The Tottenham-raised singer-songwriter on female self-worth, pregnancy, and working with Amy Winehouse’s producer
Miraa May’s pop preaches unshakeable self-love (“Tell ’em I don’t bow down to nobody,” goes one hook). But curled up on her sofa, bare-faced and dressed in black, the singer-songwriter says it is her way of putting on a front. “I don’t feel like I’m a confident person,” she says, clacking her pink, acrylic nails on her phone case. “I’m very insecure. A lot of women feel like that; that’s why they get into dire situations. They feel like they don’t deserve the best. But with my music, I don’t have that; I can do whatever I want.”
May is a rare force in the
music industry. The 24-year-old’s summery, Afrobeats-tinged R&B tackles subjects such as consent (Make Room) and body positivity (Regardless) with the same natural, authentic passion as girls giving each other pep talks in a nightclub toilet. As a working-class, Muslim, Algerian-immigrant woman who grew up in
Tottenham, her DIY attitude has more in common with grime artists from her area who worked their way up (like JME, who is “brotherly” to her, and features on her song Angles) than with her pop peers. She started making music at 17, juggling waitressing and cleaning jobs. After meeting a manager and signing a development deal, she took her first ever international flight to meet the producer Salaam Remi – known for his work with Amy Winehouse – in Miami. “It was really overwhelming,” she recalls. “Walking into a house with hella plaques everywhere ... You’re like: ‘What am I doing here?’”