One’s eyes are drawn immediately to Zainab Boladale among the hustle and bustle of the hotel’s foyer. The Nigerian-born journalist, TV presenter, and recent author – vastly recognised for her involvement with the RTÉ programme Nationwide – is a vision of vitality in an elongated violet gown, vibrant yellow geometrical earrings, and sizeable spectacles with red frames. Not to be ignored is her fabulously formed braided hair.
The reason for our rendezvous in Dublin is Boladale’s hair, an integral part of the narrative in her debut young adult book, set for release within the month. Raised in Clare, the 27-year-old has already carved an admirable path in her profession, and “Braids Take a Day” is her latest accomplishment. The novel tells the tale of Abidemi Benson, a young black Irish woman at a crossroad of her life, entering adult independence after finishing her Leaving Certificate. Her journey over the summer, submerged in self-exploration, is interlaced with the themes of companionship, love, and the imprint of both African and Irish cultures.
Boladale – a woman whose determination never wavers, always making things work for herself – is revealing her additional skill as a writer. “I wasn’t exactly the popular kid,” she admits. “My heart was always in books: Roald Dahl, Lemony Snicket, Jacqueline Wilson. Though it may embarrass me to say, I was deeply fascinated by vampire stories, Twilight in particular,” she says, trying to hide the blush creeping on her face. “I spent many nights hiding and reading. The immersive experiences of the books were always something I looked forward to.”
As the firstborn amongst three, Boladale doesn’t recall much of her journey from Lagos, Nigeria to Ennis, Co Clare, of which she was merely four. Her last trip to her homeland was in 2018 – her father, who stayed in Nigeria instead of moving to Ireland with the family, still resides there – she could not help but feel slightly alienated.
“She found it intriguing how she’s evolved and transformed,” she expresses. “Despite feeling deeply Nigerian at my core and in my traditions, I couldn’t blend in as my behaviours don’t align with typical Nigerian ones. Even my language; I communicate in Yoruba, yet it’s a westernised version of Yoruba, if you understand what I mean. I have a deep affection for Nigeria and I intend to return but I acknowledge that I stand out. It’s akin to being a US citizen in Ireland – you’re passionately fond of it, but you unmistakably stand out.”
She did not feel like a misfit during her early years, she explains, although her high school years were more challenging. She was enrolled in a Gaelcholáiste at the suggestion of a teacher who spotted her knack for languages, and found it tough to fit in amongst her Gaelic-speaking schoolmates.
“I thoroughly enjoyed my time in primary school,” she shares. “I never felt odd or out of place in my school. There was also a considerable Nigerian community in Clare at that time, so I was always surrounded by Nigerian peers and my mum had a number of Nigerian friends, as well. Alongside this, I had many Irish friends and friends from the Traveller community, hence, it was quite a multi-ethnic experience. However, it was during the first three years of secondary school that I realised, ‘Ah, okay. It’s possible that people might treat you differently.’”
When she first found employment at RTÉ, she chose to wear wigs as an attempt to fit in.
After school, in spite of her parents’ initial opposition, she pursued a Journalism course at DCU. “My mum hails from a medical background, so her thoughts were, ‘You’re obviously going to be a nurse.’ I retorted, ‘That simply isn’t logical as I can’t bear the sight of blood.’ My father wanted me to study law due to his keen interest in business and politics, yet I’m not good at hiding my emotions. So it involved a lot of discussion, and trying to persuade them that journalism is the correct route for me. When I joined DCU, I was adamant: This has to succeed, there is no Plan B – since there’s absolutely no chance of me becoming a nurse.”
She fervently sought opportunities for herself, actively pursuing internships at media companies and newspapers, eventually securing a presenter role on News2Day, RTÉ’s youthful news show, by good fortune. She admits, during the initial half-year, she was plagued by self-doubt. Her first year was consumed with efforts to fit in, reshaping herself into something that wasn’t truly her, she confesses. She recalls a phase where she purchased a bob wig as she perceived bob hairstyles were in vogue for news presenters at that moment. Her aim was to gain acceptance and create a facade that she wasn’t just a 20-year old.
Her novel also commends her African origins and draws focus towards the significance of hair in African society. The subject has been previously delved into by Emma Dabiri in her collection of essays, Don’t Touch My Hair. Braids Take a Day approaches cultural appropriation sensitively, where Abidemi educates her Caucasian best mate about the impropriety of her sporting braids.
Reflecting on her younger days, she recalls no matter their material circumstances, their mother ensured their hair was taken care of. Despite her mother’s habit of covering her head, she kept her hair styled beneath her scarves. She found it puzzling as a child, but later realized its importance. When she commenced her career at RTÉ, she resorted to wearing wigs as an attempt to blend in. Gaining more confidence over time, she decided to embrace her braids, which resonated with her comfort and self-presentation. She emphasizes the influence of the way one styles their hair on their identity and self-assurance, thus making this a key aspect of her tale.
Boladale’s growing years show both similarities and contrasts with Abidemi’s. She presents a louder and bolder personality than her fictional character. While she spent her childhood in Ennis and Abi in Ennistymon, their common link was a local teenage disco that held a significant place in their lives.
Boladale, a well-known figure on Irish television, drew on personal experiences for her novel, yet decided not to include the racist vitriol she received upon becoming a familiar presence on-screen. “I was hesitant to make the protagonist’s narrative all about racism, due to its emotionally draining nature,” she comments. “It’s taxing, and I wanted to afford readers some respite from race centric narratives. So, while the character Abi grapples with multiple facets of her race, it doesn’t dominate how she is treated by others. Microaggressions occur, but the book is not solely about racism. She is a multidimensional figure with a rich life. As a teenager, she grapples with self-discovery, love, parental expectations, and fear of disappointment. I was eager to portray her as a complete individual rather than a merely race-centred character.”
Boladale’s reflections are grounded in personal experiences. After becoming the RTÉ newsroom’s first black correspondent, she inadvertently became a spokesperson for the African Irish community, a role that regrettably included exposure to severe online racism.
Reflecting on her initial experiences, Boladale comments, “In retrospect, I believe my youthful innocence was my saving grace. From 20 years old, I realised I was often the only black person at gatherings. I naively wondered if the industry would present a different environment from university. But, when I formally entered the RTÉ, there was a stark realisation. My role extended beyond my work environment, and the pressures and expectations were immense.”
She considers herself fortunate to have been guided by editors who showed discernment knowing her youthfulness and novice status. Commanding the dual responsibility of serving her community while refining her journalistic aptitude, wasn’t an effortless journey. She recalls feeling the burden of endorsing representation, even as she navigated how to hone her craft. Her task, she recalls, was to nourish her own pursuits.
Regrettably, she neglected her own wellbeing for a significant period. She faced online abuse silently until an incident in 2019 where a hateful person compiled and uploaded her work videos to YouTube, sparking a wave of derogatory remarks. Alarmed, she took to Twitter, unwittingly changing her narrative from a black presenter to a black presenter enduring prejudice.
“I shied away from sharing because I feared being labelled ‘The racially persecuted black host’, or ‘The black host contending with racism’,” she shares, admitting to the peculiarity of her feelings. She dreaded the attached stigma, but an article about Ireland’s welcoming environment incited her to respond, contesting the statement with her own experiences. This led to her situation going viral – the news of a presenter from RTÉ facing online discrimination.
Despite her fears, her employers were empathetic, acting immediately to take down the offensive YouTube channel. The tremors of shock still lingered, and she feared backlash over her sexual orientation, which she proudly identifies as gay. She thought her career was on the line when she walked into work the next Monday. “But the first words out of their mouths was ‘Why did you not tell us? We could have helped.’ That’s when I realized, it’s alright to speak up about these incidents,” she recalls.
Being gay and growing up in Ennis involved facing several obstacles, she asserts, however, a significant one was within her home environment. “With a religious Nigerian upbringing, the subject of sexuality is practically non-existent,” she explains. “Nevertheless, since I was 13, I’ve been open about my orientation, thus my identity was never in question. I was aware I fit into the spectrum of queerness, although I’ve faced mild teasing because of it. However, I was unperturbed because I knew the situation at home was much harsher due to my family’s staunch inability to accept my identity. This isn’t meant to disparage my mother in any way– it’s merely an acknowledgement of our difference in beliefs. I have great affection for my mother and we share a close bond, but our differing perspectives on my queerness, unfortunately, will always be an impasse.”
Despite struggling to gain acceptance from her family, this has simultaneously served as a catalyst propelling her towards independence and success. “In some respect, our tension has spurred me to foster self-reliance,” she conveys. “It’s an aspect that I don’t really converse much about.” Being assured and self-assertive about her queerness, the 2015 marriage equality bill was a momentous event for her. “It may seem peculiar,” she articulates, “but thinking ‘if this law is approved, it’s a step towards societal sanction, regardless of the home situation. If this is successful, it will help to validate me a little more’.”
Being in a relationship with her partner Bisi, who frequently makes appearances on her social media, for over two years, she finds a comforting sense of freedom. Bisi’s larger-than-life persona and affectionate nature, in combination with her hilarious streak, has charmed her completely. Being authentic and somewhat unusual without feeling judged is paramount for her in any relationship. A sense of balance she finds in her bond with Bisi, both of them being delightful jesters. Most are oblivious to this side of her, given her tendency towards introversion. However, her near ones recognise her effervescent sense of humour, which pales in comparison to Bisi’s, making her even more special.
She recalls the harsh reality of her homeland where queer folks face significant opposition. True acceptance came from her circle of queer friends, who empathised with her and refrained from making her feel inferior. This assurance was crucial, considering the homophobic nature of Nigerian society, which could lead to imprisonment for up to 14 years for openly identifying or even being suspected as non-heterosexual. Interestingly, her partner Bisi, a fellow Nigerian, was openly gay in Nigeria, highlighting the double standards in societal reactions based on financial status. If you lack financial resources, your life could potentially become a living nightmare.
The thought of concealing her true identity weighs heavily on her. This is a topic she delves into through her self-written and directed short film, ‘Worthy’, made on a minimal budget. While the project served as a valuable learning experience, the importance of witnessing individuals like herself on screen was the primary motivation. The film was her way of dissecting self-worth within partnerships. She pointed out the lack of representation of Ireland’s black and queer community on screen, despite personally knowing many individuals from that community. Her intent wasn’t to primarily focus on race but rather to depict the people she sees in her daily life. Within Ireland’s queer scene, numerous underrepresented groups exist, and she chose to present these overlooked facets.
Boladale bursts into jovial laughter, eyes gleaming at the vision of her future. With a thriving journalism career already in progress, she anticipates more books, possibly more films, and further travelling will decorate her future. A dream of hers is to create documentaries that focus on diverse communities and unique individuals, a quest nurtured by her journeys throughout Ireland with Nationwide.
Her first true aspiration, she admits, was to author a book. Recalling her past, she shared that her mother insisted on her selecting a career path. ‘Writing books is not the only goal,’ her mother used to say. With a hearty chuckle, Boladale affirms, “Here I am though, I’ve made my goal come true…eventually.”
Her book ‘Braids Take a Day’ is due to be released by The O’Brien Press on the 10th of August.