Caturday With Yaya Bey

Eloise Barratt: “Raisins” feels like such a tender declaration — a reckoning with dreams, fear, and grace. Can you tell us what gave birth to that song emotionally? Was there a specific moment when the Langston Hughes line crystallised its meaning for you?

Yaya Bey: “The song sort of just came out. Songs do that sometimes. They write themselves and then later you listen and find out what it’s about. After listening I decided it reminded me of a Langston Hughes poem.”

EB: You’ve described “Raisins” as a surrender. What does surrender look like for you right now — as an artist, a woman, a dreamer?

YB: “Right now, I’ve done all that I can do to get myself to the next step. I’m just gonna sit back now and let God do the rest.”

EB: Do It Afraid is such a resonant, poetic title. What does “doing it afraid” mean in practice? When did you last feel that fear and move through it anyway?

YB: “I’m afraid every day. The state of the world is insane; the price of living is out of hand but I’m alive and life is still worth living.”

EB: This album feels like a beautiful ode to complexity — joy and rage, tenderness and defiance, all held at once. Was that emotional layering intentional from the start, or did it reveal itself through the process?

YB: “Yes and no. I just make albums about life and life is already complex so I knew that the album would be that if I just documented life.”

EB: You’ve described this project as a rejection of past narratives being projected onto you — narratives that flatten, simplify, erase. That must feel immensely cathartic and liberating. Was there a moment in making Do It Afraid where you felt that shift most clearly? 

YB: “Really the shift was just in the language used in marketing the album. I’ve always had the same approach to music. People just weren’t writing about my music in an honest way. There were always projections.”

EB: You said, “onlookers… rob us of our nuance.” That sentiment is deeply moving — and one that so many artists, especially Black women, carry. How do you protect your nuance, your joy, your multidimensionality in a world that often demands performance over personhood? 

YB: “I can’t protect it. People are gonna perceive me however they decide to. Whether my nuance is protected or not it exists and I just have to find resolve in that.”

EB: There’s a clear joy and fullness to this album — it embraces R&B, soul, hip-hop, jazz, even dance. Did you set out with a sonic vision, or did the project find its shape intuitively? 

YB: “It was more intuitive.”

EB: You worked with some amazing collaborators on this record — BADBADNOTGOOD, Exaktly, Butcher Brown, DJ Harrison. What was it like opening your process up to more voices? Did any unexpected magic happen in the studio?  

YB: “A lot of this process happened remote. I’m really big fans of these guys and I’m grateful that musicians I respect want to work with me and contribute to my projects and also give me the space to work remotely because I need that.”

EB: Human connection is central to the album’s message — movement, intimacy, peace. Where are you finding connection lately, especially in an industry that can be isolating?

YB: “I had an album listening party and so many people showed up. People who have been listening to my music for years and relating to my experiences and the way I’ve expressed them over time and that really helped me to keep going. To say ok, take a step back, find your people and then move forward.”

EB: There’s such a strong lineage in your work — from Langston Hughes to Black feminist theories to deep-soul traditions. Who are the thinkers or artists guiding your internal compass right now? 

YB: “I have a lot of people I look up to and people I admire but right now I’m guiding me.”

EB: Let’s talk about joy — the real, sustaining kind. What’s bringing you joy these days, big or small? 

YB: “My garden.”

EB:  Lastly, how are you preparing to release this new body of work into the world? Is there a ritual, a grounding practice, or are you just letting it go?

YB: “I’m letting it go so I can then go ground myself.”