Black, Queer, and Creative

December 06, 2021

If you need a sign to post that content, to advocate for yourself, to think outside of the box, to act outside of the box, this is it. You never know when a tweet could lead to something. Toniesha Payne, black, queer creative, who has paved her own way in the Influencer Marketing space, sits down with office to talk about how she landed in this position.

The self proclaimed "ghost influencer" had worked on influencer marketing campaigns for artists such as Doja Cat, Flo Milli, SZA, A$AP Rocky, and Childish Gambino, to name a few. She assists in building content, developing ways for them to grow their platforms, and tracking their analytics. "There are not many black women within the influencer marketing space in general, let alone a young, black, proud, lesbian woman in this male dominated field. I have become accustomed to taking the lead on projects since I am the sole person in my role," Payne says.

Stylist, Mattey Spicer and photographer, Junell Tanio worked with Toniesha on a set of dynamic and potent images that translate the New York based professional’s innate power. All while highlighting three emerging black fashion designers: Who Decides War, Wales Bonner, and Theophilio.

Interview by Willa Rudolph
Styling by Mattey Spicer
Photographer by Junell Tanio
Assited by Austin Wang and Abe Timbo

Payne’s drive and open mindedness play a big role in her ascendance. She has taken every opportunity, tried whatever has come her way even when she isn't totally sure of herself, and will continue to do so along her journey. The photographs’ brilliant colors, courtesy of Tanio, and the geometric-oriented yet chill outfits, courtesy of Spicer, all mirror Toniesha’s whole vibe.

POC, especially QPOC, have to work so much harder to get into the right rooms and seats at the right tables. Toniesha describes what it means to her to be representing queer black creativity when she’s in these environments. When you don’t feel that there’s a place for you where you deserve one, you need to forge that space; did you even know it was possible to invent your own position?! I think we all have a lot to learn from this self-made Ohio native’s experience. Boundaries are meant to be tested, rules meant to be broken. Don’t be afraid, just get out there and do what you gotta do.

Read our conversation with Toniesha below.

Above outfits feature Wales Bonner and Who Decides War.

How would you describe what it is that you do for a living?

Ooh, um. I guess from a corporate standpoint, the name of my role is Influencer Marketing and Content Strategy. But, I more so think of myself as a ghost influencer. The easiest way to explain my job to, say, my mom, or my niece or something, is that my job is to make artists popular on the internet and make people wanna engage with their music, with the artist, and with the brand. With me living in New York, I've had the ability to meet and rub elbows with some great taste makers. I utilize the resources and relationships I have around me, honestly. I network and build genuine relationships with great creatives who I can collaborate with and partner with to create some cool engaging content. I go out a lot, I go to art shows, concerts, anywhere and everywhere to also make sure I'm meeting and networking with amazing people. I study a lot. I am also looking for the next up and coming platform, the next tastemaker, the next cool TV show, the next cool brand. I am continuously always looking ahead to make sure I'm ahead of the curve and the cultural conversation, which helps me a lot.

What kind of tactics might you use to accomplish that for somebody?

I think in this new digital age, there are a lot of ways to get people to engage with content. The hard part is keeping them engaged. I don't think there is one way to do that. I think the best tactic is always being in the know and and always finding new and innovative ways to place content infront of people in an organic way. People's attention spans are short, so it's important to always be in tune with the consumers and with the world around you. I always ask myself what is happening next and how can I make sure whoever I'm working with is a part of those conversations. Like, what's the next TikTok? What's going to be bigger than Instagram? How do I enter those spaces? That's how you stay ahead of the curve.

How did you get to where you are now, career wise? What steps did you take; what was the order of operations?

Oh my gosh, man. I will definitely try to do a long story short because it’s a long story!

I figured.

I’m originally from Ohio. I’m from Columbus, Ohio. Actually, technically, Reynoldsburg, Ohio, which is this small town. I was living in Cincinnati before I moved here about 6-7 years ago, and I was working for this gentleman by the name of Floyd Johnson. He had this brand called Ohio Against the World, and that’s where I started my journey into the creative field. At the time, I was helping him create t-shirts and hats, and helping him market the products to a mass crowd. He taught me the ropes, and from there, he ended up actually quitting the brand and traveling the world. He’s doing amazing, living in the mountains somewhere right now, and so I was like, I wanna continue to see what I can do in this marketing field. A year later, I was like, Man, I cannot live in Ohio anymore if I want to really do something with my life. Because, in a town like that, you’ll kind of hit a glass ceiling. Ohio is one of those towns, you get married, you raise a family, and you just work at a fucking bank. One of those typa towns. So I ended up moving to New York.

I moved here with 300 dollars, a suitcase, and just the clothes on my back. My homeboy Taylor, he was a photographer at the time, he had actually went out to Paris, just to hang out there and shoot. He was like, Hey, do you wanna rent out my apartment for a couple months? I said sure. Ended up moving to New York. When I came here, I was interning at PAPER Magazine. By the grace of God, I got the internship because I had a friend from Ohio that worked there. I was doing PR, I was doing some marketing from them, and, you know, was able to be introduced to different influencers and different artists, and be in that world that I was never into or used to, which was a super blessing early on in my career. While I was working at PAPER, I was also a busser at Eataly. Working at PAPER during the day and bussing tables at night. And then doin’ it all over again the next day. I did that for a while. When I quit PAPER, I ended up going to a label by the name of Mass Appeal, which is owned by Nas. That’s how I got my step into the music industry. I worked there for about a year, and my friend George, also from Ohio, was the marketing manager at a label, and let me know they had an opening as a digital coordinator. I was like, I mean, shit, I’ll apply, bro, but I don’t know anything about digital coordinating. They ended up liking me, I went through the interview process, they gave me the job. I fucking sucked at being a coordinator; I was horrible at it. I was there for about two and a half years, and then the pandemic hit.

When the pandemic hit, I saw an opening within the marketing department. I saw an opening in my department where I thought I could utilize and lean on some tastemakers I knew personally to collaborate with them on creating engaging content. I actually pitched the position to all of the higher ups at my previous job. They were skeptical, but they were like, You know what, we’ll give it a shot. From there, that’s how I started my journey into influencer marketing. It’s a position I built on my own. And that’s the long story short.

Above outfit features Theophilio.

That is so sick. It’s wild that you invented that role yourself. Amazing. How’d you get into the music business? Why did you move in that direction, and how did you end up there?

That’s still something I’m curious about, to be honest! The universe just kind of shifted me that way. I’ve had a love for music and a love for fashion; what I wanted to be growing up was an architect, but I didn’t have the patience. The music industry found me. Interestingly enough, I used to post SoundCloud links on my Twitter all the time, like, very early on, when Twitter was just coming about. This was the early Kaytranada days, and early days of some of our alternative artists that we have now.

This woman by the name of Shabaz who followed me on Twitter, was working for Solange. I had absolutely no clue. She ended up DMing me one day, and asking me, Hey, have you ever thought about writing for music? I was like, No, I don’t have any writing skills, but I’ll try it! I’m not doing anything else. That was my first official step to talking about music and being in love with music and my journey to the industry outside of just a label perspective. Me writing and interviewing different artists for Solange’s platform Saint Heron. I did that for quite a while. I wrote for Saint Heron, for PAPER when I worked there, for the Source, I freelanced for the FADER. I grew a love for it, so I think it almost, like, found me. I didn’t really go out seeking to be in the music industry. It just happened that way, and I’ve been here ever since.

What are you most proud of career wise?

Oh, man. That’s a great question. It’s two parts. I think that sometimes I move so fast, I don’t even think about that. I think I’m most proud of the fact that I was able to create a position for myself. Eh, you know what? Scratch that, I don't care about that. I think I’m most proud of being a black woman, a gay black woman, in the music industry, is hard enough. But being a black gay woman, specifically within Influencer Marketing and Content Strategy, which is kind of a white male dominated field, is extremely hard, and I’ve been able to create a voice and foundating for myself that a lot of people aren’t able to have. I think that I’ve been able to be in rooms with some of the most amazing creative people, and my opinions, and my thoughts, and my creativity are respected and heard. I’m proud that I was able to do something a lot of black women, a lot of gay black women, aren’t necessarily able to do. I’m able to show my niece and nephew when they grow up, and tell them they can do it, too. I gotta tell you, I graduated college with not the best GPA, a communications major, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I dropped out of college twice. Coming from that to being where I am now, just shows that when you don’t give up, and you push through all the barriers and the hurdles, you can get to where you wanna go. There’s been times in my life where I was homeless, where I had no money in my account. Life beats you up. But I’m at a point where I can look back and see that all those things happened to get me exactly where I am today.

That’s fucking incredible. As a queer, black creative, do you feel a lot is put on your shoulders to represent that demographic, or that you’re being held responsible for representing a larger group?

I feel like it’s my responsibility to show other black queer creatives that you can make things happen. Don't feel like your sexuality, you being black, you being a woman, you being a man, whatever, is something that is going to hold you back. Because there’s been rooms where I’ve been the only black person in the room, let alone a black woman. You know what I mean? So, I think I hold a responsibility within myself to make sure I’m always being a representative no matter what room I step in, no matter who I’m around. I’m always representing black queer culture, all the time. But I hold it on my shoulders because I want to, not because I’m being forced to. It doesn’t matter if I have a dollar in my pocket or a million, I’m always gonna rep for black queer creatives, ‘cause that’s what made me, that’s where I’m from, that’s what I represent to the fullest, you know? That’s always what I’m gonna be. I’m never gonna try and look like something I’m not, be something I’m not. I walk into a room, and everything from how I dress, to how I talk, to just who I am, my essence, my presence, is just, that. Outside of it being a part of me, I make sure I’m representing my people. My culture. That’s it.

That makes a lot of sense! How would you describe your personal style?

I don’t know, I think my style’s all over the place, yo! I wish I had a word to describe it. Fun, I guess innovative in ways. Innovative but at times, maybe reserved. My style is representative of where I’m at at that moment. One day I could wake up and wanna be wearing all black. Next day, I could be wearing every color on the rainbow. Just depends how I’m feelin’ that day. But my style moves like waves. It’s fun, it’s creative, it's ever changing.

What song would you put on first thing in the morning to get you hyped up for the day?

I’m an R&B girl, so my first song always and forever will be Robert Glasper, featuring Erykah Badu, "Afro Blue." That’s my favorite song of all time. Play it at my wedding, play it at my funeral. And Cleo Sol, "When I’m in Your Arms." That’s another one of my favorite songs. Those two right there are the first songs I play almost every morning.

What advice would you give to a young person who sees your career and where you’ve gotten yourself, and they aspire to do something more for themselves but can’t seem to figure out how to get there? What would you tell them? Someone trying to get to the next level but might not see how to do it?

I’m trying to think what I would tell my younger self, because I’ve felt that way so many times. Shit, honestly, I feel like that at points now! Even, I’ve reached this level of quote, unquote success. Whatever that is. There’s still more things I wanna do. How do I get there? To answer your question, I think I would say, one, don’t doubt yourself. Never doubt yourself. Two, always have a good group of friends, your family around you, people that don’t want anything from you, that are just there to uplift you when you need them the most. Three, research. Do your research. Whatever you wanna pursue as a career, make sure you do your research. And shit, just try everything! Try everything. Try whatever. When you’re a creative, and you’re young, you get this idea that you have to stick to one creative field. I’m learning, now that I’m older, that you can be a writer, but you can also be in music. You can be a writer, but you can also be in fashion. You can be in fashion, but wanna be in tech. You’re gonna keep growing and keep wanting new things, so just try everything! And of course, what they always say, Never give up, but, ya know!

What you were saying about blending different arenas—fashion, tech, writing, music, whatever it is—in this day and age is so much more doable. I think its kind of new that we’re able to cross a lot of streams of career paths. It’s really cool.

You do music, right?

Yeah, trying!

No try! That’s like somebody saying they’re an aspiring stylist. You can’t aspire to style, you’re just a stylist. So you’re a musician!

Yeah, I’m in a band. But I also write. So I’m resonating with what you’re saying. So let’s chat a bit about the photos! What was the experience of shooting these images with Mattey and Junell like?

It was amazing, it was beautiful. I’ve known Mattey for a really long time; we’re both from Ohio. We both kinda came up in the creative scene out here together. So we’ve always been in each other’s crosshairs, I guess. He’s a great stylist. Originally, Junell had reached out to me to shoot. I wanted to use Mattey as a stylist because I could tell they work really well together, and I was familiar with him. So me and Mattey came up with the idea of using all black designers for this shoot. He styled me in three different looks. One was Who Decides War, the other one was Wales Bonner, and the last one was Theophilio, who just won the CFDA award not too long ago. We wanted to highlight these emerging young, black designers that are taking over the fashion game and being forward thinking in their approach to design and their authenticity. It was an exciting opportunity and I was super happy with how everything came out. I love Mattey’s styling; I think he’s great. He gave me some freedom to add a few extra pieces in—certain hats or glasses—but, yeah, he was certainly the mastermind as far as the wardrobe goes!

I would like to highlight Junell the photographer, because I think he’s absolutely amazing. His story is really amazing. He’s from the Philippines and just moved to New York from Ohio. He’s almost self taught in a way, and I think he’s a phenomenal photographer. He has a vision and an eye that a lot of photographers don’t have. Down to his editing skills and the way he colors his images is so beautiful. The images or styling would not look as powerful if not for him and his Midas touch. I think all three of us worked really well together!

What story are you telling with these images?

Outside of wanting to highlight this new creative resurgence of young black creatives that are surfacing right now, this is— I wouldn’t say a rebrand, but I would say more like a phoenix rising from the ashes, not on no corny shit. But, this particular shoot and even this whole interview coming out with office is special to me because, like I said, being young and black and a woman in Influencer Marketing is something very rare and very special because a lot of gay black women are not even in this field. To have been able to work with such amazing artists, I’ve been blessed to rub elbows with a lot of amazing people and be a part of their creative process. Sometimes I think jobs like this are a bit of a thankless job. So, to have an article or an interview about the hard work I do, as well as what other people in the Influencer Marketing and Digital Marketing field do, is great, because I think it gives some light to what people do behind the scenes. To really help artists or brands catapult themselves to the next level. I’m honored to be in this space that a lot of people aren’t in, and to be a part of some amazing creative strategies and help tell artists’ stories or brands’ stories.

On top of that, on a personal level, the past few years, with the pandemic and personal hurdles, and having to work through a lot of that, has been a struggle. It’s been humbling. It’s been tiring, at times, but it’s also something where I’m thankful I’ve been able to have something to distract me from the crazy stuff that’s been happening out here. It’s a double edged sword, I guess.

You exude such confidence. It’s not even confidence; I’m sure you’re very confident, but there is a power that is coming out.

Thank you, that means a lot. In this— shit, I was gonna say this industry, but even in this world, man—even if you’re not confident, you always have to feel it. ‘Cause I was nervous as hell on that shoot! But I think I wanted to get a story across. If I can do it, you can do it, too. I come from very humble beginnings. So, to be where I am now, is the work of some higher power and some dedication.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

Shop Psyche Organic at Happier Grocery and Dimes. Coming soon to @citarellagourmetmarket @unionmarket @gourmetgarage @deciccos @fairwaymarket plus many more.

Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.