What’s a defining moment that shaped you as an artist?
A defining moment for me was leaving Barbados to pursue my dream in Toronto. It wasn’t just a physical move — it was an act of faith. I left behind familiarity, comfort, and community to step into uncertainty, driven by the belief that my voice and story could reach further.
That experience taught me resilience and reminded me that being an artist isn’t just about talent — it’s about courage, purpose, and staying true to what you believe in, even when the path isn’t clear.
What would you say is the best decision you’ve made in your career thus far?
The best decision I’ve made was to invest in my own vision — to build the Dreamerz movement and take ownership of my artistry. Creating spaces where others can grow alongside me, whether through music, workshops, or performances, has given my career deeper meaning. It reminded me that success isn’t only about recognition; it’s about impact and community.
Of all of the projects you’ve worked on, which one was the most creatively fulfilling?
My one-man musical The Voice That Colours the Silence has been the most creatively fulfilling. It’s deeply personal — exploring identity, self-love, and acceptance through music and storytelling. Writing and performing it allowed me to merge everything I love: theatre, music, and emotional truth. It’s the first time I felt like every color of who I am — artist, dreamer, teacher, and storyteller — existed on one stage.
What other careers did you consider, if any? And why did you ultimately choose not to pursue them?
I once considered becoming a teacher or therapist because I’ve always been drawn to helping people. In a way, I still do that through music and voice coaching — just through a creative lens. I realized art gives me the same purpose: to heal, guide, and inspire, but with rhythm, melody, and imagination leading the way.
As an artist from the Caribbean, do you feel like you have an obligation or responsibility to represent and reflect Caribbean culture in your work?
Absolutely. It’s not a burden — it’s a blessing. My Caribbean roots are the heartbeat of my sound and spirit. The rhythm, color, and storytelling in my work all come from that foundation. I feel a responsibility to honor where I come from, but also to show the world the range and richness of Caribbean artistry beyond stereotypes. Every time I sing, I carry a piece of home with me.
