Nigerian music sensation Ayra Starr has taken to Substack with a reflective piece titled “I’m not scared, I promise,” and honestly, we’re here for it. Writing from her nearly empty New York City apartment during what she calls her “nobody gets me era,” the Grammy-nominated artist delivers a meditation on cold, loneliness, ambition, and the exhausting work of constantly proving yourself.
She describes New York as “basically a walk-in freezer with rent” and admits to being “a scandalous little rebel who insists she isn’t afraid of risk yet I do enjoy overthinking it.” It’s vulnerable, self-aware, and surprisingly literary for someone whose primary canvas has been melody and rhythm. At Brittle Paper, where we champion African literature and creative expression in all its forms, this moment feels significant, not just because Ayra can write (though she clearly can), but because it signals something we’ve long believed: the creative impulse doesn’t stay contained in one medium, and more artists should embrace the freedom that writing offers.
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There’s something thrilling about watching musicians, actors, visual artists, and other creatives step into the written word with the same fearlessness they bring to their primary craft. Ayra’s piece isn’t trying to be a polished essay or a carefully constructed narrative. It is raw, conversational and deeply honest about the psychological toll of constant reinvention. She quotes advice given to her by someone she admires: “No one is supposed to understand what you’re doing. If they understand immediately, try again.” That’s not just good advice for making experimental music; it’s a philosophy that applies to all creative work, including the risky, vulnerable act of putting your unfiltered thoughts on a page for strangers to read. Writing, perhaps more than any other medium, forces you to reckon with yourself in ways that can’t hide behind production or performance, and Ayra seems to understand that instinctively.
What excites us most about this moment is the reminder that writing remains one of the most democratic and accessible forms of creative expression. You don’t need a studio, a record label, a gallery, or even particularly expensive equipment; just yourself, your thoughts, and a willingness to be honest. Platforms like Substack have made it even easier for artists across disciplines to claim space for their words, building direct relationships with audiences who want more than just the finished product. It’s a beautiful blurring of boundaries that enriches everyone involved.
At Brittle Paper, we’ve always believed that African creativity defies neat categorization, and seeing artists like Ayra Starr embrace writing as another outlet only reinforces that belief. We hope more musicians, actors, designers, and creatives across the continent and diaspora pursue writing more in 2026. There’s power in controlling your own narrative, in speaking directly to your audience without intermediaries, in proving to yourself that you can master yet another form. So here’s to Ayra for being brave enough (even while insisting she’s overthinking it) to share her thoughts beyond her musical identity. And here’s to all the creatives out there sitting on essays, memoirs, poems, or random musings they’re too scared to publish: We can’t wait to read what you write.
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