We Are Wakonté!


Every civilization that shaped the world owned its stories. Greece. Rome. America. China. They documented themselves relentlessly — their heroes, their failures, their ideas, their arguments and their errors, their art and their politics, their ordinary lives and their extraordinary ones.

That record became culture. Culture became identity. Identity became the foundation from which a people move forward with intention.

This is how it worked for them, and this is how it will work for us.

In Africa and the Caribbean, our histories are rich, our cultures alive, and our ideas serious and contested. What has been missing is not the story—it is the telling. Too much of what exists has been told by foreign voices, shaped by foreign priorities, for foreign audiences. Too much of what we know stays close to the chest, passed between elders who hold it from pride or from pain, undocumented and therefore, eventually, lost.

There is a well-known African proverb that says when an elder dies, a library burns to the ground. Wakonté exists to ensure that when our elders die, our libraries remain upright.

To that end, we are a media publication covering African and Caribbean life with the depth, craft, and beauty it has always deserved. We document the architecture of Accra and the literature of the Caribbean; the history of soca and the nuances of Wolof and Twi; the political thought of Marcus Garvey and the entrepreneurial spirit quietly thriving across both regions.

Our contributors have sat with heads of state and with artists scribbling music in small island studios. They cover the historical and the contemporary, the political and the personal, because they understand a fundamental truth: everything about our world matters.

We believe that storytelling is not a luxury. It is infrastructure. A people that does not tell its own stories cedes to others the power to define it—and that power, once ceded, is not easily reclaimed.

Wakonté started with a simple conviction: that documenting our own experiences is an integral part of how we shape the trajectory and speed of our development. The wealth in our successes, our failures, our methods, and our wisdom belongs to us. It is time we shared it, first, freely amongst ourselves, and then to a world that we are central to.

Our Editorial Principles

African & Caribbean Perspective

We approach global questions from the places we actually live: Accra and Castries, Lagos and Port of Spain, Nairobi and Kingston. Whether examining geopolitics, reproductive rights, or the philosophy of art, we recognize that the African and Caribbean experience is not peripheral to world events but central to understanding them.

Historical Grounding for Contemporary Questions

We understand the present as a conversation with the past. An essay on reproductive rights begins on a 19th-century plantation; a critique of monarchy begins with a poet in a colonial prison. You cannot understand where you are without knowing how you got here. Every piece we publish acts as a bridge across time.

Work That Outlasts The News Cycle

We do not chase virality. A piece published on Wakonté is designed to be as relevant and vital five years from now as it is today. We prioritize argument, research, and narrative over immediacy. We ask: What can we say now that will still matter when the noise has faded?

We do not chase virality. A piece published on Wakonté should be worth reading next year and five years from now. We prioritize argument, research, and narrative over immediacy. When we publish a timely piece, we ask: what can we say now that will still be true, and still matter, when the breaking news has faded?

The Regional Is Never Provincial

We trust that a deeply reported local story carries global meaning precisely because it is specific. Whether it is a Nigerian Afrobeat heir, a yellow house in Castries, trash transformed into treasure in Accra, or the history of soca in Trinidad, we do not “universalize” our stories to seem important. We speak to our own, knowing that the specific is the only true path to the universal.

We Bridge Africa & The Caribbean

We publish distinctly African work, distinctly Caribbean work, and the work that captures the “space between.” This bridge is not a void; it is a living, generative site of connection. From the copper sun of Timbuktu to the snapper bars of Trinbad, we are here to ensure the conversation remains a two-way street.

Voice As Evidence

We publish writers who write like themselves: Kwéyòl, Patois, Pidgin, Twi, Bajan. These are not “flavors”—they are the full register of intellectual life. Rhythm, personal anecdote, and code-switching are proof that a real person is thinking on the page. We treat the way we speak as valid intellectual evidence.

We do not chase virality. A piece published on Wakonté should be worth reading next year and five years from now. We prioritize argument, research, and narrative over immediacy. When we publish a timely piece, we ask: what can we say now that will still be true, and still matter, when the breaking news has faded?

Intellectual Daring

We publish work that is ambitious in thought but clear in language. We do not shy away from philosophy, archival research, or difficult political arguments. But we demand that every piece earn its complexity. Clarity is not simplification. It is respect for the reader.

Interdisciplinary Thinking

Serious questions do not respect disciplinary boundaries. Our writers move seamlessly between art criticism, architecture, and postcolonial theory. An essay about a house is also an essay about literature; a piece on music is a record of urban history. We hold multiple fields in a single argument.

Respect for The Reader

The “how” is as important as the “what.” We honor our readers through disciplined design: a narrow reading column, high-art illustration, and a sanctuary for deep focus. We assume our audience is as rigorous and curious as our writers and as hungry for complexity delivered with clarity.

We do not chase virality. A piece published on Wakonté should be worth reading next year and five years from now. We prioritize argument, research, and narrative over immediacy. When we publish a timely piece, we ask: what can we say now that will still be true, and still matter, when the breaking news has faded?