I was born in 1997, which means I came of age during the golden hour of glossy magazines and cable television. I flipped through Vibe, ESSENCE, and Ebony like they were scripture, but when I turned on the TV, the spaces in media that reflected young Black women who felt familiar and looked like me were limited. But there was networks such as BET and MTV, where women like LaLa, Free, and Ananda Lewis anchored our imaginations. They were Sidney Shaw’s in real-time: smart, stylish, grounded women who knew their voice mattered.
Ananda Lewis has always existed at the intersection of culture and clarity. Whether on Teen Summit, MTV, or The Insider, she reported the moments while still making space for the community that raised her. She didn’t water herself down to be palatable. She showed up whole. And still, her presence extended beyond our screens. She was a daughter, a partner, a sister, a mother; roles she held with intention, fighting through her breast cancer battle to see her son graduate. And she did. It was her finish line, and she crossed it on her own terms.
Ananda was always a cool girl who never had to announce it. And I wonder if she ever truly knew the reach of her impact. The way her existence opened up a new language for Black girls like me who dreamt of being in media for the culture, storytelling, and the truth. Now, in an era where TikTok, Pinterest, and Tumblr revive her looks without always knowing her name, we remember. We remind. Because she didn’t just help craft the blueprint for the Black IT girl, she made one for those of us documenting the moments and eras that define us.
I met Ananda at the ESSENCE Festival of Culture in 2023. I asked her what it was like to be one of the only Black faces in mainstream music media at the time. She told me, with grace and confidence, that girls like us don’t need permission to be seen anymore. We can just show up and make them see us. That stayed with me. The last video she posted on Instagram was of her smiling, holding the January/February issue of ESSENCE, where she wrote candidly about her breast cancer diagnosis. “We’re here to love, learn, grow, and leave,” she said in response to a comment on the post. And maybe that’s the reminder: that the legacy we leave isn’t always loud; sometimes it’s just real and present for those who have passed the key of remembering.
Here, we remember her in the words of the women who walked alongside Ananda and the ones who followed after her.
Dear Ananda, thank you.
Dear Ananda,
I’m Mimi the music blogger. I’m a Black British woman who grew up watching you through grainy MTV clips and reruns, but even from across the ocean, your presence cut through. You had that rare power: the ability to speak truth without flinching, to be warm and sharp, and to hold space with a kind of beauty that didn’t beg for approval. You just were. And for girls like me, who didn’t see ourselves reflected often, that meant everything. You made it okay to ask questions that weren’t easy. You didn’t play small to fit into the box they made for you; you stretched it, redefined it. I studied the way you held interviews. The way you brought depth to culture. The way you did it all with such dignity. You helped shape the blueprint for how I move in this industry now, not just what I do, but why I do it.
Even from afar, you felt close. You still do. Thank you for being a lighthouse.
— Mimi The Music Blogger, Journalist and Content Creator
Ananda Lewis’ voice cut through silence like light through mist—bold, unwavering, and luminously honest. She spoke truths that others tiptoed around, daring me to believe that clarity and courage could coexist in a world that often rewards quiet compliance. Her life’s relentless authenticity became a mirror in which I saw my own possibilities reflected with more color and hope. Watching her gave me permission to dream not only bigger, but braver. She was a truth teller in a time of polite lies, and through her example, I learned that living out loud was its own kind of triumph.
— Scottie Beam, Media Personality, host of Hi, I’m Uninspired, and co-host of The Scottie & Sylvia Show
Unfortunately, I never got a chance to meet Ananda in person, but I’ll never forget this particular interaction I had with her on Instagram. I’ve been archiving online for over a decade, but I think that was one of the first times someone whom I looked up to that much left a comment on one of my posts. The post was that iconic photo of her wearing a top that says “Boys Lie.” She left a comment saying she was “flattered” and “grateful,” then another that said “True statement, the back says ‘and so do girls.” I was gagged, I don’t think anyone knew that because she was also wearing a fabulous fur-trimmed coat over it.
As a 90s kid and early 2000s teen, seeing Ananda on BET and more so MTV was everything. I also valued cable programming a lot because we didn’t have it at home, so when I got to visit my grandma, who had every channel, I was glued to the screen. Ananda reminded me so much of my older cousin, who was pretty eclectic and put me on to everything music and movie-wise when we hung out during the summertime. I remember seeing her on Teen Summit, but her time as a VJ on MTV is what stuck with me because she was so authentic and fun! Beautiful, too, but it was her personality that made me fall in love with her. She just came off effortlessly cool and knowledgeable. The definition of “Fly.” Something I noticed was that no matter who she was interviewing or having a conversation with, the respect was there. A lot of times, you’d see male rappers being interviewed by women, and they’d try to make passes at them, but they never tried that with Ananda. Instead, she set the tone in the room, and the rappers would end up looking shy or giddy. I loved that. I wanted to be that.
People say time repeats, and once you get older, you start seeing what your parents were saying, but I feel like things are completely different now when it comes to pop culture history, specifically for the younger people. There’s TikTok, there’s Pinterest, there’s archival pages on Instagram and X (fkaTwitter) that share images without providing any information on what they’re posting, so the stories behind them get lost in the algorithm. When I found out Ananda passed, I told pretty much everyone I knew, one of the people being a 21-year-old, and it was such a weird feeling when I found out they didn’t even know who she was. Like what? How is everything “Y2K” this and that, but you don’t know the name of the person you’re trying to emulate?
I look at Ananda as being the ultimate It Girl, one of the first, and a huge example of how you don’t have to be boxed in as a woman. Specifically, a Black woman. You can be beautiful, you can be super stylish, you can be cool, you can be intelligent, you can be funny. You don’t have to pick one. That’s what I learned from Ananda Lewis. That’s why it’s important. I’m so grateful to have grown up with that kind of influence before being an influencer was even a thing. We have to respect and never forget the Blueprint.
— Bri Malandro, Historian and Digital Curator
I was able to meet Amanda Lewis at a “Strength of a Woman” by Mary J Blige in Atlanta a couple of years ago. After knowing about her work on entertainment networks as an iconic host, I had always admired her love and care for the culture. In person, I loved her spirit even more. During a rare backstage moment, Free, I, and Mya Abraham got to connect. She made space for all of us to feel seen and vital. In an industry that often pits women against each other, she saw us and celebrated us for our work. It taught me so much, but mostly, it taught me to honor the trailblazers and make sure you hug the women who are coming in the door that you worked hard to leave open behind you. May those of us on the mic allow her work and kindness to inspire us to be excellent in many ways.
— Gia Peppers, Entertainment journalist and Creator of “Healed Girl Era Podcast”
I’m intensely emotional about the recent passing of Ananda Lewis. And it’s a little strange because we weren’t besties. Ananada and I were warm with each other at media events in the ‘90s — there was a mutual respect between us, especially since we’re both native Californians. She and I would occasionally joke about that with each other: it’s unfathomably cool to be a Black California girl, but in New York City, we often felt like fish out of water.
Like so many Black women in any profession, Ananda was — even with the many accolades she received — still underrated and under-celebrated. When she joined Episode 21 of my Black Girl Songbook podcast, along with the legendary Free Marie from BET, the vivacious and elegant Leslie Segar from Rap City, and media polymath Scottie Beam, Ananda stood out with an energy that was both wildly sharp and deeply whimsical. Even in that short time we were all talking, it tore me up that I wasn’t closer to Ananda, and really with Free, Leslie, and Scottie as well. We’re all busy! But we’re all sisters. And we know what we’re talking about when the topics are music and culture and taste, and just life.
Ananda in particular had a rare ability to see the deeper currents in music — she understood how hip-hop was reshaping not just sound but identity, how R&B was evolving, how Black artists were constantly pushing boundaries and redefining what American music could be. She didn’t just interview artists; she got them. Ananda pulled out the stories behind the bravado. And that’s because there was an authenticity about her that couldn’t be manufactured.
Ananda worked so hard, and she made it look easy. But we know better. She didn’t just show up to talk music; she was also breaking down doors and building bridges, and making it possible for future generations of Black media professionals to walk in spaces that had been closed to us. She represented us relentlessly, never forgetting where she came from or who was watching. My sorrow today is because we didn’t have Ananda Lewis long enough. But we were lucky to have her for as long as we did.
— Danyel Smith, author of ‘Shine Bright: A Very Personal History of Black Women in Pop‘
I met Ananda Lewis in May 2023 when I was covering that year’s Strength of a Woman Festival and Summit. She was speaking on a panel to discuss her experience with breast cancer and the importance of health equity, and I was asked if I wanted to interview her. I said yes without hesitation. Despite the chaos around us when we sat for our conversation, she was warm, vibrant, kind, and gracious. We wrapped our interview in record time and even made social content. Typically, I shy against that, but she wanted me right next to her as we discussed her female rap Mount Rushmore and favorite era of Hip-Hop. Off-camera, she poured guidance into me, passing along the proverbial baton from one Black, female journalist to the next. I sat there in awe.
Our interaction didn’t end there. Later that day, I spoke with Free Marie of ‘106 & Park’ and unbeknownst to me, Ananda and Free had been tryna reconnect for months. So, when Ananda crashed my interview, I captured a moment of unfiltered joy between them. I likened it to seeing two best friends reuniting on the playground. That was the spirit of Ananda— duality, intellect, sisterhood, and joy.
They say never meet your idols, but this was one of the few times I was so honored that I did.
— Mya Abraham, R&B Reporter at Vibe Magazine
She was another free-spirited HBCU California girl doing what I dreamed of doing. She represented the world I knew and loved- educated, globally minded, socially conscious. She boldly expanded our thinking and elevated every conversation she touched.
My favorite memories of her reveal exactly who she was to me–a mirror, a light, a pure reflection. Whether we were at an event, a Hollywood party, or just a mama brunch, we always found ourselves deep in conversation about the business, connecting through our mirrored challenges and shared adventures. We’d go all the way into philosophy, creativity, and the power of choice. She spoke with clarity about how she came to own her decisions, how she cultivated autonomy, and how her relationship with God, the Universe, her Son, and community guided everything she did.
She was a fearless voice– Brilliant, Bold and Honest–never afraid to speak truth to power. Her presence on screen and in life was effortlessly electric. She moved through this world with a freedom that we should all aspire towards.
We were two Black women who carved our paths in television, a space with so few footprints to follow. We are part of an unofficial sorority of dynamic women who’ve learned to navigate a business both rewarding and relentlessly tough. Beyond TV, we shared another dream- one rooted in service to our community of mothers. We talked about creating spaces for us & by us. Coincidentally, we both worked with HGTV and loved ideas that truly centered moms’ needs. Our new goals once again felt aligned. I hope the baton is picked up and carried through to fruition because a sacred space built for moms is needed now more than ever.
Though she is no longer physically here, her legacy is undeniable. It lives on in every barrier she broke, every truth she spoke, and every young Black girl who sees herself with clarity and believes she can.
The World lost a radiant light, I lost a kindred sister, but she will always and forever shine.
— Tanika Ray, Television host, Podcaster, and Director