Ivie Ani is a Nigerian American journalist whose coverage on culture has been published in New York Magazine, Teen Vogue and NBC News online, to name a few. The native New Yorker is also the editor in chief of Amaka Studio, a newly launched platform by and for African women. We talked to her about growing up in the Bronx, the African diaspora in New York City and her advice for BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) creatives.
What was it like growing up in the Bronx, and how did that experience shape who you are today?
Ivie Ani: I’m just very New York through and through because I’ve lived in every borough except for Staten Island. I was born in Queens, we moved to the Bronx when I was 8 and I spent the majority of my life there. The Bronx at that time was hard. But the most consistent thing throughout my childhood was school because it’s something that you do every day. I was very good at school, but everything else was always in flux. Especially in a school with limited resources, you just have to figure your way around it. I don’t think you realize it until you’re an adult, but it was definitely an environment that helped shape me.
The part of my personality that is very much “what’s next?”—I definitely get that from New York City. I’ve traveled to a bunch of different places around America and around the world, and everywhere is so slow—except for places like Lagos and other cities like that. I’m very on the go, very fast paced, and I definitely get that from the Bronx.
Photo: DRDRUMMERD
What recommendations do you have for people interested in learning about the African diaspora in NYC?
IA: There are places now that are accessible, whereas in the past it was way more underground. In Harlem there’s The Africa Center. There’s a shop on St. Marks Place called Waga African & Ethnic—if I’m not mistaken, it’s the only Black-owned shop on St. Marks—and it’s owned by a man from Burkina Faso. [Ed’s note: Baked Cravings, on St. Marks, is also Black-owned.] He has a lot of art and handcrafted pieces ranging from more traditional stuff to more everyday things. It’s a place where you can buy souvenirs and you can buy pieces of substance, and then you can learn a little bit about each piece and where they’re from.
I just love Senegalese food. If you want Senegalese food you can go to Africa Kine or Pikine in Harlem. I definitely would recommend going to Shrine in Harlem, and it’s pretty much based off of Fela Kuti’s Shrine in Lagos, Nigeria.
There’s a restaurant called Papaye—it’s a staple Ghanaian place in the Bronx. A lot of times these restaurants and marketplaces have significance that are greater than food because they are places for the community to gather and a lot more happens than just people eating.
Photo: DRDRUMMERD
Tell us about Amaka Studio.
IA: The idea was developed by our CEO and founder, Adaora [Oramah], a 25-year-old Nigerian woman who wanted to create a multimedia publication for and by African women, on the continent and of the diaspora. It’s been a year in the making. We just launched in March, and the reception has been amazing. It serves as a platform that caters to African women, who have not been properly catered to in the past. Right now seems like the best time to do this because all eyes are on Africa. There’s a newly invested interest in all things happening on the continent and stemming from it. This feels like it’s part of a greater purpose than just media or editorial.
What advice do you have for BIPOC creatives during this time?
IA: I would say to be cognizant of when things are being demanded of you because of your identity, whether it’s this incessant desire for you to perform it or to market it or to explain it. I feel like all of those things should come at your own discretion.
Obviously, there’s always a need for explanatory things, but I really believe in these intra-communal conversations that people can have with one another. Whether it’s different kinds of Black people explaining different Black cultures to each other or Black people explaining things about their culture to Brown people and vice versa. There’s always a conversation happening among us, and then there’s a conversation happening outside of us to other people.
So I would just be aware of what you are being asked to do, when, how and why. I think if we detach ourselves from the capitalist framework of how we view culture, then it would be a lot easier for people to understand that identity is a thing that you don’t need to market at all. You don’t need to base your entire career off of it. You don’t need to figure out how to create content or work out of it, but it’s something that you should think about consistently trying to learn more about and figure out beyond the ways of packaging and selling it.
