The New World of Girli: It's Just My Opinion

“One of the things that makes me the happiest,” she says, “is seeing the diversity in the crowd: people from everywhere, all walks of life, all ages, just coming together. It’s everything I dreamed of.”

Born Naïka Richard, her identity has never been static. French and Haitian, born in Miami but raised across multiple countries, shaped by languages and cultures that don’t always align neatly — she exists in a kind of constant translation. “My upbringing, my family, my friends, we’re so diverse. Multiple languages, ethnicities… It's a big blend. So it’s cool to see that physically in front of me.” You can hear this blend in her music; the seamless switch between French, English and Haitian Creole, shifting gears between love songs, personal reflections and even political undertones. Her rising popularity, a tribute to true World Pop. There’s no fixed center, no singular origin story she returns to. Instead, there’s fluidity, between places, between sounds, between selves.

That blend is precisely what sets her apart. In an industry increasingly obsessed with hyper-specific niches, Naïka operates in the opposite direction. Her artistry isn’t about narrowing identity; it’s about expanding it. The result is a kind of radical openness: come one, come all. “My top priority is always connecting with my audience, and putting together the best show possible.” At a point in her career that seems to be constantly progressing, it’s clear Naïka finds stillness in her team, her audiences and her own creative journey.

It’s now 1:30 p.m. and I’m meeting her and her team for breakfast at Toastique, in the heart of Washington D.C. 

Suitcases pushed against the wall, and a little black dog curled under the table as the group of four women enjoyed their breakfast. Naïka’s fighting a cold, having played four shows in Montreal, New York and Philadelphia, she’s exhausted. The day before was spent on vocal rest. Today, she’s downing immunity shots with her meal. “There is no typical ‘day in the life’ on a tour,” she tells me when I ask. “It's weird how quickly time goes, because I feel like it was yesterday that we were putting the set together and the visuals. Now it's already come to an end.” 

But soon, she’ll be on the road again — just a few days earlier, she announced 15 new shows over the months of June and July, with various stops across Europe. Naïka is no stranger to tour life. “My first tour was a little more backpack-y,” she tells me, “now I’ve got a bus, I’ve got a team, it’s a whole new beast.” 

That “beast” is also a family.

Her manager and longtime friend, Marta Trapella, operates with a quiet steadiness that anchors the chaos. What started as a college friendship became a long-term collaborative relationship, always in step with one another. “I knew that if she had the right team around her, she would be unstoppable,” Marta says. “At first I said no [to being her manager] because I felt I couldn’t give it my all, but after a few months, I knew I had to join her.” Naïka laughs, “I knew she’d come back.” Set designer Lorr Volatier is in near-constant motion, pausing only briefly before shifting to the next task. She does it all. “What she doesn’t do is an easier answer,” Naïka says. The band is made up of fellow musicians Naïka met while studying music in Boston. Her childhood friend Galliane Puechavy flew up from Miami to travel with the team for a couple of the U.S. stops before heading to Miami where Naïka will close off this leg of the tour. The group functions like a living system, each person adjusting to the rhythm of the whole.

At 3:30 p.m., we make our way to the venue for tonight’s show, Washington’s 9:30 club, where the bus is unceremoniously parked on the side. 

The tour bus takes about 14 strides to go from front to back — it’s hard to imagine 14 people (and a dog, introduced to me as Leo) cramming into this vehicle every night. But, still,  it’s home-like; shoes are removed at the door, flowers sit on the table. The word zobodobodo is scribbled across a little white board by the kitchen. Coffee and incense hang in the air. Lemons sit in a basket by the sink, her favorite go-to snack. “I always have lemons and honey,” she says. She takes a lemon wrapped in a paper towel and puts it in her purse for later. 

For an artist on the rise, it’s ironic that motion itself seems to be the only downside of the experience. 

“My least favorite part is sleeping on the bus, just because I don't sleep very well because of the movement.” 

By 5:30 p.m., Naïka’s had a 30 minute nap and banked content for her socials before starting soundcheck. 

She takes a moment to sign a few vinyls for the merch stand, saying, “I’ve been practicing this signature my entire life. I always knew I’d be creative in one way or another.” Midway through her second soundcheck song, the doors for the meet and greet are opened. Around 20 of her biggest fans and supporters are escorted through the empty venue, their eyes widening as they realize Naïka is an arms length away. There’s excited giggles, shushing and then attention; this is what they came for. Her audience follows no clear demographic guidelines; women, men, older, younger, all diverse ethnicities and backgrounds. One has a Palestinian keffiyah wrapped around her waist. Another is donning a Haitian soccer jersey.

They’ve traveled too, in their own ways, to be here.

Doors open at 7:00 p.m. sharp. After the meet and greet, we’re whisked backstage for hair and make up. As they do on every stop, Naïka’s team has tapped a local hairstylist to prepare her for the night. Tonight, it’s Jasmine Washington from the District Hair Lounge, just down the street from our venue. Naïka does her own makeup. “It’s rare I let anyone else touch my face,” she says. 

She takes a second to change into tonight’s look; an asymmetrical skirted look, dripping in sequins, complete with elbow length gloves and a feathered jacket for the opening number.  “This outfit is fire,” everyone in the room agreed. The bare midriff, a staple of all her performance looks, brings to mind less of a fairy tale mermaid and more of an amazonian warrior. She looks so strong. Complete with thigh-high tassel lined boots designed with Jimmy Choo, a huge milestone for the artist and her team. “It was such an incredible experience, something truly new for me. I’d love to design my own line one day.” I can visualize it already, crowds clad in Haitian-inspired garb, born from the mind of Naïka and the women that surround her. I note another form of creative expression here. 

“Do you want to see something REALLY fire,” she extends her hand; in it, a lighter with her photo on it, a remnant from her ECLESIA launch party. 

Minutes before calling her team for their collective pre-show prayer, Naïka and Lorr are doing jumping squats in the dressing room, then popping into a 2-minute plank on the floor. “She’s done a 5 minute plank before [a show],” Lorr says. “It gets her in the zone.” 

It’s 8:57 pm and the energy in the air is palpable. Naïka is fully dressed and her team is huddled in the crew room for a quick prayer before the show. You can hear the hum of the audience outside, three hours from the moment many of them began to line up. The crew, the band, the team and the artist are hand in hand, her eyes are closed. But the vibrations in the room are high, a mix of Sunday Service and the Superbowl. Naïka begins to address the team: 

“Dear God. Thank you so much for this new day. Thank you for these opportunities, and thank you for this purpose that you've blessed each and every one of us with.  I pray that you might please help us do what we do best tonight, so that we can fill everybody's cup so they can feel more whole, more alive, more love, more light. I pray for an amazing, amazing, amazing show in Washington, DC, in Jesus name. I pray Amen. Amen.” 

She hits the stage at 9:05 p.m. From start to finish, the show goes smoothly; an empowering display of feminine energy and intimate connection between Naïka and her fans. There’s rarely a moment you can’t hear the crowd singing along. ECLESIA was released barely two months prior but the audience obviously committed it to memory. Naïka trusted them to carry the chorus of F.I.S.H with a cheeky smile. She listened as they asked her, “Where you really, really from?” during LAYERS, an ode to the third culture kid. And during WHAT A DAY!, you could barely hear over the audience’s reaction to the lines, “What a day for crime, kids are dying in Palestinе/ Blood is paving Congolese mines, and thе world keeps going.”  

At 10:22 pm, Naïka takes her final bow. After the show, Naïka is bouncing with energy, running to the green room to greet Leo with a kiss. “The cold I was fighting earlier? Gone,” she says to me with a laugh. “I’m so full of energy. It’s going to hit me like a brick when I get on the bus.” I’m reminded instantly that after so much exertion, her day isn’t over yet - after greeting a few folks after the show, showering and changing, Naïka and her team still have to make the nearly nine hour drive to Atlanta overnight. The packing has already begun as we say our goodbyes. Lorr is taking Leo for a walk, and Marta is managing the last few guests who want to say hello to the artist before she departs. Galliane is there with a warm hug and words of encouragement from friends and family abroad shared in their communal group chat. 

Naïka is in motion again — continuing on to another city, to connect with another crowd and to continue to build a world that is distinctly her own but universal to all who welcome it.