Viewing Power: A Critical Analysis of Glo’s “Feliz Navidad Nigeria” Commercial through bell hooks’s Oppositional Gaze
At the heart of bell hooks’s oppositional gaze is the notion that representation is never neutral—it is
shaped by power, ideology, and historical legacy. In the Glo Christmas
commercial, Nigerian culture is presented through aesthetic spectacle:
traditional patterns, rhythmic dance, Afrobeat-inspired music, and vibrant
colors flood the screen. While this might appear as a celebration of African
culture, hooks would argue that such
visual saturation often functions to pacify and commodify. It presents
“culture” as something to be consumed, not understood. In fact, it replays what
hooks describes as a colonial gaze,
where Black identity is made available for the pleasure of others—often the
capitalist consumer, rather than the community itself. The narrative is void of
depth or specificity, and the characters—especially the women—are devoid of
voice. From the perspective of an oppositional gaze, this form of
representation demands interrogation: who is this culture for? Who controls how
it is shown? And more importantly, who is denied narrative agency in the
process? For the critically resistant viewer, this is not cultural
affirmation—it is cultural flattening,
where visual joy becomes a tool to disguise the absence of political complexity.
Bell hooks places particular emphasis on how Black women are both hypervisible and silenced in media—objectified,
ornamented, and never granted the authority to speak or define themselves. The
Glo commercial reflects this pattern in its treatment of female characters,
particularly the dancers who remain central to the frame but peripheral to the
story. They move, smile, sparkle—but never speak, never challenge, never
disrupt. The male performer—who sings, commands attention, and leads the
celebration—is the narrative voice,
while the women enhance the festive mood through passive presence. From the
oppositional gaze, a critical Black female viewer would recognize how these
patterns reproduce the same structures hooks interrogated: patriarchal control, visual domination, and
erasure of female interiority. Hooks insists on the necessity of Black
women “looking back,” not as passive viewers, but as agents who analyze,
resist, and reimagine the imagery thrust upon them. Through this lens, the
female viewer might begin to question why these women are present only to serve
joy, why their bodies are central but their thoughts are absent, and why their
role is consistently decorative. This act of questioning itself is an act of
resistance, one that the oppositional gaze empowers and affirms.
According to hooks, media doesn’t just show content—it teaches viewers how to feel and where to look.
In the Glo commercial, the viewing position is framed around celebration and
consumption. The viewer is drawn in by the music, color, and togetherness and
encouraged to feel joy, connection, and a desire to join the Glo network.
However, hooks warns against this “seduction
of pleasure”, where the emotional pull of imagery dulls the viewer’s
critical capacity. The oppositional gaze rejects this conditioning. It asks:
What does this joy mask? Why are we being shown this type of happiness, in this
way, by a corporation? hooks emphasizes that dominant media interpolates the viewer into complicity
unless they actively resist. In the case of the Glo commercial, the
oppositional viewer may recognize how the ad tries to universalize a very
selective representation of Nigeria: middle-class, urban, vibrant, and
apolitical. Absent are images of labor, struggle, rural identity, or alternative
celebrations. This erasure creates a version of “Nigerianness” that is pleasing
to corporate logic, but dishonest to lived experience. By refusing to accept
this representation at face value, the oppositional gaze restores the viewer’s agency, transforming
watching into an act of critique rather than consumption.
While joy can be radical, hooks warns that Black joy, when filtered through capitalist media, is often
emptied of its revolutionary edge. In the Glo commercial, joy is the
dominant motif—smiling faces, energetic movement, celebration—but it is tightly
tethered to a product: Glo Unlimited. This raises an important question central
to hooks’s theory: Is this joy
empowering, or is it being sold? The commercial suggests that true joy
comes from connectivity and consumption, not from community resistance,
cultural truth, or political affirmation. hooks reminds us that
performance—especially when it involves Black bodies—is often a space of double
meaning. On the one hand, it may look celebratory; on the other, it is often
framed and edited through the lens of those in power. This ad’s festive
performance of joy and unity becomes a marketable version of culture, not
necessarily a genuine reflection of it. The oppositional gaze would push back
against this, recognizing that what we
see is not neutral joy but curated celebration, staged within the
terms of corporate interest. Thus, while the commercial radiates energy, it
offers little in the way of freedom—and the viewer who looks critically sees
the difference.
In Conclusion, Bell hooks’s theory of the oppositional gaze transforms the
simple act of watching into a radical tool for deconstruction and liberation.
Her insights push us to recognize how media seduces, flatters, and manipulates
viewers into passive consumption, especially when it comes to marginalized
identities. Though the Glo “Feliz Navidad Nigeria” commercial appears inclusive
and celebratory on the surface, a deeper analysis reveals the reassertion of
traditional power structures: Black culture flattened into brand aesthetics,
women silenced and objectified, and joy transformed into a sales pitch. Through
the oppositional gaze, viewers are invited to challenge these tropes—to look
back, question, and reimagine. In this way, the ad becomes a call not just to
celebrate but to resist, and to
reclaim media as a space where true representation is not only possible but
necessary.
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