The Cities that shaped me

From Lomé to the world: a journey through the places that shaped my life.

I recently came across a beautiful post by Amandine Bula about the cities that live in her. She wrote:

“I sometimes think of all the cities I’ve lived in, visited with friends, family, solo travelled—or even just passed through—as chapters in a book I’m still writing. Some left behind entire paragraphs, others only a sentence or two, but they all left something.”

I too lived many lives in many cities. And as I consider where ‘home’ really is after years of moving between places and cultures, I realize each city gave me something to carry forward.

This post is the first in a small series, a collection of thoughts on identity, and lessons from living in multiple countries.

Let’s begin with the cities that raised me, inspired by Amandine ✨

Lomé, Togo

Home. Not just the first chapter but the heart of the book. My sacred place, the one that knew me first.

Lomé raised me gently. It gave me a kind of safety before I even knew the world could be harsh.

Lomé is where I learned about community, belonging, and the power of being surrounded by people who care. It’s where I understood what “it takes a village” means. And the truth is everybody was a villager. No one stood on the sidelines. People showed up no matter what.

My names live here. My native language lives here. This is the place that still anchors me, no matter how far I go.

Paris, France

I moved to Paris when I was eight years old. I understood French, but nothing prepares you for leaving your whole family behind and starting over with your mom at such at that age.

As a child, Paris felt like the ultimate dream. Maybe it was the movies I watched, maybe something else, but I always wanted to be there. And when I arrived, it opened up a new world and shaped the rest of my journey in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Paris gave me chances, but I had to fight for every one of them. It made me realize I was different, that I was Black, and immigrant, that I didn’t quite belong. That I wasn’t enough.

Paris made me aware of the invisible lines people draw between each other, you know the lines shaped by race, class and even postal codes. The city opened my eyes to racism: not the loud one, but the constant and sneaky one. And yet I fought to exist in it, to find beauty in it and to write my own story inside its walls.

Today, my relationship with Paris is more… complicated. After 25 years, it still feels like home (and I’ll be forever grateful), even if it’s not a soft one.

New York City, USA

I came with a job, but NYC gave me so much more. It gave me another chance, movement, vision, fire. NYC believed in me.

The clichés are true: New York is a feeling. It’s loud, fast, messy, electric. I found my people there, I found my pace, I found a version of myself that believed everything was possible. I was dreaming out loud, and becoming someone new. And even now, I still carry that energy with me.

What I also loved about New York is that for once, I didn’t feel different and I didn’t have to shrink to fit. I could open a magazine and see people who looked like me. I could walk into Sephora and find products for dark skin without hunting them down. There were African restaurants everywhere. No one was staring at me in the streets. I could be loud, soft, creative, and just be myself.

I go back at least twice a year. Every time I land at JFK, I breathe in the ambition, bagels, and chaos. And I remember: I can be loud, soft, messy, and seen, all at once.

Shanghai, China

China wasn’t on my list. Not even close. But life took me to Shanghai, and thank God it did.

At first, I was lost. No language, no references, no idea what I was doing. But the city taught me to give things a chance to adapt, to observe more, speak less and let go.

In many ways, Shanghai felt like a blend of everywhere I’d lived before. A bit of Paris’s elegance and charm, a touch of New York in its intensity and energy, flashes of Lomé in the warmth of daily life, in the way people cared for their elders, in the community.

Shanghai is also where a quiet shift began in my life. It’s where I started shedding old versions of myself, and stepping into someone new. The city held that in-between space, and that’s why it’s so close to my heart.

When COVID hit, my experience was cut short, leaving me with a sense of unfinished business. But when I revisited in 2023, Shanghai welcomed me like a friend I hadn’t seen in years, changed in some ways, yet familiar in others.

Rio & Salvador

Brazil wasn’t supposed to feel like home, but it did. Rio and Salvador felt familiar in the most unexpected ways. The drums, the food, the way people move and gather and love. I saw pieces of Togo in the streets of Salvador and pieces of my own story.

It was in Brazil that I learned more about African history, spirituality, and traditions than anywhere else. So many enslaved Africans (mainly from Benin and Togo) were taken there, and their legacy is everywhere in the music, the rituals, the resistance, the JOY. In a way, being there helped me understand my own roots more deeply.

Feeling so blessed as I write this. Not everyone gets to live this many lives in one lifetime. And yes, there was pain, displacement, and grief. But also: movement, beauty, clarity.

I’m still not sure where “home” is. But I know I’ve been shaped by more than one place, one language, one version of myself. And this is the start of my story 💛

What about you? Which place shaped you most and what did it teach you?