The maps we see of the world are filled with borders and names, but they rarely capture the messy, beautiful, and deeply personal stories that connect us—especially the stories of women, who have so often had to fight to be heard. Arsema’s life has been a journey through these untold narratives, an exploration of the rich cultures and experiences that make Africa so unique.
Growing up on a continent balancing the weight of its past and the hope of its future, Arsema learned early that stories aren’t just things we tell—they’re how we make sense of the world, connect with others, and understand ourselves. For women, in particular, stories can be a way to push back against the world’s expectations and claim their own identity. They hold communities together, preserve history, and help us see life through someone else’s eyes.
From the quiet moments of her childhood—where conversations at the dinner table carried the weight of nations—to the characters she brings to life on screen, Arsema has always focused on giving a voice to those who are too often overlooked. She shines a light on the unseen, challenges-tired stereotypes, and reclaims the narratives of Africa and its women.,
This isn’t just about her work as an artist. It’s about a life shaped by culture, connection, and discovery—a journey filled with lessons about love, loss, resilience, and the bravery it takes to feel deeply and live authentically.
Not only did my parents work as UN representatives across the African continent, but they also discussed the issues and struggles of Africa daily as part of everyday dinner conversation. The way they so gracefully moved from analyzing Rwanda, to conversing about Côte d’Ivoire, to debating about the future of Nigeria, always crafted an idea of a united Africa in my mind. I was brought up to understand how the impact of colonialism and imperialism had put Africa in its current position today, reminding me that what I see and why I see it can sometimes be two very different things, not always easy to decipher, and that is intentional. But they reminded me that Africa is not a monolith. Living in six different African countries I saw how the Scramble for Africa still lives on, but even in that, how diverse each country is, how rich in language and history we are, and how we are being divided and taken advantage of. I have never understood and still struggle with the idea of the diaspora is a complex category, one that is touched with privilege and isolation, but I saw in my parents the pride for the future they had provided for me, and the pain in their hearts as they retold their own stories of how they were able to do so. To me the discussion of the African diaspora has a lot to do with Brain drain, and the fact that our continent cannot give the same opportunities as other parts of the world. I am still trying to understand what this means to me.
It has shaped it so wildly; language and the way it affects our psychology has been interesting and I think it has affected the way that I see and talk with people. It also created this insatiable hunger knowing that I will never know everything, which means that I will always have something to search for, something to learn, and that is both humbling and exciting. But the cultures and countries have become the reason why I am in the creative field, because I have been exposed to stories that have never been heard, I have seen and met people that do not exist on any canvas or television screen, and I think the moment you realize how unique each person is, it means that art will always be expanding and growing like a living organism, never the same. That is an exciting and addicting thing to be part of, even more so when you have something other than yourself, because it releases the pressure from you and allows you to be present to create for something else, something larger, that continues once you are gone.
Initially they were hesitant, they have seen how the arts treat not only Africans but African women and not having anyone in my family in a similar field creates a level of fear, as it is natural to fear the unknown. Not to mention how my parents fought to give me my upbringing, it was of course unsettling for them to see it all gambled, but that is what their fight and what my privilege allows. It allows me to dream my wildest dreams and have the confidence to go for them.
These initiatives were inspired by the work of my father, he truly believed that by creating entrepreneurial spaces that allowed Africans and specifically African women and children to solve their own problems rather than mindlessly transplanting Western solutions to African contexts, we as Africans would regain our agency and actually see meaningful progress and concrete change. He was so tired by the idea of donor aid being the solution and the paternalistic relationship that it creates. So from that I started to engage in the start-up space at my university at the time, because I was studying Health Policy at Yale, and I realized that I had no patience to wait for legislation and law to solve the problems of health, that communities act faster than governments do, so I started Mosaic as part of a competition with two classmates and later on I developed ENKI which, I am still working on, an internal condom delivery company. I think the way African countries developed is different than most because we had an exponential rise in cellphone usage, skipping over landlines, and that yields a different culture and infrastructure for technology, one more rapidly growing than others. I think as we continue to leverage our tech culture (already seen with M-PESA) we will find ourselves more independent than ever.
It is still too early to tell how my experience has contributed to representation of African talent. Shortly after the release of Queen Charlotte, we saw a strike occur, one that was very much needed, but I think to see how this all plays out we will need years in order to reflect back. But it must be said that African talent has been growing and exploding prior to Queen Charlotte, and it will continue to do so. Having Adjoa Andoh, a proud Ghanaian as my counterpart, India Armeteifo as my costar, and Masali Baduza following in the newest seasons of Bridgerton, you cannot deny our expansion into Hollywood. And with the forecast of 50% of people in the world being African by 2050, it will be impossible to deny our narratives in the future. The question will be what type of representation. Will it be critical of the status quo, pushing to a new and more equitable future, where all our stories are told with dimensionality, and we are all able to profit from their success or will it just regurgitate our current quagmire? I hope for the former but that will take more than one show, more than one studio executive, and more than one actor.
I respect each of my characters and I look at them as though I am meeting them for the first time, as you would a friend you see for coffee. How much detail can I add, and then I add ten times more. I think especially when depicting Black women, we tend to be caricatures of humans, and as an actor I try to add the lights and shades, to sculpt a three-dimensional woman.
What drew me to playing Mali was, first, how she was written by Darrell Britt-Gibson, he described her with words that didn’t dance around her shade or hair texture, and I had never experienced that in a script before. Seeing a story that met me, as a Black woman, where I am, was awe-inspiring, especially in the current climate. Second was her name, this woman, named after such a powerful country with a deep history, she felt layered in a way that excited me for the challenge of playing her. Third, it was the fact that I got to be part of a conversation that this movie initiates about Black female strength, about Black love, about what constitutes a Black love story, and these are nuanced conversations that don’t have answers, but I want to be part of something that creates a dialogue, rather than placates its audience and pacifies them. It is an intelligent script, that is elevated, and dramatic and artistic, and Black narratives haven’t been given this level of care or detail in some time, so to be on a project that puts that absence as its priority felt not only right but was an honor.
It has definitely changed how I approach and receive love, and the fact that love is not something one can possess or give away but something you allow. I rebuffed love because I was scared of vulnerability and of pain, but I realized through Mali’s story and the film that these emotions whether “positive” or “negative” are all part of the lived experience. It is the definition of being alive, feeling something, and these feelings are never permanent. There is a temperance to everything so we must relish in it all. The good only feels good having experienced its absence.
TThis is such a difficult question, because there are many stories I would like to tell, starting with the story of a Thomas Sankara , it is a story I would love to produce with the right guidance and help, because I think Burkina Faso is a beautiful country and if we do not tell its history, we will be doomed to repeat it, and now is an inflection point in history where we can either advance or go backwards, and I think Sankara’s story can be pivotal. When it comes to myself, I am unsure which historical figure, I have always been enthralled by the Queen of Sheba and Yodit Gudit who were both amazing empresses. But I have also loved the stories of women who were not of high status or class, who had effects on the day-to-day life of their community. I think hyper realistic portrayals of African women from the past is where I would like to focus my career on, I think these women are leaders and royals in their own right and I think we must be able to show all the levels that an African woman can take up space in but still deserve respect. We should be proud of the women who lead their villages and their homes, not only those who lead their countries, because they are all important and all relevant and all extremely crucial to our collective narrative.
To me, authentically portraying anything is the priority, because the media holds too much power for us not to respect the narratives of everyone. If it cannot be portrayed authentically it shouldn’t be portrayed at all. What exactly would be the point, but to regress us all?
This is an extensive list; I became an artist to work with Africans so we can write and draw and portray ourselves. How much time do you have? I would love to work with Akwaeke Emezi. I am in awe of the way they craft Nigerian stories and the way they see Nigeria and Black people has made me fall in love with us again. I love the work of Wanuri Kahiu who directed Rafiki, and I have always been driven by the work and vision of Ousmane Sembene. I recently worked with an amazing playwright, Banna Desta and was directed by Shariffa Ali , two East Africans that inspire me and who I am hoping I am able to breathe life into their work again. I also must add Femi Oladigbolu to this list because he has such a beautiful way of shooting film and truly elevating our images to the status of art, not only for commercial consumption, but to be digested slowly by the viewer.
Arsema: I am currently listening to Pongo (from Angola), DJ Danifox (Angolan Diaspora) Sampa The Great (Zambia), Little Simz (Nigeria), Amaarae (Ghana), The Cavemen (Nigeria), Wanja Wohoro (Kenya), Blinky Bill (Kenya), Mereba (Ethiopia), and Rimon (Ethiopia)
I’m simply passionate about the future, and there being one that I would like to bring children into.
I hope they take on the fact that their journey is one that they can only choose for themselves. That it is normal to feel scared, because at the end of the day we are all being pulled to do something, we just don’t always know how we will get there, but that should not deter us.
It is already ensured, because to be African is a sustained identity, as long as Africa is Africa and we are proud and we know our home, whether from the diaspora or the continent, our creativity cannot be dismissed. It can only be fleeting if we allow anyone other than ourselves to captain that narrative.
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