Conversations around identity, ancestry and diversity in Nigeria resurfaced online after a post by Threads user @ekuedewor questioned why the country’s census and official forms fail to recognise mixed-heritage Nigerians or long-term migrant-descendant communities.

The debate quickly drew responses from Nigerians at home and in the diaspora, revealing gaps in how citizenship, ethnicity and heritage are documented in Africa’s most populous nation.

In her post, Ekuedewor explained that a simple Google search asking how many mixed-race Nigerians live in the country produced no estimates because “the census doesn’t have those subcategories.”

She argued that Nigerians should be counted not only by ethnicity—such as Yoruba, Igbo or Hausa-Fulani—but also by heritage, with clear options for identities like Nigerian-Lebanese, Nigerian-Indian, Nigerian-European and other migrant-descendant groups.

She noted that Nigeria’s census framework does not recognise these distinctions, even though the country has had established Lebanese, Indian, West African and other migrant communities for generations. “This would show our true diversity,” she wrote, adding that Google suggests roughly 1 in 200 people in Nigeria are non-Nigerian, a figure she believes deserves proper documentation.

Several respondents, however, pointed out that Nigeria’s legal and administrative systems do not recognise such subcategories. One user, Titilayo, stated plainly: “There are no sub-categories under Nigerian law. You are either a Nigerian or a foreigner.” She explained that for non-Nigerians, citizenship is available only through registration or naturalisation, and that even those born and raised in Nigeria must meet strict conditions before qualifying. For this reason, she said, such individuals simply tick “Nigerian” on official forms once they naturalise.

Ekuedewor pushed back, asking how Nigerians could obtain meaningful demographic data without recognising these nuances. She also highlighted the bureaucratic challenges mixed-heritage Nigerians often face: “Any experience I’ve had with anything that requires declaring an identity with officials in Nigeria - #passport , #NIN - wahala.”

Another respondent, Tracyladivah, echoed this frustration, saying her Belgian-Nigerian sister—despite holding multiple Nigerian passports - faces constant scrutiny because of her foreign-sounding surname. “Every renewal is a hassle,” she said, adding that even naturalised families often choose to identify as Nigerian simply to avoid unnecessary delays.

Some contributors argued that granular identity categories were unnecessary. Adeborola wrote: “It’s either you’re Nigerian or non-Nigerian. Male or female. There are no unnecessary sub-categories.” Ekuedewor responded by asking: “Why unnecessary?” stressing that identity data can support planning, inclusion and research.

Others highlighted the longer history of migrant communities. Oluholloway noted that many Lebanese families have lived in Nigeria for more than a century: “They are Nigerians first, Lebanese second.” He added that Nigerian naturalisation laws are patriarchal, making it easier for foreign women married to Nigerian men to obtain citizenship than the reverse. He also pointed out that Nigerians commonly have heritage links with Ghanaians, Nigeriens, Togolese and Cameroonians.

Some users clarified that ethnicity questions in Nigerian surveys focus strictly on indigenous groups. Ilu_birin explained that census forms ask, “What kind of Naija are you?”—meaning tribe, not nationality or heritage.

Others, like Ameliad, argued that a single unifying national category serves Nigeria well, but Ekuedewor challenged that view, insisting that acknowledging sub-identities enhances understanding rather than division.

A broader conversation then emerged about how race, ethnicity and nationality are defined. Oshabykhadijah emphasised that Lebanese is a nationality, not a race, and that even within Lebanon multiple ethnicities exist. She questioned what Nigeria would gain from such categorisation, warning that identity metrics in Western societies often fuel political tensions.

In reply, Ekuedewor maintained that Nigeria’s diversity is a strength and that understanding heritage patterns can help shape a more accurate picture of contemporary Nigerian society.

The debate underscores a growing interest—especially among younger and diaspora Nigerians—in seeing the country embrace a fuller representation of its demographic reality. Whether future censuses or policy reforms will reflect these concerns remains uncertain, but the conversation has clearly begun.