It’s AFCON season, and 24 African teams are battling for glory in Morocco from December 21st to January 18th. There’s everything to look forward to: star players looking to lead their countries to glory, favourites looking to live up to their billing, dark horses ready to steal the show, and perennial underachievers finally trying to break through. It’s a tournament full of surprises, one you won’t want to miss a second of.

But while all this is happening, there’s a disturbing trend: Africans themselves are treating AFCON like a joke. Every year, tired memes flood social media, memes that aren’t even funny anymore, reducing the tournament to a punchline. The CAF Player of the Year gets called “the African Ballon d’Or.”  amongst others. What should be a source of pride is being made to look like a parody version.

AFCON already faces enough disrespect from outside. From Joey Barton and Jamie Carragher claiming AFCON isn’t a “major tournament” to European clubs dragging their feet on releasing players, the competition battles for legitimacy on multiple fronts. Yes, the timing isn’t perfect, but climate conditions across much of Africa make December/January the most viable window. We don’t need to add fuel to the fire of disrespect.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the memes used to be funny when they were organic, born out of genuine moments of chaos, joy, or relatable frustration. But somewhere along the line, it became performative. Now they feel forced, repetitive, and worse, they’re doing real damage. 

We can’t demand respect for African football while treating our own premier competition like a comedy show.

Think about it: imagine if South Americans constantly mocked Copa América, or if Europeans turned the Euros into an annual meme fest. It wouldn’t happen because they respect their own competition. They understand that self-deprecation has limits, especially when the world is already looking for reasons to dismiss you.

If we don’t take our tournament seriously, why should anyone else? When sponsors are deciding where to invest, when broadcasters are negotiating rights, when young players are dreaming about their futures, the perception matters. Every joke, every dismissive meme, chips away at the tournament’s prestige and, by extension, African football’s standing on the global stage.

The reality is that the standard of football at AFCON is steadily improving. We’ve seen brilliant matches, tactical evolution, and world-class performances. Officiating is also improving, although inconsistencies persist. These are genuine positive developments that deserve to be highlighted, not drowned out by the noise of self-mockery.

AFCON isn’t a circus. It’s the Africa Cup of Nations, a tournament that showcases the continent’s finest talent, where legends are born, and national pride is on the line. It deserves to be treated as such.

It’s time we defend our tournament with the same energy we use to create memes about it. We owe it to the players who give everything for their countries, to the fans who travel thousands of miles in support, and to the generations of African footballers who’ve graced this competition.

AFCON deserves better. African football deserves better. And honestly, we deserve better than reducing our own excellence to a joke for a few retweets. Let’s change the narrative.