I write about the spaces in between.

Between countries, between languages, between sisters, between the person we are expected to be and the person our bodies remember. My work moves through diaspora, memory, dance, and spirituality, tracing how identity is shaped not only by history but by the everyday choreography of survival.

I was raised in Europe within the layered realities of the African diaspora, where belonging is often negotiated in fragments. In the music played in the living room. In the food that carries another geography. In the quiet awareness that you are both inside and outside the places you inhabit. These tensions live at the heart of my writing. My characters move between Berlin, New York, and Jamaica, searching for forms of intimacy, language, and community that allow them to exist fully.

At the center of my work are women, particularly Black and brown women, who navigate complex relationships to family, migration, sexuality, and selfhood. I am interested in the emotional architectures that shape their lives. Sisterhood and rivalry. Care and distance. Longing and resistance. In my novel in progress, Désirée, I explore these dynamics through the story of three sisters whose lives unfold across continents while remaining tethered to shared histories and unspoken wounds.

Dance plays a crucial role in my artistic practice. Before writing became central, movement was the language through which I expressed what I could not yet articulate. As a dancer and organizer within Afro and dancehall communities, I have witnessed how movement holds memory in ways language sometimes cannot. Dance becomes archive, resistance, and communion. In my writing, rhythm and physicality shape the narrative. Scenes unfold like choreography. Bodies move through nightclubs in Berlin, through dancehall parties in Kingston, and through quiet apartments where conversations carry the weight of generations.

Spirituality also weaves through my work, particularly the ways ancestral presence shapes contemporary lives. I am interested in how rituals, dreams, and embodied experiences allow characters to access histories that were never fully spoken. The supernatural rarely appears as spectacle. It emerges quietly through sensation, memory, and the feeling that one is not alone in a room.

Stylistically, I am drawn to narrative forms that move between intimacy and reflection. My influences include Toni Morrison, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Candice Carty Williams, Ingrid Persaud, Nicole Dennis-Benn, Marlon James, and Audre Lorde. Their work demonstrates how diasporic stories can hold lyricism, humor, vulnerability, and political consciousness at once. Morrison’s reminder continues to guide my creative vision.

Beyond the page, I am deeply engaged in community based artistic work. Through festivals, dance conferences, and collaborative cultural projects, I create spaces where artists from Afro and diasporic communities can meet, exchange knowledge, and celebrate movement as cultural storytelling. This work reminds me that storytelling is never solitary.

My own path as a writer has often unfolded outside institutional structures that grant access to literary networks, particularly as a writer living and working in Europe. Yet the urgency of the work remains the same. My writing needs to circulate and be read among Black and Brown readers across the diaspora who rarely encounter stories that reflect the complexity of their lives. Literature that speaks to their realities can open other possibilities of imagination.

I have spent years writing and rewriting this work, rereading pages and revising lines until they carry the weight they deserve. I know the value of the stories I am telling.

At this stage of my journey, what I seek is not validation but community. A space where the work can be shared, challenged, and refined among artists who understand the layered realities of diaspora.

I believe my work deserves a seat at that table. And I believe the stories I carry deserve to be heard.