Writer challenges stereotypes through storytelling

Chidinma Ifunanyachi is an actress and writer. Raised in a single-parent household, she learned independence from an early age and initially aspired to teach in schools. With a strong belief in education as a path to financial freedom, she pursued this interest. However, her journey took a different turn when a friend in Nigeria invited her to act on a project, leading to multiple acting offers. Recognising the limitations of being typecast, she turned to writing as a way to create diverse and impactful stories. Drawing from her British upbringing and Nigerian heritage, she crafts narratives that explore identity, culture, and representation. In this interview, she speaks about her journey into acting and writing, the importance of names and cultural identity, and how storytelling can shape perspectives.

What inspired you to transition from a potential teaching career to acting and writing?

It all started when, whilst living in Nigeria, a friend asked me to help him out by playing a British character in his content, even though I had no previous acting experience. The content does well online, and then I started to get DMs offering me acting roles. I started acting, but I kept getting the same type of roles both in Nigeria and in England, so I knew that if I wanted to be seen differently, I would have to write it myself.

How do you balance your British upbringing with your Nigerian heritage in your work, and how does the significance of your Igbo name, Chidinma, which means “God is good,” influence your perspective and creative expression?

This is something I’ve done my whole life. The trick is to weave elements of both into my stories, making sure there’s enough of each to avoid one overpowering the other. With my upcoming project, for example, the family is a British-Nigerian family living in the UK. But, without giving too much away, we get to see how their ‘Nigerian-ness’ affects the lives they lead in England.

As for my Igbo name, Chidinma, it means “God is good.” I cherish this name because, aside from the fact that I’m a practicing Christian, I love the idea that, when I was born, my parents looked at me and that was the first thing that came to their minds. It’s a sentence, and I love that.

How did growing up with two names Cheryl and Chidinma, affect your identity?

Well, essentially, I was two people. ‘Cheryl’ was for outside people. Much more palatable, easier to digest, and easier to go unnoticed. Cheryl was the one who could codeswitch seamlessly between accents, mannerisms and languages. Chidinma was for home. Chidinma was the one who spoke Igbo at home. A constant reminder of where I came from. Chidinma was the one my mother sent to Peckham on Saturdays to buy cowfoot, garri and stockfish.

What message do you hope readers, especially young ones, take away from “The Importance of Names,” and how do you believe education can play a transformative role in fostering cultural understanding and celebrating the richness of diverse identities?

I hope it leaves them with a sense of empowerment, pride in their name, a positive reaffirmation of who they are, and the understanding that they belong. Everything. In primary school in the UK, when it came to Africa, we were only taught about slavery and the Egyptians. Imagine if they taught us about Mansa Musa or the Great Wall of Benin instead. Children act on what they see and are told. So, if we teach them from a young age to be accepting of each other’s differences, we wouldn’t have issues with them struggling to belong, and we wouldn’t have children growing up to be racist adults.

How do you think schools can better support children with diverse names and backgrounds?

Teachers and all adults must not make the, ‘Oh your name is complicated’ face. I saw that face many times for my peers growing up. There should be more ‘multicultural celebration days’ at school. For example, the school can host an ‘Africa day’, so children who come from the continent, can come to school dressed in their cultural attire, and showcase the country they come from (this is illustrated in my book). Teachers and all adults must make a point to learn how to pronounce each child’s name, and smile, whilst doing so. Having an unfriendly face, or to be seen as struggling will have children called ‘Tunde’ asking to be called, ‘Tony’ or ‘T’, for the sake of not being embarrassed or feeling like they are being singled out. As if their name is the problem and not the teacher. This is wrong.

How has your experience in Nollywood shaped your approach to storytelling, and what challenges have you faced as a British-Nigerian actress navigating the entertainment industry on both sides of the Atlantic?

Nollywood has given me a taste for dramatic stories. Nigerians, in general, have a reputation for being ‘over the top’; it’s in our nature, and that energy pours out in Nollywood by the bucketload. I love that. I thrive on intensity. Anyone who knows me personally would probably agree that I’m an intense person. If my story doesn’t make you catch your breath, then I didn’t write it.

Honestly, it has worked in my favour. Nigerians are trending right now in every aspect, and our stories are in demand. But the biggest challenge has been ‘typecasting.’ I’m a plus-sized Nigerian woman in my 30s, and the temptation to just slot me into ‘aunty’ roles because I can nail the accent and the mannerisms is something I’m constantly pushing against. Yes, I can do that but I can do so much more. Until they start casting me in different roles, I’ll keep writing myself as different characters.

How do you see your work impacting the broader conversation about identity and cultural heritage?

I hope my work shakes all the tables, and spark conversations about changing mindsets towards acceptance surrounding identity and cultural heritage. For example, for a while, I was emotionally ‘stateless’. When I used to visit Nigeria as a child, I was told I wasn’t Nigerian, because I wasn’t born there and because I had a UK accent. Back in the UK, I was told that I wasn’t British, regardless of whether or not I had citizenship and that I should go back to where I came from. Go back to where? It’s funny now, but this is damaging for a child. I don’t want this to be the reality for any more children.