Who Really Controls Her Image? Watching Tiwa Savage’s “Koroba” Through Two Different Lenses

When I watched Tiwa Savage’s Koroba music video, I could not help but feel a bit conflicted. On one hand, she looks bold, confident, and fully in charge of her performance. But on the other hand, the way the camera moves around her body made me uncomfortable at times. It got me thinking. Is Tiwa really the one controlling her image here, or is she being framed in a way that mostly pleases male viewers? Is this video empowering, or is it just another example of how women, especially Black women, are turned into visual objects in pop culture? That is what led me to look at this video through two powerful theories I have learned about. Laura Mulvey’s Male Gaze and bell hooks’ Oppositional Gaze. These two ways of seeing helped me unpack my mixed feelings and understand why this video is so layered and thought-provoking.

One of the first things I noticed while watching Koroba is how the camera behaves like it is admiring Tiwa’s body. There are so many slow pans and close up shots, especially of her waist, her chest, and her hips. The camera seems to focus more on her physical appearance than on what she is doing or saying. I feel like these types of shots are designed for the enjoyment of a male audience, whether consciously or not. The smooth and almost seductive camera work does not let us forget that her body is being put on display. Even the setting adds to this feeling. The luxurious furniture, golden lighting, silk fabrics, and glittering jewelry make it feel like she is part of an expensive and dreamy fantasy. All of this ties directly into what Laura Mulvey describes as the Male Gaze. A way of filming that turns women into things to be looked at, rather than people to be understood.

According to Mulvey, this happens in a lot of films and media where men are assumed to be the default audience. The female body is often framed in a way that offers visual pleasure, usually to men, which ends up reducing the woman to a collection of beautiful parts instead of treating her as a full person. In Koroba, even though Tiwa is the star of her own video, it does not mean she is completely free from this kind of visual control. I started to wonder if the camera had been directed by a woman or if the video was meant mainly for a female audience, would it have looked the same? I am not so sure. The way her body is showcased felt like something I had seen many times before in other videos, especially those made in a male dominated industry.

But then, as I watched a second and third time, I started to notice something else. Despite the camera’s behavior, Tiwa is not just being passive. She does not act like someone who is unaware of how she is being seen. In fact, I feel like she is fully aware and she is pushing back. This is where bell hooks’ Oppositional Gaze comes in. hooks talks about how Black women can look back at the system that tries to define and limit them. Instead of just accepting how they are portrayed, they learn to see differently and to question and resist. I feel like Tiwa does this in her own way. She often makes direct eye contact with the camera, and it does not feel soft or submissive. It feels powerful. Like she is saying, I see you watching me, but you do not control me.

Her lyrics also matter a lot here. When she sings, "I no come this life to suffer", she is refusing the shame that society often puts on women, especially women who are financially independent or linked to runs girl culture. The song is unapologetic. She is not asking for permission to be successful or glamorous. She is claiming it. And even though the camera might still be playing into the Male Gaze visually, the content of the song and her body language push back with force. She wears royal colors like purple and gold and appears on thrones or in power stances. To me, that signals ownership. She is not part of someone else's fantasy. She is shaping her own story.

Still, I cannot pretend it is all one sided. There is definitely a tension in Koroba. On the surface, it might seem like just another flashy pop video with a beautiful woman at the center. There are moments where it feels like her body is being consumed visually, like it is being used to sell the image, the song, or the brand. But at the same time, I do not think Tiwa is being exploited. I think she is in on it. She is aware of the system she is working within, and she is using it to her benefit. That does not mean the Male Gaze disappears. But it does mean she is not powerless. I feel like she is using the same tools that usually objectify women to tell her own story. That makes the video more complicated, but also more real.

That is what makes Koroba such a rich and complex piece to talk about. It is not just about Tiwa Savage looking glamorous or sexy. It is about how she navigates the space between being looked at and owning how she is seen. The Male Gaze tries to control that space, but the Oppositional Gaze pushes back. Tiwa does not run from the gaze. She looks back at it directly, without fear. She tells us with her voice, her look, and her presence that she knows what is happening, and she is not just playing along. She is taking control from within the system.

In conclusion, Koroba is more than just a catchy song with a stylish video. It is a deep reflection of what it means to be a Black Nigerian woman who is admired and watched but also judged and questioned. Through the Male Gaze, we see how Tiwa’s body is framed to please viewers, but through the Oppositional Gaze, we see how she pushes back and reclaims her image. She might be looked at, but she is also doing the looking. And for me, that changes everything. That makes her performance something worth thinking deeply about.