Finding My Voice: How poetry became a reflection of plurality and purpose

In the past few days, I’ve been in conversation with my friends Lisah Malika and Farai Munjoma about the idea of plurality—how we can embody multiple identities and roles in the world.

This dialogue has prompted me to reflect on my own journey, especially the hat I wear as a poet. Poetry, for me, has been a way to make sense of the world, grapple with difficult topics, and tell stories—sometimes my own and other times, those I wrestle with deeply.

Interestingly, I never saw myself as a poet when I first began. I wrote my first poem in 2017 at the age of 23, yet I lacked the confidence to claim the title.

At the time, I thought poetry was reserved for uniquely talented individuals, a belief that often silenced my voice. I would occasionally share written poems on social media but never considered myself particularly creative or extraordinary. Even now, I sometimes wrestle with this notion, but I’ve learned that creativity often reveals itself in unexpected ways.

In September 2022, during my time at Refugee Education UK, I had an opportunity to perform at a staff “show and tell” during our monthly meeting.

Unsure of what to share, I turned to a poem I had written about language and mother tongue. The response was overwhelming—colleagues praised the piece, and some even requested I share it on our staff WhatsApp group.

The positive feedback was a turning point. It was in that smaller, intimate space that I found the confidence to dream bigger.

Encouraged, I reached out to my friend, Ayoola Jolayemi (Kormbat), a creative producer, and shared a demo of the poem. His reaction was enthusiastic, and this marked the beginning of my professional journey as a poet. I traveled to Norwich, where we recorded and filmed multiple versions of the poem. By January 2023, I released my first piece, I Am a Moving Train, followed by others like Politics Is Your Right, which coincided with the 2023 Nigerian elections.

Performing became a way to connect with people. I shared my poem Home and Black Is Beautiful at open mic nights in London and Oxford, served as a guest poet at the Mastercard Foundation Scholars Program Ceilidh Celebration at the University of Edinburgh, and later performed at the Global Social Impact House Fellowship in Costa Rica.

A particularly special moment came during the Nudge Global Impact Challenge in the Netherlands. Inspired by Celine Cairo’s music, I wrote Lay Yourself Bare, a poem about vulnerability and the strength found in sharing our truths.

Performing it alongside pianist Ifeanyichukwu Ezinmadu at the Mastercard Foundation Presidents’ Meeting without prior rehearsal was a testament to my growth and adaptability.
In October, I was honored to be one of two guest poets at the Norfolk Black History Month in Norwich, where I performed Home Has Now Become Abroad. I also performed at the opening ceremony of the Schmidt Futures and Rhodes Trust Rise Residential Summit in Oxford.

Recently, a friend asked me what it means to “own a space.” For me, poetry is that space. It offers an entry point to explore my deepest fears and reflections as a young Black African navigating a complex world.

Through the act of performing, I invite others to reflect and reconnect with what truly matters, inspiring them to explore their own sense of self.

This is the power of plurality. This is what poetry means to me.