Jidenna Explains the Growing Popularity of Afropop

At the start of New York Fashion Week, rapper Jidenna sits in a hotel room where artist Nira Alamgir is painting henna on his hand as he chats over the phone with me. “It’s rainy, but I’m feeling sunny,” he laughs, oozing excitement for the night ahead. Jidenna is preparing to attend a showcase for NBA star Carmelo Anthony’s collaboration with South African designer Laduma Ngxokolo, creator of Maxhosa Africa knitwear. His creative director Whippa Wiley and stylist Linda Belkebir outfitted him with the powder blue ensemble he wore that evening by Kenneth Nicholson, an African American designer. Supporting black talent is imperative for Jidenna.

“My prayer is that every black celebrity that’s walking the red carpet starts to wear black designers only,” the Nigerian American said at Essence’s Fashion House last week. The call to action stirred positive reactions, but one person called it racist in his Instagram comments.

“Black people supporting each other and protecting each other is like a Vietnamese community or a Jewish community or a Chinese community supporting itself,” the 34-year-old tells Teen Vogue. “It’s a beautiful thing. So when I talk about safe spaces, [sometimes] it feels unsafe to promote or support or protect ourselves.”

On his sophomore album 85 to Africa, Jidenna embodies a world where black people across the diaspora celebrate and express themselves, connect and build without persecution.

The production brings together the rich musicality of the African diaspora such as trap on “Tribe,” Afropop on “Sufi Woman,” and Afro rock on “Pretty & Afraid.” Jidenna’s affinity to these sounds reflect his movements around the states and eventually to Africa in 2017. After being evicted from a sublet house in Atlanta, he took Interstate 85 to Atlanta International Airport and didn’t return to America until he was ready. This experience inspired the album’s concept, “diaspora road trip music.”

“I want it to herald what I think is the mission of our generation, which is to integrate the diaspora with the continent,” he says. “And for those who don’t directly feel connected to being a descendant of Africa, for them to find wherever they’re from and feel close to their roots.”

The follow-up to 2017’s The Chief comes at a moment when black people in the diaspora are learning more about their commonalities. On the title track, Jidenna describes how going to Africa with his black-American friends inspired them to seek their African heritage. (“I took my crew on vacation / Accra to Abuja, amazed them / Uh, now they gon’ do DNA shit.”) Artists he featured on this record also represent this movement with recent albums, like Nigerian artist Mr. Eazi, who dropped Lagos to London in 2018 and D.C. rapper GoldLink, who released Diaspora in June. Jidenna believes his generation’s embracing of global African pride, despite there still being real issues with xenophobia, is influenced by the release of the Black Panther film, Afropop’s growing popularity, and Instagram.

“To be able to see what people look like on the other side of the globe has a tremendous impact on me humanizing them,” Jidenna explains. “Now I’m seeing the flea market in Nairobi. Now I’m seeing a bunch of people in Dar es Salaam and in Addis Ababa that look like me and their hair is twisted like my hair. It has a slightly different spice in the way people dance or the actions people use, and I’m excited because I feel myself in them.”

Jidenna continued to center the diaspora while throwing free 85 to Africa album–listening sessions, beginning in Dakar and in cities such as Lagos, Atlanta, and Chicago. The idea to remove the velvet rope to be more intimate with fans stemmed from his discomfort with industry events that feel inauthentic. “I try to create an environment to change people’s behavior to be more genuine and in which they can enjoy fully without all the masks.”

Upon releasing his 2015 jovial, trap-inspired “Classic Man,” Jidenna admits he wore a mask to protect himself from the world. “I was fearful of how I would be received, fearful of my power, fearful that I wouldn’t be listened to,” he says. Now he is more comfortable sharing his thoughts on black empowerment, feminism, polyamory, and sexuality. Opening up came with witnessing a new generation of raw artists like Cardi B speak their truth, no filter.

On the topic of toxic masculinity, Jidenna has been one of the most outspoken male hip-hop artists while sharing shortcomings. On the track “Sou Sou,” named after a savings club popular in African and Caribbean communities, he raps about the communal establishment as a metaphor for chakras and equal exchange of pleasure in sex and relationships over a sensual sashaying beat. He didn’t always have this view of intimacy.

“I was socialized to think that sex was about me,” Jidenna says. “It was the way I was introduced to it. My sex education was porn. If I was a kid [now] and my parents gave me a smartphone and I hacked through the parental guidance setting, and I stumbled on PornHub and all these sites, man, I’d be more twisted than I probably am now. I would think that everything is aggressive, everything is geared toward the man’s pleasure.”

Again he offers commentary on men resolving power complexes, on the album’s dreamy “The Other Half.” (“We dominate to overcompensate / Our bravado dripping with the cowardice.”) He points to the blues era as a time black men could be fully human in music. “A black man singing about ‘I don’t got no money and I don’t got no women,’ singing about not being able to protect and provide, and crying and weeping over a guitar, that’s a safe space.” He says that evolved to R&B, where men weren’t ashamed to beg for love. Somehow popular hip-hop came to boost more egotistical narratives with little space for vulnerability. But Jidenna is hopeful in younger male hip-hop artists such as Trippie Redd, Lil Uzi Vert, and others who are showing more vulnerability via emo rap.

“I think music in its pure form is a safe space,” he says. “What I really love is you look at like 18-year-olds, the young generation. I actually think their music and trap music sounds closer to blues when they’re more melodic and singing about being in the phase that they’re going through. It’s not all the way there. It’s a mixture of bravado and truth, but I’m inspired by certain people because of what they’re singing about.”

Ultimately, he sees a reality where men, women, and nonbinary people can be their full selves, co-protect, and co-provide for one another. “[Everyone has to] find creative ways that we can make money and invest in each other where there seems to be no opportunity,” he says. Judging by Jidenna’s journey thus far, he’s living his own words.

Originally Appeared on Teen Vogue