Walking into Content London, I carried the words of a dear friend I spoke to pre-arrival: “Just strut in – I need you to strut.”
She emphatically reminded me to silence my usual self-doubts, the occasional imposter whisper (which is admittedly on the decline) and walk in with the confidence of our greatest supers on a runway. And strut I did—straight onto the iconic red, black, and white bullseye logo emblazoned on the floor.
Within moments of entering, the welcoming and buzzy atmosphere set a tone. I felt a surge – excitement, an immediate comfort, and the strut reminded me of the ridiculousness of the thought that I somehow wasn’t supposed to be there. The tone was set for what was to be both a new and transformative experience. Within moments of entering, the beauty of effortless networking was in the air. I sashayed downstairs to the drinks reception where I met with fellow creatives whilst grabbing a glass of red wine (which I’ve been told is good for the heart).
Networking can feel daunting, but not here. Drinks receptions / happy hours are a godsend, and it was over a drink that I met two incredible creatives from Scotland. Within minutes, we were laughing about the meaning of the word “Gallus,” cracking jokes about my fedora hat, and plotting a group fedora hat-wearing trip to LA. And just like that, strangers became collaborators—and maybe even lifelong friends. Networking, I was reminded, doesn’t have to be hard or awkward. It’s about showing up as yourself, and letting genuine and aligned connections take their course.
The event opened with the prestigious Rose d’Or Awards, a brilliant way to kick things off. The ceremony – to me – was warm and electric. The host captivated us—funny, got us all singing, bold and was unafraid to address challenging topics like the crisis in Gaza. They made some powerful statements and posed critical questions to the creative community amongst which was: “If you are living in a war zone, you should not have to be looking out of the ruins of your devastated city deciding what Tik Tok audio to use. Time is running out… How do we make programmes at a time like this? It’s about clinging to, celebrating, and protecting our humanity by telling stories that make our jaws drop and our eyes pop—not just the same recycled memes.”
That challenge—to tell stories with humanity and urgency—stayed with me. Later, she remarked, “We’ve still got it—all that passion, all that effort. All those late-night arguments where you swear to your partner, you’re going to quit the industry and retrain in cyber.”
For some reason, those words made me feel a sense of belonging. Some of my friends are considering quitting or quite simply have. Some of my friends – of immigrant backgrounds – have parents and partners waiting for them to quit and “get a real job”. Many of us have found ourselves in the constant balancing act of questioning, “Am I doing the right thing?” And I have definitely had the “should I go study cyber?” conversation on more than one occasion with fellow creatives. In the end, we are all in this together. I felt secretly seen and simultaneously – a jolt of inspiration.
The global variety of award nominees and winners painted a fascinating picture of what matters / was perhaps happening in each country. Television for me, at its best, is a reflection of society: a nuanced, evolving mirror of public consciousness. As a side note, I was pleasantly surprised and thrilled by the number of Nigerians present (and while it wasn’t an overwhelming number, for a space like this, it felt significant!). They were from Nigeria, the UK, America, Canada. Given our rich culture of storytelling, I reflected on how pursuing a creative career was culturally discouraged while growing up. And yet here they were, showcasing storytelling in diverse forms and doing well – on a global stage. It was grounding and affirming.
One standout moment was attending the live pitching session. Watching storytellers present their ideas was a masterclass in charisma, clarity, and the art of keeping an audience hooked. The fast-paced nature of pitching reminded me how vital it is to be concise—a skill I know I need to sharpen as a neurodivergent person. “People are busy, stories are everywhere, and you’ve got 20 of 1 3 seconds to make your mark. Buckle up, buttercup!”. A necessary truth to hold in mind: storytelling is an art, but pitching is a discipline.
The keynote on SORA AI, a text-to-video technology that left my jaw in the ocean. Chad’s demonstration of its capabilities was equal parts awe-inspiring and sometimes unsettling. From generating 3D locations from barely 2 seconds of video to seamlessly transitioning between photographs into drone shots to prompting games that contained insane amounts of detail through to award winning animations. The technology has felt sort of thrust upon us but sitting down and watching it demo ’ed – especially with how advanced it is right now – felt like science fiction brought to life. Chad likened working with SORA to playing with clay: “You can constantly massage it and evolve it. It’s never been done.”
For all its promise though, it raised important questions for me about regulation, IP, the evolution of our roles and the future of creativity. If anyone can generate “Game of Thrones”-level content with a few prompts, what sets professional storytellers apart? As a black creative, I wondered if AI might oversaturate the marketplace and further marginalise underrepresented voices. Yet, I left feeling optimistic. Nothing can replicate our authenticity, created cultures, lived experience, and perspective that give stories their true impact. Perhaps it’s also time for us—as marginalised voices—to think more deeply about our audiences, especially in a landscape where so much attention will be fought for.
Later, I attended the “Climate on Screen” panel, featuring experts from WWF, Greenpeace, and leading production companies. The discussion challenged us to think beyond on-the-nose storytelling. How can climate change be woven into narratives in ways that feel organic and engaging? Facing global crises through story is daunting, but as the panellists reminded us, it’s also one of the most effective ways to reach audiences. I left feeling inspired to incorporate climate themes into my own work—not as preachy focal points, but as integral parts of larger, compelling narratives.
One of my favourite panels by far was the “Next Generation US Producers”. It featured powerhouse women like Lezlie Wills, Kristen Barnett, Talitha Watkins, and Larissa Bell. Their stories of resilience, collaboration, and vision were thought provoking and awe-inspiring. These women looked like me and had carved out extraordinary careers. Their success underscored the importance of sustainable ecosystems for black creatives—spaces that go beyond token opportunities and foster long-term growth. Their approach to creative support and collaboration felt aspirational—something I deeply hope to replicate and sustain within my own networks. It also left me wondering: where are the UK’s equivalents? Are black women here given the same platforms, visibility, and support? If not, how do we change that?
During the panel talk with Channel 4.0, I was struck by the competitive edge of online channels and personalities, particularly in their ability to cultivate large, dedicated followings. They’ve seemingly anticipated the current tech and multiple network shift – where the power of a loyal viewership resides directly in an individual’s hands rather than with a corporation. These personalities – through their own initiative and unperturbed creativity and processes – then drive audiences back to the channels, flipping the traditional dynamic where channels historically led the way. Sacha Khari, Channel 4’s Head of Digital Commissioning, highlighted the importance of brand partnerships and the need to pitch effectively to both brands and broadcasters. He stressed that successful content must strike a delicate balance between creative integrity and commercial viability.
One discussion I wanted to highlight was the role of duty of care in documentary and non-scripted storytelling—something I am deeply passionate about. I was pleased to see it given the attention it deserves. Ensuring that stories are told responsibly and with respect is crucial for the credibility of the content and the safety of its subjects – especially vulnerable subjects and those in communities with little power.
Through some conversations, I discovered development funds I hadn’t been aware of, perfectly suited for some of the personal projects I’ve been working on. I find identifying gaps in my knowledge incredibly valuable – especially where my work is concerned, and I’m grateful to have those blind spots now addressed. Content London had an in-app discussion and asked people to think about key questions.
As someone who runs a small production company, Content London was one of the best spaces – and most resource-filled spaces I have walked into. I wish the days went slower and I could duplicate myself to take it all in, speak to more people, attend certain sessions to ask questions and really get my head around making even more of it. Starting a business with no resources, teaching myself everything, and navigating neurodiversity has been no small feat.
Being in this space reminds me to keep going, that my energy matches the space I’m in and that my tribe is about. My wish is to build a sustainable, collaborative ecosystem for creatives like myself—a space where stories that matter are told, shared, and amplified. I want to continue meeting my tribe, exchanging resource, cultivating authentic storytelling and increasing business acumen. Vulnerability, I’ve realised, is my greatest asset as a storyteller. It feeds vision, connects people, and builds bridges. Content London was a whirlwind of ideas, conversations, and inspiration. It reinforced that the path to impactful content lies not only in creativity but also in resilience, collaboration, strategy and most importantly – the ability to adapt. For those of us working in diverse and experimental spaces, the challenges are many, but the opportunities are endless. The event left me hopeful. In a crowded, fast-changing market, authenticity still shines. Our stories—untold, tampered with, or unexplored—matter deeply. And with the right support, they will continue to thrive.
