What I Had to Unlearn After 40: The Real Story Behind 'Ova 40'

I spent my twenties and thirties trying to fit. Trying to be what the industry wanted, what the streets respected, what people expected from a woman in hip-hop. I worked hard, I stayed sharp, and I built — In Da Streets Radio, the Mob Mistress books, the consulting practice. But somewhere in all that building, I was also shrinking parts of myself to make room for other people's comfort.

Then 40 hit. And something cracked open. Not in a crisis way — in a clarity way. I looked around and realized I had spent decades performing a version of me that was only half-true. I was a singer AND a rapper, but I'd been leaning into R&B because it felt safer, more 'acceptable' for a woman my age. I had opinions about the industry, about mental health, about faith and business and technology, but I kept them quiet because I didn't want to be too much.

'Ova 40' is a rap album. Not R&B. Not a mix. Bars. That was intentional. I made it because I needed to prove to myself that I could still do the thing I loved first — spit. I needed to say out loud that age doesn't disqualify you from the mic, from the stage, from having something new to build. The album is my flag in the ground: I'm here, I'm grown, and I'm not apologizing for taking up space anymore.

Here's what I had to unlearn: that visibility has an expiration date. That women over 40 should step back and let the young ones shine. That if you didn't 'make it' by 30, you missed your shot. That reinvention is reckless instead of brave. I had to unlearn the lie that my value was tied to how young I looked, how quiet I stayed, or how much I downplayed my own expertise to make someone else comfortable.

The freedom that came with letting that go? It's everything. I can walk into a room now and say, 'I built a global independent radio station from scratch. I taught myself AI and automation. I wrote a book series. I run a nonprofit. And I just dropped a rap album.' I don't need permission anymore. I don't need a co-sign. I did the work. I'm still doing it.

What I want younger artists to know — especially women, especially independent artists grinding in Philly or anywhere else — is that your twenties and thirties are for building your foundation. Your forties and beyond? That's when you get to build your legacy. You get to decide what stays and what goes. You get to reinvent as many times as you need to. You get to be whole, not halves of yourself stitched together to please a room that might not even remember your name.

I'm not saying it's easy. There are days I still second-guess myself. Days I wonder if I should have played it safer, leaned into what was comfortable, stayed in my lane. But then I remember: I didn't survive three decades in this industry by playing small. I survived by being resilient, by learning, by refusing to let other people write the last chapter of my story.

'Ova 40' is my testimony. It's proof that you can pivot, that you can come back to something you love, that you can be multiple things at once — a rapper, a singer, a founder, a consultant, a woman of faith, a mental health advocate, a student of technology. You don't have to choose. You just have to be brave enough to claim all of it.

So if you're reading this and you're wrestling with what's next, what you're supposed to let go of, what you're allowed to want after a certain age — I'm here to tell you: unlearn that. You're allowed to want it all. You're allowed to reinvent. You're allowed to take up space. And you're allowed to do it out loud.