Why Can’t a Woman Just Be Good at What She Does? The Lagos Life Story

When a woman excels, people often turn into detectives. A great job prompts questions about who recommended her. A successful business raises suspicions about where the money came from. An opportunity that others fought for leads to inquiries about who she is dating, who her parents know, or who is “really” behind it all. There always seems to be another explanation. She couldn’t possibly have just been good.

This pattern is especially pronounced when a woman works in a field traditionally dominated by men. Suddenly, her achievement is inspected from every angle. How did she do it? Who helped her? Was it actually difficult? Was she lucky? Did she really build it herself? Rarely is the answer allowed to simply be: she did it.

The conversation around Lagos Life offers a striking example. Lagos Life is a virtual game created by Shalom Rayhamen that lets players experience a version of Lagos through their screens. It was inspired by her experience playing The Sims while growing up. Since its launch, the game has attracted a huge audience and sparked serious discussions about its potential. Naturally, people have opinions. That part is normal. A game can be criticised. Its design can be called basic. Its technology can be questioned. Its business model can be analysed. Nobody is above criticism because they built something people like.

However, a particular kind of criticism has emerged that sounds less like an assessment of the product and more like an investigation into whether the woman behind it deserves her success.

The “Vibe Coded” Accusation

One recurring argument claims that Lagos Life was “vibe coded” with AI. There is something funny about the way this is used as an insult. AI is a tool. Developers use tools. Writers use tools. Designers use tools. Businesses use tools. The existence of a tool does not magically mean the person using it contributed nothing. If anything, the interesting question should be what someone was able to create with the tools available to them.

Instead, the conversation often becomes, “Well, AI did it.” As if the AI woke up one morning, decided to build a game about Lagos, figured out what Nigerians would find funny, created the product, launched it, attracted players, and then started dealing with the inevitable chaos that comes when thousands of people descend on something you made. Apparently, the machine did all of that, and the woman just happened to be standing there.

The “Basic” Criticism

Then there are those who insist the game is basic. Again, it is perfectly fine to think a game is basic, but there is a funny thing about the word “basic” when it is used to explain away something that is clearly working. A product does not have to be technologically revolutionary to be successful. Sometimes people just want something fun. Sometimes the simplest idea is the one people understand immediately. Sometimes a product does not need to impress developers to entertain the people actually using it—and that last part seems particularly important here.

While some people are busy explaining why Lagos Life isn’t impressive enough, others are playing it. Lots of people. And that should count for something.

The $100,000 Offer and the $1 Billion Valuation

All of this was just criticism until the $100,000 offer came into play. Someone offered to buy Lagos Life for $100,000, and the creator’s reaction was almost as interesting as the offer itself. The offer was presented with the kind of condescension that suggested $100,000 should have ended the conversation immediately—as though anyone who had built something successful should be grateful that somebody had finally arrived to tell them what it was worth.

But what happens when the person who built it disagrees? What happens when she says, “No. I think this is worth much more”? Apparently, that is where things get interesting, because Shalom has spoken publicly about valuing Lagos Life at $1 billion.

Now, $1 billion is an enormous valuation. It is also completely fair to question it. Perhaps it is too ambitious. Perhaps the market will eventually prove otherwise. Perhaps there are things about the company’s current numbers that do not justify it. Those are legitimate conversations. But somewhere along the line, questioning the valuation became calling her a fraud, and that leap says a lot.

Because women are constantly told to know their worth. Negotiate. Ask for more. Stop accepting the first offer. Build something valuable. Take yourself seriously. Then a woman actually does it, and suddenly everyone wants to teach her a lesson in humility.

The Discomfort of Female Confidence

There is a very specific discomfort that appears when women are confident about the value of their own work. Confidence becomes arrogance. Ambition becomes delusion. Negotiation becomes greed, and being unwilling to accept less than what you believe something is worth becomes evidence that you don’t understand your own business. It is almost as if women are allowed to succeed as long as they remain sufficiently surprised by their own success.

This feels familiar outside tech. Every woman knows what it’s like to do something well and have someone search for the part she couldn’t possibly have done herself. “She got the job because of someone.” “She got the opportunity because of someone.” “She looks that good because of something.” “She got that far because somebody helped her.” An invisible person is always credited for a woman’s visible achievement.

And yes, women get help. Everybody does. Nobody builds anything completely alone. However, there is a difference between acknowledging support and refusing to believe that a woman could have been the driving force behind her own success.

A Pattern Bigger Than Lagos Life

That is where the Lagos Life conversation becomes bigger than Lagos Life. The issue is not that every criticism of the game is misogynistic. It isn’t. The issue is the pattern. When the product succeeds, some people immediately reach for luck. When AI is involved, they reach for “she didn’t really build it.” When the product is simple, they reach for “it’s basic.” When someone offers money for it, they decide she should take it. When she says what she thinks it is worth, they reach for “fraud.”

At some point, the question stops being whether the game is good enough. The question becomes why some people seem so committed to finding a reason the woman behind it cannot simply be good at her job.

Perhaps that is the most uncomfortable part of women succeeding in spaces never designed with them in mind. It forces everyone watching to confront a possibility they would rather avoid. Maybe there was no shortcut. Maybe there was no mysterious man behind the scenes. Maybe she was not particularly lucky. Maybe she used the tools available to her and made something people wanted. Maybe the game really is that simple. And maybe, just maybe, a woman built something that worked.

There does not always have to be another explanation.