At Olabisi Onabanjo University (OOU) in Ogun State, Nigeria, a video recently went viral on the social media platform X, igniting outrage and concern across the country and beyond. In the footage, female students can be seen lining up to be screened before entering an examination hall. A female staff member, believed to be a security officer, is seen inspecting students’ chests—sometimes by direct physical contact—to check whether they are wearing bras.
Students have since confirmed that this practice, nicknamed “No Bra, No Exam,” has been going on for years at the university, especially during major assessments. Curiously, while the school’s Student Code of Conduct outlines various dress expectations—banning see-through, overly tight, or revealing clothing—it makes no mention of mandatory undergarments, let alone physical checks.
One student, whom we’ll call Elizabeth, shared her experience. “It’s not just about indecent dressing. This is harassment,” she said. “Why would someone touch a female student’s breast? And it’s not even subtle—my roommate was told her breasts were ‘too big’ during a check. That staff member clearly enjoyed it.”
Elizabeth also recalled how some female students, even those undergoing breast cancer treatment, were told to go home and wear a bra before being allowed into the exam room. “Students should follow rules, yes—but being groped or publicly humiliated shouldn’t be part of that. That’s not law enforcement. That’s just abuse of power.”
The backlash online was immediate and furious. Many likened the act to inspecting men for underwear in public—both absurd and invasive. One user wrote, “I had breast surgery during university. Should I have dropped out because I couldn’t wear a bra?” Another added, “Check from a distance if you must, but touching breasts to confirm? That’s assault.”
While a few defended the school’s policy as necessary for upholding moral standards, most were shocked that such a practice could exist in a university setting.
This controversy highlights a deeper, more universal issue: how far should schools—especially universities—go in regulating student behavior? And more importantly, when do those rules begin to infringe on personal dignity and bodily autonomy?
For comparison, consider a student named Amy from New Jersey. During a sweltering summer term, she opted not to wear a bra to class for comfort. Though she got a few side-eyes from classmates, none of her professors said a word. “We’re adults. Everyone just minds their own business,” she said. “There’s no rulebook for underwear.”
Likewise, in many European universities, individual choices around undergarments are largely considered private matters. A former Oxford student recalls, “We were judged by our academic work, not our bras. The thought of being body-checked at the exam hall? Unthinkable.”
Human rights lawyer Inibehe Effiong condemned OOU’s method of enforcement. “Universities have the right to set dress codes, but students also have the right to dignity. When you start touching people to enforce rules, it’s no longer about order—it’s about control.”
Effiong argued that universities should focus on respectful enforcement, not degrading inspections. “If someone is decently dressed—say, in a T-shirt that covers their body—that should be enough. Regulating underwear is a slippery slope.”
He also pointed out the danger of policies open to abuse. “Students are not children. This isn’t kindergarten. Universities must stop managing young adults like they’re in primary school.”
Following the uproar, OOU’s student union issued a statement confirming that the practice had been happening for years, though rarely caught on video. It said the incident had sparked dialogue with school authorities on finding alternative, more respectful ways to address concerns over dress code violations.
The university’s official dress code, notably long and detailed, defines “indecent dressing” in terms such as exposing body parts, wearing tight or transparent clothing, or outfits seen as provocative. First-time violators receive warnings; repeated offenses can lead to suspension.
But the real question is not about how many inches of skin are shown or what kind of underwear is worn. It’s about how power is exercised in the name of discipline—and how easily it can slip into humiliation and abuse.
In a world where more students embrace comfort, identity, and body autonomy, institutions that cling to outdated, moralistic policies risk not only losing credibility, but also violating the very values education is supposed to uphold—respect, freedom, and critical thought.
As one British university graduate put it, “If your school teaches you shame before it teaches you agency, is it really educating you at all?”