financial independence that exceeds basic survival. She invokes Ògún, the Orìsà of iron and industry, to attract prosperous customers, using collective pronouns to frame her prayers as representative of women more broadly. She also appeals to Orí—the metaphysical essence of individual destiny (Balogun 2007, 119)—asking for the blessing of children: “May destiny fill our home with children.” Both Orí and Òrìsà are central to Yorùbá epistemology, part of a tripartite system alongside Ifá (Falola 2024, 8). Ifá is a divinatory practice that interprets human struggles through verses tied to the experiences of a legendary character, often an Òrìsà (Bascom 1943, 128). Alake’s invocations of Orí and Òrìsà show her mastery of these frameworks and demonstrate how she grounds her aspirations—economic and maternal—within culturally legible forms of spiritual authority. In doing so, she navigates and reclaims Yorùbá spiritual traditions, affirming that women, too, can access and mobilize these epistemologies despite ritual restrictions. Alake works within the traditional framework of spiritual traditions to expand the space for female agency and redefine womanhood on her own terms.
As a pioneering wákà performer, Alake laid the foundation for the genre’s growth, while Salawa Abeni transformed it into a national phenomenon. Abeni’s debut album, Late General Murtala Ramat Mohammed, released in 1976, sold over a million copies, which made her the first female artist to achieve this milestone in Nigeria. In 1992, the late Aláàfin Òyó, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi, acclaimed her with an honorary title of “Queen of Wákà.”[4] While Abeni’s achievements align with Yorùbá women’s broader economic contributions, her visibility as a performer in a male-dominated industry invites scrutiny, particularly regarding morality and propriety. In response, Abeni uses her voice as an instrument of agency to contest gender expectations and confront sexual slanders.
This assertion of agency is evident in Abeni’s 1984 album Kolawole mo Ba Lo,[5] [Kolawole, I will go with you], released by Kolington Records—owned by her then-husband, Alhaji Kolawole Ayinla. At the time, the couples were reportedly engaged in a series of verbal conflicts described as a “succession of attacks and counter-attacks” (Larkin 2006, 1). However, these tensions seemed to have been resolved by 1985, a year after the album’s release, raising questions about the target of her lyrics. It appears contradictory for Abeni to criticize Kolawole in the music, especially since the album is titled Kolawole Mo Ba Lo, [Kolawole, I will go with you]. Additionally, Abeni further praised Ayinla in the fifth track of the album, entitled “Àsìkó re sànmí” [Your time favors me], singing, “Kolawole, I will go with you, an esteemed being. Ayinla, notify me if I have offended you. The true husband the world acknowledges, Yusuf’s father. Èsù will not separate us…”[6] Here, she praises Ayinla while invoking Èsù, an Òrìsà known for causing disputes among humans, pleading for unity. Alternatively, the lyrics may be directed at her former husband, Alhaji Lateef Muyiwa Adepoju, given the emotional and professional tensions surrounding her transition from Adepoju’s record label to Ayinla’s. This historical and personal context provides a foundation for a deeper analysis of the first track lyrics.
In the album’s opening track, “Oko Oba Ada Oba Ko Ni Sa Wa Lese” [May we not fall victim to the Government], Abeni asserts her agency by responding to allegations of promiscuity through her music. She highlights her status as a wákà performer to underscore the vulnerability of her position as a female artist within the Yorùbá society. Over slow and contemplative vocal lines with sparse percussion, she confronts allegations from her husband. The first fifty-four seconds read as follows:
Lead: Ọkọ tó pè mí lóní ṣìná, Orí mi, Orí mi á ba jà o Lead: The husband who called me promiscuous, my head, my head will fight him.
Ọkọ tó pè mí lóní ṣìnà ṣè bórí á da fún-un The husband who called me promiscuous, my head will judge him.
Call: O rí mi léléré o tó pé n wá Call: You saw me as an artist before approaching me,
Response: Orí mi á da fún un Response: My head will judge him
Call: Ẹ sì mọ̀ mí lóní wákà kẹ tó pè mí yà o Call: You know me as a waka singer before approaching me
Response: Orí mi á da fún un Response: My head will judge him
Call: Orí mi á bá jà Call: My head will fight him
Response: làgún-ùn mi á pè é lẹ́jọ́ Response: My sweat will query him.
Ọkọ tó pèmí lóní ṣìná, Orí mi, Orí mi á ba jà o The husband who called me promiscuous, my head, my head will fight him.
Ọkọ tó pèmí lóní ṣìná ṣè bórí á da fún un (0:00 - 0:52). The husband who called me promiscuous, my head will judge him (0:00 - 0:52).
This first track also reflects broader historical tensions. Yorùbá women gained economic power in the 19th and 20th centuries through trade, including selling food and drinks, palm products, and ammunition, often unsettling the financial authority of men perceived as the heads of Yorùbá households. In response, secret societies and cults initiated religious rites and practices, like curfews, to control women’s autonomy and limit their trading activities (McIntosh 2009, 205). Additionally, divorced Yorùbá women face greater societal scrutiny, with public lectures—delivered by community leaders—reinforcing the association between divorce and sexual immorality (Aderinto 2015, 143). Abeni found herself at the center of these societal tensions as a successful Yorùbá popular musician and a divorced woman. While Batuli Alake invokes Orí for the blessing of motherhood, affirming traditional maternal values, Abeni calls on Orí as a defender, resisting the negative stereotypes imposed on women. Notably, the overall topic of the track is political, and the music abruptly transitions into a fast-paced prayer for government and menial job workers around the 0:54 timestamp. This shift highlights the urgent need for Abeni to articulate her resistance as a woman and artist through her voice. Abeni’s lyrics subvert the narratives of female impropriety, reclaiming women’s dignity through her voice.
Conclusion
Alake and Abeni navigate the complexities and challenges of being prominent wáka musicians in a patriarchal society by using their voices to negotiate, at times, subvert traditional expectations of Yorùbá womanhood. Through their music, they confront limiting gender stereotypes. Abeni’s lyrics resist the scrutiny of women in public, often challenging notions of female misconduct and affirming her right to express her sexuality and authority in the mainstream. In contrast, Alake emphasizes financial independence and motherhood, aligning her artistic identity with valued community principles while redefining them as a source of empowerment rather than limitation. As a result, they emerge as a cultural voice and role models for other women navigating the same tension between tradition and autonomy. Despite the participation of male percussionists in their wákà ensembles, Alake and Abeni retain agency through their lyrics, commanding stage presence performances, and leadership roles. They control the thematic direction of their music, articulating personal, political, and communal concerns. Abeni’s live performances feature uninhibited dances and movements that enhance her stage presence, boosting visibility and authority. The efforts of Alake, Abeni, and their contemporaries have laid the groundwork for an increasing presence of women across various styles outside of wàká, such as Iyabo Alake, known as Osanle Iyabo, in fújì music, Tiwalola Shittu in jùjú music, and Bukola Elemide (Asa), Yemi Alade, and Omawunmi Megbele in contemporary popular genres. This shift signals a broader transformation in the Yorùbá music scene, creating more avenues for women to assert their voices in a traditionally male-centric industry.
Notes
[1] Òrìsá refers to a minor deity that functions as a divine intermediary between humans and Olodumare (the supreme deity) in the Yorùbá religion. Examples are Èsú, Sango, Obatala, etc. Each Òrìsà has its distinct attributes, devotees, symbols, and taboos.
[2] Ajé is the òrìsà of blessings, affluence, and abundance.
[3] https://youtu.be/nBrUqwJ00n8?si=tEs3_dZ-RUqED2V1
[4] Alaafin Oyo, meaning “The Owner or king of the Oyo Palace” who is ultimately the ruler of Oyo empire, is the traditional and ceremonial head of the Oyo empire. Òyó is regarded as one of the cradles of the Yorùbá people and a significant historical site within the rich tapestry of Yorùbá cosmology and civilization. The Alaafin is, therefore, a custodian of Yorùbá tradition and culture.
[5] https://youtu.be/6-GUS-s0vdk?si=AOC18rgYKjlImoyG.
[6] https://youtu.be/jixwwhJC-VY?si=QfcLHoV2kK6z0JGv
References
Aderinto, Saheed. 2015. When Sex Threatened the State: Illicit Sexuality, Nationalism, and Politics in Colonial Nigeria, 1900-1958. University of Illinois Press.
Balogun, Oladele Abiodun. 2007. “The Concepts of Ori and Human Destiny in Traditional Yoruba Thought: A Soft-Deterministic Interpretation.” Nordic Journal of African Studies 16 (1): 116–130.
Bascom, William R. 1943. “The Relationship of Yoruba Folklore to Divining.” The Journal of American Folklore 56 (220): 127–31.
Larkin, Colin. 2006. “Abeni Queen Salawa.” Encyclopedia of Popular Music. 4th ed. Oxford University Press.
Euba, Akin. 1989. Essays on Music in Africa. IWALEWA-Haus, Universität Bayreuth.
Falola, Toyin. 2024. Global Yorùbá: Regional and Diasporic Networks. Indiana University Press.
McIntosh, Marjorie Keniston. 2009. Yoruba Women, Work, and Social Change. Indiana University Press.
Oladejo, Mutiat. 2022. “Waka Music as a Commentary on Yoruba Society in Post-Colonial Nigeria: A Review of Two Female Musicians.” Umma: The Journal of Contemporary Literature and Creative Arts 9 (2): 152–169.
Omojola, Bode. 2006. Popular Music in Western Nigeria: Theme, Style and Patronage System. Institut Français de Recherche en Afrique (IFRA), University of Ibadan.
———. 2012. Yorùbá Music in the Twentieth Century: Identity, Agency, and Performance Practice. Eastman/Rochester Studies Ethnomusicology, v. 2. University of Rochester Press.
Vidal, Augustus O. 2012. Essays on Yoruba Musicology: History, Theory, and Practice. Obafemi Awolowo University Press.