Myriam Taylor

Certain people stand before us like beacons of hope. Their posture is that of someone who knows inner strength, and their eyes are those of someone who combines the know-how to break down barriers and build bridges. Myriam Taylor is all of these things, a woman capable of challenging time and convention, always looking at the world with a critical eye. She also cries, she also laughs. She also builds, she also tears down. But if there’s one thing, she’s never allowed herself to do is give up, blame it on the nonconformist spirit inherited from her family lineage or the genetic predisposition of being a woman. But she is a woman who is proud to be a woman, even when she knows the risks of being one. Even when delicacy defines her being and kindness occupies her heart. Nothing takes away her bravado. Life has also provided her with tests of resilience, for which she is grateful. She has travelled through cities in Portugal, the United Kingdom, Spain, Brazil, France, Angola and the Netherlands. And today she is the result of all the places she has been. Although she makes her living in Portugal, Myriam has no fixed address, only a cause that has always guided her: the defence of human rights. She belongs to the world, even though in her inner universe she lives for her family, for Muxima Bio and for the continuous discovery of what it means to be a woman.

Faced with a civil war, your family decided to move from Angola to Portugal. Would life have turned out differently if you had been born in Angola?
Certainly. We are the sum of our experiences, and having lived in Portugal has given me a totally different perspective from the one I would have had if I had been born in the land of my parents and grandparents. Like it or not, being a black woman born in Portugal, which is a country where most people don’t necessarily look like me, meant that I was constantly judged. I learnt very young that I was different and that my difference meant that I wasn’t accepted in certain places.  

Do you try to cultivate your Angolan roots?
Yes. I cultivate myself by reading and, as I grew up, my parents shared stories. I have also travelled to Angola, so it wasn’t a place I didn’t know; in fact, it became a familiar country. But belonging to multiple places shouldn’t cancel out anyone’s identity. My theatre godfather, Augusto, used to say: «Where’s the Angolan Portuguese girl who lives in London and wants to be Brazilian?». I am the sum of all the experiences I’ve had. And I’m from every place I’ve lived, regardless of having a special affection for Portugal. I’m Portuguese because I was born in Portugal, I have a whole history here, but then there are a series of other chapters that have been experienced in the six other countries I’ve travelled through. As Taiye Selasi says, «don’t ask where I’m from, ask where I’m local».

At one point, your mother belonged to the National Front for the Liberation of Angola. Do you believe that this assertive spirit is part of your DNA?
It wasn’t just my mum who was part of the National Front. Before that, my maternal grandfather was part of the Trial of 50, which played a major role in the national liberation of Angola. 

What about Myriam?
Myriam woke up to life at a very young age. I had to assert myself very early on because the whole environment was hostile. Children are brought up to exclude, not to accept difference, and I remember that I always tended to be with the outcasts, with those who didn’t fit in. I’d say there was a moment when I became much more assertive, much more involved: I was in high school, I think in tenth grade, and a classmate of mine, after a speech I’d given during a lesson, invited me to join the student council. I think that was a transformative moment, because I learnt that I had some value, that what I said mattered.

What is the worst memory you have of your adolescence in Portugal?
The worst memory was being confronted with the visceral racism of my classmates. I remember one girl in particular greeting me every day with the Nazi salute, and I remember it being extremely violent. I was 11 or 12 years old. It’s very easy to create narratives about groups we don’t know, but these are stories that, even though they’re constantly repeated, are still invented. I’m as proud of being the heir to a rich African history as I am of being the heir to Portuguese history. What we need is to start looking at people as people, rather than as bearers of titles or status. I’d like to just be a person, but no, I have to fly these flags that have given me a lot of work. Having to say that I’m a black woman is more work than presenting myself as a person, because I still have to say that I’m a woman and that I’m black. 

You landed in London in 1998 with high hopes of studying theatre. Did you want to be an actor?
I realised relatively early on that my mission in life would be to help make the world a place for everyone. Somehow, I don’t identify with the narratives I still see represented and I believe that the most immediate way to get through to the collective imagination is through the arts, or at least it’s the most diplomatic way. That’s why I chose theatre as a way of changing the world. My idea was to contribute to the creation of alternative narratives and, from there, influence the collective imagination. But then I realised that it’s really complicated and would take a long time. I studied theatre, specialised in political theatre and I gradually changed. I don’t work in that field now. 

You’ve also spent time in Brazil and worked with HIV-positive people. What did you take away from that experience?
My whole career has included humanitarian work. I worked with the HIV community, but I had already worked with drug addicts in Portugal. When I was 14, I volunteered. At that time many of my classmates were taking their first steps into the world of drugs and I followed the opposite path, which was to try to understand the problem and contribute to the solution. All of this has contributed to the person I am today. I’ve become more empathetic and I’ve educated myself better, not least because there’s a lot of misunderstanding when it comes to certain subjects.

«I’m from every place I’ve lived»

In 2009, you moved to Amsterdam and four years later founded MUXIMA BIO, a company that develops highly efficient bioproducts. What is the story behind this project?
MUXIMA BIO came from the need to combine all the dimensions of my personality. It’s a social impact company that works holistically in different sectors, from science to media. In the social sphere, we created Secret Women Meeting on Cocktail. On the media side, we made the television programmes Black Access Global and Jantar Indiscreto. In the scientific field, we are a biotechnology company that works in partnership with the University of Aveiro and develops the Muxima Caviar System, which is a system of products whose product range is specifically for curly hair. In the educational sphere, we organise talks, conferences and summits.  

You are responsible for creating the world’s first luxury brand for African hair. Why start with discrimination relating to hair?
I’m a woman with African hair and I’ve always been a victim of the stereotyped construction of the model of beauty. Yes, there is an established model of beauty and we could blame social networks, but many years ago they didn’t exist. The issue begins precisely with the buying and selling of enslaved people, the separations that were made according to categorisations based on skin colour or hair type. A person could live in the house if their hair was straight, for example. It was like a scale of value, and the cheapest body on the market was black.
But to get back to the question, from the age of 12 or 13 I started to straighten my hair. I only stopped doing it when I got pregnant. And it’s as if at that moment I started to look inward and somehow felt sad about myself. I had spent my life fighting and conquering, fighting for rights, when in reality I hadn’t accepted myself. I hadn’t accepted who I was and I realised that, somehow, I had never fought for my identity to be fully accepted. So, being pregnant, I had to rethink my beauty routines, look for alternatives that were compatible with my condition. And it was almost impossible to find any solutions, so I decided to create them. Muxima Caviar System is the result of this and is a range of hair products with their own voice.  

You created the Secret Women Meeting in 2016, a space for sisterhood and sharing between women from the most varied sectors, social spheres and ethnicities. Tell us about these meetings.
There’s nothing secret about them, the secrecy is only in the name (she laughs). The meetings are ethical and change according to the day, so we’ve had various formats. We bring women together and include some who are currently in positions of power so that they can share and have a positive influence. They are all champions of human rights and there is always an exchange of inspiring stories. Most of the problems discussed have to do with the difficulty of breaking the glass ceiling. There is still a glass ceiling separating us, because the world is still ruled by men.  

Conceived and produced by Muxima, you were part of Jantar Indiscreto (Indiscreet Dinner), a television programme that laid prejudices bare. How did the Portuguese receive the programme? Were they themes that resonated with Portuguese society?
I’d say it was very well received; I received a deluge of letters with suggestions for topics. It was a pioneering programme, the first against prejudice on Portuguese television. Since then, there have been more, so I think it has fulfilled its role. It’s a pity that sometimes the topics aren’t discussed with the seriousness they deserve, but that’s my view. 

Have you always felt free to express your thoughts?
I never have to be silent; I say everything I want. I remember being discriminated against by a woman. We were at work and started talking about the TV programme and, in the course of the conversation, she said to me: «I had a negro aunt and she drove a Rolls-Royce.» I politely asked her not to call her aunt a negro, but a black woman. She refused to do so and continued with her narrative. We’re talking about a woman in a position of power... 

Are women looking for equality or equity?
Women are looking for equity. The genders are different and I value those differences. I often say that if I’d been born a man, I’d want to be transgender, because I love being a woman. I can’t imagine being a man. Now, we want equity within the differences we have, even if we want to have the same opportunities in a world that is currently unequal. I’m frightened by the narrative of the far right, which tries to equate feminism with a reverse chauvinism. Feminism is striving for equity. 

Are there still many voices to be heard?
Of course, there are. There are voices that have never been heard, in fact, there is no shortage of voices that have never been heard. There are still very few, and those that are heard are usually lucky to be given the microphone in their hands. But I got here on my own merit, unaware of the education of privilege. Our mission must therefore be to create more space for other women who have the right message.

«There are voices that have never been heard»

Are universal human rights taking a step backwards in their implementation?
I think we are living through a very critical period in history. We’ve lost some rights globally, notably the abortion law, which has been reversed in some countries. In Portugal, for example, I read that Chega campaigners discussed and voted on a proposal to introduce the death penalty in the country. We’re talking about intentions that would mean a very serious step backwards in terms of civilisation. We should already be at another point in history. I believe in freedom of expression, but these are ideas that go against the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, against the democratic values we voted for. We have failed miserably as a society, because we are the ones who have raised people like André Ventura. It also frightens me to know that this new generation, Generation Z, is somehow fascinated by fascism. 

Do you believe that any kind of activism is acceptable?
No, crime is not acceptable. I’m not an advocate of any kind of violence, in fact, when it comes to fighting, I follow the line of Martin Luther King. But if we believe in democracy, we also have to believe in justice. For example, I fully understand climate activists, but it’s impossible to change anything without first resolving the human question... 

How do you find the time to juggle so many roles: from mum to entrepreneur?
We women are multi-taskers. I have a great partner and it would be absolutely impossible to do a fifth of what I do without him. Sometimes, most of the time, I feel guilty because I don’t think I’m being a good daughter or a good mum. We’re always full of guilt and, in fact, it’s always difficult to get the balance right.  

What do you allow to sap your energy today?
Stupidity, racism, prejudice and a lack of common sense and empathy. Lately, what has been consuming me the most, regardless of the other wars in the world, is the conflict in Gaza. I refuse to become insensitive in the face of human misfortune and suffering. 

What does being a woman mean to you?
Being a woman is a construct. And it must be different for me than it is for any other woman. You aren’t born a woman; you learn to be one. 

Is there still a lot of gender inequality?
There is only a lot of gender inequality. 

What are women fighting for today?
For equity and the right to all spaces, including the political and financial ones.