There was a time when the idea of a private sex video suddenly surfacing online would have shocked almost everyone. Today, the Ghanaian internet has given it a name, ‘azigi’ and the disturbing part is how casually the word is now used.
We should pause and ask ourselves: When did somebody’s most private moment become public entertainment?
People have different reasons for recording intimate moments. Some couples do it to keep the spark alive, especially in long-distance relationships. Some do it because their partner asks. Others simply trust the person they are with. Whatever the reason, intimacy is still supposed to remain intimate.
And this is where things get dangerous.
A relationship can end. A friendship can collapse. Trust can turn into anger. But none of those things should become permission to expose someone’s nakedness to the world. Yet, when relationships go sour, private videos are sometimes allegedly used for revenge, blackmail, humiliation or money. Sometimes the content gets passed to a third person. Sometimes a stolen or compromised device becomes the source. Sometimes people simply fail to realise that what they have accidentally posted is no longer private.
And yes, there are also those who deliberately put intimate content online because attention comes quickly on the internet. But viral is not the same as valuable, and attention is not always worth the price.
What makes this even more disturbing is that the people involved are not always anonymous. Married couples, people in relationships and even public figures have found their private moments circulating online. Once that happens, the damage can go far beyond embarrassment. It can affect careers, marriages, families, mental wellbeing and a person’s sense of dignity. In extreme cases, such humiliation can contribute to devastating emotional consequences.
The law also does not treat this as harmless internet fun. Ghana’s Cybersecurity Act, 2020 (Act 1038), criminalises the non-consensual sharing of intimate images in circumstances covered by Section 67, with possible imprisonment of one to three years.
But beyond the law, there is something even more basic: decency.
You may receive a private video. You may have access to somebody’s most vulnerable moment. That does not make it yours to distribute. A phone may be yours, but another person’s body and privacy are not your property.
And for those who choose to create intimate images or videos, perhaps the uncomfortable question is worth asking before pressing record: If this ever leaves my phone, can I live with the consequences?
If you have doubts, don’t do it. If you have already done it in the past, don’t panic, just be more careful going forward. Avoid identifiable details where possible, secure your devices and think seriously about where intimate content could end up.
Because the internet has an unforgiving memory. What trends today can resurface years from now. The person watching it today could be your colleague tomorrow. Your child could stumble upon it years later. Your future employer could see it. Your family could see it.
We have normalised “azigi” far too much.
Private intimacy should not become public entertainment simply because technology makes sharing it easy. Some things deserve to remain between the people who lived them.
