Kemi Fatoba is a writer and creative consultant specialising in identity, culture, fashion, and representation. She is also founder and editor of Daddy, an award-winning culture magazine and consultancy with a focus on diversifying the media landscape.

The fourth issue of Daddy, themed ‘Power,’ has just been published. As Kemi shares her working week, we hear about her early influences, working with a guest editor, and her belief that, ‘There’s so much more to being part of an under-represented community than being discriminated against.’


What are you doing this morning? 
My day usually starts with a bit of doomscrolling, coffee, and a 15-minute session of yoga that I try to squeeze in every morning to keep my scoliosis at bay. Then, I catch up on emails and prepare for the first meeting at 10am. We usually discuss admin, social media content for the weeks ahead, partnerships, etc.

The next meeting at 11am is about current projects. At the moment, that’s our exhibition “The Land Remembers”, which looks at waste colonialism caused by fast fashion and will take place in the spring. Our open call just closed, and we’ll spend the next few days evaluating the submissions and planning the exhibition accordingly. Next up on the agenda is this year’s print issue, which will be out in autumn when we celebrate our 10-year anniversary. We want to mark it by creating something special, and right now, we’re collecting ideas and discussing potential themes. It’s an exciting time.

Describe your work environment
Today I’m working from home. I’m currently listening to Doja Cat’s album ‘Vie’, also lots of Sade always, Afrobeats, Amapiano, and electronic music when I’m in focus mode. I’m on a somewhat busy residential street and an avid people watcher—and to my delight, the neighbourhood never disappoints. From chain-smoking grandmas to family outings in all sorts of constellations, to city foxes casually hanging out on the street, there’s always a lot to see.

Which magazine do you first remember?
I grew up in Vienna, where we import a lot of German titles because of the shared language, and only a few UK or US magazines that always sell out quickly. Like most teenagers back then, I read Bravo, a pop culture magazine for young adults with infamous sex education spreads. It actually inspired ‘Dr Daddy,’ the advice column we had when we launched the online magazine. Our agony uncles, Dr Manny and Dr Nathan, did a great job at helping people through their conundrums.

Later, I spent all my pocket money on Elle and Vogue, and when I came across The Face, it felt like finding the holy grail of everything subculture. After it folded, I often read Vice, and I ended up working for them when they opened their Vienna office in the noughties. 

Aside from yours, what’s your favourite magazine/zine? 
The Face was brilliant, and I think my friend Stuart Brumfitt did a great job at relaunching it, which must’ve been a daunting task. I also enjoyed reading Vice when it first came out. Even back then, some of their articles were considered problematic, but they were one of the few publications that hired writers of colour, and I appreciated that.

Currently, I prefer to read magazines with a vision similar to ours, like Gurlz with Curlz, Qamar, Magazin of Color, and Majin. It’s so hard to run indie magazines in this climate, and therefore it’s even more important to support each other and not take our existence for granted. It’s a shame that gal-dem isn’t around anymore, as I also enjoyed reading their magazine—but it’s also great to see everything their authors achieved independently since it folded.

What other piece of media would you recommend? 
I have the expensive habit of collecting exhibition catalogues and art books. Not sure if that’s something I should recommend, but it brings me a lot of joy and comes in handy now that we are working on our own exhibition. 

Tell us about the name, ‘Daddy.’
It started as an inside joke. I suggested it because we kept calling each other daddy all the time. It also seemed fitting because the word has so many connotations—there are sugar daddies, gay daddies, lesbian daddies, real daddies who can be great or really shitty, or friends who call each other by that name. It’s tongue-in-cheek, which also felt important.

Describe Daddy in three words
Inclusive, intersectional, and sexy.

The magazine mixes a clear political stance on inclusivity with a sense of humour and joy. Why is that such a rare thing?
Honestly, it’s getting harder to see things with humour. We launched in 2016 when everything seemed a lot less grim than today—but we refuse to focus only on the negatives, as that would do our audience a disservice. There’s so much more to being part of an underrepresented community than being discriminated against. It’s our reality, but it doesn’t define us.

To me, it’s also important that our contributors don’t feel the need to explain themselves, their community, or their existence. If our readers aren’t familiar with certain expressions, they can look them up and learn something new. That’s how we all used to discover the world before we had smartphones. I read something recently about second-screen writing in film, which means producing content that can still be followed while the viewer is distracted, usually by their phone. That’s utterly depressing to me. Our pieces are well-written, well-edited, and well-designed. They demand our readers’ full attention, and I think our audience appreciates that. 


You worked with a guest editor (Karini Viranna) for this fourth issue. What did they add to the process of producing the magazine?
Karini Viranna was the guest editor of our current issue, titled ‘Power.’ She’s an incredibly talented multi-hyphenate, and we got to know her through our online series about model minorities, titled ‘The Good Ones.’ She also contributed a brilliant essay to our second print issue, Dreams, and was part of the production crew of our documentary ‘Black Joy.’ I always knew that I wanted to work with her again, so when the time was right, I asked if she’d be up for guest-editing ‘Power.’ Karini did a brilliant job and added a fresh perspective. She’s also involved in our exhibition project; we’re not letting her go.

Your editor’s letters are always very reflective; what have you learned from issue to issue of the first four magazines? 
So much! Daddy changed a lot over the years. When we launched the online platform, we published a lot more raw, experimental content. Most of our readers were based in Berlin, and it felt necessary to publish occasional call-outs because we didn’t feel that our communities were given enough of a platform. This radically changed in the following years, and we’re moving backwards again. The difference is that many publications now practise self-censorship, which feels scary.

We went to print in 2020, in the middle of a pandemic and launched at the height of the BLM protests. It was a very stressful time for Black people everywhere, as we were suddenly inundated with requests to participate in performative publicity stunts. We quickly learned to tune out the noise, focus on our communities, and just do our thing. That also meant saying no to some lucrative deals and prioritising authenticity over cash flow. So far, it paid off, but we never take anything for granted. That’s why we give every issue our all—in this climate, you never know what the future holds.

Also, life changes. I’m a new mum, and this also means being less involved in every aspect of Daddy. ‘Power’ feels different and fresh because Karini wasn’t afraid to switch things up a little, and also because the team is super talented and lovely. Speaking of which, let me introduce them: Elise Chastel, our art director, has been with Daddy for a couple of years now, and it never ceases to amaze me what she comes up with. Janice Heinrich, our Features Editor, is behind some of our best written pieces, Jennifer Anosike makes sure everything’s running smoothly in the background, and Danilo Sierra is responsible for the look and feel of our website.


Alongside the magazine, you run a consultancy advising businesses on inclusivity. Tell us more about that 
In 2020 and 2021, we were incredibly busy and had to turn down requests often. That has changed, and we can all feel the shift. We still consult businesses, but it feels less rushed and instead more intentional.

Highlight one story that sums up how the magazine works, and explain why you selected it 
It’s really hard to pick one story. ‘Still(l)ieben’ [still love, a word play on still life] might be a good example. The pitch came from Emmanuel Amoako-Jansen, a friend of mine who is a very talented musician and filmmaker, and also a cancer survivor. The diagnosis came at the height of his career, when he was in the middle of producing his first big feature film, Still(l)ieben.

It’s a raw piece about Black masculinity, how his protagonists deal with it in the film, and how he navigated it after his diagnosis. Emmanuel and I discussed the initial idea, and then Karini sharpened it, edited the piece and guided him through the writing process. I think it came out beautifully.

What has publishing the magazine taught you that may be helpful to anyone else planning to launch one?
If there’s something you really want to do and can’t stop thinking about, do it. The idea to start Daddy came long, long before we launched. We also wanted to go to print for a long time, and then finally did when the time was right. Same with our film, ‘Black Joy.’

The great thing about creative projects is that generally, people are very supportive and happy to help. That’s something else I learned and sometimes still struggle with: Asking people for help. Another big thing is paying people. It should be obvious, but I still hear stories about publications much bigger than ours not paying their freelance writers, and honestly, that’s awful.

What are you most looking forward to this coming week?
Date night… It’s been a while.

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