Ohema — The Confirmation

I am the kind of person who, once I make a decision, looks for confirmation that I am on the right path. Starting a jewelry brand felt like a big move for me, especially because I wasn’t starting just a jewelry brand. What I was building was about more than jewelry. It was about culture, Black culture, community and women. In the weeks after I felt called to create the brand, I kept questioning whether it was really something for me to do. Does all of this really matter to anyone? It didn’t take long for me to receive my confirmation.

I was on the first leg of my flight back to Canada from Côte d’Ivoire, after spending almost a year in Africa. We had just landed in Bamako, Mali, for a quick layover before continuing to Paris, where I would catch my connection to Montreal. Among the passengers boarding was a woman with her twin sons, about five years old. They filled the three empty seats beside me in the middle row, the boys in the middle and their mother at the other end.

While most people travel in what you’d call typical “travel clothes,” pants and sweaters, the woman, who I guessed was Malian, was wearing a voluminous boubou* made of a rich, lustrous bazin** fabric. The kind of outfit you’d wear to a wedding or a big celebration. What struck me most were her accessories: a full set of large gold Fulani jewelry. Earrings, bracelets and a necklace. I had seen Fulani jewelry before (I actually own a pair of Fulani earrings myself), but I had never seen it made this size. Her earrings were so big they touched her shoulders, and her necklace and bracelets were just as striking.

She was covered in gold and looked absolutely stunning. The whole flight, I kept admiring her. Her elegance, her beauty, her grace and patience managing two little boys on a six-hour flight. Whenever our eyes met, I would smile at her. At the end of the flight, I gathered the courage to tell her how beautiful I thought she was.

But what I didn’t tell her, and what I wish I had, is how inspiring she was to me. Travelling to a Western country, unapologetically wearing her traditional attire, she felt like the very image of a woman carrying her culture with her wherever she goes. Passing it on to the next generation. I don’t know where her journey ended. Maybe, like me, she continued on to North America. Maybe she stayed in France. All I know is that she carried her culture across the ocean, proudly and boldly.

That moment came as the confirmation of what I already knew to be true. My suitcase already held the Akan goldweights I had bought at the market, the ones that would become the first Ohema pieces. But she connected me to the woman I wanted to celebrate through my brand: the Black woman who carries her culture with her. Whether boldly, like the woman on the plane, or subtly, like me, who prefers her jewelry a little smaller and more discreet.

Almost ten years have passed since that flight. Ohema has grown, evolved, and taught me so much along the way. But somewhere in that growth, I realized I wanted to come back to where it all began. Back to her.

You may notice that Ohema looks and feels a little different now. Softer in some ways, bolder in others. Warmer. More personal. Every detail was reconsidered with one question in mind: does this feel like her?

Because Ohema was never meant to be only about jewelry. It was always about the woman wearing it. Her story, her roots, the culture she carries with her.

When I think about the Ohema woman, I think about her. And by her, I mean every woman carrying culture across the ocean.

The woman who grew up surrounded by it. The woman who found it later in life. The woman who holds it in her recipes, her music, her language, her style. The one who wears it boldly, and the one who wears it quietly.

I never got to hear that woman’s story. I still wonder about it. Where she was going, what she carried with her besides her gold, what she hoped to pass on to her sons. Maybe that’s why I want Ohema to be a place where those stories are heard. Because every woman carrying her culture has one worth telling.

She answered my question without saying a word. It matters. It matters to her, and to every woman like her.

If you are carrying your culture with you, wherever life has taken you, this was always for you.

Culture isn’t something we leave behind. We carry it.

This is Ohema.

* A boubou is a traditional, loose-fitting, flowing garment worn by both men and women across West Africa and the Sahel. It is a vital emblem of West African identity, worn for everyday life as well as major ceremonies like weddings, religious holidays and festivals.

** Bazin (also known as bazin riche, shadda or African brocade) is a luxurious, stiff and shiny damask cotton fabric widely used for traditional and ceremonial clothing in West and Central Africa.