Your voice, what does it mean to you? What would it be like to have no voice—literally or figuratively? It is a question I have been grappling with, consciously and unconsciously, my entire life. Because... my mother literally lost her voice during surgery to remove cancer from her thyroid. I was 9. I had no idea yet that I would dedicate my career to the voice. But looking back, that is indeed how it all began...

 

In 2007, while studying Vocal Performance & Musical Entrepreneurship at the Rock Academy, I moved to Kenya for an internship; a place where I felt most alive. There, I founded Sauti Academy, where unheard vocal talents were given the space to grow into (inter)national superstars, start “impossible” professional music careers, and shine.

Years later, during my first time in Kenya, I was invited to give singing workshops in the prison. For men who were incarcerated there, sometimes for a reason and often, unfortunately, unjustly. I met Elijah, with whom I am still friends to this day. He found his voice again during the workshops. And fortunately, he was released soon.

Now, back in the Netherlands, I coach various people and move weekly between 1-on-1 sessions with a senator, senior manager, and NGO project manager, workshops with the homeless, and music lessons for primary school children. With the same goal: it doesn't matter what your background is, you are allowed to make yourself heard.

The form has changed over the years, but my "why" has only grown stronger. I deeply believe that everyone is worthy of using their voice, of making themselves heard. And also of being heard.

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I don't believe in directing people. That is performing a trick. Too often, we learn *what* we are allowed to say, *how* we should sound, and in what tone we are “acceptable.” But that has nothing to do with authenticity. You are allowed to be honest, fierce, gentle, unfiltered, vulnerable, and powerful. The world does not change through perfectly directed speeches, but rather through real stories and the courage of people who refuse to remain silent any longer.

 

If you knew me, you would know that:

• I have two fantastic children, aged 4 and 11, with my Kenyan partner

• we speak Swahili, Dutch and English at home

• a lady unknown to me once didn't believe that my daughter had come from my womb; she asked at least three times where I had adopted her – and that this was the beginning of my interest in and activism for anti-racism work

• I auditioned for Idols at 18, didn't make it through the first round, and ten years later got to work as a judge on the East African Tusker Project Fame, which was broadcast live on TV in 5 countries.

• I have a chaotic mind that NEVER stops moving and can't sit still (except with a really good cappuccino)

• I enjoy visiting special places; from giving workshops on death row in a prison in Nairobi, to staying on Kilimanjaro purely by chance; from visiting a former prisoner in his Maasai village to organizing stadium concerts for 60,000 people

• one of my singing students from Nairobi won a Grammy for co-writing Burna Boy's album

• I hate winter, cold, and rain and am a real sun-lover; I dream of a little house on the beautiful white sandy beach of Diani Beach (Kenya).