The Grammys and the Illusion of Recognition: How Afrobeats is Being Boxed, Not Celebrated

In recent years, the global music landscape has witnessed the undeniable rise of African sound, a vibrant fusion of rhythm, culture, and storytelling that has birthed what the world now casually labels “Afrobeats.” From Lagos to London, Johannesburg to New York, the genre has transcended borders, inspiring dance floors and dominating charts. Yet, beneath the applause and the seemingly flattering “African categories” at the Grammy Awards lies a more uncomfortable truth: what appears to be recognition is, in reality, a carefully orchestrated form of exploitation. When Ckay’s Love Nwantiti went viral across continents, charting in over 30 countries and becoming one of the most-streamed songs globally, it wasn’t simply a Nigerian success story; it was a global phenomenon. The same can be said for Rema’s Calm Down, which shattered streaming records and held the Billboard Hot 100 hostage for months, and Wizkid and Tems’ Essence, a soulful masterpiece that even Justin Bieber couldn’t resist jumping on. These were not just African hits; they were world hits — songs that resonated with listeners in Paris, New Delhi, and Los Angeles alike. Yet, despite this global resonance, none of these tracks found a place in the Record of the Year or Song of the Year categories at the Grammys. Instead, they were grouped into the new “Best African Music Performance” category, a move the Recording Academy frames as inclusion, but which, upon closer inspection, appears to be containment. By isolating African excellence into its own box, the Grammys conveniently avoid allowing African artists to compete on equal footing with their Western counterparts. This pattern betrays a deeper discomfort within the global music establishment. The Western world is eager to consume Afrobeats to dance to it, brand with it, and profit from its infectious rhythm but reluctant to legitimise it as an equal. The creation of the Afrobeats category feels less like progress and more like partition. It’s a symbolic pat on the back, not a seat at the main table. The irony runs deeper when one considers that “Afrobeat” (singular) was not invented by the Grammys or any Western institution. It was pioneered by Fela Anikulapo Kuti and the Kuti family, a politically charged, musically sophisticated art form that challenged power structures and redefined African expression. The newer “Afrobeats” (plural), a more commercial evolution of that legacy, has carried the continent’s sound into global consciousness. Yet, rather than honour that lineage authentically, the West has repackaged it as an exotic export a flavour of the moment rather than a foundation of musical innovation. Consider Burna Boy, a Grammy winner, global performer, and cultural ambassador whose albums have sold out arenas from Madison Square Garden to Paris La Défense. Or Tyla, whose Water became a global anthem and earned her a viral spotlight most pop stars dream of. Both are household names, yet they too find themselves boxed in the “African categories,” rarely acknowledged as contenders for the main awards they’ve clearly earned the right to contest. The message this sends is subtle but insidious: African artists can be popular, but not peerless; they can entertain the world, but not define it. The Grammys’ selective recognition reinforces a hierarchy that privileges Western artistry while commodifying African creativity for cultural cachet. In truth, Afrobeats does not need the Grammys for validation. The world has already spoken in streams, in stadiums, in dance challenges, and in cultural crossovers that have reshaped global pop, but as long as institutions like the Grammys continue to frame African brilliance as an annex rather than a cornerstone, the celebration will always be laced with exploitation. If the Recording Academy truly seeks to honor music’s global evolution, it must stop treating Africa as a genre and start acknowledging it as a force. Because what artists like Wizkid, Tems, Rema, Ckay, Burna Boy, Tyla, and many others have built is not a niche — it’s the sound of a generation. And it deserves not just a category, but its rightful place in the world’s biggest conversations about art, innovation, and excellence. - QuincyJonze