The Nigerian Obsession with Titles and Recognition

Part 1 (Background)

At a traditional Nigerian wedding ceremony in Maryland, USA, family and friends of the celebrants bustled about, preparing for the celebration. Amid the activity, someone called out to one of the women assisting and addressed her as "Ngozi Nwafor" [I’m not using her real name here].

An irritated Ngozi turned to correct this person sharply, stating, "I am Dr. Ngozi Nwafor; I worked hard to become what I am." The person apologized, but Ngozi, a nurse practitioner with a Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP) degree, still seemed upset. Her demeanor reflected that the slight had struck a deeper chord. An observer nearby whispered to the errant lady that "Ngozi doesn’t play with her title—Dr."

In contrast, I once met Uzoma Eze [not his real name], a soft-spoken Nigerian. Introducing himself simply as, "I'm Uzoma," he exuded humility. Only much later did I discover he was a medical doctor practicing one of the most challenging specialties in the United States. Uzoma had made no effort to highlight his title or accomplishments.

Another scenario came to mind: a friend of mine, an accomplished professor with a PhD from a prestigious European university and an impressive scholarly output—more than 150 published works and at least one book—attended a Nigerian social gathering. I will call him “Jimmy” here. There at the gathering, many people’s titles were flaunted—Dr., Engineer, Chief, High Chief, Ultimate Chief, Nze, Lolo, and so on.

Jimmy, new in town, found it unnecessary to reveal his academic and professional achievements in that social gathering, focusing instead on how his family was adjusting to their relocation. When asked insistently what he did, he finally mentioned that he taught at a renowned university in the state. Even so, announcing that he had supervised more than 30 PhD dissertations and helped produce top researchers, many of whom are professors today, was not important. The inquirer, who had been one of those boasting moments earlier, seemed visibly taken aback, his confidence momentarily shaken.

Yet another perspective emerges with the experience of a young Nigerian-American female medical doctor. Despite wearing her white coat and name tag boldly displaying "Amaka Ogbonna, MD" [not her real name], patients often mistake her for a nurse. Encounters like, patients asking her, “Can I see the doctor, please?” are common, even when she is the only physician in the room. The surprise is palpable when she explains that she is, in fact, the doctor. While some patients apologize, others dismiss their assumptions with little thought. For Dr. Ogbonna, this misjudgment isn’t merely about the title but reflects a deeper bias—a societal inability to perceive her, a young Black woman, as a physician. At times, it is discouraging, not because she craves acknowledgment for the title itself, but because it feels like her years of hard work are obscured by stereotypes.

I also remember two individuals I interacted with for several years in a social setting. Ms. Patti [not her real name], a lady from Jamaica, held a doctorate in engineering and taught at the university. Yet, she never referred to herself or was addressed as "Dr.," "Engineer," or "Professor." Her humility was striking. I was shocked when she had to write an academic reference letter for my daughter and explain her credentials, including her doctorate in engineering and her position as a professor with multiple publications and citations. While I had known she worked at the university, I had always assumed she was in a non-academic role.

Similarly, another Jamaican, Mr. Dan [not his real name], was part of the same social organization. A calm, soft-spoken, and humble gentleman, Dan was simply addressed by his first name. After years of interaction, I was equally surprised to learn that he also held a doctorate degree—in music—and was a professor at the same university as Ms. Patti. Their modesty stood out in a space where many might think titles and accomplishments would be highlighted.

These stories, spanning different personalities and cultural settings, capture the contrasting ways individuals navigate the use of titles, reflecting broader cultural, psychological, and neuroscientific principles. Titles can signify personal achievement and professional identity, but they also intersect with societal biases, personal humility, and individual attitudes toward recognition. For some, titles are a testament to hard work and a shield against being underestimated. For others, their work and contributions stand as their true legacy, with or without the prefix.

Part 2 (Analysis)

I looked for concepts that illuminate this dynamic, and I found many.

I will outline only eight of them:

1. Social Identity Theory

Social Identity Theory provides a framework for understanding how individuals use titles and affiliations to shape their sense of self and gain respect within groups. Ngozi’s insistence on being called “Dr.” reflects a need to validate her professional identity and the status it represents. In contrast, Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Dan, all accomplished professionals, seem less reliant on such external markers. Their confidence may stem from personal values or cultural norms that prioritize intrinsic worth over formal recognition.

The experience of Dr. Amaka Ogbonna introduces another dimension: societal bias. Patients often fail to recognize her authority as a physician, not because she demands acknowledgment, but because entrenched stereotypes prevent them from seeing her as a doctor. Here, the issue isn’t the title itself; it’s the prejudice embedded in assumptions about who can be a medical professional. Social Identity Theory highlights how identities interact with cultural expectations and biases, influencing who receives validation and how that validation is expressed.

These stories illuminate how culture, values, and bias shape individuals' approaches to titles.

2. Cultural Capital and Symbolic Power (Bourdieu)

Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital and symbolic power provides a valuable framework for understanding how titles, credentials, and professional designations influence perceived authority and status. In societies where academic and professional achievements confer cultural capital, titles often serve as markers of distinction and legitimacy.

Consider the medical profession and academia. Traditionally, medical doctors and professors command symbolic power, as their roles are widely respected. This societal esteem enables some, like Uzoma, the Nigerian physician who never flaunted his credentials, or Jamaican academics Ms. Patti and Mr. Dan, to remain modest without risk to their standing. Their recognized cultural capital grants them freedom from needing to emphasize titles. For these individuals, humility does not diminish their authority in the eyes of others.

Nurse practitioners, however, inhabit a more contested space. Historically overshadowed by physicians, many NPs feel compelled to assert their “Dr.” title—if they hold a Doctor of Nursing Practice degree—to claim their rightful expertise. This insistence is not mere vanity; it challenges entrenched hierarchies, seeks to expand the boundaries of professional recognition, and demands a share of cultural capital still disproportionately awarded to physicians.

Dr. Amaka Ogbonna, the young Nigeran American female medical doctor, adds another dimension. Despite holding full professional legitimacy as a physician, she confronts racial and gender biases that undermine her symbolic power. Patients frequently mistake her for a nurse, revealing that possessing cultural capital (an M.D. and professional attire) is not always sufficient when societal prejudices skew perceptions. For Dr. Ogbonna, the issue is not claiming a title for personal validation but confronting a bias that erodes her authority and obscures her hard-earned achievements. Her situation illustrates that symbolic power, while linked to professional credentials, can be diminished by stereotypes that negate the full social value of her cultural capital.

Across these narratives, Bourdieu’s insights remind us that titles, though potent symbols of achievement, operate within broader fields of power where cultural capital is negotiated, contested, and sometimes diminished by prejudice.

3. Impression Management (Goffman)

According to Erving Goffman’s concept of impression management, individuals strategically present themselves to shape how others perceive them. Ngozi’s insistence on the “Dr.” title exemplifies a deliberate performance aimed at asserting her professional standing and ensuring respect. Meanwhile, Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Mr. Dan adopt a more understated approach, refraining from emphasizing their credentials. Their minimalistic style suggests that they prioritize genuine connections over status markers, conveying humility and comfort in their established identities.

In contrast, Dr. Amaka Ogbonna’s experience highlights a different struggle: she faces societal biases that obscure her legitimate role as a physician, prompting her to clarify her position not out of vanity, but out of necessity. While her white coat and name tag clearly identify her as “Dr. Ogbonna,” stereotypes force her into ongoing impression management to counter prejudice. Goffman’s framework illuminates how personal motivations, cultural contexts, entrenched biases, and broader social norms inform the performances individuals choose to stage in ever-shifting everyday life.

4. The Neuroscience of Status and Recognition

The neuroscience of status and recognition provides insight into how our brains respond to social cues, validation, and perceived threats to identity. Recognition activates reward pathways, releasing dopamine that reinforces feelings of self-worth and belonging. For Ngozi, not hearing “Dr.” triggered a threat response in regions like the amygdala, reflecting fear and frustration when expected status signals are overlooked. Her reaction aligns with the brain’s innate drive to preserve self-esteem and social standing.

Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Mr. Dan appear less reliant on these external affirmations. Their calm responses suggest robust prefrontal regulation, favoring intrinsic satisfaction over immediate social rewards.

Dr. Amaka Ogbonna’s experience introduces another layer: biases that distort how others perceive her professional role. While she doesn’t seek status for its own sake, the brain’s threat systems still engage when her legitimate identity is repeatedly questioned. Such biases deny her the neural rewards of well-deserved recognition, showing how cultural stereotypes directly impact our neurological responses.

5. The Dunning-Kruger Effect and Perceived Expertise

The Dunning-Kruger Effect, relating to how individuals perceive and present their competence, helps explain these varied reactions to titles. Ngozi’s emphasis on her “Dr.” title may reflect a need to assure others—and perhaps herself—of her expertise, a reaction sometimes seen when people feel their competence isn’t fully acknowledged. This stands in contrast to Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Mr. Dan, who, secure in their abilities, feel less compelled to highlight credentials. Their comfort with their expertise allows them to rely on their work rather than titles for validation.

Dr. Amaka Ogbonna’s situation introduces another layer: prejudice undermines the legitimacy of her recognized authority. Rather than seeking to prove expertise, she faces barriers erected by biases that question her professional identity. In her case, reaffirming her role isn’t about overestimating competence; it’s about correcting misguided assumptions. Through these examples, we see how the interplay of actual skill, personal confidence, and societal bias influences the emphasis placed on titles and recognition.

6. Cultural Norms and Prestige Saturation

In Nigerian gatherings, titles like “Dr.,” “Chief,” “High Chief,” “Ultimate Chief,” “Lolo,” and “Engineer” are often highly valued as markers of status and achievement. These titles confer respect and symbolize individual accomplishments, deeply embedded in cultural norms. Ngozi’s insistence on being addressed by her “Dr.” title highlights how such recognition validates personal effort and identity. For her, the omission of her “Dr.” title felt like a dismissal of her achievements.

Yet, others—like Uzoma and Jimmy—soften this pattern, suggesting comfort with their expertise beyond formal labels. Their confidence, shaped by personal values or alternative cultural influences, challenges the notion that worth must be repeatedly signaled.

Ms. Patti and Dan, Jamaicans thriving academically and professionally yet remaining modest, highlight another cultural lens. In their milieu, humility may supersede title-driven prestige, emphasizing personal substance over outward markers.

Against this backdrop, Dr. Amaka Ogbonna’s experience introduces a different complexity: prejudice. Her legitimate authority as a physician is clouded not by cultural norms, but by biases that deny her the acknowledgment titles are intended to affirm.

7. Intersectionality and the Double Burden of Black Women

For many Black women in the United States and Nigeria, asserting their professional titles is a response to systemic undervaluation and disrespect. Society often questions their credentials and achievements, as seen with prominent figures like Michelle Obama. Many Americans, including many who barely passed high school, question her level of intelligence despite her Ivy League education and degrees from Princeton and Harvard. Intersectionality, which is in full play here, acknowledges that race and gender intertwine, shaping Black women’s experiences with compounded discrimination.

Dr. Nwafor’s insistence on her “Dr.” title and Dr. Ogbonna’s need to clarify her role as a physician, and not a nurse, highlight this double burden. Both contend with biases that cast doubt on their expertise, forcing them to assert their credentials. But Dr. Ogbonna, reminding her patients and their families that she is a doctor and not a nurse is not for prestige, but to combat stereotypes that question her professional legitimacy, and then provide needed services to them.

In these instances, titles become shields against microaggressions and a means of reclaiming dignity in environments where their authority is not assumed. Unlike Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Mr. Dan—who navigate social spaces without the same pressures—Black women often face skepticism rooted in intersecting prejudices. For them, establishing their professional standing isn’t simply a matter of personal pride; it’s a necessary defense against ingrained perceptions that undervalue their achievements.

Through this lens, the difference in self-presentation reveals how systemic biases demand greater effort from Black women to secure recognition and respect.

8. Self-Affirmation Theory

The Self-Affirmation theory suggests that people maintain a positive sense of self by affirming their worth when it feels threatened. For Dr. Nwafor, insisting on the “Dr.” title functions as a protective affirmation, countering doubts that may arise from cultural biases and systemic undervaluation. The title becomes a reminder of her achievements in a setting where her credibility as a Black female professional might otherwise be questioned.

Uzoma, Jimmy, Ms. Patti, and Mr. Dan illustrate a different dynamic. Secure in their expertise and social roles, they need not assert their accomplishments by trumpeting their well-merited titles like “Dr.,” “Professor,” or “Engineer.” Their quiet confidence and intrinsic sense of worth reduce the likelihood of feeling threatened, making external validation less necessary.

Dr. Amaka Ogbonna’s experience adds to the complexity. She doesn’t wield her “Dr.” title for self-affirmation; rather, societal prejudices force her to clarify her role and correct faulty assumptions. Her concern isn’t self-enhancement but ensuring accurate recognition in the face of stereotypes that distort perceptions of her identity.

Conclusion

The contrasting behaviors of Dr. Nwafor, Dr. Ogbonna, Dr. Uzoma, the Nigerian and Jamaican professors highlight the nuanced ways individuals engage with their titles and achievements. For some, asserting a title is a defense against systemic disrespect and undervaluation, reflecting a deep psychological need to claim their hard-earned space in a competitive world. For others, societal validation of their professions allows them to prioritize humility and substance over display. Neither approach is inherently superior; rather, both reflect the complex interplay of identity, recognition, and cultural dynamics in a world where titles serve as both a shield against prejudice and a mirror of accomplishment.