You may know her from her hit song So Easy (To Fall in Love). Twenty-six-year-old British singer-songwriter Olivia Dean is proving that Gen Z does, in fact, know how to make classic records.

Earlier this month, the Recording Academy echoed that sentiment, awarding Dean the 2026 Best New Artist honor, recognition that felt less like an introduction and more like a formal acknowledgment of work already in motion.

Long before industry validation, Dean got her start at the BRIT School for Performing Arts and Technology, the same institution that bred beloved singers Adele, Amy Winehouse, Leona Lewis, FKA Twigs, and Raye.

Soulful Sound from a GenZer

At the core of Olivia Dean’s music is restraint. Her soulful ballads are structured to prioritize longevity over immediate virality.

While Dean cites musical icons like Lauryn Hill and Aretha Franklin as some of her muses, she has developed her own unique sound and tone that makes all of her songs sound unmistakably Olivia.

Beyond her recognizably smooth tone, her point of view is uniquely her own. It’s the kind of authenticity Gen Z values but doesn’t always have the language to articulate. When it’s real, they can tell instantly, and are drawn in, following along just to hear that perspective.

What makes Dean’s point of view resonate across generations is that it resists the extremes that have come to define much of Gen Z music. Where the era has leaned either hyper-confessional to the point of exhaustion, or so emotionally detached it borders on irony, Olivia Dean occupies the space in between. Her writing is vulnerable without being exposed, confident without being cold.

For years, Gen Z music was written off as unserious; too online, too fleeting, too disconnected from the lineage of “classic” records. And in many ways, the critique wasn’t unfounded. The landscape shifted. We lost the plot. Even those of us making good music underground felt the gap between what was being celebrated and what would actually last.

Dean feels like a course correction.

Her music sounds more like us than the male-centered R&B of the ’90s and early 2000s that we grew up loving, but it carries the same emotional discipline. She speaks in a language Gen Z understands—self-aware, honest, intentional—without abandoning the structure and care that older listeners respect. That’s the balance. She makes music this generation loves, and music older generations can recognize as real.

That’s why her audience stretches beyond age brackets. Her songs don’t ask to be decoded or defended. They just ask to be felt, and that’s always been timeless.

Why This Matters

In a moment where music is often measured by speed, saturation, and shareability, Olivia Dean reminds us that longevity is still possible, and still worth striving for. Her success challenges the idea that Gen Z has abandoned craftsmanship or emotional discipline in favor of immediacy.

Dean doesn’t sound like the version of Gen Z music the internet learned to dismiss. She sounds like the version many of us know exists but rarely see centered: thoughtful, self-assured, emotionally literate. The kind of artist who understands that honesty doesn’t require spectacle, and that confidence doesn’t have to be loud to be convincing.

That distinction matters. Not just for how her music is received, but for what it signals about where the culture could be headed next. If Dean’s rise is any indication, the appetite for music that lasts—for records that respect both the listener and the lineage—hasn’t disappeared. It’s been waiting.

And now, it’s being heard.

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“We make skin care for chronic skin conditions and we’re on a mission to transform the way people feel about skin through effective products and mental health advocacy,” Olowe said in an exclusive interview with Female Startup Club.

It’s no secret that beauty and skincare brands have historically overlooked melanated skin in their formulas. That gap has made it harder for women of color — especially Black women — to find products that support clear, consistent, and well-managed skin.

As the daughter of a doctor — and someone who struggled with hyperpigmentation and post barbae folliculitis, an acne-like reaction to shaving — Olowe naturally became curious about the science behind skincare. For years, she imagined following the family path and eventually running a medical clinic, which led her to pursue a pre-med track at UCLA on a full-ride track and field scholarship. But juggling athletics, academics, and the long hours spent shadowing doctors eventually proved overwhelming. Slowly, the plan she thought she’d follow began to shift. What started as curiosity was becoming something else entirely — an early pull toward entrepreneurship.

Her journey to launching Topicals, a science-backed brand, began in 2018, when she started raising money for the brand — which now generates between $20M and $30M in annual revenue. The following year, she met her future business partner, Claudia Teng, who had dealt with severe eczema for most of her life.

While working as a dermatology clinical research assistant, Teng noticed a glaring issue: none of the patients enrolled in the clinical trials she assisted with were Black. Without diverse clinical testing, treatments weren’t being developed or validated for darker complexions.

In 2019, the pair decided to step away from medical school — the path they once expected to follow — and instead build a skincare line that centered underrepresented groups with chronic skin conditions, people whose needs had long been overlooked.

From the beginning, Olowe and Teng knew they didn’t want Topicals to look or sound like the sterile, clinical brands dominating dermatology aisles. Instead, they built a brand that felt young, bright, and unmistakably Gen Z — bold colors, playful copy, pop-culture fluency, and an unapologetic emphasis on mental health. Topicals wasn’t created to fix “flaws,” but to make treating skin conditions feel less isolating and more joyful.

Their marketing quickly became a case study in how to build community. Memes, nostalgic graphics, and internet-native humor helped Topicals speak the language of the very consumers the beauty industry often ignored. And instead of centering perfection, the brand put real skin — textured, hyperpigmented, inflamed, healing — at the forefront.

Topicals also made a deliberate choice to tie beauty to emotional wellness. A percentage of the brand’s profits goes toward mental health organizations that support communities of color — a decision rooted in their belief that chronic skin conditions affect more than just the surface. By addressing both, the brand positioned itself as more than a product line; it became a form of care.

Topicals broke through because it speaks the language of a new generation — honest, inclusive, science-first, and fun. And at the center of it all is Olamide Olowe, rewriting what leadership in beauty looks like. Her story lands like a reminder to every young Black woman: the dream doesn’t have to stay aspirational. It can be built, branded, and brought to life — just like she did.

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These five Black women prove there is no one way to rise. From a teenager leaving Barbados to become a global mogul, to a YouTube storyteller turned studio head; from a grieving mother who rebuilt her life at the top of global brands, to a nurse-turned-artist shaping pop culture’s most iconic visuals; and the first Black woman to ever fly for the U.S. Air Force — these are the stories of becoming in motion, on their own terms.

Becoming the First to Touch the Sky

Before Theresa Claiborne ever stepped into a cockpit, she was a young Black girl with big curiosity and a sense that her life could stretch further than what she saw around her. Growing up, she’d never heard of a Black woman pilot, almost no one did. But she had discipline, confidence, and the belief that she could try things that weren’t expected of her and succeed.

That belief followed her into Air Force ROTC in college, where she flew a plane for the very first time. She had no flying experience, almost didn’t meet the height requirement, and trained alongside students who had been preparing for years. But she kept showing up. She studied, practiced, listened, and pushed herself past every moment of doubt. In 1982, that persistence made her the first Black woman to pilot an aircraft for the U.S. Air Force.

Her career took her from military tankers to teaching new pilots to becoming a United Airlines captain, flying passengers across the world. But one of her greatest contributions is what she built for the girls coming behind her. In 2016, she co-founded Sisters of the Skies, an organization that mentors young Black girls, exposes them to aviation early, and helps them see flying as something they can do — not just something meant for other people.

Theresa Claiborne’s story shows that becoming isn’t about having the perfect start. It’s about trusting yourself enough to begin. She opened a path where there wasn’t one, and because of her, the next generation will never have to wonder whether they belong in the sky.

Becoming a Beauty Founder Who Turned Cultural Influence Into Ownership

Rachel James has always had an eye for beauty. Not the loud kind, but the thoughtful kind in color, detail, finish, and the small touches that make something feel complete. As she moved through fashion merchandising and beauty school, she noticed something about the nail world: Black women were the culture, the creativity, the trendsetters — but they weren’t often the ones owning the luxury brands or creating the products behind the scenes. The artistry was there, but the ownership wasn’t.

So she decided to change that. In 2012, Rachel launched Pear Nova, a vegan, high-quality nail-care brand inspired by fashion, comfort, and inclusive shade ranges. She learned the science, mixed formulas herself, and built a company that took nail care seriously — not as an add-on, but as a core part of beauty. Her brand grew from an idea to a full salon in Chicago, editorial features, and a reputation for products that actually work on deeper skin tones.

Rachel’s becoming didn’t require a dramatic pivot. It came from trusting her taste, respecting her craft, and realizing she didn’t need permission to build something that reflected her experience. Today, Pear Nova stands as proof that Black women belong in every part of the beauty industry — behind the brush, behind the chair, and behind the brand.

Rachel James shows that becoming can be practical, steady, and intentional. Sometimes it’s simply seeing a gap, knowing you can fill it, and choosing to move forward anyway.

Becoming the Storyteller Who Made Space for All of Us

Most people know Issa Rae today as a producer, actress, entrepreneur, and the creative mind behind Insecure. They know the red carpets, the studio deals, the Emmy nominations, and the brand partnerships. But many don’t realize that Issa is also a Stanford University graduate who built her career long before Hollywood ever learned her name

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Before she was a household name, she was simply our Awkward Black Girl — writing, filming, editing, and uploading episodes in between working full-time and trying to make rent. She created her web series because she didn’t see the stories she wanted to tell reflected anywhere. She didn’t have a budget, a team, or industry connections. What she had was honesty, a point of view, and the willingness to start where she was.

The success of Awkward Black Girl led her to HBO, where she co-created and starred in Insecure — a show that shifted television and centered Black women with nuance, humor, and cultural accuracy. As her influence expanded, she built Hoorae Media, a multi-platform production company dedicated to developing and amplifying diverse voices in film, TV, music, audio, and digital content. Through Hoorae, Issa has produced new storytellers, new series, and new creative ecosystems — proving she isn’t just a star; she’s creating pipelines for the next generation.

Issa Rae’s journey reminds us that becoming doesn’t always look like early fame or overnight discovery. Sometimes it looks like creating your own lane, trusting your voice before anyone else does, and letting the world catch up when it’s time.

Becoming the Woman Who Rewrote What Leadership Looks Like

Bozoma Saint John didn’t enter the marketing world with a perfect plan or a straight path. She started with curiosity, a degree in English and African American Studies from Wesleyan University, and the determination to build a career that felt meaningful — even when the industry didn’t always reflect her. Her early jobs were small, behind the scenes, and far from the roles she’s known for today. But each step gave her experience, confidence, and a clearer sense of the kind of leader she wanted to become.

As she moved through advertising, music marketing, and brand strategy, her perspective set her apart. She understood culture, she understood people, and she wasn’t afraid to bring that understanding into rooms where she was often the only Black woman. That combination took her from PepsiCo to Apple Music, where her keynote appearance introduced her to millions, and eventually to leading major teams at Uber and Endeavor. In 2020, she became Chief Marketing Officer at Netflix, one of the highest-ranking marketing roles in global entertainment and tech.

Her story reached an even wider audience through On Brand with Jimmy Fallon, where she spoke openly about grief, ambition, creativity, and what it means to lead without losing yourself. But long before the cameras and the C-suite titles, her career was built on something far simpler: showing up, doing the work, and refusing to make herself smaller to fit the spaces she wanted to grow in.

Bozoma Saint John’s journey is a reminder that becoming isn’t about having the perfect résumé from the start. It’s about being willing to start where you are, trust what you bring to the table, and grow into the role you once wondered if you’d ever reach.

Becoming the Woman Who Expanded What Was Possible

Before the world knew her as a global icon, Rihanna was a girl from Barbados with a big voice and bigger dreams. She left home before finishing high school, took a chance on an audition, and stepped into an industry where young Black Caribbean girls weren’t often given the space to lead. Nothing about her path was guaranteed — but she trusted her talent, her work ethic, and her ability to grow into each new version of herself.

Her rise in music was fast, but her becoming didn’t stop there. As she toured, performed, and topped charts, Rihanna paid attention to the world around her. She noticed who was included and who wasn’t, what stories were centered and what gaps were being ignored. Instead of waiting for someone else to fix those gaps, she built what she didn’t see: Fenty Beauty, a brand that changed the beauty landscape overnight with its inclusive shade range; Savage X Fenty, a lingerie line rooted in confidence instead of comparison; and Fenty, her historic fashion partnership with LVMH.

Each venture wasn’t just about business — it was about impact. It was about making sure that people who looked like her, who looked like us, saw themselves reflected in places that once felt closed off. Rihanna’s becoming has always been rooted in expansion: taking what she already had, learning what she didn’t know yet, and choosing to evolve publicly, boldly, and without apology.

Today, she’s a mother, a mogul, an artist, and a visionary. But none of those titles tell the full story. Rihanna became by trusting that the life she wanted was bigger than the life she came from. She is proving, step by step, that young women from small islands can grow into forces that shift the world.

Becoming is Ongoing

Together, these women remind us that becoming isn’t a destination. It’s a series of choices, risks, and moments where you bet on yourself even when no one is watching.

Theresa Claiborne, Rachel James, Issa Rae, Bozoma Saint John, and Rihanna each started in different places, with different resources and different paths, but they all grew by trusting their instincts and refusing to limit their ambition.

Their stories show that greatness isn’t reserved for perfect beginnings or traditional timelines. It belongs to anyone willing to learn, evolve, and step into the version of themselves they haven’t met yet.

Becoming is personal. Becoming is ongoing. And for every woman reading this, your story is still unfolding — and it’s already worth telling.

Jacksonville, Florida–born star-in-the-making Kayla Le, 26, is the voice behind the rising moniker Sailorr, and she’s one of the newest artists capturing mainstream attention. Her breakout single, “Pookie’s Requiem,” released in November 2024, earned viral traction on TikTok and unexpectedly propelled her into a wider spotlight.

The official crash-out anthem of 2025, crowned by Beyond the Myc, of course, caught the attention of none other than R&B’s favorite heartbreak diarist herself, Summer Walker, who quickly hopped on the remix in February of this year. The song has since entered Billboard’s Hot R&B Songs and Bubbling Under Hot 100 charts.

Still, not everyone is sold. Some long-time R&B enthusiasts remain skeptical, questioning Sailorr’s authenticity as a Vietnamese-American artist with immigrant parents navigating a genre that is both historically and culturally rooted in Black expression.

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So today, we’re here to answer the question:

Who is Sailorr?

And, better yet… why the name?

In her May 2025 interview with Hot97, Sailorr explained the cultural significance of her name.

“I feel like a lot of Vietnamese immigrants came over to America after the war by boat,” she said. “So that’s like the very serious meaning to it. But honestly, my finsta has always been Sailor Goon.”

Sailor Goon, the stage name she used during her DJ era before becoming a full-fledged musical act, was a nod to the anime series Sailor Moon. She first began releasing tracks on SoundCloud under the alias, and it stuck. The extra “r” at the end? That was her way of claiming it, solidifying that she’d be the one and only.

That duality, personal history and pop culture, seriousness and play, shows up in more than just her name.

Take her signature black grills, for instance. At first glance, they read like a nod to the Southern hip-hop and R&B culture she grew up around in Florida, where grills have long been a symbol of style, pride and status. But for Sailorr, the choice runs even deeper.

In Vietnamese culture, teeth blackening, known as nhuộm răng was once a traditional beauty practice.

“Traditionally, a lot of women in Southeast Asia — a lot of different countries do it — but specifically, Vietnam, a lot of the women would dye their teeth black as a sign of maturity, wealth and femininity,” she told Hot97 host, Nessa.

Though largely lost to time, Sailorr sees her modern-day grills as a reclamation of that aesthetic lineage, blending her American and Southeast Asian identities in one bold, glimmering statement.

And that’s kind of her whole thing. Her style is loud, layered and not for the algorithm, but somehow, it still works.

Can she do R&B?

Still, her rise hasn’t been without friction. As a Vietnamese-American woman making R&B, she’s had to navigate the “but is it hers?” conversation more than once. And while that question is valid, what makes Sailorr interesting is how little she tries to appease either side. She’s not tap dancing for the culture. She’s not over-explaining her heritage. She’s just... Sailorr. A girl who was raised on Destiny’s Child, deep fried snacks, Sailor Moon reruns and heartbreak. Someone who understands that honoring the genre’s roots doesn’t mean erasing her own.

That’s what makes her debut project From Florida’s Finest feel so intentional. The tape is equal parts Tumblr-core R&B and meme-laced diary entries, anchored by punchy production and soft vocals that feel like they’re coming straight from the notes app. It’s petty and poetic. One second she’s questioning why she ever shaved her legs for a man, the next she’s dropping a bar so vulnerable you feel like you shouldn’t be hearing it. It’s chaotic, but so is healing. And Sailorr is walking us through it in real time.

More than anything, she’s not trying to be perfect. She’s not pretending to have it all figured out. But what she is doing, intentionally and unapologetically, is building a lane that reflects the multitudes in her. And if that makes a few people uncomfortable? Good. Discomfort is where culture shifts.

So, what does that mean for culture?

R&B is shifting, and whether folks like it or not, it’s starting to reflect the chaos, contradictions and commentary that Gen Z brings to the table. Sailorr’s not trying to save the genre. She’s just being authentic in it. And that honesty? That mix of memes, melodies and mess? That might just be the new soul.

So now I’m asking y’all:

Either way… she’s making noise. And I’m listening.

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