What Does It Mean to Be a Ghanaian Writer Today?

There was a time when being a Ghanaian writer and reading Ghanaian literature meant something very specific. It meant politics and extreme academics. 

Today, it is less defined. And maybe more complicated.

To be a Ghanaian writer now is to exist in stress, worry, and anxiety.

Writing from a country that is independent, but still working out  where it stands in the literary world. Not only from western influence but within its own communities. With neighbors, friends, teachers, and family. Trying to find your voice in a place where the system doesn’t favour you. Especially as a child with a grand imagination. 

You receive the recognition of your predecessors, Peggy Oppong, Lawrence Darmani and Ama Ata Aidoo, yet you are competing with readers that would compare you with them.  Writers you inherited a long standing grace from. You are expected to be profound and original, but also marketable.

International audiences often want “African stories.” Putting pressure on your narrative protrayal. Local audiences sometimes want relatability over speculation. Publishers want clarity. Social media wants concision. Somewhere in between all of this, you are hoping to write something that reflects your voice and values honestly. 

But what does honesty look like now?

Is it writing about economic frustration? Or about the supposed soft life in Accra? Queerness? Faith? About women who refuse to live in the life tradition promised them? About men unlearning what they were taught strength should look like?

Or is it simply writing from a place of long scrutiny?

Being a Ghanaian writer today feels less like having a talent and more like carrying questions with little to no answers. Who are we becoming? What are we shedding? What are we pretending not to see?

There is also the matter of space.

Where do Ghanaian writers publish? Who reads them? Who funds them? We talk often about “supporting local,” but literary infrastructure is still flimsy. Many writers build their own platforms. Many become editors. Many create the very spaces they once searched for.

It is exhausting but it is also powerful.

Because perhaps this generation of Ghanaian writers is not defined by one theme, but by multiplicity. We are not writing one Ghana. We are writing many.

To be a Ghanaian writer today is to write in the middle of tradition, reinvention, and critique. 

It is to understand that not every reader wants to read your work, especially if it’s fiction. It often invites more criticism than praise.  

But maybe most importantly, being a Ghanaian writer is to choose to write anyway.

Sefakor Bobobee


Chief Editor, Unspoken Words Magazine