Wetin bring Manifesto join baggy pants?

Yeah, I know—writing a manifesto for a clothing brand sounds like overkill.
A bit dramatic. Like, calm down my bro, no be just clothes we dey talk for here? Right?

Wrong!

Because here’s the truth:

Wokebot is not a clothing brand. It's the voice asking for change in the back seat of a danfo.

And this manifesto? It’s not just a vibe—it’s a tool. A blueprint. A spiritual compass (this one no be meme ejeh). So, before you roll your eyes into another galaxy, hear me out.

Why tf do we even have a manifesto?

Let’s be honest, it is kinda pretentious. Like who do I think I am? Design Odumodu?
Maybe.
But also, the world is loud.

Everyone’s selling you something—validation, aesthetics, perfection.
Wokebot isn’t here for that. I’m here to sell you YOURSELF.

The real you. The loud one, the quiet one, the one that doesn’t fit cleanly into algorithms or aesthetics.

So yeah, I wrote a manifesto. Not because I want you to buy a t-shirt (although e no go sad if you buy one). But because I want you to remember who the hell you are.

Three reasons the manifesto actually matters:

“No, I’m not a clothing brand.”
I make designs that make statements. Designs that shift consciousness.
If you’re just here for the drip, that’s cool. But the drip is laced with meaning—don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The manifesto helps you find your style, expression... and maybe God.
Sounds dramatic. Sounds wild.
But maybe God is found in the folds of how you show up in the world—how you dress, how you speak, how you move.
This isn’t just about clothes. It’s about wearing your truth.
Wokebot is designing a whole new way of thinking.
Today it’s clothes. Tomorrow it’s architecture, storytelling, maybe even the way playgrounds are built.
The endgame is to influence how we design everything—with soul, with guts, with truth.

Yeah, you don’t need a manifesto to rock baggy jeans—I bet you already do (right? Please tell me you’ve burned those skinny jeans). But the Wokebot Manifesto isn’t just fashion talk.

It’s like that iya oloja at the back of the danfo shouting for her change—loud, unbothered, impossible to ignore. Then suddenly everyone starts shouting too, because deep down, we all know we’re owed something.

So no, you don’t have to care for the manifesto.
You don’t even have to fuck with the brand.

But if you stick around a little longer…
if you let the vision breathe, if you let it whisper something real to you—
you just might be glad you did.