Interview by Victoria Goldiee | Photography by Andrea Amponsah | Hair by Victoria Zynwala | Make-up by Sammy Does | Styling & Creative Direction by Felicia Perez | Production by Candy Reding & Linda LyIn conversation, singer, producer, and visionary keiyaA opens up about her beginnings on Chicago’s South Side, the beauty of imperfection, and the quiet power of creating a life rooted in authenticity, community, and self-trust. Her new album, hooke’s law, expands on that journey—a project that feels like both a continuation and an evolution of her earlier work.kieyaA is wearing the Patta Houndstooth Football Jersey available Friday, April 10thWhen keiyaA speaks about her beginnings, her words hum with memory, rhythm and reverence in equal measure. She was raised on Chicago’s South Side, in a world where everything vibrated with sound: the gospel harmonies of Sunday mornings, the metallic rhythm of the train tracks, the way laughter spilled from one porch to another. Her mother filled their home with soul and gospel — artists like Anita Baker, Donny Hathaway, and Kirk Franklin — while her cousins were the ones who slipped her Erykah Badu and Lauryn Hill CDs when she was too young to fully understand the lyrics. “It felt like everyone around me was part of some larger soundscape,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “I didn’t think of music as something I’d do. It was just something that existed inside of me.” She discovered her voice the way most people discover faith, gradually and then all at once. As a child, she would hum melodies while washing dishes or write poems she never showed anyone. In high school, her choir director pulled her aside after rehearsal one day and told her she had a story in her voice. “That stuck with me,” she recalls. “It made me ask myself, what do I actually have to say?” That question became a compass. Music was no longer just performance; it became reflection. “It’s funny because when I started writing songs, I wasn’t thinking about a career. I was trying to make sense of myself. I think I still am.”Her early surroundings shaped that sense of identity. Growing up in a city known for invention and resilience, she learned to embrace duality—softness and strength, faith and frustration, creation and survival. “Chicago taught me that you don’t wait for permission to build something,” she says. “You create your own lane, your own home, your own sense of belonging.” Those lessons — self-determination, resourcefulness, community — show up in her work, woven between lines about love, healing, and rebirth. “I carry the city with me, even in the silences,” she says. “It’s in how I love people, how I show up for myself, how I dream.”She speaks about her family with warmth, describing her mother as “a woman who never stopped moving,” someone who worked long hours but still found time to play music on Saturday mornings and teach her daughter the importance of grace. Her grandmother, she says, was the first person to show her what devotion looks like. “She’d pray over me before I went to school, even when I was too tired or too annoyed to stand still,” keiyaA remembers. “That kind of love seeps into you. It makes you want to honor it.”keiyaA is wearing the Patta Chenille Logo Hooded Sweater and Patta Chenille Logo Jogging Pants Her music reflects that same emotional depth. keiyaA’s 2020 debut Forever, Ya Girl introduced listeners to a sound that felt both intimate and expansive, blending soul, R&B, and experimental production. Tracks like “Way Out,” “Hvnli,” and “Rectifiya” showcase her gift for turning vulnerability into strength, for crafting songs that feel like prayers. “Those songs came from a place of trying to reclaim my softness,” she says. “I wanted to make something honest, something that sounded like breathing again.” With hooke’s law, her newly released album, she moves even deeper inward, creating something freer, more meditative. Tracks like “i h8 u,” “make good,” “get close 2 me,” and “motions” pull from both spiritual inquiry and lived experience, fusing vulnerability with rhythmic daring. “This project was me talking to myself, holding myself accountable, forgiving myself,” she says. “Each song was a little mirror. Some days it was painful, some days it was liberating, but every part of it felt necessary.”What drives her beyond the art, she explains, is connection. “I’m passionate about people, about what makes us human. I love learning how others see the world. I think that’s why I make music: to build bridges between feelings.” Her definition of purpose has evolved with time. “Purpose, for me, isn’t about success or legacy. It’s about alignment. If my heart and my work are in the same place, I’m at peace.” She pauses before adding, “I think purpose also means service. I want my work to serve something larger than ego, something that contributes to healing, even in small ways.” That sense of service shows in the intention she brings to her performances, where she treats the stage not as a platform, but as a shared space. “When I’m performing, I want people to feel safe enough to feel everything—joy, grief, confusion, all of it. That’s the real exchange.”The journey toward finding that peace hasn’t been linear. There were years of doubt, of trying to fit into industry molds, of measuring her worth against others. “For a long time, I thought authenticity meant never questioning yourself,” she says. “Now I know it means showing up even when you do.” She learned to protect her creative space through solitude, setting boundaries, and tuning out the noise. “There’s so much pressure to always be visible, to keep producing. But creativity doesn’t live in urgency. It lives in honesty.”keiyaA wearing the Patta Striped Football T-Shirt available Friday, March 13thThere were also moments when she nearly stopped altogether. “There was a time I didn’t write for months,” she admits. “I was burnt out, trying to chase a version of success that didn’t feel right. I had to relearn why I started making music in the first place—for expression, for healing, not for validation.” Those quiet months became a turning point. “I learned that silence isn’t the absence of creativity. It’s part of the process. The stillness teaches you what really matters.”Outside the studio, she reclaims her balance in quiet ways. She cooks for her friends, paints, reads poetry, and walks for hours without her phone. “I’ve learned to let art be part of my life, not my whole identity,” she says. “My joy can’t depend on output.” Her relationship with mental health has become one of gentle discipline—slowing down, asking for help, resting. “Stillness is where my ideas come from. I try to treat it as sacred.” She laughs lightly when she talks about learning to rest. “Rest used to make me feel guilty,” she says. “I grew up watching people hustle nonstop, and I thought slowing down meant you didn’t care enough. Now I know rest is resistance. It’s how you preserve your spirit.”Her confidence, too, was hard-earned. “I used to apologize for existing,” she admits softly. “I’d shrink myself to make others comfortable. But then I realized my voice is my offering. It’s not about ego—it’s about truth.” She remembers a mentor telling her, You already have everything you need. You just have to stop doubting your magic. “That changed everything for me,” she says. “Now, when I create, I try to come from that place of trust.”She describes confidence now as a kind of faith. “It’s not about always knowing you’re right. It’s about trusting that even your uncertainty is worth listening to.” That philosophy extends beyond music. “I try to live like that in general—with compassion, with curiosity. I think that’s where real power lives.” When asked what creativity means to her, she leans forward as if searching for the right words. “Creativity is just curiosity in motion,” she says. “It’s how I stay alive. I’m inspired by little things—overheard conversations, photographs, the way sunlight hits a wall. I think art is really just paying attention.” Her creative process is intuitive, more emotional than structured. “Sometimes it starts with a word, sometimes with a hum. I’ll loop a sound and just let it speak to me until it becomes something bigger. I never force it. If it’s real, it’ll come.”As her visibility has grown, she’s learned to navigate attention carefully. “It’s beautiful that people connect with what I make,” she says. “But I’ve had to learn that I can be grateful for visibility without giving myself away. I share parts of me, not all of me.” She guards her privacy fiercely. “My personal life is mine. My art can be transparent, but my healing doesn’t have to be public.” Her approach to fame is grounded in integrity. “The world loves to define you before you define yourself,” she says. “But I’ve learned that power lies in authorship. I tell my own story. That’s how I stay free.”keiyaA wearing the Patta Striped Football T-Shirt available Friday, March 13thWhen asked about success, she laughs softly. “Success used to mean recognition; now it means rest. It means being able to choose how I spend my time.” She still dreams of longevity, but she’s more concerned with being present. “I want to look back and know I lived honestly, that I didn’t rush through it chasing something that didn’t matter.” Legacy, for her, is about emotion, not achievement. “If my music makes someone feel understood, that’s enough. I don’t care about being timeless, I care about being true.” She looks thoughtful when she talks about the future. “I’m learning to let go of timelines. There’s no ‘there’ to reach—only more life, more learning.”There’s a quiet wisdom in her words when she reflects on her younger self. “I’d tell her to breathe. To stop comparing. To stop apologizing. Everything she’s praying for is already inside her—she just has to let it unfold.” On hard days, she thinks about that girl singing to herself in her childhood bedroom, dreaming of this life. “She keeps me going. I owe it to her to keep showing up.” Before we part, I ask her what she hopes people truly understand about her. She pauses, then smiles. “That I’m still becoming. That I’m still learning to love out loud, to live with softness, to forgive myself. The music is just the evidence of that process.” In the end, keiyaA’s story isn’t about perfection or fame. It’s about honesty, about how art becomes a map back to oneself. “I used to think I had to have all the answers,” she says quietly. “Now I just want to ask better questions. That’s what this whole thing is about—staying curious, staying open, staying human.”keiyaA is wearing the Patta Chenille Logo Hooded Sweater and Patta Chenille Logo Jogging Pants  Patta Magazine Volume 6 is available now at Patta chapter stores in Amsterdam, London, Milan and Lagos. keiyaA’s album hooke’s law is out now via XL Recordings. 

Photographer by Yasemin Demirözcan | Location is the Amsterdam City Archives | Special thanks to Sophie Tates and Eric Heijselaar |  Jacquill G. Basdew wears a full look by Extreme Cashmere | Interview by Passion Dzenga In a time when public health is often discussed in ways that feel distant, clinical, or inaccessible, socio-cultural initiator Jacquill G. Basdew is reshaping the conversation—rethinking how arts, culture, and intergenerational dialogue can be used to transform complex issues into something younger generations feel compelled to engage with. With Living+, a new recurring initiative, he brings greater cultural visibility to urgent public health themes - fostering understanding across generational and social lines, and working toward a society where care, awareness, and belonging are more widely shared.Launching this winter in Amsterdam, the first edition—Memories in Motion—runs from November 21 to December 21 and focuses on HIV/AIDS. While medical advances have changed the course of the epidemic, public understanding has not kept pace. Much of the conversation now takes place in institutional or scientific settings—often far removed from the cultural awareness of younger generations. Through archival research, performance, nightlife, and remembrance, Living+ bridges that gap, honouring the past while reactivating a conversation that remains deeply present. But for Jacquill G. Basdew, the story starts much earlier - and much closer to home.Let’s start at the beginning - you chose to open Living+ with a focus on HIV/AIDS - a subject layered with history, stigma, and ongoing relevance. What led you to begin there?HIV/AIDS has been a recurring presence throughout bsdwcorp., the socio-artistic practice I run. One of my earliest mentors, the esteemed British artist and filmmaker Sir Isaac Julien CBE RA, introduced me to the work of bell hooks, which opened a portal to the worlds of Black queer trailblazers such as Marlon Riggs and Essex Hemphill, and later to conversations with Sunil Gupta, Ajamu X, and younger artists like Clifford Prince King. Across generations, HIV/AIDS has been a red thread in their lives and work, and that thread runs through mine too. As a Black queer man in the West, I often think: had I been born a decade or two earlier, it could have been me. I was fortunate to grow up in a time when treatment existed, when I could live freely and safely, but that freedom is shaped by the lives and losses of those who came before me. Their work inspires mine. Beginning Living+ with HIV/AIDS was not just a decision. It was a responsibility.Living+, lays focus on how conversations around HIV/AIDS can be made more accessible and resonant today. How do you see cultural memory and storytelling shaping public health narratives in this context?Conversations around HIV/AIDS have not disappeared, as shown by the recent International AIDS Conference in Kigali, but they often take place in scientific or policy-driven spaces that feel distant from everyday life. The language can be technical or abstract, which limits who feels invited in. With Living+, we are not reintroducing the topic. We are reframing how we talk about it. Cultural memory and storytelling make these complex realities more human and emotionally accessible. In a fast-paced media landscape, we need to meet people where they are. Through art, fashion, music, and cultural experience, we can open the door to deeper engagement and collective understanding.So in that sense, storytelling and cultural engagement become tools to reach people who might otherwise feel excluded from, or not even aware of, traditional public health conversations?Exactly. Symposiums and conferences are important, but they often speak to those who are already engaged. The wider public, especially younger generations, is not always invited into those rooms, and many are not even aware of the devastating early history of the epidemic. With Living+, we are trying to build a bridge between generations and perspectives. A dear friend of mine, the photographer Lyle Ashton Harris, who is based in New York, once reminded me how important it is to honour the conversations that came before us. It is not about reinventing the wheel. It is about adding to progress with care, with context, and with respect for those who paved the way.That brings us to the heart of the initiative. Could you share some of the key events and collaborations that will take place this winter as part of Living+?Absolutely! We kick off Memories in Motion, the first edition of Living+, on Friday, November 21, at the Amsterdam City Archives with a presentation of archival materials from the 1980s and 1990s that reflect the city’s early response to HIV/AIDS. It felt important to begin in a place where stories are preserved, remembered, and sometimes forgotten. This grounds the initiative in lived experience and honours a history of care and resistance.From there, the initiative unfolds into a month of public events, leading to a central moment on November 30 at Paradiso. That evening, which continues into World AIDS Day on December 1, builds on the legacy of the legendary Loveballs once held in the same venue. Expect a night of community, remembrance, art, dance and joy.You’re also collaborating with organisations outside of traditional cultural institutions, like Patta and Paradiso. Why?For us, it was important to work with partners who are deeply rooted in everyday culture. Patta and Paradiso, to us, are key voices in how people experience culture today. Their foundations in fashion and music allow them to speak directly to communities that more traditional institutions often do not reach. By standing alongside names like theirs, Living+ feels more open and familiar. Museums and theatres can still carry a sense of distance or exclusivity for many, while places like Paradiso and Patta feel inviting and accessible.And this is very much a pilot year, correct? You're testing what works and what doesn't?Absolutely. This first edition of Living+ is a real test run. We are putting a variety of moments out into the world to see what clicks and what does not. Once it is all wrapped up, we will take time to reflect, hear what people thought, and fine-tune things for next year. It is not just about launching something. It is about learning how to listen. We are especially curious about what tools actually help spark connection, especially among people who are culturally curious and looking for meaning, community, and ways to get involved. If something works, we want others - whether they are working in health, education, or the arts - to be able to take that and run with it. Living+ is our way of adding to the bigger goal of building a more open and less divided society.You’ve mentioned that this project could grow into a broader framework. How do you see Living+ evolving?We see Living+ as something that can grow far beyond this first edition. The plus in the name stands for everything that comes with being alive—complex, layered, ever-changing. It was never meant to be a one-off moment. This first chapter focuses on HIV/AIDS because of its deep cultural legacy and personal meaning for many of us. But over time, we hope to use the Living+ framework to explore other urgent topics in public health, from mental health to sexual well-being to the everyday systems of care that often go unseen. The bigger ambition is to build an open and evolving platform that uses culture to spark connection, encourage conversation, and bring more people into the fold in ways that feel meaningful and grounded in real life.You also mentioned that you're not a public health professional—but you're still shaping a powerful public health message through collaboration. How vital is collaboration to the Living+ project?Collaboration is everything. I am not a public health professional, and I don’t pretend to be. But I do believe in the power of bringing different forms of knowledge together. Living+ was never meant to be created in isolation. From the very beginning, we’ve worked with people from different disciplines - healthcare professionals, researchers, creatives, community organisers - because no single voice can carry the weight of something this complex.It’s in the meeting of perspectives that something meaningful begins to take shape. My role is to listen, to connect, and to create a space where these different forms of expertise can co-exist and inform each other. That’s how we move toward solutions that feel grounded, human, and lasting.In all of this, what has moved or inspired you most along the way?What keeps me going is realising how much incredible work is already happening. Every time I talk to someone about Living+, they connect me with someone else doing similar work. It’s inspiring to see that community already exists - we just need to connect the dots. That’s what I’m hoping this project will do: build community, bridge generations, and create space for joy, reflection, and solidarity.On the eve of World AIDS Day, Living+ gathers in Paradiso’s Small Hall for an intimate evening of remembrance and artistic encounter. Inspired by the historic Seropositive Ball and Love Ball, which once filled this city with bright, defiant life, Remember the Love carries their spirit into a contemporary, quieter form shaped by tenderness, memory and community.At the heart of the evening is a special fundraiser for IHLIA, the Amsterdam-based heritage organisation for LGBTIQ+ history in the Netherlands and home to the largest LGBTIQ+ collection in Europe. As essential archives like IHLIA face increasing financial pressure, this initiative is led by a younger generation that understands its place in a lineage and seeks to honour the histories that shaped it. Guests can support the fundraiser throughout the night or via the dedicated link.The programme opens with the world premiere of Only You, performed by yazija, the long-durational performance vehicle of the artistic and social practice bsdwcorp, founded by J.G. Basdew. For this occasion, yazija is accompanied by Sabiá on piano, who created the arrangements from Basdew’s original compositions. Rooted in music and active remembrance, Only You unfolds as an intimate act of listening and witnessing in which sound becomes a vessel for memory. Personal histories open into a shared emotional landscape, offering an early glimpse of a larger presentation to come during World Pride 2026.The programme then flows into a Solidarity Gathering hosted by R.U.I.S. Collective (Remembering Us in Solidarity). R.U.I.S. is a queer-led, anti-capitalist movement that reimagines nightlife as a space of resistance, care and political imagination. Known for transforming gatherings into sites of radical solidarity, R.U.I.S. brings together art, community and activism in a spirit of collective liberation.A soft DJ-set by Slimfit, co-founder of R.U.I.S. Collective, anchors the atmosphere as the Small Hall becomes a temporary archive of care, presence and reflection. Guests are invited throughout the evening to support IHLIA—ensuring that the histories preserved there remain accessible to younger generations encountering them for the first time. The evening closes warmly and gently in the same shared space.Remember the Love is part of Living+ (21 November to 21 December 2025), an international cultural programme exploring how art and intergenerational dialogue can bridge the widening gap between urgent public-health conversations and younger generations who often engage these histories at a distance. Its first season, Memories in Motion (2025), centres on the lived realities and emotional legacies of HIV/AIDS. Tickets are available now. 

Words by Chris Danforth | Photography by Megan Jane SimonsLatoya Molly is the Dutch-Surinamese creative behind Geminis, a tooth gem business rooted in style, symbolism, and Surinamese heritage. Drawing inspiration from her late mother, her sisters, and her ancestry, she has transformed a niche beauty trend into a form of self-expression. Through styling, storytelling, and symbolism, especially with traditional Surinamese symbols like the pangi and the Mattenklopper, Molly invites a deeper conversation about identity, healing, and cultural pride. Geminis is a story of resilience, beauty, and the power of reclaiming one’s narrative, one gem at a time.Do you remember the first time tooth art caught your attention? What was happening in your life around the time you founded Geminis? I don’t remember a specific person with tooth gems catching my eye. But back in 2022, the hype around tooth gems was really big. At the time, I was working two jobs and going to school. One of the jobs that I still work is at the Patta store.My mom passed away in March 2022, leaving behind my older sister, me, and our three younger sisters. My sister and I took custody of them.For the first couple of months, I felt numb and in denial, so I was still able to manage work and help take care of our sisters. But eventually, the grief caught up with me, and the lack of structure became too much. One day, I came across a mini Snapchat series about a woman getting her tooth gems done in LA. It wasn’t really popular yet in her city, Atlanta, and that’s how she started. That made me realize how popular tooth gems were in Rotterdam, but there weren’t many people doing it in Amsterdam. That’s when I saw a gap in the market. I didn’t have much to lose, so I went for it. Fortunately, it worked out. “Geminis” is inspired by my astrological sign and the work I do with gems. It’s a blend of identity and craft.How do you incorporate Surinamese culture into your designs?I make sure Surinamese elements are present in every shoot. Beyond the work itself, I’m intentional with everything I organize, especially the locations. My first “big” shoot was in a Surinamese jewelry store. My second was in a Surinamese shop filled with cultural essentials.I also incorporate pangi in my styling. They’ve been worn as tops, skirts, shoulder cloths, or simply used as backdrops in past shoots. A pangi is a traditional Surinamese shawl—a long rectangular cloth worn around the waist, often reaching above the navel by women of the Maroon communities in Suriname.Jewelry is another important element for me. To me, it’s the finishing touch that brings everything together.Can you tell us about the symbolism of the Mattenklopper (carpet beater) and how you portray it in your art?Surinamese people disagree about what the carpet beater symbolizes, due to Suriname’s colonial history. Although it has West African roots, many associate it with the suffering our ancestors endured under Dutch colonial rule.Thankfully, many still embrace the carpet beater as a cultural and spiritual symbol, and that’s what I aim to express in my work. It represents values like purification, dusting away negativity, creating a clean path forward, friendship, respect, and necessity. When gifted out of love, it shouldn’t be passed on, because of those values. Some people wear it simply because they like it, but others wear it to honor the pain of our ancestors.Spiritually, the carpet beater can be seen as a Fanowdu—an essential item to integrate into your life.As an entrepreneur, where do your motivation and inspiration come from? How do you define success?My motivation comes from my sisters. They keep me going every day. My inspiration comes from our culture and from my sister, too. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known besides our mom. She works in accounting, the complete opposite of me, but the way she takes on challenges is something I really admire and learn from.I define success as happiness and tranquility. I’ve always been a bit chaotic, and after my mom’s passing, that only intensified. I used to define success by how much money I wanted to make, but I’ve realized none of that matters if you’re not at peace or truly happy. And happiness isn’t something external; it has to come from within.