DARKWAH is making silly, dumb-bitch, queer music
DARKWAH is making silly, dumb-bitch, queer music
The British-Ghanaian artist is a warrior wordsmith creating a queer church for their community where they can throw ass.
Lara Hedge · 29 September 2026
The British-Ghanaian artist is a warrior wordsmith creating a queer church for their community where they can throw ass.
Darkwah Kyei-Darkwah believes in doing. When we meet, the multihyphenate, known mononymously as DARKWAH, tells me with a smile that they are “mentally and physically exhausted” this week. But it’s not long before their energy is piqued, eyes lit, and they’re poised forward, telling me a usual day begins at 5am. “I’ll stretch, work out, smoke a joint, and have my ashwagandha gummies. I believe in maximising the day.”
All that doing has hardened into a posture — a way of moving that keeps the worst of the world at a distance. “There are certain things that people would love to do to me that are hateful,” they say. “But they don’t feel like they can because of the way I carry myself.” This habit started in childhood. “Growing up queer, I didn’t like being at home,” they admit. “I’d wake up early, go to language lessons before school or practice singing and guitar. After school, I’d dance and do athletics. If you’re miserable, you can do something to change it.”
DARKWAH began performing in drag at 19 and now, at 32, it seems that a single lane has never appealed. They’ve been a fashion editor at Gay Times, a brand and creative director, a DAZED100 alumnus and, now, an artist. Their first single dropped in 2022, and by 2025, there was a poetry EP, Black Black. In February 2026, they released The Art of Staying Open, an 11-track debut album that pulls from rap, spoken word and the Afro-tech dancefloor. You can also find them in a pink bikini leading crowds to the Trans Stage at London Pride, at the Gay Games in Hong Kong performing to a three-thousand-person stadium, or at the Sundance Film Festival in the cast of British-Iraqi filmmaker Amrou Al-Kadhi’s feature film, Layla.
The thread that ties these disciplines together? “My desire to connect with people.” Their ability to do this stems from an innate gift for communication. Whether it’s rap, poetry or protest, words seem to roll off their tongue like a liquid melody. To this, they credit their father, Kwasi Kyei Darkwah, popularly known in Ghana as KKD, a Ghanaian broadcaster and orator, and now Ghana’s Special Envoy to the Caribbean Region. It’s not hard to see the resemblance. Wordsmithery is at the heart of everything DARKWAH does.
Lara Hedge: What music did you listen to growing up? DARKWAH: Oh my god, old school rap and hip-hop. ODB [Ol Dirty Bastard], Kool & The Gang, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, Heavy D & The Boyz. All of my rap comes from there, but I’m a classically trained opera singer — that and musical theatre are what I’m comfortable with, which is why I released music the way I did. I never put it into focus because I was doubting myself.
DARKWAH: Oh my god, old school rap and hip-hop. ODB [Ol Dirty Bastard], Kool & The Gang, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, Heavy D & The Boyz. All of my rap comes from there, but I’m a classically trained opera singer — that and musical theatre are what I’m comfortable with, which is why I released music the way I did. I never put it into focus because I was doubting myself.
Lara Hedge: How do you feel about the space music takes up in your life now? D: I feel so silly for doubting myself! Music and art exist to help you communicate. We all get sold the dream of wanting to be Beyoncé or Kehlani, but if there aren’t people writing lyrics the way that I write lyrics, then there’s space to communicate in that way, however big or small. I’m now allowing myself to be happy with the space I’m taking up.
DARKWAH: I feel so silly for doubting myself! Music and art exist to help you communicate. We all get sold the dream of wanting to be Beyoncé or Kehlani, but if there aren’t people writing lyrics the way that I write lyrics, then there’s space to communicate in that way, however big or small. I’m now allowing myself to be happy with the space I’m taking up.
Lara Hedge: You said the thread that ties your creative disciplines together is connecting with people. Is that how music became part of the picture?
DARKWAH: So much of my life, I was compartmentalising. I just want to connect lots of experiences and make people feel more whole. When I’m on the decks, I want every person on the dancefloor to feel seen and represented — not through homogenous commercial culture or queer culture, but because I have decided I want to learn about their culture and how to make them move. When I decided I wanted to make music, I had 52-inch-long braids and three-inch-long nails, and I lived in Bethnal Green. There was a power in that which allowed me to be silly, bitchy and fun. I just decided I want to make silly, dumb-bitch, queer music.
Lara Hedge: You’re a natural performer. What role does performance play in your music?
DARKWAH: It’s been an interesting journey. When I started performing in drag at 19 was when I decided I was non-binary. I was putting on clothes to not be me. Then I went through a hyper-feminisation era. Now, I’m in an interesting middle ground where I feel neither masculine nor feminine. I recently chose to stop doing costumey stuff on stage. I did my first solo show in February this year. It was very chill. We did a cabaret-style with soft lighting. If you want to see me dance, then come see me DJ. At my shows, I want it to feel like you’re in my bedroom.
““Take my dad and just sprinkle some queer shit on him, and it’s basically me.””
Lara Hedge: Your poetry EP, Black Black, is very different from your album, The Art of Staying Open. Talk to me about how your sound has evolved.
DARKWAH: The sound I like is the sound that I listened to when I was 13. It’s a little bit of Britney Spears’ ‘Touch Of My Hand’, mixed with Craig David’s ‘Can’t Be Messing Around’. I’m getting braver about putting that out. When you exist as Black and queer, it can feel like, ‘Oh my god, I have to give them all of the yah, and the this and the that’, right? You shoehorn yourself into those expectations. I’m not Todrick [Hall], and I’m not RuPaul. I’m DARKWAH. That’s sultry, sexy, sensual and super intimate, but a Scorpio softie at heart. That’s my sound: anything that’s ever brought me joy.
Lara Hedge: How do you carry that ethos into your DJing?
DARKWAH: I hate clubbing in London because I don’t like most of the music being played. We’re all very happy to settle for generic because it’s easier to fit in that way. I want to go somewhere and learn that I’ve been missing out. When I play, you’re not gonna hear Doja Cat and Gaga raw. You’re gonna hear it on a disgusting Afro-tech beat that makes you feel like your ancestors have come up from the ground, inhabited your body and are commanding you to move! One of my favourite DJ gigs was the HUNGER Christmas party. It was insane. I’ve never seen people dance like that at an event.
Lara Hedge: We’ve spoken about the art of communicating in all the work you do. Where did you learn that?
DARKWAH: Take my dad and just sprinkle some queer shit on him, and it’s basically me. It’s everything that I do. He was a thorn in my side when I was younger, but he prepared me to be the best, taught me how to navigate situations and taught me how to communicate. Because of him, I took to DJing so easily. He was the first person in West Africa to rap and mix live on air simultaneously.
Lara Hedge: What has been your favourite musical performance, and what do you hope to do more of?
DARKWAH: At Qommunity Festival in Antwerp last year, I got to speak as well as DJ. All of my voice notes and spoken content are going to eventually be openers for my sets. It’s going to be like going to queer church. We’re gonna shake off the shackles of having to mask or code-switch and just bask in the glory of who we are… before we get down to the business of throwing some ass. Because you can’t throw ass in your shackles. You can only bounce.
Photographer Jordan Rossi Writer Lara Hedge Stylists Dom Crystal and Zain Shah Make-up Artist Tomie-Marie Banjo using SLEEK MAKEUP Photographer's Assistant Jimmy Parratt Retouching Lydia Tzirkova
Related Stories
The drop list
Stay in the loop
Get the latest stories, events, and drops straight to your inbox.