Hey Cuz,

I am Ali, a Nigerian writer and fierce advocate for mental wellness.

Before Ali, on Paper became a brand, it was simply me trying to make sense of myself, my emotions, and the world around me. Writing became the place where I could be completely honest. It became my refuge, my language for pain, and eventually, a way to help other people feel seen.

My story begins in Ibadan, Nigeria, where I grew up as the second of four children in a loving family. I was often seen as the “black sheep,” but I was also an introspective child who spent a lot of time in my own world, observing, thinking, and trying to understand myself.

One of the things I struggled with as I grew older was self-esteem. Society’s expectations only made those insecurities louder. Then, at thirteen, I had an accident that broke my upper incisors. It may have seemed like a physical injury, but for me, it changed the way I saw myself.

The mirror became uncomfortable. My confidence suffered, and anxiety slowly became a part of my everyday life.

At the time, I did not have the words to explain what I was experiencing. I did not know what anxiety was, and I did not have anyone I felt I could truly confide in. So, I wrote.

I poured onto paper the things I could not say out loud. I turned emotions into stories, thoughts into words, and pain into something I could hold.

University came, and instead of disappearing, the anxiety followed me. In many ways, it became heavier. I felt increasingly overwhelmed and struggled to understand what was happening within me. I looked for relief in unhealthy ways, trying to escape feelings I did not yet know how to confront.

By my final year, the pressure of the future, alongside everything I had been carrying, pushed me into a deeply difficult period. I experienced depression and, once again, writing became my escape.

This was when “Olivia C. Powell” came into the picture.

I created the pseudonym on Wattpad because anonymity gave me the freedom to express myself without the fear of embarrassment or judgment. Behind that name, I could tell my stories honestly. I could explore my emotions without having to explain myself.

Then came NYSC, which took me to Calabar.

Something shifted there.

I found a renewed sense of peace, and my writing began to flourish. I started sharing my work on Instagram as “Powell,” and around that period, the world was also navigating COVID-19. My virtual community became a place of comfort, connection, and expression.

People began connecting with my words.

And for the first time, I understood something that would eventually shape everything I do today:

I was not the only one struggling.

There were people on the other side of my screen carrying their own invisible battles. People who saw pieces of themselves in my words. People who needed to know that what they were feeling was valid and that they were not alone.

Returning home after NYSC brought another difficult chapter. I struggled with what I now understand as the emotional weight of transition and uncertainty. It felt like I was losing my footing again.

But I kept writing.

Eventually, I moved to Lagos, and my writing began reaching even more people. The response encouraged me to look beyond storytelling for storytelling’s sake. I became increasingly interested in the conversations beneath the stories: anxiety, self-esteem, identity, emotional wellbeing, vulnerability, and the many silent battles young people face.

That was when writing stopped being only my refuge.

It became my responsibility.

Over time, “Olivia C. Powell” evolved into Ali, on Paper.

The name came from a piece I wrote about looking at my past while imagining the possibility of a different future. It represented something I had come to believe deeply: sometimes, the person we hope to become exists long before we have the courage to become that person in real life.

Ali, on Paper grew from that idea into something much bigger than me.

Today, I am leading Ali, on Paper Inc.®, a global mental wellness brand rooted in storytelling, creativity, advocacy, culture, and community. My vision is to contribute to building an Africa with the right mindset, where young minds are mentally aware and equipped to pursue greatness without losing themselves along the way.

Through our work, I want mental wellness to feel less distant, less clinical, and less difficult to talk about. I want us to create conversations and experiences that meet young people where they are, using creativity and culture to make mental wellness more relatable, relevant, and human.

At the centre of this journey is the 100th Battalion, our community and collective of young minds connected by a shared belief in growth, self-awareness, purpose, and greatness.

I do not tell this story because I have figured everything out.

I tell it because I know what it feels like to have no words for what is happening inside you.

I know what it feels like to search for yourself in the middle of uncertainty.

And I know the power of finding one thing that reminds you that there is still something worth becoming.

For me, that thing was writing.

Today, I am using those words to build something bigger than myself.

This is Ali, on Paper.

And this is only the beginning.