Why I started a Nigerian-Inspired Brand in America during the 2024 US Election

People don't need more clothes, but they do need clarity. 

I'm not always sure how well we really know ourselves, especially in a world that sends messages trying to divide us not just from others, but within ourselves. The old Socratic adage, "man, know thyself," feels more relevant today than ever and as a first-generation American, born into an immigrant family; knowing thyself wasn't always the easiest task.

My parents are Nigerian, both Igbo, and came to the States in the late 70s, early 80s. My dad lived through a civil war in Nigeria—one many would prefer not to remember—and left everything he knew there to start over here, in Virginia of all places. Let me remind you that the rallies and subsequent riots that happened in Charlottesville, VA were in 2017. My dad moved to Virginia in the 70s, barely 10 years after the assassination of Martin Luther King.

It's hard to imagine what life might have looked like for someone who lived in a country into their 30s and decide to uproot that life and move to an entirely different country, whose language was not native. That was my father. He had to figure it all out. Find himself. Find his people. Bring his family. Build a life.

Growing up, we would go to these parties and formal gatherings. Every time the emcee would get up to speak, to get everyone's attention, he would yell:

"IGBO KWENU!"

To which the crowd would yell:

"YAH!"

This would go back and forth a few more times as any formal call and response would, and then the emcee would move forward with the program.

As disinterested as I may have been then, that call and response stayed with me. Now that I'm older, it means even more.

Kwenu at it's most basic understanding means "to agree." But in the way it's used, especially considering the history of the Igbo people in Nigeria and Nigeria's history as a whole; kwenu carries so much more weight.

At its surface, a message of agreement is certainly something we could use in our world today. People (especially black people) wear a lot of things, most created by people not from the same places we're from. I'm not mad at you. Flex ya drip;  where what you want; look good, feel good, play good, whatever.

But I will say this: a lot of the messages we wear don't bring us together. They're in one way or another separating us. That separating and polarizing is only getting worse as the election is set to happen in literally two days from the time of this writing.

Kwenu is not going to be one of those brands.

At a deeper level, kwenu is the Igbo word for solidarity. It's the idea of unity, belonging and oneness. And that's not just for Igbo people, but for all African people across the diaspora. Chase Sapphire aired a commercial, featuring Michael B. Jordan and Chef Tolu Eros, that portrayed this beautifully around the age old debate of "Who has the best jollof rice?"

Representatives from Nigeria, Ghana and Senegal banter back and forth about why their country has the best jollof until Chef Tolu brings it all together, calling it, "Unity Jollof Rice. One people. One Jollof." That's kwenu.

Kwenu is aspirational.

A lot could be said about the challenges in Nigeria and many African countries; not to mention the fight still in progress for black people all over the world. Kwenu is a message to all of us that we are all connected. 

That's what matters. That's what we need to be reminded of.

Growing up in Texas, raised in a Nigerian household, going to predominantly white schools, but in the hood with predominantly black kids; it wasn't always the easiest to know where I fit, or where I belonged.

It took me a long time to figure it out, but now I do.

Kwenu is about connecting all of us on that journey. It's said that 1 in 3 black people in America find their ancestry in Nigeria. Not too surprising, it's the most populous country on the African continent.

I don't know the back story behind Givenchy, Balenciaga, or many of the other European houses that have become some of the most sought after brands in the world. But I do know their message does not focus on the history, health and prosperity of the African Diaspora—yet they seem to outfit us more than we do ourselves. 

I want to change that narrative, even if just a little, and see more of us wearing our clothes to accomplish our purposes, our projects, for our people.

If we're gonna be wearing more clothes anyway, why not add more to the wardrobe with a message that matters to you.

That's kwenu.