On October 2, 2025—three days before the Season 10 finale—Big Brother Naija disqualified housemate Faith Adewale for physically assaulting fellow contestant Sultana. The confrontation erupted during a task rehearsal, when Faith yanked a basket from Sultana’s hands. She lost her balance, twisted an ankle, and injured her wrist. Within hours, Big Brother convened an emergency meeting, replayed the footage, and ordered Faith to leave.
This was not his first clash. Throughout the season, Faith had been involved in multiple altercations, yet only now did the show’s “zero tolerance” policy kick in. His expulsion was framed as decisive—but it also underlined a deeper problem: Big Brother Naija’s inconsistent enforcement of its own rules.
A Pattern That Repeats
The Faith incident is only the latest in a series of boundary violations this season. In the early days of the show, for at least an hour, Rooboy barred Imisi from moving and was physically aggressive with her. He wasn’t reprimanded. Faith himself had engaged in repeated confrontations with other housemates, without sanction. Imisi said Faith once threw her box away.
Just before she left the house, Zita threw noodles at Rooboy. Mide held a knife during an altercation with Zita. Sultana peed in Dede’s box.
Then there are the allegations of sexual misconduct. Ivatar accused fellow housemate Mensan of touching her in ways she didn’t want him to, even after she objected. Mensah also accused Ivatar of touching him inappropriately. Tracy said Kuture tried to grope her despite repeated refusals. Neither of them faced the kind of swift removal that Faith did.
These aren’t isolated blowups. They reveal a house culture where physical and emotional boundaries are often ignored, reframed as “drama,” and only sometimes punished—usually when the optics become impossible to manage.
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Past Seasons, Uneven Standards
History shows the inconsistency. In 2019, Tacha Akide was disqualified after a fight with Mercy Eke involving shoving and hair-pulling. Mercy received a strike. But the fight between the ladies had been brewing for weeks and had been aggressive. In 2020, Erica Nlewedim was disqualified after repeated misconduct. In Season 7, Beauty Tukura was expelled after a series of aggressive outbursts. This season, Big Soso had an outburst where she used sexist derogatory words at Dede. She remained in the house until she was eventually evicted.
The rulebook—strikes, warnings, disqualifications—exists. But enforcement has been reactive, often coming only after fan outrage or escalating violence. Lesser violations; invasion of personal space, emotional abuse, and obvious provocations frequently pass with little more than a warning or post-eviction commentary.
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The Drama Incentive
Why this unevenness? Because conflict is the currency of reality TV. Producers know drama spikes engagement: social media clips trend, commentary proliferates, and ratings rise. Viewers may complain about toxicity, but they also tune in for the spectacle.
This is particularly important for a show that has struggled to retain viewership.
In recent years, Big Brother Naija’s cultural dominance has shown signs of fatigue. Critics argue the format is predictable, the novelty diminished. In response, producers have raised prize money, added surprise twists, and leaned harder into controversy. Faith’s disqualification, for all its severity, also generated the show’s loudest online discourse in weeks. The incentive is clear.
What’s at Stake?
The risk is that, in chasing virality, the show normalises behaviour it claims to prohibit. Unwanted touching is reframed as playful; harassment is tolerated until it escalates; physical altercations are allowed to simmer until they explode on camera. Emotional abuse is the bread and water of housemates.
The lesson to housemates is that boundaries are flexible, and the lesson to viewers is that transgression is entertainment.
At its best, Big Brother Naija is a cultural mirror, dramatising the tensions of contemporary Nigeria—class, gender, ambition, intimacy. But its failure to enforce consent and safety undermines that potential. Drama may sell, but dignity cannot be optional.
What the Faith incident shows is not just one man’s aggression, but a system willing to gamble with boundaries for views. That bargain, season after season, is looking increasingly untenable.
