Written by Oluwakemi Adedoyin
There is a rhythm to the way we create.
The steady tap of a tailor’s shears slicing through Ankara. The hum of a loom as Malian indigo-dyed cotton is pulled tight, the weaver’s fingers moving like a prayer. The quiet breath of a sculptor in Ghana, coaxing form from wood, whispering to it as he carves.
Across Africa, creation is not just about making things—it is about making meaning. It is a lineage, a way of saying, we were here, we are here, we will always be here.
Afrique Noire Magazine is an archive of this rhythm, this knowing. It does not seek to convince the world that Africa belongs in the global creative conversation. It simply shows the truth: we have always been the foundation of it.
We Carry What Came Before
Turn the pages, and you will see that our past is not behind us. It moves with us. It threads itself through Hertunba’s upcycled garments, stitched from fabric that once belonged to another life. It dances in the beadwork of Mairachamp, where every color choice is a coded message. It echoes in the bold architecture of Jomo Furniture’s designs, which draw from centuries of African form and philosophy.
For too long, African creativity has been framed as something new, as if we are just now stepping into innovation. But this issue reminds us that we are not reinventing; we are continuing. We are taking the work of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers—the weavers, the beadmakers, the poets who wrapped warnings inside verse—and remaking it in our own way.
Even as we move forward, we carry them with us.
The Future is Woven by Women
If there is a pulse running through this issue, it is the work of African women.
Women like Margret Chola, Zambia’s Legendary Glamma, who turns age into an aesthetic, proving that beauty does not retire. Or like Tina Bakudisa Maliku, whose work on the runway is not just about wearing clothes—it is about wearing defiance, wearing home.
And then there is hair.
For centuries, our hair has been a site of rebellion and remembrance, a place where culture was braided and coiled into something too intricate to be erased. Yet, for generations, African hair was told to be smaller, to be straighter, to take up less space.
Now, across the continent, hair is reclaiming its voice. It is being stacked into architectural shapes that tell stories. It is being adorned with cowries and beads that whisper of ancestry. It is becoming the centerpiece of fashion campaigns, no longer treated as an afterthought.
Hair is not just hair. It is art.
The Hands That Shape Tomorrow
It is easy to talk about Africa in abstractions—potential, possibility, promise. But the creatives in this issue refuse to exist as an idea of what Africa could be.
Right now, Ethiopian girls are skating through the streets of Addis Ababa, rewriting the rules of belonging. Right now, Senegalese photographers are capturing portraits that exist at the intersection of past and prophecy. Right now, Moroccan designers are blending ancient embroidery techniques with avant-garde silhouettes, proving that fashion is not just what we wear; it is what we remember.
And right now, in the quiet of a workshop, somewhere between fabric and needle, an artisan is making something that will be worn and passed down.
Something shaped by the hands that came before.
Something waiting for the hands that will come after.
What We Build is Ours
African creativity has spent too long being extracted, repackaged, and sold back to us as a trend. Our prints, our textiles, our hairstyles have traveled the world, stripped of their origins, with no credit given to the hands that made them.
But here, in these pages, there is no extraction. No dilution.
This is an issue of full credit. Of full ownership. Of full agency.
It is not about asking for a seat at someone else’s table. It is about reminding the world that the table itself was carved from our wood, built by our hands, polished by our labor.
And if it no longer serves us? We will make a new one. Because that is what we do. We make. We shape. We create. And we always have.
