The Vilification of Migration. In conversation with Abraham babajide cole.

by stephanie chianda

abraham babajide cole in his dudley studio.

Why does the idea of modern migration provoke such offence? (4 min read)

Humans have always moved — for diverse reasons beyond fleeing conflict or economic hardship. People have travelled not only out of necessity, but also out of wanderlust: to see, learn, explore, and share experiences. Yet the modern policing of human movement has ignited conflicting emotions and debates, particularly around migration from the Global South to Western Europe and North America, in the name of regional autonomy and sovereignty. This is deeply ironic when set against the historical context in which many of these nations and territories were themselves formed.

Long before European colonisation, West Africa was home to numerous empires and civilisations. Each rose, expanded, conquered, and then receded, often subdued by newer powers. This interplay of civilisations is a recurring theme in human history. New powers emerge, claim and consolidate territories, until they too are displaced by others. Back and forth, often on the same lands. The earth remembers, and people carry these experiences in evolving cultures and traditions.

In Yorubaland, the Modakeke–Ife story stands as one of the longest-running episodes of human migration and collision. The Yoruba Wars of the 1800s followed the collapse of the Oyo Empire under pressure from Fulani expansion. Oyo refugees — the Modakeke — sought refuge in Ife, the ancestral homeland of the Yoruba, and established a new settlement on its outskirts. Like any reborn community, Modakeke grew and flourished, which soon threatened some Ife elites. Clashes broke out in the 1840s and, despite repeated interventions, remnants of this conflict continue to echo today.

It is therefore not surprising that Abraham Babajide Cole (b. 1984) draws on this narrative in his reflections and artwork on modern-day migration. As a Yoruba man and a migrant living in Britain — at a time when immigration remains one of the most divisive political topics — Cole finds deep resonance in the Modakeke–Ife story. His perspective is also shaped by living in Dudley, at the heart of the Black Country, a region historically defined by waves of migration, from Irish arrivals during the Great Famine of 1845–1852 to the Windrush Generation after 1948.

This story finds a fitting place within the exhibition Bound by Roots, Divided by Paths, showing 1st –31st October 2025 at Dudley Community Library as part of this year’s Black History Month. In this cultural crossroads, Abraham invites dialogue with local residents and the wider West Midlands community through a series of figurative paintings and drawings that reimagine the journeys of the Modakeke. The exhibition will also feature community engagement workshops, storytelling sessions, and ceramic sculpture making.

As part of the programme, we also invited Abraham to join us in conversation.

Self love 1. 2024 abraham babajide cole. charcoal mixed media on paper. 150cmx100cm

1.⁠ ⁠Your exhibition explores Yoruba migration stories, particularly between Modakeke and Ife. What drew you to this specific historical narrative, and how do you see its echoes in contemporary migration stories?

I was drawn to the story of Modakeke and Ife because it is not only part of Yoruba history but also reflects how I see myself as a migrant navigating new spaces. These two towns embody the complexity of migration, kinship and division, belonging and estrangement, memory and forgetting. What fascinates me is that the struggles between Modakeke and Ife were never simply about land; they were about survival, dignity, and the search for identity within movement.

When I look at contemporary migration stories, I see those same echoes: families negotiating what to carry forward, what to leave behind, and what new forms of self they must invent in order to belong. Migration is also about how we exist as humans of value, beyond the surface of our physical difference. That tension between closeness and distance, between shared roots and divergent paths, is still very much with us.

2.⁠ ⁠In your view, why is migration so often framed as “running away” or an act of desperation, rather than as a pursuit of meaning, adventure, or personal expansion?

Too often, migration is reduced to narratives of desperation, as if people only move because they are fleeing something, but in reality, migration is also about searching, about expanding the horizon of possibility, adventure of discovering a new culture to enrich one’s quest for knowledge. Yoruba people have always moved for trade, for war, for love, for destiny.

I think framing migration as only “running away” strips it of dignity and imagination. We forget that many journeys are acts of courage, of reinvention, of seeking joy. Migration is not just an escape; it is also a creative gesture, a re-writing of one’s life story.

3.⁠ ⁠The title “Bound by Roots, Divided by Paths” suggests both connection and separation. How do you explore that tension in your work—between heritage and divergence, belonging and becoming?

The title speaks to the paradox of identity: we are bound to our histories, our ancestors, our languages but our lives inevitably diverge into different directions. In my work, this tension shows up in fragmented forms, in figures that seem suspended between presence and absence.

Heritage provides a grounding, but becoming requires transformation. Migration makes that negotiation even sharper: you carry your roots wherever you go, but the path you take may lead you far from where those roots began. It is that duality is at the heart of this exhibition.

4.⁠ ⁠Do you think our current conversations around identity and migration allow enough space for joy, curiosity, and agency—or are we still caught in narratives of loss and trauma?

I think much of the public conversation still frames migration as loss of homeland, of identity, of belonging. And while those losses are real, they are not the whole story. Migration can also be about joy the joy of discovery, of cross-pollination, of creating a new language for self.

As artists, we have a role in opening up those other narratives. I want to insist on the agency of migrants that we are not only displaced bodies but also active makers of culture, shapers of memory, carriers of wisdom. There is light as well as shadow in these journeys.

5.⁠ ⁠What do you hope viewers take away from this exhibition—particularly those who may never have thought of migration as anything but displacement?

Especially in light of today’s global uncertainties around people and diversity, I hope viewers leave with a more expansive sense of what migration means. Not only as displacement, but also as continuity, reinvention, and survival. Migration is not just about losing home; it is also about carrying it within you—transforming the way you encounter the new worlds you enter.

If even one viewer walks away understanding that migration is not a single story but many stories—of rupture and resilience, of fracture and beauty, then I feel the work has done its part.