I’ve always sought to understand the unending injustice in our world. Being a part of two different cultures, Swedish and Nigerian, has given me a different perspective of how people can vary in their response to injustice. I’ve also come to realize that everything I believe in, how I view the world, and most importantly, what I want to say as an artist, will always be inspired by the people around me.

My grandmother tells me a story about a trip she and my grandfather took to Romania. It was their second day or so in Romania and they were in a cab on their way to a business meeting. As they came to a red light, they noticed a little boy, not more than eight years old, standing near the cab. The boy wore only a pair of ripped shorts. He approached the cab and reached out his hand, requesting money. My grandmother, feeling shame and guilt, took her wallet from her purse and gave the boy some money. As she gathered the cash, the taxi driver told her, “there’s no reason to give him money, he’s just going to buy cigarettes with it.” My grandmother disregarded what the taxi driver said and gave the boy her money. As they drove along it became clear that the taxi driver didn’t know where he was going. My grandmother looked out her window and began to recognize the surroundings. Ultimately, they had gone in circles and had returned to the same red light where the boy had previously been. He was standing at the exact same spot as earlier, but this time he was holding something in his hands. It wasn’t the money my grandmother had given him, it wasn’t cigarettes, it was a loaf of bread.

My grandmothers’ story has everything to do with why I want to be a filmmaker. I want to tell stories that leave the audience thinking about the world and the people in it. I want to tell stories that are driven by complex and resilient characters who go against the norm of society—those characters who dare to take risks and choose to challenge difficult situations. I want to tell stories whose characters cause discomfort and guilt. One would think that these types of people would be impossible to find, or perhaps only exist in the fictional world. It is only until recently that I’ve come to realize, that these resilient type of people, are living among us. These resilient types of people are our family members, friends, coworkers, acquaintances, the list goes on.  In simpler terms, they’re normal people.

I didn’t quite understand the power of someone’s testimony until I started my documentary series I am a Rapper, following local rapper Qbgino. I was in SIM class, and had never made a documentary before. Professor Atkinson seemed very impressed by the subject I had chosen, and the amount of interview footage I had gotten. He made me realize that Qbgino had a unique story to tell, one that needed to be heard. Professor Atkinson’s praise and feedback, motivated me to continue with the documentary, which has now turned into a part series. Something that has stuck with me, was when professor Atkinson told me that he was beginning to see my voice in my films. It seemed almost impossible that someone could see my voice, before I’ve even seen it myself. Ever since that comment, I have been eager to discover that same voice he was talking about.

Going back to my grandmother’s story, her experience created conflicting emotions in me; anger, hope and joy. When she told me that story, it didn’t matter that I had never been to Romania; it was as if I could smell the air around me—I could feel the uneven road as the cab slowly approached the red light. I want people to feel the same connection when they experience my films.  Only then will they begin to truly see and hear my voice.