A growing number of Nigerians have taken to social media to describe what many call a deeply humiliating and emotionally draining experience at the United States Consulate in Lagos, reigniting debate about visa processes, dignity, and the psychological toll of public rejection.

The conversation was sparked by public policy analyst Morris Monye, who described the physical layout and atmosphere of the Lagos consulate as unsettling.

According to him, visa applicants are divided into immigrant and non-immigrant sections, with chairs placed in the middle and long queues forming in full view of everyone present.

Interviews, he said, are conducted loudly and openly, offering little to no privacy.

“When they tell you ‘no’, which is almost everyone, you walk out with your head bowed,” Monye wrote. “Nigerians are very resilient.”

His post opened the floodgates.

“Everything Was Set—Except the Visa”
One of the most striking responses came from Dr. Olawale Ogunlana, who recounted losing what he described as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity despite having held three previous U.S. visas.

Dr. Ogunlana had been selected by TikTok as one of 50 global ChangeMakers invited to attend the 2025 United Nations General Assembly and Concordia Summit in New York, where he was scheduled to speak alongside world leaders on preventive medicine in Africa.

“All logistics were done,” he explained. “Five-star accommodation on Lexington Avenue, transport arranged from Lagos to New York, panels confirmed. The only thing left was the visa.”

Despite demonstrating what he believed were strong ties to Nigeria, his application was denied after a brief but tense interview—conducted, like many others, in full public view.

“People behind me thought I was going to get it because of how long he was typing,” Ogunlana recalled. “Then he said, ‘I’m sorry, we can’t issue you a visa at this time.’”

He described walking out into the rain, standing still for over 20 minutes, struggling to process what had happened.

“I couldn’t attend the event. I couldn’t share my work. All because of the colour of my passport and my nationality,” he said, adding that the experience took a long time to recover from emotionally.

Shared Pain, Shared Silence
Others echoed similar stories.
Aisha, who applied at the U.S. embassy in Berlin in 2023, said the public nature of visa interviews made rejection even harder to bear. After her denial, she walked a long distance without realising she had missed her bus, later remembering she had booked a hot-air balloon ride she completely forgot about.

“It took months to shake off how much it affected my self-confidence,” she said. “It was my first ever visa rejection.”

For Leah Katung-Babatunde, the trauma wasn’t just personal—it was witnessing others break down.

She recalled a nurse ahead of her in the queue, trembling during her third visa attempt, only to be denied and escorted out while crying uncontrollably.

“I was granted minutes later,” she said. “I couldn’t face her outside because she was wailing seriously.”

“Designed to Strip You of Dignity”
Some respondents went further, questioning whether the system itself is intentionally dehumanising.

Modupe Adegbulugbe, who was denied twice, described the experience as “the most humiliating of my life,” while Gboyega Otolorin said he left the consulate feeling “sad and degraded.”
Sadiq, another contributor, summed it up bluntly:

“That consulate walk of shame is the most humbling experience in Lagos. You go in as a big man and come out looking for Gala and Lacasera to process the heartbreak.”

Others framed the process as economic rather than procedural.

Manchi argued that embassies in Nigeria operate like revenue-generating systems, noting that repeated applications mean repeated fees. “They know Nigerians will come back,” he said. “It’s capitalism by design.”

Coping, Resilience, and Moving On
Not everyone described devastation.
Stifler, who was denied despite having admission to the University of Virginia, said he simply returned to work, ordered food, and continued his day. “It was my ex-girlfriend who pushed me to apply anyway,” he added.

Others shared coping strategies.
Ola Coker advised applicants to mentally block out the crowd and focus solely on the consular officer. “It’s not a guarantee,” he said, “but it helps your confidence.”

Still, many agreed that resilience often comes after humiliation, not instead of it.

A Lingering Question of Dignity
The discussion also resurfaced a powerful reflection by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who wrote in 2004 about her own U.S. embassy experience:

“Our government cannot demand that we be treated with dignity within our own borders. And saddest of all, the injustice that we perpetrate on ourselves by accepting it when other people strip us of our dignity.”

Two decades later, many Nigerians say little has changed.

While hopes remain high and applications continue, the stories suggest that for countless Nigerians, the U.S. visa interview in Lagos is not just a bureaucratic hurdle—but a test of emotional endurance, carried out under the watchful eyes of strangers.