THIRD CULTURE KID : SOUND
In celebration of Black Music Month, we’re exploring the Sonic influences of African and Caribbean music lovers across the diaspora. We spoke with music enthusiast Dre, Anu, Aysha, Aji and, Fechi. Here’s what they had to say…
My name is Fechi Onyegbule, and I’m a psychology student and artist navigating life in Canada as a third-culture kid. As children, my siblings and I often travelled between Canada and Nigeria, caught between two worlds that shaped who I am. But as we entered grade school, our visits became less frequent, and I spent most of my time in Canada. That shift deepened my sense of duality. In Canada, I was a Black girl finding my way in a Western world that didn’t reect my heritage. In Nigeria, I was a sh out of water—not speaking the language of my ancestors and having an accent that marked me as an outsider. Yet, no matter where I was, my Nigerian roots anchored me. My family made sure of it, infusing our daily lives with pieces of home: the food we ate, our traditions, and especially the music we listened to.
Music became the bridge between my two worlds. It wasn’t just a soundtrack to my childhood—it was the heartbeat of my identity. From an early age, I was immersed in both traditional and contemporary sounds. I started piano lessons at six, and Saturday mornings were spent at Kpanlogo drumming lessons with my sister, learning rhythms that connected me to West Africa. I’d grumble about the early mornings, but every beat brought me closer to Nigeria. In high school, I added the saxophone to my repertoire and joined the choir, finding new ways to express myself through music.
At home, music was everywhere. My parents filled the house with the greats like Whitney, Maxwell, P-Square, and Kes. I didn’t realize it then, but those songs taught me about love, resilience, and joy. They became a way to hold onto my roots even as I grew up far from the motherland. I won’t admit it to my mom, but I stole some of her favourites!
Moving to Toronto for university was another turning point. The big city was vibrant and full of possibility, but it also left me feeling untethered, searching for belonging. Then one night, I went to an Afrobeats club event, and the moment the DJ played the songs I grew up on, something clicked. Hearing those nostalgic songs felt like a warm embrace from home. I danced, sang, and connected. That night, I went home and made a playlist blending childhood favourites with the fresh sounds of artists like Asake, Ruger, and Rema. Discovering these new voices felt like reconnecting with a part of myself I hadn’t realized was missing.
Music has been my constant through the years. It allows me to embrace my identity as both Nigerian and Canadian. Whether rediscovering old favourites or connecting with the evolving Afrobeats genre, music reminds me of where I’ve been and where I’m going. Through it, I’ve found a deeper understanding of myself and a way to thrive in both worlds without losing touch with either. It’s not just a part of my story, it’s what ties it all together.
As a Third-Culture Kid, my experience is balanced, yet misunderstood. It’s a unique blend of curiosity and excitement that sometimes leads to feeling split in two. Regardless, I allowed my parent’s taste in music into my heart, and frequent trips back home helped to solidify my connection to the music of the land.
In the remote, eastern end of Gambia and villages in Burkina Faso, my father grew up listening to Radio Guinea, the only way for him to hear the hits of the West African 60s and 70s. The static-laced sounds of the Kora and groups such as Bembeya Jazz ingrained a love for poetic instrumentals and traditional call-and-response within him. This love remains, reflecting in his decades-long appreciation for artists such as Salif Keita and Sekouba Bambino (my personal favourite). His love became mine and I now spend every week on the radio playing the contemporary rhythms derived from the sounds that echoed through the car speakers of my childhood.
The diversity of African music in my childhood has fostered an appreciation for the complexities of sounds that vibrate in languages I can’t understand. It’s the reason a song can bring me to tears even if I don’t know what’s making the singer yearn.
My first time alone in Gambia I was 18 and searching for meaning in my then-tumultuous life. It was mainly the sounds of Channel Orange (Frank Ocean) and CTRL (SZA) that helped me make sense of a world that seemed to consistently slip through my fingers.
I stayed with my aunt, and grew a close-knit bond with the unfamiliar world around me. One day, I was taking my mid-afternoon nap (as we do on vacation), and arose to the sounds of the kora and guitar making love as my aunt pounded away in the outdoor kitchen. I recognized a voice of my childhood, Sekouba Bambino singing a song (Na Soumbou) I couldn’t clearly understand. However, in my sleepy trance, in a land I didn’t quite understand yet, I found myself crying. As the tears fell down my face I symbolically surrendered myself to God, the land, and my loved ones. I was building my Mandinka, and only recognized a few words, but I remember falling back asleep knowing that everything was going to be okay. Interestingly enough, the song is about saying goodbye and carrying love with you. I had no idea at the time but I could somehow still feel it.
It’s for reasons like this that music is my favourite method of communication and expression of love. Each note is a thought, each riff is an expression and each beat is a memory. I’m forever grateful for the merger of musical cultures within my playlists and heart.
Share your experience as a third-culture kid.
Growing up with Jamaican parents, I found that I’ve always been able to maintain a strong connection to my roots, as my family made sure that we, who were born in “foreign”, understood where we came from and encouraged us to stay connected with our heritage. With that came challenges of trying to navigate between cultural norms in Canada and the ones my parents were raised with back home. For example, the collectivist culture that is prominent not only in Jamaica but throughout the Caribbean, prides itself on family, loyalty, respect for elders and working as a group in contrast to Canada’s individualist culture which focuses on individuality and freedom; I found that decision making not only for myself but amongst many third-culture kids I grew up with could be challenging and potentially cause some tension within a family. Overall, I feel like I've grown to embrace the multifaceted identity that comes with being a third-culture kid; growing up in a city as multicultural as Toronto, I feel made my upbringing a bit easier. I’ve been equipped with a great deal of resilience and the experience has also enriched my global perspective, having grown around other third-culture kids from various backgrounds with similar experiences.
Share one song from your culture that you love and why.
There’s many, but one that resonates with me deeply is “Kingly Character” by Garnett Silk. The track opens with him paraphrasing a speech by Marcus Garvey preaching, “look to the east for the coming/crowning of a Black king”, hearing that as a young kid was empowering. The song as a whole, I believe is one of the greatest examples of what Rastafarianism and Reggae music is about, oneness, unity and love. “Poor Man Style” by Barrington Levy is up there for me too, and also “Born a Winner” by Freddie McGregor because of nostalgia, reminds me of my childhood, the Domino and Ludi games and the summer family cookouts.
How did the music you grew up with affect your music taste today?
Being the youngest sibling in my family my ears were at the mercy of my older siblings and elders so I grew up listening to a variety of music genres. Everything from Caribbean music, 90’s-00’s Hip-Hop, 60’s-70’s Soul & Funk, 80’s-00’s R&B, 60’s-90’s Rock & Alternative from different regions throughout North America and England. Not to mention growing up taking trips to New York and Florida, being exposed to my Grandfather's music room, which was dedicated to Jazz, old Reggae and Ska records turned me onto music even more. Discovering this amount of music at a young age made me more open minded and eager to explore new genres and styles outside of North America. That open minded and eager mentality has led to me becoming a record hoarder today.
Tell us about popular music from your culture.
Growing up in a Caribbean household I was exposed to many different styles of music from Soca and Calypso to Lovers Rock and Dancehall. My Sunday mornings were dedicated to cleaning the house and was fueled by the voices of many Roots Reggae greats like Jacob Miller, Linval Thompson, Hugh Mundell, Don Carlos, Dennis Brown and many more. Also, being Jamaican with a strong Cuban ancestry, I find myself collecting and listening to alot of Son Cubano records by artists like Mongo Santamaria, Buena Vista Social Club, the Afro-Cuban All Stars and more. I find that Roots and Son Cubano have a lot more in common than we think. They both have African roots heard through the traditional African percussion in songs throughout both genres. Some rhythmic patterns in Son Cubano music can even be heard in Reggae tracks, and they both prioritize addressing societal issues like inequality and injustice which is something I hold in high regard. Roots Reggae’s emphasis on emancipating our people from “mental slavery” and embracing our African heritage is similar to the message in many Son Cubano songs that reflects on the Afro-Cuban experience.
Are there any specific instruments or sounds from your culture that you find particularly inspiring?
That whole 1970’s Dub sound and culture in Jamaica is mad inspiring to me. My homies and I often geek out about this time period of music because of how experimental and innovative it was. That 70’s Dub sound from Jamaica not only redefined Reggae music at the time, but it also laid the groundwork for many modern electronic music genres especially in the UK, which birthed genres like DnB and others through the influence of the Windrush generation.
How do you think your unique upbringing influences the way you experience or interpret music from other cultures?
I think that growing up around many individuals of different ethnic backgrounds and learning about their cultural practices has helped me to remain open-minded when it comes to music, exposing me to unique sounds that has helped to enrich my understanding of harmony, melody and rhythm. As crate diggers, selectors and producers we’re always on the hunt for unique pieces of music to collect, sample and/or play for others and I feel like it is important for us to embrace world music as this engagement can form and strengthen connections among different communities around the world and also allows for us to explore and appreciate different cultures.
Share one song from your culture that you love and why.
An Ebenezer Obey song that I can't remember the title of. I have fond memories of getting ready for church on Sunday mornings. My dad would blast this in the house, and tell me stories of how he grew up listening to it. As I get older, my spirituality has deepend on my own terms and the song lets me feel a connection to the past. Christianity was not always a dominant religion- colonialism changed spirituality for a lot of Yoruba people. In my memories of the Ebenezer song I hear something else. Not just praising a ‘catholic/christian’ “God” but being thankful for life, looking out at the land, seeing what changed, what was made, what can’t be explained at all, what marvels us. Staying true to and being respectful of that beauty is what I hear in those 18 minute ensembles. Communicating with ancestors through sound.
What challenges have you faced in trying to connect with or preserve your cultural music while living in a different culture?
So many. There’s this thing I have with archiving. “Old stuff”. Elders either dismiss it or find it cute. Never really respect it. Probably has to do with being a young woman. I can’t get the answers I want or need alone though. And sometimes when I ask, regardless of how eloquent, adamant or genuine I am, I get nothing. It can be hard when all I’m trying to do is preserve, revere and educate. I think historical changes concerning a woman’s "role" in "the home" have a lot to do with this. It’s not (monetarily feasible) for me to be at home all day but the feeling of being safe at home- I crave it. It boils down to this poem by Nikki Giovanni called Choices.
Choices
if i can't do
what i want to do
then my job is to not
do what i don't want
to do
it's not the same thing
but it's the best i can
do
if i can't have
what i want then
my job is to want
what i've got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more
to want
since i can't go
where i need
to go then i must go
where the signs point
though always understanding
parallel movement
isn't lateral
when i can't express
what i really feel
i practice feeling
what i can express
and none of it is equal
i know
but that's why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry
—Nikki Giovanni
Are there any specific instruments or sounds from your culture that you find particularly inspiring?
The tonation in Fuji music.
Share your experience as a third-culture kid.
Being a third-culture kid has been such an interesting and unique journey for me. I was born in Nigeria, lived in France for a few years, then moved back to Nigeria before finally settling in Canada. On top of that, I grew up in a small town in Southwestern Ontario, near the US border, where there were very few Nigerian families at the time.
For much of my life, my connection to my culture was limited to what I experienced at home or during family events. It wasn’t until I was older that I finally got to be around other Nigerians my age. Through community events and spending time with people who shared my background, I was able to connect more deeply with Nigerian culture.
How did the music you grew up with affect your music taste today?
The music I grew up with laid the foundation for my current taste, but I think my curiosity is what allowed me to build such a diverse palette over time. As a child living in Nigeria and France, I loved watching music videos. It was my favourite way to consume music, and I would spend hours glued to the TV.
Growing up near the US border, I also had access to Detroit’s local radio stations. I vividly remember driving around with my parents, listening to hip-hop and R&B on those stations. That’s where my love for those genres grew.
My connection to music grew even more, thanks to the internet. Instead of watching music videos on TV, I started exploring YouTube and discovering new music. That curiosity led me to genres like Alté, Underground Female Rap, Alternative R&B, and Electronic music. Discovering these styles has deeply shaped my music taste today, and I’m always on the lookout for new sounds to explore.
Are there any specific instruments or sounds from your culture that you find particularly inspiring?
I’m especially drawn to the drums. The use of syncopated drums and layered percussion in Nigerian music is something I find incredibly inspiring. It’s a cornerstone of our sound, and it brings so much energy to our music. In modern music, these rhythms have evolved even further, offering new opportunities for experimentation. That blending of traditional and modern elements is something that can take the songs to a whole other level.
How do you think your unique upbringing influences the way you experience or interpret music from other cultures?
My upbringing has given me a deep appreciation for music from across the Black diaspora. Despite the hardships and history that Black people have faced, I find it incredible how music continues to highlight the many ways we are still connected. It’s a powerful reminder of our resilience and shared creativity, even as each culture adds its own distinct expression to the mix.
What challenges have you faced in trying to connect with or preserve your cultural music while living in a different culture?
One challenge I faced was not growing up in a household where music was constantly played. Outside of family events, I wasn’t exposed to much Nigerian music as a child. It wasn’t until I started exploring music on my own that I began connecting with my cultural roots through sound. Attending university was another turning point because I got to share that experience with other Nigerians my age, which deepened my connection to our music.
Even now, I’m still discovering new ways to stay connected to my culture here in Canada. In 2023, I had the chance to go to Nigeria for the first time since I left, and that trip was incredibly meaningful for me. I plan to go back again this year, and I’m excited to continue deepening my connection to my culture and the community that shares it.
How do you think music can act as a bridge between different cultures, especially in your experience as a third-culture kid?
I have seen firsthand how music can bring people together across cultures. When we are united by a love for music, it feels like our differences fade away. Whether it is at a party, an event, or a concert, there is this shared energy in the room. It is just a group of people letting music move their souls.
Music is such a powerful tool for connection. It transcends language and cultural barriers, allowing us to communicate and celebrate our shared humanity. From my experience, that will never change.
Share your experience as a third-culture kid.
Being a third culture kid can be such a nuanced experience. I was born in Toronto and I’m proud of it. But when describing where I’m from, being Canadian never captures my full experience. I find myself more times than not defaulting to being Caribbean. Because although I’m Canadian, the culture, values, food, and music I was raised upon are Jamaican. The accents I hear around my home and throughout my family are Jamaican. It’s a beautiful thing honestly. Being from one place but so heavily identifying with another. I’ve seen it with so many other third culture kids. It’s not that we’re not proud to be from our birth countries, but we have an immense sense of pride of our roots.
Share one song from your culture that you love and why.
Omg Skankin Sweet by Chronixx. Not only does the song literally feel like warmth, but the lyrics and the video make me emotional. Visually we see three people in Jamaica working their jobs that can be pretty difficult. But after the work day is done you see them all finding joy through different mediums. Whether it’s dancing, painting or cooking, to me, it showcases the true essence of happiness that’s found in those little moments. And then to see all of this coupled with the lyrics “...everybody wanna feel irie, leave all your troubles and rock with me. Yuh nuh feel how sweet reggae music sweet?” Like what a masterpiece I absolutely do feel how reggae music is sweet when I listen to that song.
How did the music you grew up with affect your music taste today?
Growing up listening to a lot of Dancehall and Reggae at family barbecues where everyone was dancing has actually made me very picky when it comes to my music taste today. I of course have a love for most genres, but in any case where I’m supposed to be dancing or moving my body, I need something with ethnic roots. If there isn’t dancehall, soca, or afro playing at the function I’m not going!
How do you think your unique upbringing influences the way you experience or interpret music from other cultures?
I find that I have a very particular love for music that fuses cultural instruments with modern sounds. Being from Toronto, I have such an appreciation for different cultures. And understanding how much my cultural music makes me feel connected to my roots, I often get that same excitement when I hear music from other cultures. It’s such a beautiful thing to have distinct sounds and instruments that are tied to specific regions and periods of time. It’s a form of historical storytelling.
