By Staff
Angela Priso is not merely a storyteller—she is a cultural architect, weaving language, rhythm, and identity into narratives that awaken pride and purpose. As the visionary behind Roots Rhythms Stories, Priso channels ancestral memory, diasporic beauty, and emotional truth into stories that celebrate Black children and broaden global understanding. Her platform is both a reclamation and a revelation—a place where storytelling becomes ceremony, music becomes memory, and childhood becomes sacred ground. Through her voice, we are invited not only to read, but to remember.
What inspired you to create Roots Rhythms Stories, and how did your personal journey influence the vision behind it?
My love for storytelling began in childhood, shaped in quiet moments of solitude where imagination became my refuge. As the middle of three girls, I often retreated into the stillness of my room, where dolls became students and dreams became curriculum. My father’s gentle wisdom—“Let her be”—gave me permission to explore a world beyond my surroundings, one built of intention, emotion, and wonder.
Over time, I traded that imaginative world for more traditional milestones—degrees, a career, family. But the stories never left me; they simply waited for my return. Roots Rhythms Stories is a homecoming. It is the unearthing of that little girl who once crafted entire worlds in whispers. This platform is not a brand—it’s a spiritual and creative reclamation. I am no longer hiding the light I’ve kept behind me. Through this work, I am choosing to honor it, walk in it, and share it.
How do your Cameroonian roots inform the storytelling, music, and educational elements embedded in your work?
Though I was born and raised in a Midwestern community shaped by the Great Migration, my spiritual and cultural reconnection to Africa—especially Cameroon—emerged through love. My husband, and by extension his family, became living bridges to a culture that felt both new and innately familiar. I didn’t need a DNA test to know I belonged there, though one would later confirm my ancestry from both Nigeria and Cameroon.
What unfolded through our marriage and travels was a deeper understanding of rhythm, respect, and ancestral knowledge. Every visit to Africa felt like being remembered by the land. That memory shows up in my work—in the cadence of my sentences, the reverence for elders, and the fusion of African and African American traditions. My storytelling is about building bridges—between generations, between continents, and between the histories we carry and the futures we shape.
Your platform merges culture, rhythm, and literacy. Why do you believe this blend is essential for children today, especially those from African or diasporic backgrounds?
Children from African and diasporic backgrounds need to see themselves as central figures in the narratives that surround them—not as sidekicks or caricatures, but as protagonists, thinkers, creators, and adventurers. Rhythm and storytelling are our inheritance; they are the heartbeat of our cultures. When we combine literacy with culture and rhythm, we are doing more than teaching children how to read—we are restoring identity. We are reminding them who they are.
Traveling through Cameroon and Tanzania, I was struck by the confidence that comes from seeing oneself reflected in every aspect of society. That is the kind of confidence I want to help cultivate in our children. Roots Rhythms Stories is my contribution to this sacred task—one rooted in joy, reclamation, and the radical act of seeing oneself with love.
Can you share a moment when you witnessed the impact of your work on a child or community?
One particularly profound moment came when women from the Cameroonian community in Indiana read my Tiny Travelers book featuring N’dome. These are women I deeply admire—mothers, professionals, culture bearers. Their affirmation, “You got it right,” was everything. Though I did not grow up in Cameroon, I had written that story from a place of deep love and listening.
Their words were an unexpected validation. My husband’s support has always grounded me, but to be affirmed by women of the culture I sought to honor—that was sacred. It was a turning point. I realized that I was not simply imagining these stories—I was telling our story, and telling it well.
How do you select or develop the stories featured in your programs? What themes or values do you aim to highlight most?
My stories are anchored in emotion, identity, and imagination. They are often sparked by dreams, memories, or the quiet observations I make while watching children navigate the complexities of being. Whether confronting fear, navigating difference, or expressing joy, I write to honor the emotional landscapes of childhood.
The values I return to again and again are love, honesty, and humility. I do not write to teach children what to think. I write to help them feel something deeply human. I want my stories to linger, to guide, and to help children grow into compassionate, grounded beings.
As a woman of African descent working in both creative and educational spaces, what unique challenges and joys have you encountered?
One of the recurring challenges has been contending with narrow expectations—especially when writing for Black children. There’s often an assumption that our stories must be either simplistic or overly didactic. It’s frustrating, but also galvanizing. I’m in a season of radical authenticity, no longer interested in making myself more digestible for the comfort of others.
The joy, however, is immeasurable. Each character I write, each rhythm I build, is a love letter to the children I serve—and to the child I once was. My work creates a space where Black children can imagine themselves on mountaintops, in faraway lands, or simply existing in peace. We deserve stories that expand, not confine. And I’m honored to be part of that expansion.
How do you navigate preserving authenticity while also making your content accessible to broader, global audiences?
Authenticity and accessibility are not at odds. I write from a deeply rooted cultural perspective, but always with universal emotional truths at the core. Longing, joy, curiosity, exclusion—these experiences cross borders. Children everywhere understand the ache of not belonging or the thrill of being seen.
My approach is to trust the audience. Children are far more intuitive than we give them credit for. They don’t need everything explained; they just need to be invited in. When we respect their intelligence, they meet us in the middle. That’s where connection begins.
Roots Rhythms Stories seems to encourage cultural pride and identity. What do you hope young readers and listeners take away from experiencing your stories?
Above all, I want children to feel that they are enough—beautiful, worthy, and powerful in their own skin. I want them to see their names as music, their languages as treasures, and their roots as sources of strength.
So many of us have had to contort ourselves just to feel seen. I did. I was once shamed for being sensitive, for needing solitude, for having emotions that didn’t fit the mold. But now I understand that what made me “different” made me whole. My stories are written for children who feel too much, dream too wildly, or question too deeply. They’re written to remind children that their full humanity deserves to be honored—not muted.
How has your own sense of identity evolved since launching this platform?
This work has reawakened pieces of me that I had long buried beneath duty and expectation. It reminded me that the little girl with the pen and the imaginary classroom was never naive—she was prophetic.
I no longer see my creative self as a separate entity from my adult self. I now understand that my sensitivity, my intuition, and my imagination are strengths. Roots Rhythms Stories is not just what I do—it is who I am. I feel more integrated, more grounded, and more aligned with the woman I was always meant to be.
What role does music play in your storytelling process, and how do you use rhythm to connect across generations?
Rhythm is memory. Before we could write, we sang. Before we understood structure, we felt cadence. Music is embedded in the DNA of my work. Many of my stories are written with natural rhythm because I want them to live beyond the page—to echo in a child’s heart, even when the book is closed.
I’m now working in the studio with the incredibly gifted James Davis to bring original music to life. This is a dream realized. Music reaches where words sometimes cannot. It comforts, it uplifts, it speaks when we are silent. For children navigating pain, joy, neurodivergence, or simply the unknown—music is a map back to self.
What advice would you give to other creatives or educators who want to celebrate their heritage through storytelling?
Begin from truth. Your lived experience is enough. Don’t wait for permission to tell stories that already live in your spirit. You don’t have to decode your culture for others to accept it. What’s most intimate is often what becomes most universal.
Be gentle with yourself. Let your story evolve as you do. And remember, if your work helps even one child feel seen, safe, or inspired—you’ve already done sacred work.
What’s next for you and for Roots Rhythms Stories? Are there any new collaborations, books, or performances on the horizon?
Absolutely. I’m continuing to expand creatively, including a deeply personal musical project titled Little Big Moves, part of the Tutu Series. It celebrates neurodiversity in children with joy, tenderness, and triumph. I’m also reimagining a beloved children’s classic with a fresh cultural lens—though I’ll keep those details under wraps a bit longer.
What I can share is this: Roots Rhythms Stories is blossoming. Every story, every song, every classroom interaction is another step in building a legacy of love, representation, and wonder. And I’m just getting started.
Website
http://www.rootsrythmsstories.com
About
Angela Deneen Priso (A. Deneen Priso)— is a lifelong storyteller and child advocate. For nearly two decades, she worked in pediatric healthcare, where she cared for and learned from children of all kinds. Her journey has taken her around the world — from the hospitals of the U.S. to the markets of Cameroon, the coasts of Tanzania, and France, Italy and Qatar, to name a few places.
Her husband is Cameroonian and speaks fluent French, and together they have raised six children in a family rooted in love, laughter, and cross-cultural connection. But long before any of that, she was just a little girl with a notebook — creating the life she dreamed of, one story at a time.
Today, Angela write to honor that girl… and to offer children everywhere stories that inspire, and help them feel seen. Every book she creates is rooted in love, a deep search for truth, wonder, and belonging.
About The Author
