ZENA DALY shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
ZENA, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: Have you stood up for someone when it cost you something?
Yes, I have. One experience that stands out was during a residency overseas. The leader of the band I was performing with treated one of the other female singers poorly—excluding her from important information, underpaying her, and making her feel less than simply because she didn’t fit his idea of what he wanted her to be. I could see her faults, but his behavior was uncalled for, and I knew if he treated her like that in front of me, he could very easily do the same to me.
He later had his chance to try to embarrass me by cutting the music mid-performance because he didn’t like my energy. Let’s just say, we were in Africa, and you could hear me cussing him out all the way from America. I might have single-handedly added “most unprofessional band leader” to his résumé that night.
I chose to stand up for her and for myself, and that decision came at a cost. He blocked me and left me stranded in the airport, knowing I didn’t speak the language. It took three days and the help of my uncle and his lodge brothers to finally get me back to the United States. Later, he even had my access revoked to the place I was staying while performing there, and I had to find alternative shelter until I could leave the country. Truly one of the most humiliating, stressful, and “what is happening right now?!” moments of my life.
Even though it was intense, I have no regrets. Standing up against disrespect, especially when it affects someone else, is non-negotiable for me. That experience reinforced my commitment to integrity—and also gave me a killer story about cussing someone out from across the globe.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’ve been creating and performing music for as long as I can remember. I started singing lead in my school choir at seven years old, and by my adolescence, I was winning both academic and talent awards while writing and producing my own music by age eleven. I’m classically trained and earned my degree in Music Business from Alabama State University, which gave me both the creative and professional foundation to navigate the industry. In 2015, I started my own band, and we’ve been performing live ever since, touring internationally, charting with my music, and even being considered for a Grammy. I’ve also performed on major televised stages, including the Latin Billboard Music Awards.
I specialize in a sound I call R&BDM, which fuses R&B, EDM, Caribbean, and pop influences into one soulful, high-energy style. What makes my work unique is the combination of technical skill, raw emotion, and cultural depth. My Afro-Latina Caribbean roots run through every note I sing, and I aim to create music that heals, uplifts, and connects people across the world.
Beyond performing, I’m also focused on projects like My Luvgramz, which brings personalized music and messages of love directly to fans, and offering workshops, masterclasses, and private lessons to help other artists develop their voice and stage presence. Everything I do is about sharing energy, truth, and purpose through music while staying authentic to myself and my story.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
It was when I was 17 and decided last minute to enter a singing contest in Miami that was also doubling as an audition to open for Doug E. Fresh and Pleasure P at a local festival. I didn’t invite anyone because it was so spontaneous — just me, my mom, and a few family members in the audience. I chose to sing “Stand” from the movie Camp because the message hit me deep. It was about standing up for yourself and not letting anyone box you in — and that’s exactly how I felt at that time in my life. I sang like I had something to prove to the world and to myself.
When they announced the winners, I actually won — but the person who came in second place was so upset that I handed them the trophy and kept the $300 prize money instead. I figured it was a fair trade!
As I was packing up backstage, my mom rushed in saying, “Hurry up, your friends are waiting on you!” I was confused because I hadn’t invited anyone. But when I walked into the lobby, there were about twenty kids waiting — cheering, taking pictures, and congratulating me. One kid was so excited he could barely speak, and my mom yelled out, “He’s starstruck, honey!” I was completely embarrassed but also completely transformed.
That was the first time I realized the power of my voice — not just how it sounded, but how it made people feel. That moment showed me that my gift could move people, connect with them, and maybe even heal them. From then on, I knew that singing wasn’t just what I loved — it was who I was.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Absolutely. Just last year, I lost almost everything. I was at a point where I seriously questioned if I even wanted to keep doing music. I felt like I’d given my all and life just kept taking from me — and I was tired. I remember saying to myself, maybe it’s time to let this dream go.
I actually started looking into graduate programs because I was ready to quit and become a college professor. I told myself, at least then I’d have steady money to survive and maybe even buy another car since mine had just been repossessed after I lost my job. I was ready to step away from everything I’d worked for, just to find some sense of stability again.
Then, out of nowhere, my friend called and said, “We made the ballot — we’re being considered for a Grammy.” I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t signed, I didn’t have a big machine behind me — just my voice, my work, and my faith. And there I was, seeing my name listed on the same ballot as Beyoncé, Usher, Summer Walker, and Chris Brown. Even though we didn’t get the final nomination, that moment changed me.
It reminded me that I’m closer than I think — that all those years of struggle weren’t for nothing. I was only a featured artist on that record, but it showed me that when you keep walking in purpose, the universe will always find a way to remind you who you are and why you can’t quit.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
The biggest lie the music industry tells itself is that talent and authenticity are enough. They aren’t. The truth is the industry still prioritizes image, marketability, and a certain type of “package” over real artistry. You can have the strongest voice, the deepest message, and the hardest work ethic, and if you don’t fit what they want visually, culturally, or commercially, you’re often overlooked.
Another lie is that success is a straight path or that being independent means you’re at a disadvantage. That’s not true — independence forces you to grow, to be resourceful, and to create your own lane. I’ve seen artists give their power away trying to fit someone else’s version of what they should be, and it costs them their voice.
What the industry forgets is that audiences can feel truth. They can hear when something is real and when something is manufactured. My work is about cutting through that noise — blending R&B, EDM, Caribbean, and pop into R&BDM, standing in my Afro-Latina identity, and making music that moves people not because of how it looks or sells, but because it resonates.
The industry will always have rules, labels, and trends, but real artistry will always find a way to be heard. That’s what keeps me creating — knowing that authenticity is timeless and undeniable, even when the world around it doesn’t make it easy.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you retired tomorrow, what would your customers miss most?
I hope people remember me as someone who never compromised her truth, even when the world tried to tell her who she should be. I want them to tell the story of a girl from Miami, by way of Honduras, who refused to let circumstances define her, who sang from the heart, and who used her voice to connect, heal, and empower.
I want them to remember the times I stood up; for myself, for others, and for the integrity of my art, even when it cost me comfort or safety. I want them to see that I wasn’t just performing; I was creating a space for authenticity, for joy, and for resilience.
I hope they speak about the music; that it wasn’t just about notes or hits, but about truth, soul, and the energy I put into every performance. I hope they remember my curiosity, my boldness, and my refusal to shrink for anyone. Above all, I hope they remember that I lived fully, loved deeply, and inspired others to find their own voice along the way.
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