I painted the Queen Black as it was my dream to liberate her. Well, in death, she’s hopefully found that freedom. While here on earth, I genuinely believed The Queen would be delighted to suddenly wake up a Black Woman. How she’d have let loose and had a bit of a dance. Less porcelain, more straight talk.

What good was the British Empire conquering the world, if not to elevate lives, and render everyone equal? Besides, every human colour can rule over an empire and be plunderous and vicious and murderous. A Black Queen could personify virtue and care and conscious patience, much as Queen Elizabeth aptly conveyed. Naturally, every woman should be a Queen in the selfless eyes of the coloniser …

Stereotypes and sarcasms aside, I’d like to believe Queen Elizabeth would be honoured. The Black Queen is unequivocally a painting about empowerment. About dreaming big and reimaging the world …

Humanity is in dire need of deep self-reflection.

As the Queen approached a century in age, and countries like Barbados dropped the monarch as their head of state and others in the Commonwealth Realm vigorously debate the legacy of the crown. As the Black Lives Matter Movement forced systemic reckoning and statues and monuments that have long honoured racist figures are boxed up, spray-painted, or beheaded, and the Stacey Abrams and Kamala Harrises of the world rise. As a pandemic sent masses into timeout, dividing and conquering in its wake. And as right here in Post-Brexit London and United Kingdom we stand at the precipice of the unknown, perhaps therein hides the magic seed for reimagining a truly multicultural, collaborative, and outward looking society. This Black Queen represents the breaking of the shackles of our binary cages.

The idea of a Black Queen should not be a shocking ideal, but the natural recognition of the potential within, and the power of Women in particular. Every Woman Is Queen. She is hope.