A Male Gaze Critique of “Feliz Navidad Nigeria!”

 The video “Feliz Navidad Nigeria!” is a cheerful holiday video showing Nigerians dancing and celebrating to the famous Christmas song “Feliz Navidad.” Everyone looks joyful — there are people dancing in the streets, children smiling, and music bringing the whole scene to life. It looks simple and fun, but when we use Laura Mulvey’s Male Gaze theory to look at it, we begin to question what’s really going on behind the scenes. Who is the camera really for? Who gets to be seen, and how are they shown?

The Male Gaze, according to Laura Mulvey, is the idea that in many visual media — especially films and videos — women and even culture itself are often shown from a man’s point of view, mainly for male pleasure or control. In this video, there are moments where women dancing are zoomed in on, especially focusing on their bodies, movements, and clothes. Now, while dancing is part of our culture, and there’s nothing wrong with women expressing themselves through dance, the way the camera moves and pauses tells a different story. It doesn’t always feel like the women are being celebrated for their joy or skill; it sometimes feels like they are being shown for the viewer’s visual enjoyment.

This matters because when women, especially African women, are constantly shown in this way, it starts to shape how people see us — not as full people with stories, families, and dreams — but as entertainment. Mulvey’s theory says that when the camera focuses more on women’s bodies than their humanity, it reduces them to objects. In some parts of the video, you can almost feel the camera “choosing” who to show based on who will attract attention, not necessarily who’s part of the real story or community celebration. This is where the Male Gaze shows up — not just in Hollywood, but even in our own cultural videos.

And it’s not just about the women. Even the way the whole setting is filmed can reflect a kind of outsider’s gaze — what we can call a “tourist lens.” The video is cut and shot to look colorful, festive, and “African” in a way that fits global expectations. There’s not much voice or background from the people involved. No one explains what Christmas looks like in Nigeria beyond the dance and the song. It becomes less about the community’s reality and more about what looks good on camera. In a way, the Male Gaze works here as a general lens of power — it’s not just men over women, but those behind the camera shaping how we see culture, gender, and beauty.

So when we ask, “Who is watching this?” and “Who is it made for?” we start to see that the joy in Feliz Navidad Nigeria! might be real, but how it’s presented can still reflect deeper problems. Instead of celebrating women and community equally, the video sometimes turns them into visuals for clicks, likes, and online applause. Mulvey helps us understand that even in joyful content, power can still be at play. It’s up to us to not just watch, but look carefully — and to keep asking whether we’re being truly represented or simply being seen.

To understand why this matters so much, we should take a step back and look at how the Male Gaze came to be such a powerful lens in media. Laura Mulvey first introduced the idea in 1975 through her essay Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, where she argued that film and media have historically been made for the enjoyment of male viewers. In these works, women were rarely the ones taking action or controlling the story; instead, they existed to be looked at, admired, or desired. This pattern has deeply influenced not just Western media but global media as well. Even in contexts where the video is created in Africa or for African celebrations, the structure of the visual storytelling often mirrors what has been passed down from mainstream Western cinema. That’s why even a fun-looking video like Feliz Navidad Nigeria! can still carry traces of that same old structure — it copies the same angles, the same kind of “pleasing” visuals, and centers the same kind of gaze.

Now let’s think about the effect this has on the audience. For a Western viewer, the video may confirm certain stereotypes — that Africans are always dancing, always colorful, always happy. It fits into a neat package of “exotic joy” without truly educating or challenging those ideas. For local or African viewers, especially young women and girls, the message can be a bit more complicated. If the only time they see women like them celebrated is when they are dancing or dressed in a certain way, it sends a subtle message: “You are valuable when you look like this. You are visible when you move like this.” It starts to shape how people see themselves, even unconsciously. They begin to measure their worth based on how well they fit into that gaze. This is what Mulvey warned us about — the gaze doesn’t just reflect culture, it also shapes it. When people only see themselves through someone else’s lens, it becomes harder to claim their own.