By Yamilenu Bamgboye
The word ''drama'' has not always carried the dismissive, eye-rolling connotation it so often has today. In its original sense, drama solely described the art of storytelling through action. In ancient Athens, drama was central to culture and philosophy, giving the world tragedies by Sophocles and Euripides, where conflict revealed deep truths about human existence. Later, in the Renaissance, Shakespeare’s works showed drama at its finest: an artistic medium where tension, emotion, and conflict were vehicles for meaning. Thus, drama, for centuries, was associated with theater, literature, and later television and film, always tied to stories that entertained and provoked thought.
Over time, the meaning of drama shifted. As entertainment culture expanded, particularly with the rise of reality television in the late 20th century, drama became shorthand not just for storytelling but for visible conflict itself. Reality shows like ''The Real Housewives'', ''Big Brother Naija'', ''Keeping Up with the Kardashians'' on American television thrive on amplifying arguments, tears, and rivalries, teaching audiences that drama equals entertainment. And maybe it didn't start with them, to be honest. I remember how much we loved to watch two people beat themselves up as kids. The only difference is that the transition from drama as art to drama as spectacle was gradual but decisive. What once described powerful thoughts or creative ingenuity is now being applied to social feuds, celebrity gossip, and eventually the way we talk about our own everyday lives.
In today’s culture, “drama” often refers to the mixture of conflict, emotion, and performance. A disagreement between two friends is not drama until it is made visible through a loud public argument, gossip shared with others, or an Instagram story spilling private details. In other words, drama has three ingredients: tension between people, heightened emotion, and an audience. Without that audience, it is simply conflict. But because we live in an age of constant visibility, especially on social media, many ordinary expressions of frustration or honesty or outspokenness are recast as ''drama''. This, you'll agree with me, is sheer labelling-- a very despicable way of describing the validity of one's emotion or opinion. Wikipedia says labels applied to people shape (as in restrict or confine) their identity and how others respond to them. On this premise, describing someone as “dramatic” can actually reinforce societal perceptions of them as emotionally unstable, regardless of the substance of their speech.
Mislabelling personality traits can be problematic. I once told someone I was HSP. Then, one day, we had an argument, and being the HSP (hyper-sensitive personality) that I am, I strongly expressed my view. Next thing, she said I needed help. Haa...me?! The same goes for anyone who tries to oppose a thing or an activist on Twitter who raises their voice against injustice; their opinion is dismissed as “dramatic” rather than recognized as courageous and sincere. South African feminist scholar Pumla Dineo Gqola, in ''Reflecting Rogue: Inside the Mind of a Feminist'', examines how outspoken women in post-apartheid South Africa are often recast as “dramatic” or “difficult” rather than as truth-tellers disrupting patriarchy. Although for some personalities, this label fits so perfectly. In 2015, scholars developed the “Need for Drama” scale, which measures individuals who habitually generate or prolong interpersonal conflict. These personalities often frame themselves as heroes or victims, seek attention through disputes, and thrive on keeping situations unresolved. This pattern of behavior is real, but the problem is that society often paints all outspokenness with the same brush. Passionate honesty becomes conflated with unnecessary dramatics, even though one is grounded in truth, while the other is rooted in conflict-seeking.
The word “drama” also serves a social function. Calling something drama can be a way to dismiss it, minimizing its seriousness or distancing oneself from it. Sarah Jeong, in ''The Internet of Garbage'', describes how online harassment is often brushed off as “just drama”, allowing platforms and bystanders to avoid accountability. Similarly, Angela Nagle’s ''Kill All Normies'' traces how online culture wars turned serious disagreements into performances, making it easier for people to dismiss what they saw as mere drama rather than confronting the roots of polarization. In both cases, the label becomes a tool of avoidance rather than understanding. The teen experience offers another lens. Research shows that American teenagers often use the term “drama” to describe conflict in their social circles. Rather than calling it bullying, which carries stigma, they use drama to downplay the seriousness while still acknowledging the conflict’s public, emotional nature. This mirrors the way celebrity culture has seeped into everyday life: personal disputes feel performative because they unfold in networked spaces, where an audience is always watching.
What drama truly is, then, has layers. At its core, drama is about conflict made visible and heightened with emotion. In art, it was storytelling. In modern life, it is often conflict-as-entertainment. But what drama is not is equally important: it is not honesty, it is not passion, and it is not activism. When someone raises their voice about mistreatment or injustice, that is not drama, even if it makes others uncomfortable. When people express anger, frustration, or urgency, that does not automatically make the situation theatrical, nor does it mean they are unstable. To collapse all outspokenness into “drama” is to conflate conflict with truth-telling, and in doing so, we silence necessary voices.
Understanding what drama is and isn’t allows us to reclaim the word. Drama will always exist. Conflict is part of being human, and sometimes it even entertains us. But we should resist the cultural impulse to weaponize the label, especially against people who are merely being bold, passionate, or truthful. Not every raised voice is a performance. Sometimes it is simply reality demanding to be heard.
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