We were lucky to catch up with Salem Aya recently and have shared our conversation below.

Salem, appreciate you joining us today. Let’s start with the story of your mission. What should we know?

As a queer SWANA woman, I grew up incessantly being told what I should and shouldn’t be. Many of my formative years were spent concealing the brightest parts of myself out of fear of rejection or shame. Slowly but surely, I came to realize that feeding into those false narratives would keep me stuck in a rut of self-detriment. I took it upon myself to invest in my individuality and creativity, unapologetically expressing myself and celebrating all aspects of my identity–and thus the personage of Salem Aya was born.

So I suppose my mission is to empower others in doing the same, especially those from my home country of Morocco. All the music I’ve put out is very nonconformist and radical from the perspective of the society in which I grew up. I’ve always sought to make people uncomfortable through my confidence in rejecting cultural norms, in hopes of destigmatizing topics like female sexuality, mental health, and LGBTQ rights. True reform can only be achieved through radical initiatives, and I’ve made it a point to make sure my artistry collectively maintains that conviction and pushes the boundaries of what is hailed as orthodox. I believe in the power of individuality, peculiarity, and above all, the importance of celebrating these facets.

Salem, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I can trace my passion for music back to my childhood. I picked up the guitar after my mother introduced me to Elvis Presley at the age of five and proceeded to teach myself simple chords for several years following that. Having no formal musical education was never a hindrance in my experience, and if anything, it allowed me to build on my passion at my own pace. Music was always one of those subjects that I found difficult to be taught as a student, much like math. I grew easily frustrated with myself during the few attempts I made at trying to sit through the basic compulsory classes offered at my elementary school. I was lucky enough to have a teacher that understood this, and allowed me to learn by ear. I’m proud to call myself a self-taught guitarist, even if the music I release at the moment is primarily rap and hip-hop. My taste in music is so versatile and conflicting, it truly is a testament to the energy and aesthetics I put into my art. Over the years, I’ve drawn inspiration from so many different genres and artists from around the world–all of whom have played such imperative roles in shaping both my current personal and musical style.

In terms of the music I’ve put out over the past two years, the persona of Salem Aya came about as a result of haphazard circumstances and honoring myself after persistently struggling with mental health for the vast majority of my life. There came a certain point in my journey where I realized that the way I was living just wasn’t working anymore, or perhaps never worked at all now that I think about it. My mental health was the worst it had ever been and I experienced a massive disconnect with myself as an artist. But it was on me to hold myself accountable and catalyze the change towards a more positive and fruitful mode de vie. Music has always been one of the few things that truly makes me happy, so I took it upon myself to stop viewing it as some delusional, unattainable dream. When I began prioritizing my creativity and finding my footing as an artist, everything seemed to align, in all dimensions of my existence. I put all my pain, aggression and energy into my music, and it’s truly been such a blessing to have an outlet in which I can turn darkness into something healthy and beautiful.

Healing and grief are seldom linear paths, but the only way to advance towards either is to delve head-first into all the emotions that feel uncomfortable or intimidating. I became tired of grieving the person I thought I was meant to be, and realized that she had always been here. It was just on me to do the work, especially in a creative context, to coax her out of the insecurity and shame. Perhaps my story is not as pretty and palatable as others, but it’s authentic to me and I find it important to talk about the hardships that come along with the human experience.

Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?

I actually love this question. I’m sure many creatives can relate to the feeling of “imposter syndrome”. As artists, these feelings can be so insidious and impede our self-perception and growth. I can’t even count how many times I’ve doubted the music or content I’ve put out, even post-release. But as artists, it’s important to ground ourselves and realize our minds will often be our toughest adversaries. There is always room for improvement, but we creatives must take the time to be gentle with ourselves and celebrate our achievements. A lot of people can’t fathom the levels of doubt, tribulation, and anxiety it takes to consistently put yourself and your art out there for the world to behold. Personally, there came a point in my development as an artist where I had to switch off that voice of self-doubt and just create– simply because making music makes me so incredibly happy and filled with purpose. And that was enough of a reason for me to keep doing what I’m doing.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

I would have to say that the response from fellow Moroccans has been by far the most rewarding aspect of being an artist. I never expected to be received so warmly by my people, considering the fact most of my music outrightly discusses taboo topics within my culture. It truly gives me hope for the future, but also encourages me to continue sharing my art with my people. I’ve received so many loving messages from queer youth from both Morocco and SWANA as a whole. I want my music to be a safe space for all, but especially for individuals that share a similar background as well. Spending the past eight years in Miami and New York has undoubtedly allowed me the freedom to explore and embrace who I am as an individual, and it’s important to acknowledge not everyone has that privilege. I certainly did not grow up with those liberties, so I’ve made it my life’s mission to make sure I can do whatever I can to encourage and empower those looking to unapologetically embrace themselves–regardless of where they come from.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://open.spotify.com/artist/6yElIdnFNP7VXzcDDvnLI5
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/iamsalemaya/?hl=en
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCL8ghi93aZnaGiQ2VMAqDTg

Image Credits
Sonia Broman, Natasha Ribeiro-Austrich