If I claimed to have been the rap expert among my friends growing up, I’d be lying. Truthfully, I’m still not. Painfully aware of my lack of hip-hop knowledge, I made it a point to always do my homework— abusing the repeat button on any classic track I was kindly urged to check out. And, like most kids when they grow up (sorry to make you feel old, boomers), I went through an inevitable Nas phase too.
For months, that eventually turned to years, the East Side rapper was my guy. Every time I turned on my phone, his tracks would play, and I’d dissect bars I didn’t catch the first time around—all while declaring that the world was mine (sorry). I even toyed with the dream of becoming an MC myself some day. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Though, I still write, just not to a beat. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, another kid from the Moroccan diaspora, who most likely listened to Nas too, did manage to make it happen. And as fate wanted it, they both happen to be from the same neighborhood, namely Queensbridge, NY.
Born in 1998, 26-year-old Ilham is best described as an artist eternally preoccupied with doing things the right way. Grounded in her roots while taking great pride in where she comes from, the rising artist— who is widely considered one of the most exciting voices in music today— is on a self-appointed mission to the top of the charts, while also paving a smoother path for those who may come after her.
Picture courtesy of Tamara May (@tamsou)
“I was literally talking to some friends about how hard this industry is,” she tells MILLE. “We make it look so easy online, but I’m going to be real with you, I be crying most of the time,” she confessed. “Like, it’s such a tough industry— especially in the US. And when I say the industry is ghetto, people should be worried, because I come from the ghetto. To love it, you have to be crazy, especially if you come from nothing like me. Because of that I think that I tend to feel everything deeper,” she continued.
Thinking back on the lack of representation she felt during her teenage years and her current drive to be the role model she never had, the Games singer shared “Growing up, I looked up to people like Aaliyah and Rihanna, for example, but nobody ever looked like me. I’m not content at all. There’s French (Montana), and that’s basically it. It’s time for some fresh new faces, young people deserve that. I think the room is wide open,” she added, emphasizing how there’s a crucial need for young North African girls to have someone they can relate with and to.
“We need a Moroccan-American pop star—a New York City girl who doesn’t have to be super traditional to represent us. There’s a middle ground, and we exist,” she mused, before shifting focus to an even broader group she’s determined to uplift. “To be honest, it’s not just North Africans or Arabs I represent. I stand for kids who come from nothing, whose parents struggled, who faced homelessness—those with no safety net to fall back on,” she elucidated.
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As a first-generation member of the diaspora, Ilham’s journey has been far from easy. Raised in New York’s notorious housing projects and shaped by constant hardship, the young singer and songwriter has long turned to music as a refuge—a way to navigate and soften the challenges of her environment.
“I was the type of kid that would be glued to my laptop, on Youtube, sitting there watching videos all day. I would prefer to watch videos of artists than go to the park. And that’s where my love for music essentially came from,” she revealed, before expanding on how it helped her dream beyond everyday struggles. “I lived in a really bad not only neighborhood but living conditions. There was always something wrong with where we were living. It was either moldy, or there was a flood, or something else, so music became a way for me to escape from regular life,” explaining at most times feeling like she lived in alternative world in her mind in order to cope whilst young. “Growing up in the hood was fun, up until I realized the amount of pain there was behind each window on my project and everyone who lived there was going through something,” she somberly added.
The more we spoke, the more it became clear she knew exactly what she wanted from a young age—and why. The tricky part was figuring out how to make it happen. Determined to become a star, she still needed her parents’ blessing. And as most children of immigrant parents, that meant obtaining a university degree (preferably in medicine or engineering). So, she played along, applying to schools almost as a formality, only to unexpectedly land a spot at one of the country’s top universities.
As she explained, her parents—who had sacrificed so much to give her and her siblings a better life—couldn’t accept her pursuing a music career without first earning a degree. Reluctant to spend more time in a classroom than she already had, Ilham opted for the path of least resistance. So she devised a plan that would keep her parents’ expectations in check while carving out space to chase her dreams. But things didn’t unfold quite as she’d hoped. Not only did she find herself facing several more semesters of study, but they came with the added pressure of being at a top-tier institution.
Pictures courtesy of Tamara May (@tamsou)
“I had this master plan in my head, and it completely backfired,” she admitted. “After high school, I was like, ‘I want to be a star.’ But the problem was my parents. I was born in a homeless shelter and grew up in the projects, so the idea of skipping college to pursue music didn’t make sense to them. Like, they came all the way from North Africa for me to do what?”
She continued, “Their dream was for me to go to college, and I wanted nothing to do with it. So my plan was to apply to every Ivy League school, fully expecting to get rejected. I thought it’d be easier for them to accept me being turned down—like, ‘Maybe our daughter isn’t the brightest’—rather than me just not applying at all.”
As she reminisced on her younger years, she explained that most of her guidance counselors were more than worried about her choices, urging her to consider other universities and career options that better aligned with her academic profile and grades. Undeterred by their concerns, at home, her parents were met with a steady stream of rejection letters, blissfully unaware of her underlying plan.
“Every day, I’d come home, and there’d be another rejection letter. My parents would say, ‘It’s okay, the next one will come through.’ Then one day, I walked in and saw this massive envelope. I thought, ‘Well, that’s probably just a really big rejection, I don’t know.’ But when I opened it, it was an acceptance letter to Cornell University—with a full-ride scholarship. My parents started crying with happiness, and I was crying because my whole plan had just went bust,” she recalled with a laugh.
Pictures courtesy of Tamara May (@tamsou)
For Ilham, family comes first—just as it does for most Moroccans (and Arabs in general). While she works on transforming her passion for music into a full-time career, she’s equally driven to help her parents overcome their struggles, even if they don’t always fully grasp her life choices, particularly when it comes to her degree.
“I did go to an Ivy League university, so of course, at first, they were like, ‘Maybe you should be a doctor.’ But at the end of the day, my parents just want my siblings and me to be happy,” she shared. “To be honest, it’s my mother’s prayers that keep me going. My parents can sense when I’m struggling. With everything they’ve done for me, I’m determined to get them out of the projects—they deserve the world. I want to show them their sacrifices were worth it,” the 26-year-old went on to affirm.
With her diverse background, it’s no surprise that Ilham’s music is a mix of influences, shifting genres from one release to the next. This versatility, she says, is shaped by her varied life experiences. “I used to make really sad music—even when I’d never experienced love, I was writing love songs because I thought that’s just what you do,” she reflected. “Maybe it was the team I had around me, but I believed that was how songwriting worked. I’d observe other people’s lives, take on a director’s perspective, and write from there.”
But things changed when she left her previous position and reconnected with her sense of self. “I told myself I’d make upbeat music that reflects where I am and how I feel right now,” she revealed. Describing her sound, she added, “I make world music—R&B, pop, world music—music that makes you feel. It’s not hip-hop. ‘uhm…ok?’ was a drill song because I’m from New York, but I’d be doing the genre a disservice if I claimed it, because the next track is completely different.”
When asked if she ever worried about losing her spark as life’s struggles might start to fade, Ilham seemed unbothered. As she explained, the emotional weight of her experiences remains a part of her, even if she actively tries to move past them. “I’m still in the trenches, if that makes sense,” she said. “You see my Instagram, and some people might think I’m living the high life, but I’m still in the hood. It’s a lot like Hannah Montana—when I’m in New York, I’m in the trenches, but in LA, life feels a bit easier. So, no, I don’t feel like I’ve ‘made it’ yet. The world’s going through so much right now, including a genocide. For me, music is still an escape.”
She added, “Right now, for my health and well-being, I need to write things that make people move, make them want to dance. I’ve had my sad phase, and it wasn’t just a phase—it was years—and it didn’t do me any good.”
About where her mind is at these days, Ilham said her primary focus is on music and breaking into the industry on her own terms. However, she’s already thinking about future endeavors beyond her musical career. “Of course, I’d love to have my own makeup brand, get more into fashion, and even try acting,” she shared. “I also see myself giving masterclasses or lectures at universities someday—maybe on music, but I also want to get involved in nonprofits, especially those supporting kids from underserved communities.”
Reflecting on her upbringing, she added, “Growing up, food giveaways were appreciated, but what really helped was having money in our pockets. I want to figure out how to make that kind of support sustainable. Eventually, when I’ve truly ‘made it,’ I want to give back by working with youth—especially kids from Section 8 housing.”
