The World's Discomfort with African Pride
Following Francis Ngannou's boxing loss to Tyson Fury, the writer reflects on the double standard applied to Black athletes—particularly African ones—when they assert confidence or pride. The piece argues that Ngannou's real victory lies not in the ring but in his journey from poverty to global prominence, and that his dignity transcends any single fight.
A few months after his debut boxing match against Tyson fury, I realized that some people started accusing Ngannou of being proud. I had to make a post about it on X. I wrote “The only problem with Ngannou is that he is African. We live in a world where you can’t be black and proud. If Ibrahimovic were a black man, he wouldn’t have had a Career. Ngannou does not talk any more trash than Fury, but it’s uncool for black people to hit their chest, especially the black people from Africa, who should be happy about a place on the table and try not to take up more space than they have been offered.
Does it suck to trash talk and get knocked out in 2 rounds? You bet. I’m not going to go into fight analysis or try to defend Ngannou’s place in boxing. What is obvious is that the man already won one of the most brutal battles in life. The man picked himself up from the dirt and walked through the desert to end up on the streets and box his way to the top of the world. What he did is beyond any fight that any of the English and American boxers can put up. This is something that everyone in that arena knows, and that is why Anthony Joshua, despite winning, must remain humble in the face of Ngannou.
In the post-fight conference, you could tell that the people who understand anything about life made sure that Ngannou continues to get his respect and flowers. Anthony Joshua actually talked of how inspirational Ngannou’s journey has been and how he would like to sit down with Ngannou and work with his foundation to provide opportunities for kids so that they don’t have to go through what Ngannou went through. I am happy that many people realize that Ngannou is a permanent hero.
Trash-talking is part of the sport. Some do it better than others. It is what sells the tickets, and it is what even gets some fights set up. When you trash-talk and lose, we can’t help but make fun of you. However, as far as Ngannou is concerned, only Cameroon is above his pride. The rest of the world, after laughing, must still acknowledge that Ngannou is the Baddest man on the planet right now. He didn’t earn that title in a ring or in a cage, so it can’t be taken from him in one.
If he chooses to be humble after this, that’s on him. My only issue is that he should stop letting the very people who made him risk his life to chase his dream use him to continue to insult the ordinary people of Cameroon. I can’t stop him from having dinners with them, but he should know that it is a move that invalidates his struggle, waters down his personality, and serves as an insult to the suffering Cameroonians. It is better to keep it off Camera.
Besides that, the world should never forget Ngannou because he is just one of the many resilient people from Africa who no longer want to apologize for merely existing.
The post emerges in the months after a high-profile boxing match in which Ngannou, a Cameroonian fighter who had risen to prominence in combat sports, faced defeat. It speaks to a moment of cultural reckoning in which African athletes' self-assertion was being questioned, even as Western counterparts faced no such scrutiny for identical behavior.
The piece articulates a quiet but forceful critique of how Black and African excellence is policed differently in global spaces—a tension that remains unresolved. It also stakes a claim for Ngannou as a permanent symbol of African resilience and refusal, one whose worth cannot be measured by any single loss. For a Cameroonian reader then and now, it reframes what it means to take pride in one's origins.