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What African Fathers Pass Down to Us: A Legacy of Strength, Wisdom, and Resilience

Father’s Day is a time to honor the profound role of fathers. In African societies, fathers are more than just parents; they are custodians of heritage, embodying strength, wisdom, and resilience. They are vital links through which traditions, values, and life lessons pass from one generation to the next, forming the foundation of identity and community. “African fatherhood” is incredibly diverse, reflecting the continent’s rich cultures—from the Maasai and Nyamwezi to the Hemba, Zulu, and Xhosa. Across these varied traditions, fathers play pivotal roles, extending their influence to the stability and resilience of the entire community. Supporting fathers is a fundamental strategy for community development, recognizing their role as cornerstones of social cohesion and cultural continuity. Examples of diverse traditional roles and teachings include: Maasai fathers: Protectors, providers, instillers of resilience and survival skills. Hemba fathers: Custodians of traditions, leaders, mediators, passing down cultural heritage, respect, integrity, and humility. Zulu fathers: Leaders, protectors, transmitting ancestral wisdom, cultural pride, respect, bravery, and unity. Xhosa fathers: Guides and mentors, teaching life lessons, cultural history, spirituality, responsibility, and cultural pride through rituals like “ulwaluko.” Bamileke fathers: Providers and educators, imparting farming, craftsmanship, and business skills, emphasizing education. Fulani fathers: Preservers of cultural traditions, instilling discipline, resilience, and adaptability for nomadic livelihoods. Tikar fathers: Custodians of cultural heritage and moral values, passing down rituals, ceremonies, oral traditions, and ethical behavior. Lessons for Life: Values and Character Traits Imparted African fathers shape their children’s moral compass, instilling core values for ethical behavior and responsible citizenship. Fathers in Hoedspruit serve as role models of integrity, emphasizing honesty, respect, and responsibility, teaching that success includes contributing positively to society. Tikar fathers stress ethical behavior, honesty, and respect. These values are taught through direct instruction, modeling, and community participation. Fathers foster a strong sense of community and collective responsibility. Hoedspruit fathers teach about family bonds and teamwork, drawing lessons from nature (e.g., lion prides and elephant herds). Tikar fathers emphasize respect for others. The natural world often serves as a classroom, making abstract concepts tangible. Fathers also equip children with mental fortitude, fostering resilience and adaptability. Fulani fathers instill discipline, resilience, and adaptability for nomadic life. Resilience is the ability to bounce back from adversity, and fathers encourage learning from setbacks, preparing children for unpredictable challenges. Hands-On Wisdom: Practical Skills and Resourcefulness Historically, African fathers equipped children with practical skills for survival and economic sustenance. Maasai fathers teach pastoralism, while Bamileke fathers pass down farming, craftsmanship, and business skills. Fulani fathers preserve cultural traditions and livelihoods. These skills maintain the economic and social fabric of the family and community. Contemporary African fathers also pass down modern practical know-how, imbued with deeper life lessons. South African fathers teach skills like braai (fire-making and grilling), which fosters patience and communal bonds. Basic car maintenance teaches self-sufficiency and safety. Tying a tie teaches presentation and confidence. These tasks become vehicles for transmitting responsibility, preparedness, attention to detail, and respect. Underlying these skills are universal lessons about diligence, foresight, and independence. They build connection, resourcefulness, and quiet confidence, equipping individuals with a mindset for navigating challenges. Direct paternal guidance in acquiring tangible skills directly builds a child’s confidence, preparing them for life’s challenges in any environment. The Evolving Father: Nurturing and Engagement in Modern Africa   African fatherhood is transforming, moving beyond provider and protector roles to embrace more active, nurturing, and emotionally engaged parenting. This evolution is driven by socio-economic changes, urbanization, and a global re-evaluation of gender roles. Education is a key catalyst, empowering fathers with knowledge for holistic involvement, dismantling harmful stereotypes, and fostering nurturing roles. Modern African fathers balance traditional provision with profound emotional support. Hoedspruit fathers, like fish eagles, balance hunting and caring. They provide stable, loving environments where children can thrive emotionally and intellectually, listening to fears, dreams, and aspirations. This balance is crucial for holistic child development. The Profound Impact: Why Fathers Matter Immensely Fathers foster a child’s inner strength and self-worth, providing foundational security. Black fathers are crucial for self-esteem, modeling virtues like courage and integrity. Their positive affirmations and active involvement create a supportive environment for children to explore passions, develop skills, and take risks. Fathers instill a deep love for lifelong learning. They engage in conversations, encourage reading, and participate in educational paths (parent-teacher meetings, homework, extracurriculars). Bamileke fathers emphasize education, supporting academic journeys, often intensified in migrant families where success repays parental sacrifices. Fathers help children understand emotions, communicate effectively, and build empathetic relationships. Black fathers teach emotional intelligence through open dialogues and shared experiences. A father who demonstrates emotional intelligence teaches children to understand and manage emotions. They foster open communication by creating an environment where emotions are discussed, modeling vulnerability to humanize themselves. A father’s consistent presence and active involvement contribute significantly to a child’s sense of security, stability, and overall well-being. They safeguard their families, ensuring a safe and secure environment. Research shows that father absence is associated with developmental challenges, including developmental delays, teenage pregnancy, delinquency, and abuse. This highlights the foundational importance of paternal involvement for healthy child development. Real-life examples illustrate the profound dedication and resilience of African fathers. Alphonse Batundi (DRC) moved his sons for safety, embodying relentless protection. Douglas Bashonga (DRC) meticulously implemented cholera prevention to protect his family. Adama Kone (Côte d’Ivoire) rushed his premature baby to the hospital, demonstrating immense courage. Thembile (South Africa), a single father, sought support from a parenting program, showing adaptability and commitment to growth. These stories make the immense impact of fathers tangible and moving.  A Legacy of Love, Leadership, and Resilience African fathers, in their diverse traditional and evolving modern roles, are irreplaceable figures. They are foundational architects of character, steadfast guardians of cultural heritage, and enduring wellsprings of resilience that strengthen individuals and the fabric of African societies, both on the continent and in the diaspora. Their impact is profound and far-reaching. African fatherhood is a dynamic continuum, constantly adapting to socio-economic changes, urbanization, migration, and global influences, while preserving core values and

Culture

Senegalese Handicraft is Deeply Personal

The Soulful Art of Senegalese Handicrafts At the edge of Kaolack, where the midday sun sits heavy and unflinching, a circle of women hunch quietly beneath the shade of a neem tree. Their hands move with unthinking precision, coiling blades of dry grass, threading in stripes of plastic, shaping baskets that will travel far beyond this dusty square. A toddler toddles between them, weaving her own invisible path. A woman laughs, correcting her neighbor’s weave. It is a scene that could have played out years ago. But look closer, and you’ll see signs of change—mobile phones nestled beside bundles of ndiorokh, price negotiations happening over WhatsApp, plastic strips cut from imported rice sacks. This is Senegal’s craft. Craft as Culture and Crisis To understand Senegal is to understand its artisans. In this West African country bordered by ocean and desert, craftsmanship is more than a decoration. It is more cultural and personal. From the clay-rich villages of Casamance to the coastal ateliers of Saint-Louis, the entire nation hums with the rhythm of craft. Markets pulse like arteries, alive with motion and color. You don’t just shop in Senegal, you wander through living galleries, each stall a curated corner of someone’s world. When the wind blows through the open plains of Kaolack or the coastal alleys of Saint-Louis, it does more than stir the dust. It lifts the scent of dyed cotton, the hush of straw brushing straw, the low hum of chisels on wood and carries with it the stories of a people who have always shaped beauty from what their land offers. But these traditions now face questions that requires answers: How do you preserve what the world wants to commodify? How do you innovate without erasing? Who gets to decide what remains authentic? The Basket That Sings in Color Perhaps nowhere are these questions more visible than in the Afrikaanse wasmand, the tall, sculptural basket now sold in boutiques. In Senegal’s interior regions, it is still made the old way: coiled grass, co-operative women sitting in a loose circle, hours upon hours of labor. But the introduction of colored plastic, once a practical response to material scarcity, has become a visual signature. That plastic now makes the basket sell. But it also raises new tensions. Purists scoff, export buyers applaud, and rural weavers? They adapt. For many, the plastic strips are more than aesthetic. They are survival, allowing older women to compete with cheaper, factory-made imitations and support their families in a shifting economy. What gets lost in debates about design is what the basket means: not just income, but independence. For some women, it is the first time their work is being paid for in euros. For others, it is a way to stay on ancestral land rather than migrating to the city. The Loom as a Storyteller If the basket is Senegal’s most recognizable export, then tissus Thiès is perhaps its most sacred. In workshops around the city of Thiès, the steady click and pull of looms form a quiet symphony. These handwoven textiles are thick with cultural symbolism, often used in ceremonial garments, home décor, or gifted during important life moments. The process is rigorous. Cotton threads are dyed once with natural pigments from bark and soil, now sometimes with brighter synthetic colors, and strung onto looms in measured order. Weavers, often men with decades of experience, create geometric patterns with astonishing precision. Lines, squares, chevrons, each motif carries meaning. Some reflect ancestral lineage, others speak to community values or spiritual beliefs. In many Senegalese families, these patterns are known by name and associated with heritage. And yet, new life pulses here. Some young designers are incorporating tissus Thiès into streetwear or upcycled fashion. Diaspora Senegalese seek out these cloths for weddings and naming ceremonies. Woodwork and the Carvers of Saint-Louis Walk through the colonial city of Saint-Louis, and the scent of mahogany hangs in the air. In small workshops, away from the bustle of traffic, artisans lean over slabs of wood, chiseling, sanding, whispering into form. A carver’s workshop is a room with no roof with customers being split between local weddings and Instagram orders. And their fear? Children who won’t want to inherit their blades. In Saint-Louis, meanwhile, the scent of mahogany fills the air. Artisans here carve masks, stools, and walking sticks, some for rituals, some for tourists. The line between sacred and souvenir is thin. Many woodworkers walk it carefully to suit international tastes without betraying spiritual meaning. Some artisans blend Islamic motifs into their carvings—stars, arabesques, calligraphy—echoing Senegal’s religious plurality. Others say it’s like carving your own culture for someone else’s living room. Gourds Turned into Canvas The calabash, a dried gourd, is one of the oldest vessels known to African households. But in the hands of Senegalese women, it becomes an emblem. After harvesting and drying, the gourds are scraped smooth. The surface is then etched using knives or fine blades. Designs are not pre-drawn. They emerge concentric circles, waves, fish, birds, fertility symbols. Some are dyed with natural pigments or smoked to deepen their hue. Used as bowls, instruments, or ceremonial vessels, calabashes are passed from generation to generation. Beadwork and Metal Jewelry Jewelry is worn not simply to adorn but to express, protect, proclaim. Among the Fulani, large gold earrings curl like crescent moons, a sign of wealth and prestige. The Serer people craft beaded necklaces believed to hold spiritual power. Markets in Touba and Ziguinchor are dotted with brass-smiths hammering bangles over open flames, or silversmiths etching symbols into rings with practiced grace. Glass beads, some recycled from old trade stock, are strung into waist chains and layered necklaces each color carrying emotional weight. Jewelry is talisman. Craft Villages as Living Archives Across Senegal, villages artisanaux, craft villages, have been developed not only to support artisan livelihoods but to keep these traditions alive in an increasingly digital, fast-paced world. These villages are more than production sites. They are classrooms. Archives. Breathing museums where knowledge is

Culture

African Creative Stories ft. Badara Preira, a Photojournalist

AFRICAN CREATIVE SERIES What is your name and in which country do you live? My name is Badara Preira and I am a Senegalese photographer based between Senegal and France. 2-How did you start photography and how long have you been doing it? I’ve always loved photography, but it was a gift that changed everything. My Senegalese-Swedish cousin, on vacation in Dakar, noticed my enthusiasm for his camera and gave it to me. From then on, I began teaching myself, out of curiosity and a desire to understand. In 2015, after my Master’s degree, I decided to fully embrace photography. I’ve been living this professional adventure for ten years now, fueled by the same passion I had on the first day. 3-You document a lot of moments around Africans, especially in the religious domain — what influences your choice? What deeply motivates me to document African life, particularly that of Senegal, is the desire to show things as they are. My approach is resolutely documentary: I seek to capture what everyone sees, but few truly take the time to observe. These are often everyday scenes, seemingly ordinary, but imbued with meaning and beauty. My interest in religious moments stems from my personal history. I come from a practicing Muslim family, and these spaces of faith are places where I feel both spiritually and artistically connected. I find an energy, a sincerity, a humanity there that I need to translate into images. These are moments where the visible and the invisible intersect, and where photography takes on its full meaning, in my eyes. 4-What has been your best moment since the beginning of your career? I’ve experienced many beautiful moments in my career, but there is one that I cherish in my memory. It was during my exhibition in Morocco, during the 1-54 Art Fair. I was presenting some of my photographs there, and during the visits, an elderly woman stopped for a long time in front of one of my works. She remained there, silent, contemplating it for a good ten minutes. Intrigued, I approached to tell her the story behind this image. She then looked at me very gently and said: “You know, I’m almost 70 years old, I’ve traveled a lot, seen so many things… but I think I just experienced one of the most beautiful moments of my life, here, in front of you and your work.” It’s the kind of moment that gives meaning to what I do. 5-What is your favorite project so far, and why do you like it? As a freelance photographer, I choose to work on projects that speak deeply to me. One of the most memorable projects is my collaboration with the 2022 Olympic Games. Working with the Olympics had been a long-time dream, and this project exceeded all my expectations. The team trusted me by giving me carte blanche, which is rare and precious—they were already familiar with my work and wanted me to be able to express myself freely. This creative freedom, in such a prestigious setting, remains an unforgettable experience. Another project that is particularly close to my heart is an artistic series I titled Singularity. It’s a very personal project, in which I fully identify. It addresses the question of difference—our own, that of others—and invites reflection on self-acceptance and individuality. Through this series, I seek to raise awareness of how we view things that deviate from the norm, and to celebrate the uniqueness of each individual. 6-What are you looking forward to doing as a photojournalist? As a photojournalist, what drives me above all is the curiosity that each subject can arouse. I would love to experience being the personal photographer of the president or the presidency, to offer a different perspective—my own—on the corridors of power. 7-Who would you like to collaborate or work with one day? I would like to collaborate one day with renowned media outlets like Getty Images, The New York Times, or Reuters to take my photographic vision beyond borders and tell the world through a personal and engaged prism. 8-What advice would you give to someone who wants to get into photography but doesn’t know how to go about it? To someone who wants to get into photography but doesn’t know where to start, I would first say: put aside any doubts. If you have the means, a school can give you a good foundation, but you can also learn a lot through online tutorials. Finding a mentor is a real plus, but the most important thing is to start. Take your camera, explore, make mistakes, start again. Don’t be afraid to fail, and above all, avoid comparing yourself to others: everyone progresses at their own pace, on their own path. 9-Describe your journey so far in three words. Reconversion – Passion – Freedom

Beauty/Fashion

My Father’s Shadow: A New Dawn for African Cinema at Cannes

Cannes is the heartbeat of world cinema. For decades, it has been the place where stories are immortalized. Films that cross borders, challenge perceptions, and speak to the core of human experience have walked its red carpet, leaving their mark on global storytelling. This year, a new scene was written in the annals of cinema. My Father’s Shadow, directed by Akinola Davies Jr. and produced by Funmbi Ogunbanwo, became the first Nigerian film to be part of the Official Selection at Cannes, screening in the prestigious Un Certain Regard category. It’s not just a milestone, it’s a turning point for African cinema. The Prestige of Cannes The Cannes Film Festival is the world’s most prestigious gathering of filmmakers and dreamers. It’s where legends are born, where films like Pulp Fiction, Blue is the Warmest Color, and Parasite found their way to global recognition. It is about storytelling that matters. For African filmmakers, the road to Cannes has often been distant; glimpses of our stories flickering at the edges but rarely taking center stage. My Father’s Shadow changes the narrative. Funmbi Ogunbanwo: Telling Stories with Intention At the heart of this moment is Funmbi Ogunbanwo, who enjoys the process of something bigger than her. She has always been intentional about people and the stories she tells, choosing narratives that reflect the strength and complexity of Nigerian identity.  In her interview with Afrique Noire Magazine, she spoke passionately about the importance of storytelling from home. “Home is where impact is,” she said, calling on the African diaspora to remember that their voices matter, that their stories belong not just abroad but at home where change is rooted. Ogunbanwo’s vision goes beyond just making films. For too long, African stories have been boxed into tales of struggle and survival. She wants the world to see the richness, the ambition, the memory, and the resilience that define African life. With My Father’s Shadow, she proves that our stories can be global without losing their soul. The Story of My Father’s Shadow My Father’s Shadow is a poignant exploration of memory, identity, and the longing for connection. Inspired by the real-life experiences of Wale Davies and his brother, who lost their father at a young age, the film dives into the ache of growing up with questions that are never answered. Who was he? What did he believe in? What kind of man was he? These unspoken questions became the soul of the story. Davies imagined what it would be like to spend just one more day with their father, a single moment to bridge the distance that time and loss had created. The film is set against the backdrop of the 1993 Nigerian elections, a time marked by political tension and hope for change. This historical context is woven delicately into the narrative, reflecting how family-saga and political upheaval often walk hand in hand. Lagos, with its chaos and charm, is a living, breathing character that shapes the story. https://youtu.be/WoiVcFxcpak?si=W9g6LzEEcBrrZcOh A Landmark for African Cinema The significance of My Father’s Shadow at Cannes is monumental. It signals to the world that African stories are not only valid but necessary. It is a testament that Nigerian cinema has truly come of age—a sentiment echoed by Prince Baba Agba, cultural advisor to President Tinubu. It is a pivotal moment for African film. It signals to the world that African stories are necessary. For the African film landscape, this is validation. It is a moment that tells filmmakers across the continent that their stories are powerful enough to stand on the world’s most prestigious stage. It breaks barriers and sets a precedent, opening the path for more African voices to be heard. My Father’s Shadow is a beacon of possibility, a whisper to every storyteller on the continent that the world is ready to listen and that our stories are worthy of the brightest lights. Enjoy the full conversation here on YouTube & you can now listen here on Spotify YouTube Link  https://youtu.be/wFqHAZZJKqQ?si=RMJYxTxC40nJVkEh Spotify https://open.spotify.com/episode/7MLrtowHEXN9UU2k6ULI5h?si=745Fwd8tR0aBogHbrzBC8g Producer & Directors  https://www.instagram.com/akinoladaviesjr?igsh=azI5bXY4aWo2bzBj Akinola Davies Jr https://www.instagram.com/kingxdavies?igsh=NzRwMmgxMnU0bHBr Wale  Davies  https://www.instagram.com/funmbi_o?igsh=YzBqNDZpOWVmYm1p Funmbi Ogunbanwo For https://www.instagram.com/wearefatherland?igsh=MXZnOTBhaDJwbHB1cQ== Father Land 

Runway

African Histories Through Nollywood

“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots.” — Marcus Garvey African history, with all its grandeur and grit, is often tucked away in dusty archives, entombed in sepia-toned photographs, or whispered in the crackling voices of our grandparents. Their tales of kingdoms that spanned horizons, of warriors who etched their names in blood and valor, of women whose voices thundered against oppression, are at risk of fading into mere echoes. But today, Nollywood, Africa’s storytelling titan, is wielding the power of cinema to rip the veil off forgotten epochs, transforming screens into portals that bridge the past and the present. Rewriting Memory Through the Lens of Cinema There is something almost spiritual about watching history unfold on screen. A well-crafted historical film is not just a re-enactment; it is a resurrection. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, by Bolanle Austen-Peters, a multiple award-winning director, producer and cultural entrepreneur, does not merely tell the story of a woman, it breathes life into an era. Through lush cinematography and evocative dialogue, the audience is transported to bustling markets where Funmilayo’s fiery activism rallied women against unfair colonial taxation. Her voice, sharp and unyielding, becomes a rallying cry for women and girls’ rights, a fight that echoes to this day. The film’s reception was monumental, sparking renewed conversations about women’s roles in political activism in Nigeria. In Anikulapo, directed by Kunle Afolayan (an actor credited for elevating the quality of Nollywood movies), the tapestry of Yoruba folklore is unraveled with a richness that transcends mere storytelling. It is a spellbinding tale of love and betrayal, of mystical powers and moral consequence. The landscapes serve not just as backdrops but as living, breathing characters in the story. Released on Netflix to global audiences, it sparked conversations about cultural preservation and the importance of African folklore in contemporary cinema. Then comes Jagun Jagun, a powerful movie directed by Tunde Kelani. It’s a  war epic that crashes onto the screen with the thunder of ancestral drums and the sharp tang of iron. It is a visceral retelling of warriors who did not merely fight but sacrificed, and solidified legacies that ripple across generations. The film is more than blood and battle; it is a homage to resilience, to the spirit of a people who chose freedom over fear, sovereignty over subjugation. Critics lauded its bold cinematography and unflinching portrayal of pre-colonial resistance. Films like October 1  and 93 Days also serve as crucial historical markers. October 1 is a psychological thriller set against the backdrop of Nigeria’s independence, blending fiction with real historical tension, while 93 Days chronicles the brave response to the Ebola outbreak, immortalizing moments of unity and sacrifice. Through these films, Nollywood elevates history to a place of reverence and remembrance. These are not just stories; they are cinematic griots, bearing witness to the epochs that shaped our destiny. The Echo of Ancestors There is a powerful connection that comes from witnessing the struggles and triumphs of those who came before us. Nollywood’s historical films educate, inspire, and awaken something deep within us. Watching these movies is like stepping back in time, feeling the weight of colonial oppression, the strength of rebellion, and the unbreakable unity of women and men who refused to be silenced. We are reminded of how fragile communities are and how easily culture can be lost if not protected. The stories bring history to life with a heartbeat you can feel. They remind us of warriors who fought not for glory, but for survival. We see the faces of those who stood their ground, defending their lands against powerful enemies. These films are living memorials preserved on screen, capturing moments that time cannot erase. But these movies are more than memories; they are mirrors. They reflect the strength and flaws of our past. The resilience, the mistakes, the victories, and the losses. Through these stories, we are challenged to think about where we came from and, more importantly, where we are headed. Cinema as Cultural Custodian Cinema, in its purest form, is the art of memory. Nollywood’s historical epics serve as bridges spanning the chasm between generations, connecting those who lived through these times to those who may never hear the tales firsthand. Imagine a young girl, eyes wide with wonder, watching Queen Amina for the first time. She is not merely consuming a story; she is inheriting a legacy. She learns that before there were skyscrapers and bustling metropolises, there were empires like Zazzau ruled by warrior queens who expanded territories and defied norms. These films challenge the narrative that African history began with colonization. They reveal empires that thrived, and communities that governed themselves long before external forces drew borders across their lands. Nollywood’s historical films are crossing borders on platforms like Netflix and Prime Video. Diaspora audiences are engaging with stories they never learned in Western classrooms, reconnecting with roots that stretch back to royal courts and battlefields. In this way, Nollywood is not just telling Africa’s stories; it is archiving its truths. The Call for More For every film that makes it to the screen, there remain untold stories buried beneath the sands of time. Where is the grand cinematic retelling of the Aba Women’s Riot of 1929, when thousands of Igbo women defied colonial authority in a blaze of defiance? Where is the sweeping epic that captures the legacy of King Jaja of Opobo, who resisted British imperialism with sheer tenacity? Part of the challenge lies in funding and industry priorities. Historical films are expensive to produce, demanding elaborate sets, costumes, and detailed research that many studios are hesitant to fund. Despite the growing appetite for African stories, the market sometimes favors contemporary narratives over the painstaking recreation of history. However, visionaries like Kunle Afolayan and Ibrahim Chatta are changing the game. Their investment in film villages; vast, immersive sets dedicated to large-scale productions has lowered the barriers to crafting historical epics. Afolayan’s KAP Film Village

Beauty/Fashion

The Red Crown: Himba Women’s Hair

What does it mean to wear your history in your hair? For the Himba women of northern Namibia, beauty is a language spoken in red ochre, passed from mother to daughter, and sculpted into every braid. In the dusty, sunburnt lands of northern Namibia, between rocky hills and winding rivers, live the Himba people, a semi-nomadic community known for their resilience, grace, and striking appearance. Among them, the Himba women stand out not just for their beauty, but for their proud display of tradition, carried on their skin, in their dress, and most famously, in their hair. The red-plated hair of the Himba women is a living symbol. A message written in earth, time, and memory. It tells a story of identity, pride, survival, and womanhood passed down from one generation to the next. Who Are the Himba? The Himba are an indigenous people of Namibia, mainly found in the Kunene region, near the Angolan border. They are pastoralists, which means they live closely with their livestock, especially cattle and goats. Their days are shaped by the rhythm of nature. They live in huts made from mud and dung, sleep under wide skies, and follow traditions that have stayed largely untouched for hundreds of years. But beyond geography and history, it is their visual expression, especially their hair that has come to symbolize their enduring strength. A Signature of Himba Womanhood What captures most people’s attention when they see the Himba women for the first time is their hair. Thick, red, sculpted locks that look like they’ve been shaped by fire and earth. These are not wigs or braids from a salon. These are carefully built hairstyles, coated in a rich red paste called otjize—a mixture of butterfat, red ochre (iron-rich stone ground into powder), and sometimes fragrant herbs or tree resins. The women apply otjize every day. It covers their hair and their entire bodies, giving their skin a warm, reddish glow. It protects them from the harsh sun, acts as a moisturizer in the dry desert climate, and keeps insects away. But its meaning goes far beyond physical use. The red color represents the earth, blood, and life itself. It is sacred. It is spiritual. Hair is not just hair to the Himba. It’s a marker of identity and a sign of where a woman is in her life. Himba hairstyles follow clear rules: 1.Young girls wear two plaits hanging forward over their faces, called ozondato. 2.Teenage girls start adding more braids and often begin applying otjize. 3.Married women wear thick, long, red-plated locks that fall over their shoulders, sometimes covering the face slightly. These are called ozondato as well, but in a more elaborate form. 4.Mothers wear a headpiece made of sheepskin called an erembe, which is attached to their braided hair. It’s a symbol of fertility and motherhood. 5.Elder women or widows may cover their heads or leave their hair natural, often signaling a different stage of life. Even the shape and number of braids have meaning. They show your social role, your family’s wealth, your marital status, and more. In Himba society, you can “read” a woman’s life story through her hairstyle. The Art of Maintenance: A Daily Ritual Keeping the hair beautiful and healthy is a daily ritual. Himba women don’t bathe with water in the Western sense, especially because water is scarce in their environment. Instead, they perform a kind of smoke bath. They burn special wood, often from aromatic trees, inside a clay pot, and once it produces enough smoke, they sit over it and let the smoke cleanse their skin and body. This is how they “bathe.” When it comes to their hair, the women take their time. They mix fresh otjize paste and gently coat their braids. Sometimes, other women help. It is an intimate, bonding experience; mother to daughter, sister to sister, elder to younger. It is a shared practice that keeps their traditions alive. Some of the braids are made using hair extensions from other women in the tribe, animal hair, or even woven wool. But the otjize paste always covers it all, binding it into a single, sculpted form. The Meaning Behind the Red To outsiders, the red hair might seem like just a bold fashion choice. But to the Himba, it means much more. The red ochre is tied to the idea of kaoko, a connection to the earth, to ancestors, and to the spirit of the land. The Himba believe in a spiritual life force that flows through everything: the cattle, the trees, the soil, and the human body. Covering themselves in red ochre is a way of aligning with this force. It’s a way of honoring life. Symbols of Cultural Resistance Today, Himba women are seen as symbols of cultural resistance. While much of the world pushes for modernization, assimilation, and change, they hold fast to their roots. They walk through dusty villages and open markets dressed in leather skirts, beaded necklaces, and bare chests unapologetically themselves. As the world rushes forward, the Himba women boldly remind us that our traditions are enough. That our way of being our skin, our hair, our rituals hold deep meaning. They remind us that African beauty is not borrowed, not bought. It is built, strand by strand, from memory, meaning, and the dust of home. This balance between tradition and modern life is difficult. It raises questions about choice, identity, and the future. But one thing remains: the red hair continues to speak.

Beauty/Fashion

The Dandy Met Gala

Every year, the Met Gala is a dazzling ode to fashion, art, and culture, but 2025 was different. It wasn’t just another glamorous evening in the Untitled Sky of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a cultural milestone. The theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” was a sweeping tribute to Black fashion, identity, and the enduring legacy of Black dandyism. This wasn’t just fashion for fashion’s sake but heritage, defiance, and elegance in motion. Black Elegance on Center Stage Inspired by Monica L. Miller’s influential book Slaves to Fashion, this year’s exhibit broke boundaries. For the first time in 22 years, the focus was solely on menswear, but not just any menswear. This was Black suiting reimagined through a dozen themes: Ownership, Look, Disguise, Freedom, Presence, Cosmopolitanism, and more. Each room in the exhibition felt like a different heartbeat of the diaspora. The accompanying dress code, “Tailored for You,” wasn’t just about custom fits; it was an invitation to bring your full, unfiltered self. To wear a story. As co-chair Pharrell Williams put it: “You throw it on Sunday after working all week.” And that was the spirit. Effortless cool born from effort. Faith meets finesse. Joy meets struggle. Inside the World of the Black Dandy So what is Black Dandyism, really? Think velvet blazers, ornate brooches, and wide-brimmed hats. Think of walking into a room like it owes you a round of applause. At its heart, it’s about style that says: I see your rules and I’ll raise you some silk brocade and a killer hat.  Inspired by icons including British dandy Beau Brummell, who once said, “Don’t talk about your clothes, let your clothes do the talking,” the Black Dandy is intentional. A Night of African Creatives What made this year’s Met Gala particularly noteworthy was the undeniable presence of African designers and artists.  Patience Torlowei, the Nigerian designer known for storytelling through textiles, brought a gown that shimmered with tradition and avant-garde flair. Ozwald Boateng, Ghanaian-British tailoring legend, proved once again that heritage and haute couture go hand in hand. Agbobly, the Togo-born innovator, married West African weaving with modern silhouettes. From Iké Udé to Paradis of Côte d’Ivoire, African fashion wasn’t just included; it was central. And the stars? They wore the continent with pride. Tyla, South Africa’s breakout star, floated down the carpet in a structured white Jacquemus gown styled by the iconic Law Roach. Minimalism, meet majesty. Tems wore Ankara like armor, while Burna Boy, styled in a bespoke look by Ozwald Boateng, redefined red carpet suiting with cultural fire. One of the most striking looks came from Brian Tyree Henry, who appeared in a maroon suit with a regal brocade cape by Orange Culture, the Nigerian label known for gender-fluid tailoring. His walk? A love letter to Black royalty. Savannah James stunned in a striped corset and fishtail skirt by Hanifa, a silhouette that echoed tradition and power. And then came Diana Ross, styled in bold by Ugo Mozie, proving that the legends never miss. It wasn’t just a red carpet; it was a parade of pride. The Details Were the Drama Because sometimes, it’s not just what you wear, it’s how. Khaby Lame wore time like jewelry, a waistcoat dotted with vintage watch faces, stitched by BOSS, styled by Ugo Mozie. Every tick was tailored. Ayo Edebiri showed up in coral power. Her Ferragamo look fused Edo royalty with downtown edge — beaded, belted, unforgettable. Adut Akech shimmered like starlight in motion, 25,550 Swarovski crystals on a gilet mini and feather-lined tailcoat. Precision met poetry. Anok Yai turned heads in a black brocade bodice with optical sleeves by Thom Browne, part suit, part sorcery. Chimamanda blazed in scarlet Prabal Gurung, crowned in feathers and fire. A whole statement, no footnotes needed. The Power of Intentional Dressing To center Black culture on this global stage was to right a historical imbalance. It signaled a shift from appropriation to appreciation, from marginalization to celebration. It was an acknowledgment that Black fashion is a foundation. Even Anna Wintour, the longstanding Met Gala chair, has seen the fashion industry undergo significant changes over the years, but this year, she is inspired by how much it means to the black community. Her take on how Men’s fashion has changed in the last two decades: “It’s become so much more imaginative, risk-taking, fearless, and fun, which is what the exhibition is all about,” she said.  The 2025 Met Gala marked a pivotal moment. From the Silk & Sound Choir’s opening to the final flashbulbs, the night announced that Black fashion isn’t a one-off. It’s a turning point. The message was clear: the fashion is tailored for us.

Beauty/Fashion

It’s More than Skincare: A Blueprint for Ethical Beauty

Written by: Oluwakemi Adedoyin What if beauty wasn’t just about glowing skin but about fairness, culture, and sustainability? What if every drop of oil and every dollop of butter had a special origin story; one that empowers communities, sustains traditions, and celebrates Black beauty all over the world? Beauty is not only what is in the jar, but where it is from, whom it benefits, and the story it tells. For decades, African beauty routines have used impressive traditions and nature’s best, including Ghana’s golden shea butter and Southern Africa’s fertile marula oil. But, as beauty becomes global, ethical beauty has to be the new standard. After all, what’s the use of beautiful skin if it harms people and the planet? The True Cost of Beauty It’s an uncomfortable truth: Some of the most popular skincare items like shea butter, baobab oil, and black soap are from Africa, yet the profits frequently don’t accrue to the women who manually harvest them. Major beauty companies slap “organic” or “natural” on their labels, but are they uplifting the very women who harvest these ingredients by hand? Are they compensating the laborers adequately? Are they supporting traditional methods, or just making a profit from them? Clean beauty is about shifting the way you think. It’s about knowing where your skincare is from, who made it, and whether they were treated fairly. It’s about celebrating African beauty, not just as an aesthetic, but as a movement.   A Blueprint for Ethical Beauty   Support Ethical Sourcing: Know Your Ingredients, Know Your People Your skincare should be as rich in story as the earth it comes from. Get behind brands who directly source their products from African cooperatives, where farmers and artisans receive fair compensation.  Be curious. Read labels. Be a conscious consumer. Honor Ancestral Knowledge: Our Grandmothers Knew First The West did not discover shea butter, our grandmothers did. Before there were beauty aisles, there were family recipes. Traditional African skincare relies on knowledge that has been passed down through generations. Rather than searching for the next lab-created miracle cream, utilize what has been proven effective for centuries. 2. Dismantle Eurocentric Beauty Standards Ethical beauty is not only product-related; it is also about representation. Dark skin, curly hair, and African features must be celebrated, not hidden. Patronize brands that celebrate and affirm diverse beauty. 3. Invest in Black-Owned Beauty From Lagos to London, Nairobi to New York, African and diaspora entrepreneurs are redefining beauty standards and ethical production. Invest in what you believe in. Beauty in Action   The discussion of ethical beauty is not just theoretical; it is currently being realized by innovative brands that invest in fair trade, sustainable practice, and cultural integrity. Not only are they reworking industry expectations, but they are also demonstrating to the world that luxury and responsibility can exist together as beauty. Hanahana Beauty, for example, is pioneering sustainable skincare, promoting fair trade practices, and empowering women shea producers in Ghana. Their focus on honesty and quality is creating a new gold standard for the beauty industry. Other innovative brands like 54 Thrones, LIHA Beauty, and Nolaskinsentials are showing that beauty can be ethical, luxurious, and strongly connected to African heritage. This isn’t just a trend, it’s a revolution. The next time you reach for that face mask or body butter, consider this: Is this beauty, or is this exploitation? For beauty isn’t only skin deep. It’s cultural. It’s ours.

Culture

They Took Our Art, But Not Our Genius: The African Artists Redefining the Global Stage

For centuries, Africa has been the world’s favorite muse. Its sculptures adorn European museums, its fabrics inspire haute couture, and its rhythms set the pulse of global music. Yet, for far too long, the world consumed African art without acknowledging African artists. They looted the masks but ignored the makers. They auctioned the bronze but erased the blacksmith. They sang our melodies but silenced our voices. Not anymore. From the bustling streets of Lagos to the art houses of Paris, from Accra’s design studios to Hollywood’s sound stages, a new wave of African artists is reclaiming the narrative. They are not just participating in the global cultural conversation; they are leading it. This is not about playing catch-up—it’s about setting the pace. The Renaissance is Black and Bold Walk into any contemporary art fair, and you’ll see it—works by African artists commanding center stage, not tucked away as an “ethnic” afterthought. Names like Amoako Boafo, Toyin Ojih Odutola, and Laetitia Ky are making the world take notice. Their art isn’t a postcard version of Africa wrapped in safari aesthetics. It’s bold, modern, unapologetic. It speaks of identity, resilience, and the complexities of being African in a world that once tried to define us without us. Take the rise of Afrobeats—no longer just a niche genre but a global cultural force. Artists like Burna Boy, Tems, and Rema aren’t merely exporting African sounds; they are dictating the sound of global pop. And it’s not just music—Nollywood is rewriting the rules of storytelling, with films like Aníkúlápó and The Black Book gaining international acclaim. These aren’t just success stories; they are statements: Africa is here, and Africa is thriving. Let’s talk about restitution—not just of stolen artifacts, but of respect. While Europe debates whether or not to return Africa’s looted art, African creatives have moved on to a bigger question: What happens after the return? The real power lies not in reclaiming what was taken, but in proving that African creativity never stopped. Institutions like the Zeitz MOCAA in Cape Town and the Museum of Black Civilizations in Dakar are ensuring that Africa curates its genius, rather than waiting for external validation. Meanwhile, digital art platforms and NFT marketplaces are empowering African artists to bypass traditional gatekeepers and sell their work directly to a global audience. Beyond Borders, Beyond Labels African artists today refuse to be boxed in. They are African, yes, but they are also universal. They are avant-garde, experimental, futuristic. Kenyan fashion designer Thebe Magugu doesn’t just make African clothes; he makes high fashion that happens to be African. The Sudanese model Adut Akech isn’t just a “black model”; she is a supermodel, period. This shift is not about asking for a seat at the table—it’s about building a new table altogether. Platforms like AfriNolly, Afrochella, and the Lagos Biennial are creating spaces where African art, music, and storytelling thrive on their own terms. And with social media as the new global gallery, African creatives no longer need permission to be seen. They show up, and the world watches. For decades, the global narrative framed Africa as “emerging.” But let’s be clear: Africa has emerged. It has always been here, creating, innovating, inspiring. The only thing that has changed is that the world is finally paying attention. So let them take the artifacts if they must. Let them debate over restitution. But they can never take the genius. Because Africa is not just the past—it is the present, and more importantly, it is the future. The world isn’t ready? Too bad. Africa isn’t waiting.