Dress: Emily Eanae | Earrings: Stylist own | Shoes: Balenciaga.
Elsa Majimbo's Over Being a Comedian - and Wants You to Be, Too
Elsa Majimbo is beaming.
Standing in the doorway of an old convent, she cuts a majestic figure – draped in a dramatic black, ankle-length coat, with a gravity defying Afro and gold jewelry shimmering in the blinding New York sunlight. On location to shoot the OkayAfrica digital cover, Majimbo is quietly enjoying a small break when suddenly cries of “Elsa!” fill the air.
A gaggle of school kids has seemingly appeared from nowhere, and they're now filling up the road outside the building. The pre-teens point and jostle each other as they try to get a better view of the 22-year-old Kenyan. “Elsa’s inside!” some shriek – and who can blame them for their excitement? After all, it’s not every day that a social media sensation shows up on your neighborhood doorstep. Majimbo looks on, unfazed by all the commotion, the bemused smile on her face suggests she has become accustomed to being at the center of a frenzy. As the youngsters grow louder, the scene playing out seems surreal – a 15-time chess champion catapulted to global fame and the attention of the likes of Beyoncé and Rihanna, thanks to her lo-fi videos shot during the pandemic lockdown – now driving a group of youngsters wild in a tucked away corner of Queens. Though in listening to Majimbo’s accounting for her meteoric rise, there is no place for randomness or luck in her life story. She believes it is all the work of God. “I’ve got Gen Alpha on my side,” she says, as she waves back at the raucous crowd, with a twinkle in her eye.
When the photoshoot resumes upstairs in a spartan room, gone is Majimbo’s playful demeanor and in its place is now a penetrating, steely gaze. She moves with ease and grace; cycling through different poses without any hint of uncertainty, while a cast of lighting techs, makeup artist and hair stylist all look on. That trademark Majimbo confidence is once again on full display.
Dress: Quine Li | Shoes: Victoria Beckham.
Photo by Adbi Ibrahim.
By now, anyone who has ever heard of Elsa Majimbo is familiar with her comic viral videos. The cheekily brazen ruminations of the-then 18-year-old brought much needed levity to millions who felt trapped in their surroundings, courtesy of Covid. Majimbo’s charm and well-timed laughter cemented her place in the hearts of many as a naturally gifted comedian. But these days, being labeled a comedian no longer works for Majimbo – as she makes plain in conversation; she now wants to be known as a model. No more eating potato chips on the bed, no more sunglasses perched awkwardly on her face. The comedy has gone. “That’s a phase of my life that was there, but I’ve left it behind,” Majimbo later explains over lunch at her Williamsburg hotel. “That was just to get me off the ground. We’re off the ground now,” she adds.
Her life has certainly ascended to dizzying heights, since the pandemic ended. The fame and fortune she openly longed for in those videos have arrived, and she is now living in Los Angeles. Her social media feed is a catalog of micro-outfits, shopping sprees and glamorous events. There have also been features in Forbes Magazine, and covers for Teen Vogue and GQ South Africa. In 2022, she signed to IMG Models and WME, and since then has appeared in campaigns for Valentino and Coach. These days her online videos showcase her applying generous amounts of body oil and perfume, while recounting an anecdote about her new fabulous life. Though the change may be jarring to some, Majimbo never hid her aspirational desires, “I told everyone, ‘Love "broke Elsa" while you can, she’s not coming back.’”
Coat: ITA The Label | Shoes: Saint Laurent | Flower anklet: Stylist's own.
Photo by Abdi Ibrahim.
Hours later, standing tall in an eye-popping royal blue gown, she completes another round of poses. When she is done, Majimbo takes a step back and claps her hands in glee. She studies the images on the photographer’s monitor, clearly liking what she sees. “I knew what I came to do, and I did it!” she gleams, before triumphantly strutting off to her next outfit change. In many ways, the location for her cover shoot – a former convent with crucifixes adorning every room and the occasional light fixture with the invocation, “Bless this house, O Lord we pray/Make it safe by night and day” – is a fitting milieu for Majimbo, the second youngest in a family of four. She makes no secret of her Christian faith and how many of the major life decisions she has made have all been predicated on her firm belief in the divine – like dropping out of school to pursue the fickle path of becoming a content creator. “I'm a testimony,” she says. “God brought me here.”
And she is going to need that faith for what lies ahead because what Majimbo is attempting to pull off in the world of modeling and high fashion is a far more difficult proposition. Countless other models have tried and failed to attain significant and lasting success in an industry renowned for its racism and misogyny. The uncertainties abound, and they include making and keeping high profile friends, as Majimbo’s very public falling out with supermodel Naomi Campbell clearly demonstrated. Although she is reticent to talk about this any further, she is outspoken about her experience navigating the world of celebrity and Black Hollywood at large. “I think for me one of the biggest shocks is white people have actually really been there for me,” she says. “White people have given me a lot of opportunities; they’ve really stuck their necks out for me. And I expected the opposite. Most of the pitfalls I’ve gotten in my career have been due to Black people, which is so disheartening. Because, I was like, ‘Oh, you know, Black Hollywood, Black Hollywood, it's all about each other.' But not everything is what it seems."
Dress: Lilach Porges | Shoes: Rochas.
Photo by Adbi Ibrahim.
There have been hurtful attacks from her fellow Kenyans. The online blows came quickly, as she garnered more and more public attention in those early days. The commentary about her took a nasty turn and she transitioned from being a charmingly irreverent dilettante to the subject of sustained misogynoir in her home country. The backlash would eventually prompt her to leave Nairobi and head to South Africa. “It was middle aged men and women coming to attack me – at the time I was 18,” she recalls. Four years on and the online criticism continues, but Majimbo is adamant that she is now totally unbothered by it all, “When I’m in Kenya everyone I meet in person: ‘Oh my God, I’m your biggest fan,’” she retorts sardonically.
In fact, she now appears to delight in taunting her critics with details of her shopping excursions and international shopping sprees, “Why would what User299780 say matter to me?” she responds to the question of whether any of the blows hit. “I don’t even look at my comments because I don’t have the time. I have parties to go to, lunches to go to, flights to catch…The comments you see online, that’s just what they are, comments.” That may be so, but she isn’t above oiling her arms and making a video to address them. Is it all part of some kind of plan to stay relevant? Remaining at the center of attention would ultimately benefit the growing bank account she is always talking about.
Despite all the flaunting and her near constant talk about having money, Majimbo says she doesn’t fear not having any. “Even when things are going to shit, I’ve never been financially insecure,” she says, crediting her parents for all the money she has amassed so far. They instilled in her a sense of financial literacy and urged her to get into the Kenyan property market. “I know no matter what happens, I'm not going broke. It's a fantastic feeling.”
Bodysuit: Quine Li | Shoes: Christian Dior.
Photo by Abdi Ibrahim.
In almost the same breath, her talk of earthly pursuits gives way to exhortations of religious faith. “Being spiritual has helped me stand up to people, especially those who have control and power,” she says, steadfastly. “I serve a living God, you’re not above Him.” But before long, her unflinching self-confidence returns, “No one from where I came from has been able to do what I have done, in the amount of time, [and] how I’ve done it. The only other Kenyan in Hollywood is Lupita [Nyong’o] – and even she had to do two decades of work to get where she is," she breezily proclaims. In reality, it’s only been a decade since the Oscar winner sprung into the spotlight, just shortly after graduating from Yale’s School of Drama. But who needs facts when there’s such outsized confidence at play?
Majimbo wants to be a force in the world of modeling and entertainment, which perhaps explains what some might describe as an unlikely friendship between herself and Steve Harvey, whom she refers to as her mentor. She is clearly in awe of how Harvey has successfully translated his comedy prowess into a media empire. “The way he takes ownership of his content, that's how I want to have ownership of my content,” she reflects. That goal extends to projects in front of and behind the camera, with Majimbo sharing that modeling aside, she is also exploring opportunities in production and acting, following the release of the self titled documentary short, Elsa, back in 2023. This time around she is clearly going after more, “[I don’t want] 'Oh, look at Elsa’s show,' but in reality it's not Elsa’s show, Elsa’s getting paid least on the show,” she astutely explains. “I just don't want to be in a position like that. If I say we're doing this, I'm gonna own some of it.”
There is a keen sense of cognizance that her sustained trajectory of wins is not guaranteed – perhaps Majimbo may stop short of any runway work or fail to achieve the success she envisioned in working in film and TV. But she says that as long as she remains in control, however, she will be at peace with the outcome. “If it's meant for me it will find me – if it’s not, no problem. Maybe I'll end up a lawyer,” she muses, briefly wincing at the thought. “Oh, God forbid,” she says, before once again letting out that infectious laugh.
Additional reporting by Shamira Ibrahim.
Credits:
Abdi Ibrahim - Photographer @abshoots
Tiffany Bloomfield - Executive Producer/Artist Rep @insidetheglow
Karely Pérez-Cruz - Producer @peluaproductions
Fallou Seck - 1st Photo Assistant @myowndad
Wendell Cole - 2nd Photo Assistant @wendellcole
Haren Mehta - Digital Tech @harenmehta
Tyler Okuns - Wardrobe Stylist @tyleeresosa
Rose Grace - Makeup Artist @rosegracemua
Rachel Polycarpe - Hair Artist @rachelpolycarpe
- Watch Lupita Nyong'o's Interview on 'The Daily Show With Trevor Noah' ›
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- Kenya's Elsa Majimbo Bags 2020 E! People’s Choice Award ›
Nigerian Designers are Putting a Modern Spin on Traditional Fabrics
“There’s a specific look my aunties had when I was growing up,”Florentina Agu, founder of Nigerian fashion brandHertunba, tells OkayAfrica in an interview. “These were corporate women, high-flying women, but their fashion was always undeniably Nigerian.” Agu admired them. She wanted to look like them.
After graduating from university and starting a corporate job, she searched for an elegant, refined style rooted in African fabrics and aesthetics. But she couldn’t find it. Hertunba was born from this need and was heavily inspired by Akwete, an indigenous Nigerian fabric native to the Igbo people of south east Nigeria. Why Akwete? For Agu, it’s more than just fashion. It’s a profound expression of what she calls her “Nigerianness.”
“I love Nigeria. I love being Nigerian,” she says. “Things aren’t great economically, and there’s thejapa syndrome. I, too, wish I could pack my bags and leave sometimes. But I can’t. I’m not happy anywhere outside Nigeria for more than two weeks. It’s a bit of a toxic relationship. I can’t live anywhere else.”
Agu’s passion for her culture is deeply personal and stems from her family. Boxes of old textiles passed down from her grandmother became the foundation of her designs. Some of the Akwete fabrics she inherited were as old as 80 to 90 years. They tell stories of how they were used—some as wrappers, others to strap babies onto their mothers’ backs.
When designing her pieces, Florentina Agu thinks of real bodies of real people.
Photo courtesy of Florentina Agu.
Agu’s work is about reimagining these historical pieces for the present day. “I’m always thinking about how to apply these fabrics, which are almost a century old, to modern life,” she says. “What would Akwete mean today to a woman in Lagos? To my curvy friend? To the less curvy one? I think of real people with real bodies.” She wants her designs to fit seamlessly into women’s lives—whether they’re bankers or entrepreneurs.
Hertunba takes traditional elements, like Akwete or oja (a head scarf or wrap), and turns them into something functional and modern. “We make it practical,” she says. “We make it wearable for today.”Fashion as a way to preserve history
Tsemaye Binitie’s journey was similarly transformative. Deep into Western fashion, creating collections in London and staging presentations in New York, he first explored integrating his “Africanness” into his work while visiting his cousin’s home, where West African masks surrounded him. A book about masquerades, authored by Phyllis Galembo, inspired a collection in which he poured his heritage into his design for the first time.
That moment became a turning point. He knew he wanted to center his heritage in his designs. The opportunity came unexpectedly, born out of disaster. His mother’s old Aso Oke fabrics had been damaged in a flood. Instead of letting her dispose of them, Binitie took the pieces off her hands. “These were old Aso Oke fabrics from the 70s. I was excited about the prospects. I started looking into it. Aso Oke has great underestimated potential.”
Since then, Aso Oke has become a defining feature of his work. Four months ago, he took his commitment further by starting a “library of Aso Oke fabrics.” He began hunting for vintage pieces to preserve. “I recently bought a beautiful black one, which they call juju. It’s from the 1960s. And then I found some shiny ones, which they call shine shine, from the 80s. We’re trying to build an archive of Aso Oke designs, quality, and styles—a small library we can always return to.”
A collection of masks inspired Tsemaye Binitie’s first collection that channeled his “Africanness.”
Photo courtesy of Tsemaye Binitie.
For Binitie, Aso Oke represents more than just fabric. It has turned him into a champion of cultural preservation. “There are some amazing patterns in there,” he says, “and it’s why I want to collect as much as I can.”
Agu shares his sentiment. “I think human beings underestimate our influence in deciding what becomes a mark of history,” she says. “Fashion is the biggest storage of history. You could see someone wearing a gele (headgear) in Amsterdam or someone in Australia wearing Aso Oke, and you immediately know they’re Nigerian or wearing something Nigerian. You look at a dress and know it’s from the Victorian era because of its design. That’s history. That’s preservation.”
TsemayeBinitie is invested in preserving culture and has started a “library for Aso Oke.”
Photo courtesy of Tsemaye Binitie.
Binitie agrees. “Aso Oke tells the story of the wearer,” he explains. “In the 60s, for instance, black dye, called dudu, was the most expensive dye. If you pick up a piece of Aso Oke dyed with dudu today, you know it belonged to someone prominent. Some Aso Oke even come with names—maybe Adekoya or Coker—marking the regions they were made in or the families they belonged to. You can trace people, regions, and social status from these fabrics. Aso Oke holds history.” Through his growing Aso Oke library, Binitie is determined to preserve that history.
But preservation isn’t just about archiving—it’s also about reinvention. For Agu, fashion’s ability to sustain and repurpose is just as vital as its cultural power. “We try to make sure that fabrics get a new life, a second chance," she says. "Sustainability might be a trend, but it's the best trend in the world."
For Binitie and Agu, fashion bridges the past and present, historical and modern, and culture and history.
Nigerian fashion and community
Emmanuel Okoro, founder ofEmmy Kasbit, shares a similar philosophy. “Fashion has been incredibly instrumental in keeping cultures and traditional practices alive, especially as the world shifts toward sustainability,” he says. For him, practices like hand-dyeing and hand-weaving, rooted in African traditions, are naturally sustainable.
His latest collection features wrap skirts for men, inspired by warriors’ traditional wrappers. “Back then, there were no buttons,” he explains. “We modernized the design by adding a button on the waistband, making it versatile for both men and women.” This marriage of tradition and the modern captures the essence of what Nigerian designers are doing today—transforming the old into something fresh and contemporary without losing its soul.
One of Emmanuel Okoro’s goals is ensuring that the garments made from Akwete live on.
Photo courtesy of Emmy Kasbit.
For Okoro, the longevity of fashion is just as important as its functionality. “We ask ourselves: How long will this garment last?” He explains that people today want timeless pieces—garments they can treasure for years. That’s whyEmmy Kasbit introduced a means to extend the life of their pieces. If a customer grows tired of an Akwete garment in five or six years, they can return it to the studio. “Instead of discarding it, someone else can adopt it, and we’ll deduct a certain amount from the price. It’s about decluttering responsibly and ensuring that these garments live on.”
He believes African fashion is evolving, but its future depends on a deeper connection to its roots. “We have to think about our communities, our environment. Are we being responsible with our materials? Are we supporting local artisans?” He points to Akwete, a fabric his brand centers heavily on and boasts over a hundred motifs, most of which remain unexplored. “There’s so much untapped potential in our local communities, and these communities form the grassroots of our industry.”
Creating a single piece of Akwete is no small feat. “It takes two to three weeks of hand-weaving,” Okoro says. This labor-intensive process speaks to preserving the art form and the artisans behind it. “We want these pieces to be heirlooms, passed down through generations.”
For Emmanuel Okoro, there is no fashion without community.
Photo courtesy of Emmy Kasbit.
Preservation is a central theme for Okoro, so he launched theEmmy Kasbit Initiative— to protect culture and empower artisans. A recent Warner Music Africa grant is funding an outreach program for women in weaving communities, covering healthcare, school fees, and improving working conditions. “A woman might spend three weeks, hunched over, weaving one piece of textile,” Okoro says. “That’s luxury—a product of skill, time, and dedication.”
African fashion is proving that heritage and modernity can coexist. Designers like Kasbit, Agu, and Binitie are preserving history and giving it a new voice that resonates across generations and borders. They’re showing the world that African fabrics are more than materials—they’re living stories, steeped in culture, waiting to be retold.
Djimon Hounsou: Hollywood’s Unsung Hero
When Djimon Hounsou walks into the photography studio in Brooklyn early one summer morning, sparks of anticipation run through the space. As someone who’s managed to cultivate a largely private life, it’s not often the 60-year-old actor is seen opening up about his life and his career. While he does press interviews for the latest project he’s in, Hounsou is known to be intensely private, and in an age of oversharing, it has raised the mystique around him.
But he has come alone. Having flown in from his home in Atlanta for OkayAfrica’s fall digital cover, Hounsou has forgone the usual Hollywood proclivities to bring an entourage with him, and with it, the buffer that is usually created between celebrity and everyone else. And from the moment the camera starts snapping, it’s as if the enigma around him unspools.
Hounsou’s ability to work a look is unparalleled. He is effortless, fluid—a glide of his arm here, a brush of his hand there, and then, a flash of that magnetic smile. “My old days modeling… it comes back a little bit,” Hounsou grins, surveying the shots on the monitor.
Watching him in front of the camera, the flecks of gray in his beard catching the light, it’s clear what the late Thierry Mugler was drawn to 30 years ago when he made Hounsou — then sleeping on the streets of Paris — his muse, launching a modeling career that included high-profile runway shows and Janet Jackson and Madonna music videos.
It’s what we’ve always known to be true: when Djimon Hounsou is in front of a camera, magic happens. “It’s impossible to get a bad shot,” comments photographer Marquis Perkins between scenes.
Sweater: ADSB Andersson Bell | Hat: L’Enchanteur | Rings: L’Enchanteur
Photo by Marquis Perkins.
In film, too, Hounsou has a knack for edrtnhancing both great and not-so-great projects (Baggage Claim, anyone?). His early roles remain etched in movie history — who can forget him pleading “Give us, us free,” in the courtroom scene of Amistad, or his leap to defend himself against Leonardo DiCaprio’s mercenary in Blood Diamond? He has a quiet ferocity that commands the screen.
“Sometimes I hear comments from studios like, ‘Oh, Djimon Hounsou is too noble to play this role,’” he shares. “It’s nice to hear that the studios are thinking that.” It signifies that he has achieved one of his early ambitions: to portray characters of integrity rather than ones that perpetuate stereotypes, particularly of Africans.
Over three decades and nearly 60 films, Hollywood has relied on the stature Hounsou brings to his roles; from Gladiator to How to Train Your Dragon Two, and a host of Marvel and DC properties in between. And yet, leading man status continues to elude him. Decades later, fans are asking, where is Hounsou’s starring role? Why is he still relegated to supporting characters with limited time on screen?
His fans continue to rally: “This man is in every movie I watch and he doesn't have the credibility he deserves,” @lino.rar writes under one of Hounsou’s Instagram posts. “You are soooo underrated!!! A massive talent!!” @yesgyal writes under another. Comments like these, along with articles calling out the “big-budget purgatory” he’s been in, reflect the widespread recognition of his undervalued talent.
This persistent underappreciation frustrates him, too. Last year, Hounsou told the Guardian that he felt “cheated” by Hollywood and that he didn’t feel he’s fairly compensated for his work. When asked if he still feels that way, he replies with candor, “Not much has changed since then, so I still feel that way. I stay with the same quote that I said.”
But he’s quick to balance this with gratitude. “I've been able to sustain a career, and I think that's something to highlight and acknowledge,” he says. “Even with whatever I feel is lacking.”
“I just keep it vague in terms of the [un]fair treatment of the industry because at the end of the day, I can't blame the studios,” he says. “The studios have been quite supportive of me and have embraced me a great deal.” His unassailable self-respect is evident. “I feel a sense of great pride to have lived on three different continents and to have survived in the film industry. It’s like swimming in shark-infested waters — you may make it, you may not.”
Hat: Art Comes First | Coat: Art Comes First | Pants: Fried Rice | Jewelry: Art Comes First.
Photographer: Marquis Perkins.
There’s a lot we know about how Djimon Hounsou made it. About how he grew up, the youngest of five, in Cotonou, hiding his thespian dreams from a family that wanted a more traditional academic path for him; how he left Benin as a young teenager with his brother; how he landed up homeless in the French capital; how he arrived in LA without speaking English to pursue acting. But there’s much we don’t, and will never, know about what it took to get here — the challenges he overcame, the trials that forged his character.
All of it has endowed Hounsou with a weight he brings to everything he takes on. Movie roles, yes, but anything he lends his voice to, from rhino poaching to climate change. When he speaks, you lean in — not just because he’s soft-spoken, but because you want to, need to, hear what he has to say.
Rather than focusing on what Hollywood hasn’t provided him, Hounsou directs his energy towards what he can offer the world. In 2019, he founded the Djimon Hounsou Foundation (DHF) to combat modern slavery and human trafficking, and to help Africans in the diaspora reconnect with their cultural, ancestral, and spiritual roots. “The aftermath of the Transatlantic Slave Trade is a loss of knowledge,” he explains. “If you don’t know where you come from, you don’t know where you are.”
The foundation’s mission is deeply personal for Hounsou, arising from his own quest to grasp his history, which he didn’t learn much about as a youngster. “How can Afro-descendants relate to their heritage when people like me, who were born in Africa, often feel disconnected from their roots?” he questions.
Suit: Marni | Shirt: A Potts | Shoes: Armando Cabral | Jewelry: Art Comes First
Photographer: Marquis Perkins.
With approximately 200 million people of African descent in the Americas — a legacy of the nearly 13 million Africans kidnapped and enslaved–Hounsou aims to help reclaim these lost connections. Without this knowledge, he believes, there is no way forward.
As he explains, “it’s kind of like a ship at sea, a beautiful ship with a beautiful motor that works perfectly fine and it can go fast. If you put it out at sea with no guidance, no captain directing it, that boat would just circle round and round, and eventually hit the shore or run out of steam and die down.” He adds: “If you don't know how to navigate yourself, it can harm you a great deal in your evolution."
It’s fitting that Hounsou uses this metaphor, as the film Amistad, about a 19th-century slave ship, even with its flaws, helped him realize the gaps in his own understanding and fueled his desire to foster reconciliation and reconnection.
In this spirit, the DHF launched Africa Reconnect, an annual series of music and sports events. The centerpiece is Run Richmond 16.19, a run/walk of either 6.19 or 16.19 kilometers, designed to highlight historical sites in Richmond, where the first slave ship is believed to have docked in 1619. This year’s event takes place on September 21. Future events will include two other locations, Liverpool in the U.K. and Ouidah, in Hounsou’s home country.
Each city features artist Stephen Broadbent’s Reconciliation Triangle, which, when connected, forms the Triangle of Hope — promoting forgiveness through acknowledgment and using reconciliation and justice to shape a new future. As Hounsou sees it, gathering at these sites to reclaim steps once taken forcibly and brutally, now willingly and joyfully, will help transform the spaces themselves.
“It’s a cultural event that lets you experience 400 years of Black history in America,” he says. “I thought, if we could do that in a place where some of our ancestors were lynched, if we come together like that regularly, we'll change the course of what took place there,” he says. At the Gate of No Return in West Africa, the aim is for participants to reverse the route of the slave trade, symbolically coming home to the roots of culture.
Sunglasses: Art Comes First | Shirt & Pant: Galen Cason | Coat: Art Comes First | Shoe: Armando Cabral.
Photographer: Marquis Perkins.
In working on Africa Reconnect, Hounsou found the disconnect between past and present jarring. “It’s the lack of connection that shocked me,” he says. “We can complain about Donald Trump, and the racism here in America, and the racism in Europe, but at the end of the day, all of those countries would not be self-sufficient without resources from Africa.”
“We owe it to ourselves to look to where we come from,” Hounsou continues, “and know that the continent of Africa is feeding the rest of the world.” To him, it’s empowering: “If you believe salvation only lies in the West, you’re setting yourself up for modern-day slavery.”
Hounsou is keenly aware of how narratives about Africa are evolving, especially with the global rise of Afrobeats. “I was a fan of African music long before it became popular in the West,” he notes wryly. And while he appreciates artists like Burna Boy, Wizkid and Davido, it’s the tribal music of his homeland that soothes his soul.
Photographer: Marquis Perkins.
Though he misses Benin deeply, Hounsou hasn’t visited since 2019, but hopes to return by year’s end. In the meantime, he keeps the spirit of his homeland alive in his work. In the sequel to Netflix’s Rebel Moon, Hounsou’s General Titus sings a chant by Beninese singer and guitarist Lionel Loueke, meant to rally village warriors. “He wrote it in our dialect, Fon. It was beautiful,” says Hounsou, who performed the song in the film (remixed by Black Coffee as “Ode to Ancestors”).
Through directing and producing stories from Benin, and Africa at large, under the banner of his production company, Fanaticus, Hounsou further strengthens his ties to home. It’s also a way to deal with the limitations he faces as an “unsung hero of Hollywood,” as one Reddit user put it. “You navigate the water as it becomes rough,” he says. “Trying to keep a legacy intact is very hard in this industry. I have to oftentimes watch my back. It is treacherous. But nothing comes easy.”
His hard-won career is still without one thing, though. “It would be nice to win an Oscar,” he says. “It was nice to be nominated twice [for In America and Blood Diamond]. The third time — it seems like they forgot about me,” Hounsou adds with a sly smile.
Still, he wouldn’t change how anything has played out. He’d tell his young self today to “continue dreaming big.” For him, it all comes back to having a strong sense of self. “Nothing happens unless you can truly see and emotionally feel what you’re envisioning,” he says. “It’s all about having direction and a clear vision of what you want to achieve.” It worked for Hounsou’s early dreams, so it can only work for his future ones, too.
CREDITS:
Photographer: @marquisperkins
Writer: @nadianeo
Lighting tech: @jpierrebonnet
Stylist: @tiffanistyles for This Represents
Market editor: @coralreefin
Fashion team: Elizabeth Fonseca, Myles Colbert, Will Lewis
Groomer: @brittywhitfield