Freelancing is Killing Us: How a Young Animator’s Death Exposes the Dark Side of “Hustle Culture” in Nigeria’s Creative Industry

Freelancers are collapsing under the weight of pressure. Who is responsible?

When the news broke that a young Nigerian 3D animator had died of cardiac arrest after yet another all night render marathon to finish a freelance project, the creative community went silent.

His name trended for a day. Tributes poured in. Then the same creatives who mourned him returned to their deadlines, their sleepless nights, their caffeine fueled survival tactics, and their quiet fear that they might be next.

His death was a shock, but not a surprise. That is the uncomfortable truth the creative industry keeps avoiding.

Everyone knows someone who has collapsed, broken down, or suffered a major health scare while chasing a deliverable.

In group chats, animators, illustrators, game devs and editors trade stories of thirty hour work binges, panic attacks, and heart palpitations like badges of honor. The culture rewards one thing: output.

But at what cost?

This young animator was a freelancer who needed to upgrade his workstation to meet global standards. Like many others, he felt pressured to compete with international colleagues who work on high end rigs.

To afford the upgrade, he accepted more gigs than he could manage. Clients wanted work fast. Payments were inconsistent. Timelines were tight.

So he pushed harder. He slept less. He tried to outrun the economy, the expectations, and the quiet fear that failure meant irrelevance.

Until his body quit.

His story exposes a crisis that has been building for years across Africa’s creative landscape. Freelancing is supposed to represent freedom.

No office politics. No rigid hours. No boss breathing down your neck. The dream is flexibility and the ability to build a personal brand while earning on your own terms.

Yet for many, freelancing has quietly become one of the most dangerous forms of employment because the line between ambition and self destruction has blurred beyond recognition.

Who is to blame?

Ask parents, and they say the economy is to blame. Ask the government, and they say the market is to blame.

Ask clients, and they insist the creatives accepted the deadlines voluntarily. Ask freelancers themselves, and they often blame everything but the one factor no one wants to confront: the creative culture that glorifies burnout.

Parents often shape the first layer of pressure. In many homes across Africa, creative careers are not considered real careers.

Young artists feel they must constantly prove that their work is valuable and profitable. They chase every opportunity to justify their choice.

Many freelancers say the fear of disappointing family pushes them to work at a pace that is simply not sustainable.

The irony is tragic. The same parents who want their children to succeed unknowingly pressure them into unhealthy work habits.

Then there is the government. Although progress has been made, the creative industry still suffers from inadequate funding, minimal protection, little regulation, and almost no support systems.

Health insurance is rare.

Pension? Unheard of.

Mental health support? Nonexistent.

Most freelancers operate in a system where survival is the only priority.

Government agencies celebrate the potential of the sector but do little to shield the workers powering it.

As one animator put it online, “The country is squeezing us, and the clients are squeezing us, and we are squeezing ourselves.”

But what about the creatives themselves?

This is where the argument becomes uncomfortable. Many creatives have internalized a toxic belief that suffering is proof of commitment.

They wear exhaustion like a badge. They joke about “sleep deprivation championships” and compete to see who can finish the most work with the least rest.

Some reject full time jobs because they want freedom, but they fill that freedom with endless gigs. They fear that saying no means losing relevance. They call it the hustle. But the hustle is killing them.

Is freelancing deadlier than a 9 to 5?

It depends who you ask. A traditional job can also be toxic. Many full time employees face long hours, low pay, and unrealistic expectations.

But the key difference is structure. A full time job at least forces workers to stop at some point. There are official work hours. There is HR. There is a company doctor or HMO. There is the possibility of paid leave.

Freelancers have no such safety net. Their income depends on constant output. When they stop, the money stops. The market does not reward rest.

Clients often ghost or delay payment for months. Deadlines are often negotiated in bad faith. Freelancers are expected to work as if rested, even when they are not.

And because everything is digital, there is an illusion that the body is irrelevant. The computer is always on, so the freelancer must always be on.

This creates a treadmill effect where rest becomes a luxury and burnout becomes inevitable.

When you combine this with poor economic conditions, societal pressure, and the desire for global competitiveness, you get an environment where early death can become an occupational hazard.

So who is actually responsible?

The truth is that everyone shares a piece of the blame.

Parents must stop equating creative success with constant suffering. Government must build structures that protect freelancers just as much as traditional employees.

Clients must stop expecting African creatives to produce Hollywood level work under impossible timelines for a fraction of the cost. And creatives must stop glorifying burnout as a sign of passion.

This tragedy should not simply spark sympathy. It should spark reform. Immediately.

Studios and associations can introduce standard rate cards, maximum hour rules, and health insurance partnerships for freelancers.

Communities can create accountability groups where people check on each other’s workload and mental health.

Clients can enforce realistic timelines and mandatory rest periods. Government agencies can integrate freelancers into health and pension systems.

And creatives themselves must accept that saying no does not make them weak. It makes them sustainable.

Will this change happen easily?

No. But if the creative industry continues like this, the next death will not be shocking. It will be expected.

And that is a future no one should accept.

The death of one animator should not be the price of professional ambition.

His story should force every freelancer to ask a painful but necessary question: How far is too far? At what point does the chase for opportunity become a chase toward self destruction?

If this tragedy does not change the culture, then the industry has learned nothing. And more creatives will die quietly at their desks, still working, still hustling, still trying to meet standards that were never realistic in the first place.

The question is not who will be next. The question is whether the industry has the courage to ensure that no one will be next.