Introducing a new series I’ve been dreaming about for a long time: Queens Are Not Born, They Are Made.With this project, I want to share portraits of women — their stories before they ever wore a Malka Crown. Because a Crown is never just a beautiful piece of fabric; it often comes after a journey of identity, loss, resilience, and healing.Through these stories, we’ll learn from one another. We’ll remember that none of us were born Queens — we became Queens through the path we walked, the battles we fought, and the way we chose to rise.
Audrey - London, UK
Uprooted from her distant Guadeloupe, my best friend rediscovered a part of herself that October evening when the drums were singing and the rain was falling in a neighbourhood in south London.
Born in the French Caribbean island of Guadeloupe, Audrey left her island early in her childhood, first for Paris, then for London. Her parents wanted to take advantage of this time so she could become bilingual and pursue higher education in law. Today, she is thirty years old, and she has created her own life in the UK.
Like many of us who grew up far from home, Audrey always made frequent trips back and forth to Guadeloupe to visit her family. With each step back onto her native soil, the same feeling resurfaced: the peaceful feeling of returning to her homeland.
She was craving a part of her culture that seemed so far removed from who she was, yet so close and present at the same time.
One evening, we went together to a party organised by a Guadeloupean association that presented Gwoka, the traditional Guadeloupean dance, which is always accompanied by drums, songs, and colourful madras fabric. I had chosen a simple yet original combination to represent Martinique: my denim bonnet with a Madras Juju band.
Leaving home, I grabbed a Lila Madras headband from my bag. It was inconceivable to me that my best friend wouldn't wear her Madras scarf for such a symbolic evening.
Upon arrival, I proudly crowned her before the eyes of the spectators. They didn't know whether to watch the spectacle, the crowned woman, the magnificent Madras headwrap Crown on her head, or all three at once. It felt like a wonderful painting from antan lontan.
At that moment, I was so proud to see the power a Crown could have. Not only because Audrey proudly wore her Malka crown, but especially because she was in Madras. I'm sure her grandmother would have been so proud to see her wear it with such elegance and pride.
I saw my best friend so happy, feeling like she belonged there and represented her heritage so loudly and proudly.
That evening, I understood that our crowns are not just pieces of fabric. They become roots for those who lack them, a bridge between what we have lost and what we still carry within us. A crown doesn't fix everything… but it reminds us of where we come from, and sometimes, that's the first step toward finding ourselves again.
