There is a pattern that has gradually become normal in our national and regional conversations, so normal that many no longer question it. In policy rooms, media debates, at conferences, in community meetings, and most visibly during political seasons, Northern youth are constantly discussed. Their challenges are analysed in detail, their behaviour is criticised openly, and their future is debated with a sense of urgency. Everyone seems to have something to say about them.
Yet, in the middle of all these attention, one crucial element is consistently missing, their own voice.
There is a profound difference between being spoken for and being truly heard. For decades, Northern youth have been on the receiving end of representation that often excludes their direct input. Their realities are interpreted by others, their needs are defined by those at a distance, and solutions are designed without their meaningful participation. In many cases, what is presented as representation is, in reality, substitution.
To understand the depth of this issue, one must move beyond formal conversations and step into the everyday realities of young people across the region. In both urban centres and rural communities, a more complex and human story unfolds, one that is rarely captured in official reports or public narratives.
You meet young men and women who are not passive or indifferent, but actively trying to navigate difficult circumstances. Many wake up each morning without a clear path, without stable employment, and without access to opportunities that could change their trajectory. Yet, they still step out, searching, hoping, and pushing against the odds. Some have acquired skills through informal means or personal effort, but lack the financial support, networks, or institutional backing to transform those skills into sustainable livelihoods. Others are forced to abandon their education due to economic hardship, insecurity, or family responsibilities, leaving them in a cycle they did not choose.
There is also the weight of expectation, societal, cultural, and familial. Young people are expected to succeed, to provide, and to lead, even when the systems around them are failing to support that success. This disconnect creates frustration, not because they lack ambition, but because the pathway to achieving that ambition is unclear or blocked.
These are the lived realities that rarely make it into mainstream conversations.
Instead, what dominates public discourse are simplified and often damaging narratives. Northern youth are frequently framed as a security concern, a political tool, or a social liability. They are described in broad, generalised terms that strip away their individuality and complexity. While there may be elements of truth in certain cases, these narratives fail to address the deeper structural issues that shape these outcome.
They ignore years of under-investment in education. They overlook the limited access to economic opportunities.
They fail to account for weak institutional support systems. And they sideline the absence of consistent, meaningful engagement with young people.
It is always easier to assign labels than to pursue understanding. But without understanding, every intervention remains incomplete.
Take the issue of drug abuse, for example, a topic that often dominates discussions about Northern youth. It is commonly approached from a moral standpoint, framed as a failure of discipline or character. Public reactions tend to focus on condemnation rather than comprehension.
However, when you engage directly with affected individuals, a different narrative begins to emerge. You hear stories of prolonged unemployment, repeated rejection, broken aspirations, and emotional strain. You encounter young people who have faced setbacks at multiple stages of their lives, educational, economic, and social. For some, substance use becomes less about choice and more about escape, a temporary relief from a reality that feels overwhelming and unchanging.
This does not justify the behaviour, but it provides necessary context. It shifts the conversation from blame to understanding and from punishment to prevention.
A similar dynamic is evident in the involvement of youth in political violence. Public discourse often portrays these individuals as inherently aggressive or politically extreme. But in reality, many are neither ideologically driven nor deeply invested in political outcomes. They are, in many cases, responding to immediate survival needs.
In an environment where legitimate opportunities are scarce, political actors exploit vulnerability. Young people are recruited with promises, financial incentives, temporary recognition, or a sense of belonging. They are used during critical moments and quickly discarded once their usefulness ends. The cycle then repeats, leaving them in the same or worse conditions than before.
Despite this, the narrative rarely shifts. We return, again and again, to the same conclusions without interrogating the systems that sustain the problem.
So, the question remains, who is truly speaking for Northern youth?
Is it policymakers who design programmes based on assumptions rather than sustained grassroots engagement? Is it political leaders who mobilise young people when needed but exclude them from long term decision making?
Is it analysts and commentators who interpret realities from a distance without direct interaction? Or is it the youth themselves, whose voices struggle to reach spaces where real decisions are made?
True representation is not symbolic. It is not about occasional inclusion or surface level consultation. It is about ensuring that the perspectives, experiences, and ideas of young people are embedded in the processes that shape policies and outcomes.
At present, that level of representation remains limited.
Across Northern Nigeria, there is no shortage of ideas among young people. There are innovative thoughts on improving education systems, practical solutions for tackling unemployment, creative approaches to community development, and lived insights into addressing health and social challenges. Yet, these ideas often remain unheard, not because they lack value, but because there are insufficient platforms to amplify them.
The system, as currently structured, does not make participation easy.
This is where a fundamental shift is required.
Government institutions must move beyond performative engagement and adopt a more deliberate, structured approach to youth inclusion. Engagement should not be reactive or occasional, it should be continuous and embedded within governance processes. Young people should be involved from the earliest stages of policy development, not introduced at the end to endorse already finalised decisions.
Additionally, investment in youth must be tangible and measurable. It should reflect in improved access to quality education, expanded vocational and skills training opportunities, stronger support for entrepreneurship, and the creation of clear, accessible pathways for economic mobility.
At the community level, there must also be a shift in mindset. While guidance and discipline remain important, they must be accompanied by active listening and mutual respect. Young people are more likely to contribute positively when they feel seen, heard, and valued.
Civil society organisations, too, must continuously evaluate their role. Advocacy is essential, but it must not come at the cost of overshadowing the very voices it seeks to uplift. The goal should always be to create space for participation, for leadership, and for ownership.
And importantly, the responsibility does not lie solely with institutions.
Young people themselves must continue to engage, even in the face of limitations. The environment may not always be enabling, but disengagement only deepens exclusion. Change is rarely immediate or freely given, it is built over time through persistence, organisation, and collective effort.
The future of Northern Nigeria is directly tied to the direction of its youth. Ignoring their voices or reducing them to stereotypes does not only harm them, it weakens the social, economic, and political fabric of the region as a whole.
We cannot continue to discuss their future in their absence.
So perhaps the question is no longer just who speaks for Northern youth.
The more important question is this, when they finally claim their space and raise their voices, will we genuinely listen, or will we continue to speak over them?
Zainab, a youth advocate, resides in Kano