A recent viral TikTok video by a Nigerian woman known as thedemarah reopened a conversation many Africans are afraid to have publicly. In the emotional clip, she shared how she emigrated to the United Kingdom about a year and a half ago in search of greener pastures. She applied for nearly 3,000 jobs, attended 24 interviews, and still could not secure a sponsored role that would allow her remain in the UK. Fighting back tears, she described what felt like failure.
Her story is not unusual. For many African immigrants, especially those who arrived through the study route, the UK dream is built on sacrifice. Thousands of pounds are spent on tuition. The Immigration Health Surcharge (IHS) is paid. Taxes are contributed through part-time work. Families back home often sell property, drain savings, or take loans to fund the journey. Yet when studies end, the reality sets in: without sponsorship, staying becomes nearly impossible.
It is easy to ask: can we blame the UK government? Not entirely. Immigration policy is a sovereign decision. Every country determines who stays and who leaves based on its labor needs and political climate. The issue is not legality, it is expectation versus reality.
Many African immigrants grow up with a powerful narrative: leaving is success; returning is shame. Social media amplifies this illusion. We see curated images of London skylines, corporate offices, winter aesthetics, and assume permanence. What we rarely see are the thousands of unanswered applications, the rejections that begin with “Unfortunately…”, the anxiety of visa countdowns, and the silent depression of feeling stuck between two worlds.
What made thedemarah’s video particularly powerful was not the job statistics, it was her mother’s response. As she called home to announce her inevitable return to Nigeria, her mother simply said: “Come home. We cannot reject our own. If they don’t want you, you can come home.”
Those words cut through the shame. For many immigrants, the fear of returning home is greater than the fear of staying undocumented. There is pressure from relatives, peers, and society. People ask, “Why are you back?” as if migration must always end in triumph abroad. Some would rather overstay visas and complicate their immigration status than face perceived embarrassment.
But returning home is not failure. It is a transition. The skills, exposure, networks, discipline, and resilience developed abroad are assets. Many who return home go on to build businesses, introduce new systems, innovate within local industries, or find opportunities better aligned with their strengths. Migration does not only benefit the host country; it can also become a transfer of knowledge back home.
We must also confront a deeper issue: the romanticization of the West. The “greener pasture” narrative ignores structural barriers, limited sponsorship quotas, competitive labor markets, shifting immigration rules, and employer reluctance to hire candidates requiring visas. Hard work alone does not override policy realities.
Returning home can be a strategic reset. It offers proximity to family support systems, lower living costs, cultural belonging, and in some cases, entrepreneurial flexibility that may not exist abroad. Home is not a consolation prize. It is an option.
Not securing a sponsorship job and being required to leave the UK is not the end of the road. It is one chapter in a larger story. And as long as there is a loving and supportive family waiting, return is not retreat, it is resilience.
Perhaps the most radical shift African societies need is this: stop equating distance from home with success. Sometimes courage is not in staying; it is in coming back. You are not rejected. You are redirected. And home, as that mother reminded her daughter, is always a choice.
Click link to watch the video https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNRyprjWE/
Culture Beyond the Mainstream 