The first time I saw Naomi Wachira, she was on stage at the Columbia City Theater. The room was silent. While her presence was commanding, it was her voice that held the stillness of the audience. Naomi has the unique vocal ability to assert both power and sensitivity in her melodies, to hold a room breathless each time she opens her mouth to sing. I admired her talent and her poise - as someone who has always had a deep penchant for music (and the unfulfilled desire to make my own), I tend to both respect and envy female musicians – they not only remind me of that part of myself that wants to make music, but the part of me that isn't brave enough to do so. Naomi was no different. I had began to surmise that this flawless creature couldn't possibly feel fear on stage, she couldn't possibility have insecurities about her voice or her music. But, of course, Naomi quickly dispelled that myth: "Every day I have a show, I want to call in and be like: ‘I can't do this. I'm sorry, I have to cancel.' Every time … I feel that panic that I don't really have what it takes to do this."
Originally from Kenya, Naomi came to the states at 19 and landed at a conservative university in Chicago. "My Dad always wanted (his children) to do something that would empower other people," she described, recounting her initial goals to commit herself to public service. After she graduated, Naomi remained in Chicago for several years until a friend in Seattle beckoned her westward. Enrolling in a Theology and Culture graduate program at The Seattle School, Naomi quickly settled into life in Seattle. And just as she headed into her third year of school, Naomi found out she was pregnant. After balancing a part time job, full-time school, and full-time single motherhood, Naomi graduated, exhausted, with her 6-month-old, Aiyana, in her arms.
After graduation, Naomi thrust herself into work. But, recognizing her desire for her daughter to know her family and her culture, as well as her own need for support, Naomi sent Aiyana to stay with her family in Kenya, where she would live on and off for the next several years. In 2014, Naomi's father passed away abruptly. The man she tried so hard to honor by "following his legacy" was gone, and Naomi and her family were devastated. Following his death, Naomi realized that the truest way she could pay her father tribute was to give back to her community through something that she passionately and earnestly valued: music. So at 35, Naomi took a risk: she quit her job and went directly into the studio to start recording her first album.
People always talk about taking risks in order to realize their dreams, but to me, that statement has become cliché; it's begun to lose its actual meaning. That is until you begin to explore what that risk actually looks like. In Naomi's case, it was about massive sacrifice and painful vulnerability. "My risk has been offering myself to people," she described. "Asking people if I can come play (a show)… it's a very vulnerable place to be. I can't tell you how many emails I have sent out of the last 3 months, and only a very small handful of those that have come back and responded favorably. And I'm like: ‘Holy shit, I can't do this!' Because you bear that rejection." But she's doing it, regardless of how painful or terrifying, and over the summer, Naomi set out on her first tour across the US.
But that's really the only way Naomi could achieve her dream – to accept that a huge part of the journey meant being very, very vulnerable. And, to rely on another cliché, it was Naomi's choice to follow her heart that has truly honored her father's wishes, and it's through her music that she continues to follow his legacy.
Tell me about yourself.
I’ve always wanted to have a career in music, but it took a really long time to finally arrive at a place where I felt like I was ready to finally pursue it. In hindsight, I’m glad that it took that long because it gave me a chance to really understand what kind of artist I wanted to be.
Do you feel fulfilled by the work that you do?
I can honestly that I'm fulfilled with what I'm doing. Sometimes it's hard to trace that fulfillment when you're seeking to grow and expand or become better. I do love that I'm mostly at peace with myself and the life I've chosen. There's something about being able to do the thing you've always wanted to do that makes at peace with myself.
Tell me about yourself.
I’ve always wanted to have a career in music, but it took a really long time to finally arrive at a place where I felt like I was ready to finally pursue it. In hindsight, I’m glad that it took that long because it gave me a chance to really understand what kind of artist I wanted to be.
Do you feel fulfilled by the work that you do?
I can honestly that I'm fulfilled with what I'm doing. Sometimes it's hard to trace that fulfillment when you're seeking to grow and expand or become better. I do love that I'm mostly at peace with myself and the life I've chosen. There's something about being able to do the thing you've always wanted to do that makes at peace with myself.
Describe a time when you felt scared.
I remember being in relationship once where the guy talked to me in such a degrading manner and I remember feeling so incredibly small and insignificant, and realizing that I was too scared to assert my voice. I was completely unprepared for someone to say things about me that were untrue and yet didn’t know how to counteract those words in a way that felt safe.
How did you make it through?
I had an amazing group of friends who told me the real story of who I was, who didn't let me stay in the status of defeat or shame. When I didn't believe in myself or see my worth, they did, and they kept on reminding me of that. I also had an amazing therapist who helped me wrestle with the aftermath of that relationship.
Who do you have a girl crush on? Why?
Lupita Nyo'ngo'. She's the first Kenyan to take the world by storm and do it with such grace and poise.
What advice would you share with that former self?
To not build a wall around my heart for the sake of keeping it safe.