In this candid and insightful interview, we sit down with Brenda Michelle, a rising star in Kenya’s creative scene. An actress, content creator, and storyteller, Brenda has quickly captured the hearts of audiences through her memorable performances on screen and her vibrant digital presence. From humble beginnings in Mombasa to her breakout role in the popular TV drama Zora, Brenda’s journey is a testament to passion, resilience, and the power of authentic storytelling. In her own words, she shares the highs, the hurdles, and her vision for the future of African cinema.
Let’s begin at the beginning—when did you first realize that art would be your life’s path?
Honestly, I turned to art because I was painfully shy. Talking wasn’t really my thing. Creating things became my way of expressing myself without actually speaking. I grew up in Ganjoni, a quiet little village in Mombasa, where life was simple and slow. One of my earliest memories is winning an art competition as a kid ,my piece was displayed at The Fort Jesus. I didn’t fully get what that meant at the time, but I knew it made me feel special. From then on, art became my safe space.
From your first acting experience until now, what have been the key turning points in your artistic journey?
Funny enough, I didn’t start in front of the camera—I was behind it, editing. And let me just say, I deeply respect film and TV editors… because those hours? Brutal. I later moved into production management, and one of my earliest gigs was at Coke Studio Africa, which was such a vibrant space to learn.
My colleagues kept telling me, “You have potential in acing!” I finally gave it a shot, and not long after, I was landing TV commercials, then my first big break on tv drama. That’s when it clicked. I felt at home, like I’d found the thing I was meant to do all along.
How would you describe your experience in the television series Zora, which earned you widespread recognition on Kenyan screens?
Believe it or not, I was tricked into the audition! Had I known, I probably would’ve chickened out. The character was nothing like me—bold, intense, and honestly a little intimidating. But somehow, I grew into her, and in the process, she grew on me.
Zora changed everything. I became “that girl from TV” almost overnight, and with it came this beautiful online community that feels like family to me.
You also have a strong presence on platforms like TikTok. How do you see the relationship between digital content and traditionalforms of art?
Platforms like TikTok can make you a superstar overnight, literally! It grew my audience beyond what I imagined, and I quickly realised just how big a responsibility that was. Suddenly, my life wasn’t just mine anymore.
Compared to traditional art forms, digital content has no rules, which can be dangerous. The output is instant, no editors, no filters . You get to connect with your audience directly, even in real time, which is powerful. It’s raw and fast.
Do you consider yourself primarily an actress or a content creator—or do such labels no longer matter in today’s creative world?
Labels do still matter, especially in Kenya. Being called an actress comes with a certain level of respect. It shows you’ve gone through the process, worked with professionals, I’ve worked with international productions. There’s a discipline required for that kind of work.
But I also wear the content creator hat proudly. I use digital platforms to keep my audience engaged, because I’m not on set every other day. And let’s be honest it’s a great way to earn a living while staying creative.
To what extent do you draw from your personal life and environment in building your characters or digital projects?
A lot, actually. I think growing up in Mombasa, in a place where culture, humour, and storytelling are part of everyday life, really shaped how I see the world and how I perform. im very observant as well, I identify people’s mannerisms and patterns easily
When I’m acting, I pull from personal emotions, memories and even people I’ve met. Sometimes I’ll borrow my favourite TikTokker’s attitude or a politician’s walk without even realising it! And with digital content, real-life moments are the script. If something happens that makes me laugh or cry or question life, I’ll probably turn it into a skit or a reel. It keeps everything authentic.
What has been the greatest challenge you’ve faced in acting? Have there been moments of doubt or a desire to walk away?The biggest challenge is the instability. I don’t think anyone in Kenya is a full-time actor and that’s honestly sad. Most of us go into acting for the passion, not really the money. Sure, a big payday comes once in a while, but it’s not sustainable. Sometimes you take on roles just because you love the craft, not because they offer stability.
It makes you admire thriving industries like South Africa, where there are unions and proper structures championing for actors.
Did you receive any institutional or formal support early in your career, or was it entirely driven by personal initiative?
It was entirely personal. No formal training, no big connections, just me figuring it out step by step. My background in film and TV production helped a lot. I learned from directors, understood set etiquette early on, and picked up valuable lessons ,made mistakes just by being present.I kept showing up. Once I started acting, I learned even more from seasoned actors who were generous with their knowledge. It’s been a journey of watching, listening, and growing with every project.
What’s a role you dream of playing but haven’t yet had the chance to?
I’d love to play a powerful historical African woman. Someone like Mekatilili wa Menza, the fierce freedom fighter from the coast of
Kenya. Can you imagine stepping into her shoes? The language, the power, the defiance! I see myself barefoot in the forest, leading a rebellion with fire in my eyes and poetry in my speeches. A role like that would challenge me, ground me, and honor the women who came before us. Imagine her powerful presence, beauty, the braids, beads, and war chants? Yes, please!
In your view, what makes Kenyan art and cinema unique—and do you believe it can make a global impact?
Kenyan cinema has a quiet power it’s rooted in authenticity, layered with culture, and often told through stories that feel deeply personal yet universally relatable. We’re not just telling stories for entertainment; we’re documenting history, identity, and everyday resilience.
What makes us unique is our storytelling rhythm ,it’s unhurried, introspective, and rich with nuance. We blend Swahili, English, Sheng, and our mother tongues in ways that reflect our lived experiences. The landscapes, the humour, the subtlety, it’s all deeply Kenyan.
And yes, I absolutely believe it can make a global impact. We’re already seeing it with films like Makosa ni yangu (I was featured on) Click Click Bang, Mvera, and Where the River Divides gaining recognition. The world is hungry for new narratives, and Kenya is just getting started. Once we continue refining our structures, especially in distribution and funding the global stage will have no choice but to pay attention.
How do you assess the current state of cinema in Kenya in terms of production, distribution, and audience engagement?
We’re definitely telling better stories! Kenyan productions are bolder, more polished, and finally getting noticed. The problem? You might have to be in Nairobi, on Twitter, or friends with a filmmaker to know a film is even out. Distribution still feels like a secret society.
But platforms like Showmax and Netflix are changing the game, and local screenings are popping up like little rebellions against the system. The talent is there, the stories are fire.
What are the main challenges facing young filmmakers in your country today?
Whew! where do we start? First, most young filmmakers are expected to be a one-person production company. You write, shoot, direct, edit, promote… and sometimes act in your own film, because budgets are basically vibes.
Funding is a major hurdle, and there’s very little structured mentorship. A lot of talented people are figuring it out as they go, which is admirable but exhausting. Distribution is another beast. There’s no shortage of passion. What’s missing is support that matches the ambition.
Do you believe a “New African Cinema” is emerging? What role are women playing in this movement?
Yes! there’s a New African Cinema on the rise, and it’s fearless, layered, and deeply rooted in authenticity. What’s even more exciting is the wave of women driving it forward not just acting, but writing, directing, and producing.
Filmmakers like Denise madam Producer, Mkaiwawi Mwakaba and Mati Diop are proving that African women aren’t just part of the conversation, we’re leading it. We’re telling our own stories, on our own terms, and reshaping the industry in the process.
Who are the African artists or filmmakers you find most inspiring?
I’m inspired by artists who don’t just talk about making films they actually make them, against all odds. People like Abel Mutua, who fund their own projects, market them independently, and still manage to fill up screening halls. That kind of commitment to the craft is powerful.
Across the continent, I admire creatives like Akin Omotoso, and Blitz Bazawule visionaries telling African stories with global impact. They remind us that with enough passion and persistence, we don’t have to wait for permission. We can see things through.
How do you see the future of collaboration among African creatives? Have you been involved in any cross-border projects?
Yes! I was part of Bufis (on Netflix as Daydreamers), directed by Mahad Ahmed and Italy’s Vincenzo Cavallo, with an amazing international crew. That project opened my eyes to how powerful cross-border collaboration can be.
I’d love to work with more creatives across Africa, especially in places like Egypt, where storytelling feels ancient and alive. There’s something special about blending our cultures to tell stories that are proudly local, but resonate everywhere.
What role do you think cinema can play in addressing themes of identity, justice, and empowerment across Africa?
Cinema is one of the most powerful tools we have. It gives us a chance to see ourselves, our truths, struggles, and joys on screen. It shapes identity, challenges stereotypes, and creates space for real conversations about justice and empowerment.
When people see their language, skin color, and stories treated with dignity, something shifts. It affirms who we are. And for the rest of the world, it’s a window into the complexity and beauty of African life told by us, for us.
Are Kenyan audiences becoming more receptive to local productions, or does international content still dominate?
It’s definitely shifting. Kenyan audiences are starting to appreciate our own stories, especially when they’re told in our languages and carry the local nuances we understand so well. There’s a growing sense of pride in seeing ourselves reflected honestly on screen. Platforms like Netflix have played a role, but what’s really making the difference is quality storytelling that feels true to us. Bit by bit, we’re realizing our stories are worth telling.
How important are awards and official recognition to you—or is true impact measured through audience connection?
Awards are lovely they mean someone saw your work and thought, “Yeah, that deserves a moment.” But that’s not the goal. The real reward is when someone tells you, “You made me cry,” or “I saw myself in that role.” Or even better, when someone still hates you in real life because of a character you played! That’s when you know you truly embodied it.
And finally… what is your dream for African cinema, and what message do you hope to leave behind through your art?
My dream is for a united, self-sustaining African film industry one where we tell our stories boldly, without watering them down for Western approval or fearing our own governments. I want us to own our narratives with pride, depth, and authenticity. I hope to be part of a generation that made African cinema louder, prouder, and more global, without losing its soul. And if my work inspires even one person to tell their truth fearlessly, then I’ve done what I came to do.
