Freestyling the Dance of Fear and Faith: A Dialogue with Emma Ofosua
FREESTYLING THE DANCE OF FEAR AND FAITH
A DIALOGUE WITH EMMA OFOSUA
Emma Ofosua is an inspirational West African writer, dynamic cultural curator, prolific freestyle “extempore” poet, and visionary leader passionate about African literature, creative arts, and literacy advocacy. With a track record of producing impactful events, mentoring creative talent, and working towards building sustainable ecosystems.
Her work centres themes of identity, culture, memory, the resilience and courage of the African – especially African women – and serves as a bridge to connect the personal with the universal, sometimes as a mirror to reflect the beauty, complexity and nuance of our shared human experience, making meaning out of randomness of things. She believes in the transformative power of poetry and literature to lend language to our lived experiences and facilitate deeper understanding, to heal, and to nurture connection.
She is the author of the publicly acclaimed book, I Wish You Courage in the Night Season, director of the All African Women Poetry Festival, a four-day conference that hosts 6-10 poets from 6 African countries and the diaspora annually, the Managing Editor of Hadithi, a lifestyle and literary magazine. She is the creative lead of Tuniq Africa, a project management company and Tuniq Africa LBG (a not-for-profit organization with a focus to nurture cultural entrepreneurship and contribute to building a thriving art ecosystem.)
She led the charge to incorporate and set up operations for the Poetry Association of Ghana in February, 2022 and sits as the board chair of the Association. Emma is also a brand strategist and community builder committed to preserving heritage and fostering artistic growth.
BY NKATEKO MASINGA
This conversation took place between Ghana and South Africa, via email.
Nkateko: Hi, Emma. Thank you so much for agreeing to have this conversation with me. You made a lasting impression on me at the Poetry Africa Festival in South Africa, not only with your brilliant poetry onstage but also your charisma and kindness offstage. I wanted to start our conversation by reflecting back on the freestyle piece that you performed during your set at the festival, using the words ‘abafazi’ (‘women’ in IsiZulu), and purple which you were given by the audience as a prompt. Did you write the poem down when you got off stage, and have you developed it further? Is the request for an audience prompt something you regularly do when performing?
Emma: You’re ever so kind, Nkateko. Thank you for extending the invitation and for the kind compliments. You are equally phenomenal. I heard you perform for the first time and thought you delivered with such grace and power.
A Freestyler is mainly who I am on stage, and always request audience prompts as that’s the only way I get to tap into the gift. I like to say the stage and outdoors in nature are the main places I get to be spontaneous, I’m overly organized and meticulous in my day to day life. So I love the opportunity the stage and audience affords me to break away from that.
Unfortunately I did not write the piece down, I got excerpts and have not received a full recording to transcribe and rework it. Hopefully I can do so in good time.
Getting to connect with you offstage, helping you recreate your Bay of Plenty picture and the fact that you didn’t think my taking over the shoot imposing, *laughs in self-awareness* and gracefully obliged, the last supper or what Slim Shaka calls the Ace Butchery meal, your care and concern for Ivandro and making it a point to keep us in the loop about his movement, our mini video production, are all moments that would stay with me for a very long time.
The City Durban, the festival’s well curated guests and the mix of awesomeness that the period afforded me, are forever immortalized in my heart. I’m glad our paths crossed in the way that they did.
Nkateko: Thank you so much for your kind words, Emma. Whew, I was not at all prepared for how emotional your response would make me. It has taken me years to make peace with the level of vulnerability that performance demands of me, and you sharing that connecting with the audience is the only way that you can tap into the gift of freestyling gives me so much clarity regarding my own process. I perform barefoot, and the act of taking my shoes off as my name is called feels like I am surrendering to the gift. There is no amount of rehearsal time that can prepare me for the moment when I need to face the crowd and speak my truth. I feel completely stripped of all my defences, barefoot at the mercy of poetry, and of God’s creation.
It truly is freeing to break away from the rigidities of our daily obligations, and I am so happy that poetry affords you that. I also hope that you will receive the recording of your piece so that you can see the magic that we witnessed. I agree that the festival programme was well-curated. I always go into a panic when I see a festival programme and realise just how many people I will have to interact with in a period of a few days, but when I land and get to meet everyone then my excitement kicks panic to the curb because I am so in awe of how poetry connects us beyond geographical, linguistic and psychosocial borders. We arrive as fellow participants and leave as friends.
“Fear may whisper or sometimes scream its doubts, but faith replies with assurance and somehow I know: this moment of momentary failure or misstep is not an end in itself; it’s part of the becoming.”
You have an incredible eye for detail, and that is what saved the Bay of Plenty shoot. Ivandro and I struggled because we wanted to capture the forest, but you came in and saw the individual trees that made up that forest. When I compare the 2018 picture with the 2024 version you helped me take, I see both the changes as well as what has remained constant because you helped me stand in the exact spot I stood in back then. Thank you for your patience and attention to detail. You pictured me as I was then and how I am now, and that made all the difference.
Our ‘last supper’ was so beautiful! We became the Ace Butchery Squad that day, and nothing will ever convince me of a more authentic connection than the one facilitated by food. I barely ate because I was in post-hydration mode after my race, but my heart was bursting with joy, just being there. Directing the “sit die ding in die lug” video for you and Slim Shaka was very special to me and I am glad it turned out so well. I go back to watch the video quite often when I want to relive that day; it is astounding how just one image can take you back to a moment in time and place.
Emma: It is heartwarming to read your reflections, Nkateko. Vulnerability is such a powerful space to create from, isn’t it? I can imagine the profound connection you feel when you perform barefoot, grounding yourself in the moment and surrendering to the truth poetry demands of us. That ritual speaks volumes about your intentionality as an artist and your willingness to let the craft flow through you rather than trying to control it. I truly admire that and find that deeply relatable.
For me, stepping into freestyling feels like opening a door to something greater than myself. There’s a surrender there too, but it’s less about preparation and more about trust, the kind of trust that says, “Whatever needs to be said will come.” That rawness, that exposure; it’s what makes the connection between performer and audience so profound. It’s like we’re baring our souls in real-time and hoping the audience sees the humanity in it. Your barefoot ritual and my public display of trust, speaks volumes about our willingness to be present in the moment, and I believe it’s necessary to honor that courage.
Your words about the festival resonated deeply with me. It’s true—there’s something magical about how poetry brings people together across barriers that would otherwise divide us. We come with our unique stories and leave with shared experiences, and that is such a testament to the power of this art form.
The Bay of Plenty shoot and the Ace Butchery Squad moments were nothing short of special. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much or felt as present as I did during that time —Emmah Maybe gets special credits for proposing the hangout. Recreating your photo was such a privilege because it felt like more than just capturing an image; it was about honoring a journey, yours and ours together. I’m so glad the shoot brought back the memories you cherished and created new ones for you to hold onto.
As for the “sit die ding in die lug” video, Slim Shaka brought so much energy, and directing it alongside you was pure joy. Watching it again reminds me of the joy in the moment that day, the way we collaborate effortlessly, and the sheer fun of it all. Isn’t it incredible how moments like these continue to feed our creative spirits long after they’ve passed? I guess we can relive this moment in many ways and not run out of ideas if we put ourselves to the task (Laughs).
Nkateko: I believe that honouring our courage requires an acknowledgement of what we fear. To be courageous is to venture in the presence of what scares us and to overcome it, or at least attempt to. But sometimes things don’t turn out the way we hope or anticipate they will. How do you pivot in a situation where you have courageously embarked on something and it has not gone as you planned? I understand that your creative process requires trust more than planning, so perhaps what I mean to ask is whether faith and fear ever intersect in your journey, and how do you navigate that?
Emma: Certainly, honoring that courage means facing our fears head-on, even when the outcome is uncertain. In my journey both on and off stage, faith and fear have often been dance buddies. Every step I have had to take has had faith and fear meet in the same spot, and I’ve come to accept that their intersection is not a thing to avoid, but instead a thing to embrace. I am always a bag of nerves all the way up to seconds before I mount any stage; big or small, and the same applies to when I’m making any decision; big or small- the unknown looms large. What if the words don’t come? What if I fail to connect? What if I make the wrong decision? But the fear keeps me grounded; it reminds me of my frailty as human and pushes me to lean in, into my faith in God. It’s this faith that pushes me to step forward, to trust that the words will flow and the connection will be made. It’s not always perfect, but there’s beauty even in the imperfection. I have had to learn to laugh at myself a bit more and to extend grace to myself in moments where I feel; I could have said something a different way or made a better decision.
When things don’t go as planned, I pivot by first allowing myself to fully feel the disappointment. Suppressing it only makes it louder. Then I reflect: where was the lesson hidden in the failure? Which version of Emma Ofosua is going into the next decision or performance? Faith becomes my anchor, a reminder that every misstep is part of the final choreography.
One of the greatest gifts of freestyling is its immediacy. Over the years, it’s taught me to stay present, to trust that the next word, even if uncertain, will move me forward. I’ve learned to treat life the same way. Fear may whisper or sometimes scream its doubts, but faith replies with assurance and somehow I know: this moment of momentary failure or misstep is not an end in itself; it’s part of the becoming.”
So to put it simply, yes, faith and fear intersect daily but I choose to acknowledge the fear and move in the direction of faith, trusting that the detours will serve a purpose. Does this hold true for you?
Nkateko: I love the analogy of fear and faith as dance partners meeting at a common point and each having their own steps in the sequence. My journey with poetry began in the church, so I can relate to the notion of being grounded by fear and being keenly aware of my frailty in comparison to the glory of God. Being on stage began that way: with a fire pent up in my bones like Jeremiah, and an inability to contain it lest it consumes me. If you were to watch my earlier performances in church, you would think I was a different person altogether because I was pacing from one end of the stage to the other. One day I decided to take my shoes off and stand in the centre, breathe and allow myself to deliver the message as clearly as it was given to me, and everything changed. I was still shaking like a leaf, but instead of moving around anxiously to distract myself, I stood still and looked at the congregants, completely in awe of the platform I had been given.
Faith has been an anchor for me too, especially in an industry where work is never guaranteed. I remember a particularly difficult waiting season where I was getting several consecutive rejection letters, and I had resigned myself to the idea that I had to start all over again, sending out applications and submitting new work for publication. Just as I was preparing for another planting season made up of writing in seclusion, I got an invitation to an international platform that I had not even applied for and thought “how is it that I am harvesting what I did not even plant?” Needless to say, I took the opportunity and the harvest that season was plentiful. Nothing that I had attempted in my own power materialised that season, but God opened many other doors and I rested in the knowledge that I was not the one in control.
“What if the words don’t come?” This question reminds me so much of Moses, when God sent him to speak to Pharoah. He was afraid of speaking with ‘faltering lips’, and I think that we do that too. We look at our audience and wonder if what we will say will touch their hearts, and I think that the vulnerability in expressing that fear allows us to receive the help we need. Moses got Aaron to accompany him, and I believe that in our own lives we also get the help we need if we allow ourselves to ask for it. What has been the greatest form of assistance you have received in your journey as an artist? Do you believe in the idea of ‘paying it forward’ by helping others as you have been helped, and what does that look like for you as an established artist?
Emma: I can imagine and vividly picture you pacing, to finally find stillness and surrendering to the art. It is a powerful testimony of how faith fuels growth and grounds us in uncertain times. I see the now and I can only be grateful for your submission to the process growth affords us.
Talking of a harvest you hadn’t planted reminds me of the many times I gave my all to a cause, emptied of all my strength and when I surrendered to it, God filled those moments with opportunities I could not have imagined. One such instance is in the events leading up to my debut publication. On the verge of my darkest depression compiling a manuscript as a last will of sorts and deciding if it was all I did before my story ended, I would be content. Only to finish and to date, have it be the one key that keeps opening doors. The day I published “I wish you courage in the night season” I remember picking up a copy and saying a simple prayer, similar to Moses’s response when asked what he had in his hands. I said; “this is all I have in my hands, Lord, part the seas, open the doors and may it bring me before kings and be the tool with which I serve men” and so has it been.
My greatest form of assistance has come in three ways: faith, mentorship and community. It took my community of friends to fundraise, design, photograph, promote and help launch my book. I have been fortunate to have people who believed in me even when my faith in myself wavered. There’ve also been moments when strangers became friends, a recommendation that landed me my first international trip and a resultant book distribution deal in 2021 and a friend who insisted I could pull off the All African Women Poetry Festival and wouldn’t let me give up even when I mentally gave up a few times before the inaugural edition. There’s also been friends who have repeatedly referred me for one paid gig after the other.
The idea of paying it forward is central to my artistry and purpose. I see it as an opportunity to sow seeds of hope and endless possibilities into the lives of others, just as was and is being done for me. This takes many forms: mentoring emerging poets, creating and maintaining platforms like the AAWPfestival or simply lending a listening ear and a trusting heart when someone shares their struggles. I believe our stories are not meant to end with us. Once we’ve lived through a phase, or an experience it becomes a bridge to bring others to safety or a river even, meant to transport the wisdom, encouragement and inspiration we gleaned from our journey.
If I can make room for others at the table that has so graciously served me, then by all means I would gladly extend myself to pull others into the light when they feel unseen, or speak life into dreams. If this culture of generosity within the arts industry, where we are not competing but rather lifting each other up, will be nurtured, then we will all be better for it.
Nkateko: The testimonies you have shared regarding your debut publication, the inaugural edition of the AAWPfestival and your journey in its entirety, are so powerful. You are blessed to have such a strong support system behind you, and I know that you will continue to achieve amazing feats. I completely agree that we need to cultivate a culture of generosity in the arts industry. When I started performing outside of the church, I saw what I describe as the “one Black woman at a time” phenomenon play out in the industry, and it felt like an unspoken rule that I had to compete with other women for that spot. I went in seeking community but found myself isolated because I did not fit into the dog-eat-dog slam world, which was dominant at that time, and I wasn’t willing to settle for meekly waiting my turn either.
I have always wanted a seat at the table, but without needing to remove someone who was already seated, and without pandering to gatekeepers. I am still frustrated with the industry because it has been slow to transform and become as inclusive as it should be, but it gives me hope to witness trailblazers such as yourself, building sustainable platforms against all odds. I am inspired. If we can overcome the scarcity mindset and realise that we each bring something unique to the table, our industry will thrive. Another fear I have observed amongst creatives is the idea of “aging out” of opportunities, where certain platforms are catering exclusively to artists under a specific age (mostly under 35) and it makes it seem as if there is an invisible timer in place. I want to be making art for as long as I live, and God willing, I will.
I am certain that our readers will be as motivated as I am to step out in faith and make the best of every opportunity, so before we go on with the busyness of the forthcoming festive season, where and how can we connect with you to see more of your work, purchase your book or reach out to collaborate with you in 2025? Are you the type of person who makes resolutions for the new year, or do you have a Word or scripture that guides you into uncharted territory?
Emma: Indeed, I am grateful for the seasonal and lifetime friends. Both make for a dynamic support system. The realization that not all who come our way will want to stay in community with us is one that would be liberating if we accept it in good faith. I know the feeling of isolation so well, however, it shouldn’t make us conform or lose sight of who we are supposed to be; kind and purpose driven.
The phenomenon of the “one Black woman at a time” often creates breeding ground for the scarcity mindset that limits us all. It’s why I strive to create platforms that not only celebrate our diversity but also give voice to the truth that there’s enough room for everyone to thrive. May we have the courage to resist the norms that don’t align with our values and continue to hold space in transformative ways for others.
Your mention of “aging out” struck a chord. Art isn’t bound by time; it evolves with us. I like to believe that our stories deepen as we age, and the world needs every phase of our expression. You’re absolutely right – art is a lifelong journey, and I am confident that you’ll continue to create works that inspire, challenge and heal.
For connecting with me, I am most active on Instagram and now TikTok (emmaofosua and emmaofosua1) where I share as often as I am able, content blending poetry and value-driven insights and glimpses into my creative journey. You can also find my book on Amazon and bookshops in Ghana and Kenya and soon on my website (emmaofosua.com). One can contact me for workshops, collaborations and speaking engagements on the same channels. I’d love to work together to build a thriving creative ecosystem, one that embodies the inclusivity we both believe in.
I am not so much of a year-on-year resolutions type person. I am more of a ten-years-in-advance planning kind of person and in each new year, I tend to frame phases around a word, and a scripture or two; a phase may go on for a year or two. For 2023/24 my guiding word has been “breathe” and Isaiah 40:31 & 41:10. These anchored me and provided clarity, or the ability to be still when I navigated uncertainty. This coming year, I haven’t yet received a word but I am open to the unexpected and I believe in the impossible. I trust that God is always at work, even in seasons that may seem quiet.
I am grateful for the opportunity and the refreshing conversation. See you soon, until then keep being light and salt wherever you find yourself. Cheers.
Nkateko: You are such an incredible ambassador for the arts, and I am honoured to have met you and to have had this conversation with you. Thank you so much for your time and your wisdom. I hope to see you again soon for another meal, and perhaps another isiZulu poetry prompt.
Nkateko Masinga is an award-winning South African writer whose poetry has been translated into French, Bengali, Tamil, Kannada and Romanian. Her latest book, Daughter Wound, was published by UK publisher Hazel Press in April 2024 and was named Book of the Week at the London Review Bookshop in the first week of its release.
