In a country where ethnic identity often becomes entangled in political manipulation, historical revisionism, and administrative convenience, very few voices rise with clarity, courage, and consistency. One of such rare voices is Barrister Gloria Adagbon, a lawyer, trained journalist, politician, and a relentless advocate for the Igbanke people. In a recent media parleys with this writer, that have reverberated across Edo State and beyond, she has firmly declared a truth that many have either attempted to distort or have been too afraid to voice: “Igbanke is Ika, not Benin.”

Her pronouncement is not a mere slogan; it is a declaration backed by history, culture, language, and lived experience. In fact, it is a call to reject forced identity, reclaim ancestral heritage, and reaffirm self-determination.

The Igbanke community, comprising six distinct settlements, sits in Edo State but culturally aligns with the Ika-speaking people of Delta State. For decades, this simple truth has been muddied by both political interests and historical misinterpretations. While some argue that proximity to the ancient Benin Kingdom justifies affiliation, others push back with cultural and linguistic evidence.

The confusion is not trivial. Identity shapes administrative inclusion, cultural recognition, and developmental attention. In the case of Igbanke, these issues are more than theoretical, they are the lived realities of marginalization, underdevelopment, and exclusion. It is in this context that Barrister Gloria Adagbon has emerged as a warrior of truth.

In her interview with this writer, Adagbon did not mince words: “Let me begin by stating clearly: “We are who we are!” Igbanke is Ika. Ethnic nationality should never be coerced or forcefully imposed.”

She made a striking comparison that cuts through the political noise: “Just because someone bears a Bini name does not mean they are Bini. By that logic, an American bearing an English name would be considered English, which we know is not true.”

Her argument dismantles the colonial mindset that equates nomenclature and geography with ethnicity. Names, she insists, do not define belonging; language, culture, and ancestry do.

She continues: “My surname may be Adagbon or even Omoruyi from my maternal side, but I do not understand a word of Bini. The language we grow up with, the one we speak from birth, is Ika. So tell me, how do you belong to a kingdom or community when you do not even understand the language?”

More than a cultural debate, the issue of Igbanke’s identity is deeply political. Gloria recounts a moment that captures the alienation: “I once visited a community in Orhionmwon, which is supposedly my local government area, and I could not understand the language spoken. I had to get someone to translate for me. I felt completely out of place.”

But the alienation is not just linguistic. It is administrative, developmental, and political. Despite having a significant population and cultural coherence, Igbanke remains without its own Local Government Area (LGA).

“It is a frustrating one,” she says. “Igbanke is made up of six communities, and by all standards… we are capable of having our own local government. Yet, every call for the creation of an Igbanke LGA has been ignored.”

She does not sugarcoat the facts: “Since Edo State was created, what has been done for the Igbanke community? Where is the impact on our development or welfare?”

One of the most powerful refrains from Adagbon’s interviews is her outright rejection of identity imposition: “Ethnic nationality is not something that should be imposed. It is insulting and frankly condescending for anyone to try and force their identity onto us.”

She places the Igbanke kingship within its rightful cultural context: “Our kings inherited their thrones from their forefathers. They are autonomous, sovereign, and not under any other kingdom.”

In the follow-up interview, she goes even further, drawing from Nigeria’s colonial history to explain how administrative convenience has long overridden indigenous reality:

“Before Flora Shaw even named Nigeria, the various peoples and communities were already here, living their lives with their own systems… The British didn’t create us; they merely grouped us together for their convenience.”

“Whatever administrative structures or influences the Benin Empire extended… do not and cannot redefine our ethnic identity.”

Adagbon’s insight is not born of sentiment; it is built on research, history, and a deep understanding of her people’s cultural heritage. She calmly challenges attempts to distort Igbanke’s history: “There are indeed different schools of thought about the origin of Igbanke… But when you critically examine these historical narratives, it becomes clear that our forebears were the indigenous settlers of our present land.”

She is aware of the imperial footprint that Benin left during its height, but she makes the crucial distinction: “Yes, the Benin Empire’s influence… touched many areas… But that was purely for governance, not a redefinition of who we are. Nigeria today is a nation, not an empire.”

Ultimately, her goal is not just to win an argument. It is to bring peace, clarity, and pride to the Igbanke people: “Our identity is settled and not up for negotiation.”

“My hope, my prayer, really, is that all of this recent attention will bring a permanent end to the debate.”

She speaks not only as a lawyer or politician but as a daughter of the soil, one whose lived experience embodies the story she defends.

In a nation where historical narratives are constantly revised to suit present political interests, the fight for identity becomes both revolutionary and redemptive. Barrister Gloria Adagbon’s voice rings out like a clarion call, not just for the Igbanke people, but for every community that has ever been told they are something they are not.

Her insistence that identity is not determined by power, but by heritage, language, and tradition is both timeless and timely. In an era of rising cultural erasure and administrative marginalization, voices like hers are desperately needed.

In many ways, Barrister Gloria Adagbon is not just fighting for Igbanke, she is fighting for the soul of ethnic integrity in Nigeria. She reminds us that the right to self-definition is sacred, that culture is not up for political auction, and that history must be told by those who lived it, not those who seek to rewrite it.

Barrister Gloria Adagbon is, without a doubt, an Amazon, a fearless defender of her people’s truth. She embodies the courage, intellect, and determination needed to challenge systemic misrepresentation. In reclaiming the Ika identity for Igbanke, she has reminded us all of a simple yet powerful truth:

“We are who we are. Igbanke is Ika. Full stop.” Her voice is more than advocacy, it is history refusing to be silenced.