Women’s Month is often a stark reminder of the work that remains. Across the African art world, artists continue to carve space for visibility, recognition, and the right to tell their own stories on their own terms. For Rwandan visual artist and curator Kakizi Jemima, curation is an act of reclamation. Through Impundu Arts, she amplifies narratives that reshape the artistic landscape—one that resists erasure and redefines how histories are documented.
Her recent exhibitions, Walk With Me and Fierce Femmes, embody this vision. Walk With Me, which debuted in Ghana, shifts the focus to mental health, interrogating how healing is framed within the African context. Featuring ten contemporary women artists, it brought together diverse perspectives on well-being and resilience. Fierce Femmes explores the complexities of being a Rwandan woman 30 years after the genocide, unearthing layered histories of resilience, identity, and exclusion. These projects reimagine how art engages with lived experience and collective memory.
As we reflect on Women’s Month, Jemima’s work stands as a testament to the power of inclusive storytelling. In this conversation with TewasArt Africa, she speaks about the urgency of curatorial practice as a form of resistance, the evolving landscape for artists, and why storytelling is inseparable from power.
Accra has been your home for the past few weeks as you curated Walk With Me. What has this experience meant to you?
Co-curating in a new city has been transformative. It requires listening first—to its rhythms, its people, and the conversations already unfolding. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, with people engaging deeply, especially around mental health, which is at the heart of this exhibition. The most rewarding part has been witnessing art as a tool for connection and reflection.
You began as a visual artist before moving into curation. Was there a moment when you knew this was the language you wanted to speak in the art world?
It wasn’t something I planned—it was something I had to do. As a woman artist in Rwanda, I saw how few of us were being exhibited, and how our work was often overlooked. Instead of waiting for someone to create opportunities, I decided to build them myself. That’s how I found my way into curation—through necessity and a deep need to see women’s stories represented.
What did art mean to you before that shift?
I was always creating, even before I had the language for it. My mother taught me how to sew when I was young and I picked up crochet while in school. Back then, I didn’t think of it as ‘art’—it was just making things. But that ability to create something out of almost nothing still shapes the way I work today.
Impundu Arts has become a critical platform for women artists. What was the vision when you founded it?
Impundu, in Kinyarwanda, is the sound of women ululating in celebration—a declaration of joy and presence. I wanted to build something that carried that spirit: a space where women artists have agency and influence. Impundu Arts is more than exhibitions; it’s about mentorship, visibility, and reshaping how women navigate the art world.
That commitment to shaping narratives extends to your curatorial work. Your exhibitions often tackle deeply personal and societal themes. How do you approach storytelling in curation?
I see exhibitions as a form of collective storytelling. Each show gathers voices, histories, and experiences into one conversation. Last year, we curated an art project, which sparked dialogue on gender-based violence and bodily autonomy. Art has a way of saying what words alone cannot. I’m interested in how we can use it to break silence.
That idea of breaking silence was central to Fierce Femmes, which posed a powerful question: How does it feel to be a Rwandan woman today, 30 years after the genocide? What kind of responses did you receive?
The works were as layered as the question itself. One artist explored women’s role in agriculture—how they have long been the backbone of the sector yet remain unrecognized. Another created a video performance on the policing of women’s bodies. It begins with a woman walking through a market, harassed for wearing a short skirt. As she layers on more clothing to conform, the weight of expectation becomes visible—until she reclaims her agency, shedding the layers and dancing freely. At its core, Fierce Femmes was about documenting, celebrating, and reclaiming narratives
Walk With Me shifts the focus to mental health. What inspired that exhibition?
My own experiences. I went through six months of counseling classes, and it completely shifted my perspective. Walk With Me was born out of that—out of wanting to ask: What does mental health mean in an African context? So much of what we are taught comes from Western frameworks, but healing looks different depending on where you are. We exist within communal structures, and I wanted the exhibition to reflect that.
How did you curate the artists for Walk With Me? Were there specific themes or artistic approaches you prioritized in the selection process
The selection process was a balance between intentional outreach and organic connections. We wanted to create a space that amplified diverse perspectives within contemporary African art. Some I discovered through Instagram, drawn to their unique approaches to storytelling. Others came through recommendations—like Fran, whom my co-curator, Assumpta Dickens, introduced. Her installation on self-care and personal growth became a pivotal part of the exhibition. More than just assembling individual talents, we focused on how each artist’s practice contributed to a layered, immersive experience. We wanted the exhibition to feel like a collective journey, where each voice added depth to the overarching narrative.
What do you hope people take away from your work?
I hope they leave feeling something. Art should move you—whether that’s discomfort, recognition, or a sense of connection. With Walk With Me, I want people to rethink how we hold space for each other’s struggles. Healing isn’t just about receiving; it’s about giving, too.
With that in mind, how do you see this work evolving? What’s next for you and Impundu Arts?
We’re hoping to take Walk With Me to more African countries. We also have a solo exhibition in Rwanda coming up and writing workshops to help artists articulate their work for funding and opportunities.
This conversation is happening during Women’s Month. How does your work speak to the larger story of women artists carving out space for themselves?
Representation is at the core of what I do. I think curation is a powerful tool for shaping discourse, and I’m very intentional about highlighting underrepresented voices. Impundu Arts is about creating structures that sustain that visibility. We need systems that nurture rather than exploit creativity. I see my work as part of that larger movement—not just making room for myself, but for those who will come after me as well.
What have been some of the most defining moments in your career?
Being nominated for the Forbes Women Africa Social Impact Award was surreal. Having an interview with France 24, a platform I grew up watching, felt like a full-circle moment. But beyond those milestones, it’s the small wins—seeing women artists finally exhibit their work, and witnessing difficult conversations unfold through art—that remind me why I do this.
You spoke about systems earlier—what does art mean to the world you’re building?
Art is connection. It’s the thread between people. It’s history, protest, memory, and possibility. Every exhibition, every story, and every act of creation is a way of saying: that we’re here, and our realities matter. And that’s why curation—especially for women artists—has to first be about rewriting the narratives that shape our futures. I hope my work continues to push boundaries, hold space, and ensure that these stories resonate far beyond the gallery walls.
