Marieme is a powerhouse. The Sengalese-American performer masterfully uses her life experiences to water the powerful, growing activism in music, which is vital today.
Raking in global fans on the daily, the singer/songwriter has navigated a tricky journey to the top, from religious setbacks to finding her place as an immigrant and relying on her self-belief to conquer a career in the arts.
And while Marieme has won widespread critical acclaim, a coveted badge of authenticity and celebrity fans, she's unapologetic in her future ambitions; which makes it clear that she is just getting started. Here, she talks to GLAMOUR about the life experiences that helped shape her into the woman she is today, the struggles she's overcome in the industry and why it's imperative for her not to sell out for mainstream success.
“I wrote it in a really different way.”
GLAMOUR: Your career so far has been impressive, and in particular, your song, Built for Greatness, has won fans in Michelle Obama and Oprah with its powerful message. How does that kind of reception feel?
MARIEME: It's validating that I'm on the right path because I've been speaking about change and how we need to do better as humans since my first EP in 2018. When the George Floyd murder happened in 2020, and everybody had time to be more aware of the systemic problems, then a lot of people started paying attention to the music. It's affirming that people are catching on and they understand the urgency of the times that we're in.
What life experiences shaped your desire to get into the music industry?
I grew up in a Muslim household, and I was told not to be a musician. We're first-generation immigrants from Senegal, so my parents didn't think the arts were a career. It was like 'if you're not a lawyer, doctor, or engineer, you're not doing anything with your life.' My mum used to scare me by telling me I would go to hell for it. So I didn't even think it [music] was possible for a long time. I started music later in life. But I knew I had to do it, otherwise, I'd be sad for the rest of my life. I had to step out and be an outlier.
Did you feel like you held on to bitterness over not having much support when it came to your career early on?
Definitely. Not only because they wouldn't let me do it but because of the stress. At first, I would end up just getting so f****** up before getting on stage because I would choke, and I'd hear my mother's voice telling me that I would go to hell and that Allah does not like music. I was like, how is it that I can't do this if this is what I'm good at and this is where my heart's at? So I held a lot of bitterness, but I had to get over it. And how I got over it was just getting into meditation, going to the jungle in Peru, doing plant medicines, doing a bunch of ayahuasca, and running away a lot.
How has your relationship changed with your parents now?
They're proud of me now, which is amazing! I was crying once because my dad said, 'I want you to know that I'm very proud of you.' It was very emotional. My mum is very stubborn because we come from a religious background, and my uncle was a religious leader in Senegal, so she cared more about her reputation and her family's reputation. But my dad is a very worldly person. I found out afterwards that he used to be a musician when he studied abroad in Russia for six years! My dad is now like, 'Why don't you sing about the Prophet Mohammed? You're going to bring so many people to Islam!' I'm like, ‘Father, this is not the time!’
Your music makes such an impact culturally. Why has it been crucial to stay true to your roots and not sell out for mainstream success?
I want to be happy with myself later in life. I always knew that I wanted to make impactful things. It goes back to not having the confidence to do the things that I wanted to do. I never thought I was as capable as the producers I was in the studios with because they went to [music] school. I didn't get the chance to learn all that, so I'm self-taught. When I'd go into the studio sessions, I'd let them take the reins and let them guide me. But now I am in total control.
When I first came to America, I learned English through music. I'd listen to Mariah Carey or Brian McKnight, and it would make me cry, and that's what I wanted. I wanted to make an impact. I never wanted to make sh** pop songs. So I'm happy that I'm still about that because that's the only way to make a difference.
Your music is reaching international audiences, too. What message do you want to send to people listening to your songs across the globe, especially when we're so divided?
There's so much division, and it's unfortunate. At six months old, I escaped war. I was a refugee, and my parents got on the last plane from Mauritania to Senegal, and we lost everything. I don't even have baby pictures. I'm like, s***, I knew I was cute as a baby! But I feel like I grew up in conflict most of my life, but also in peace. I know about external conflicts, and I know about internal conflicts just from being an immigrant and the brunt of racism, colourism, and trying to be somebody else. I was called all types of names.
I had to deal with all that, and get past it, to be where I am now. So, I understand that many of the issues we face are societal issues and that they can be fixed through us individually doing the work. I've travelled a lot in the world, and I see that people are the same everywhere. We all want to be loved. So, the key to solving those problems will be the individual work we do as people because it reverberates outside.
Off the back of that, we live in a time where brave female musicians are coming forward and talking about issues such as gender and pay disparity. What have been the central issue in your music career so far, if any?
Not only gender but colourism. Do you see any dark-skinned women making it? Never. Grace Jones, maybe, Nina Simone, and they must be exceptional. That's the main thing I face, but I knew that going in. I can't look like anybody else. I'm going to be my highest self. The systems of the music industry do not work for me. I'm paving my own way, and it's a lesson for people just to be themselves, and that the world's ways don't have to be the way they are.
As well as your written material, why has expressing yourself visually been so important?
I feel like for most of my life, I was trying to be somebody else besides myself. Once I got through a lot of the noise, I could find myself and do what I wanted. Sometimes when I go outside, people come up and give me a hug. I feel like they were like, "You make me feel like I can be free". When you're free, you set others free, and that is exactly the space I'm in. Like I said, I've always tried to be somebody else when I was younger. I was trying not to be dark-skinned because of society. But when I found myself and my inner voice, I was able to radiate that out.
What has been the most empowering moment of your music career so far?
The most empowering moment was when I moved to LA from New York. My parents were against it, everybody was against it. But I worked a couple of restaurant jobs, I had $500 in my pocket, and I moved to LA. I was staying in hostels with six other people the first week. But as soon as I got there, I was so determined. I made a song within three days called "Leave," and I ended up getting a publishing deal with Universal a week after. I started believing in my power of manifestation. I was being responsible for the energy I put out there and understanding my power. That was the most profound moment of my music career.
Finally, what is your message to women worldwide listening to your music, especially in a day and age where they're submerged in pressures from all angles?
Self-love is the key. When you think about the scale of the universe, our atoms and our cells, everything works at the smallest level, and it reverberates out. I talk about self-love, meaning that we have to love ourselves for anybody else to love us and are responsible for our energy. Love yourself. That's the best thing you can do in the world.
Listen to Marieme's music here.
