Khloe Nyanda refuses to be sidelined. Young models in Juba are pushing back.

From Yirol to Juba: a path shaped by movement

Khloe Nyanda, 21, grew up with a clear message from the adults around her: be small and don't take up space. She heard it in Yirol, where she was born, in Nairobi where she spent much of her childhood, and again when she returned to Juba to study law at the University of Juba.

Nyanda says she decided at 14 that she wanted to model. She only began working professionally in 2023. But her ambition has run up against family disapproval and the strict social expectations that govern many young women's lives in South Sudan. She told friends and peers that the rise of internationally recognised South Sudanese figures, most notably Adut Akech, altered what seemed possible. "Adut Akech took her identity as a refugee and turned it into a crown," Nyanda said. "Ninety-five percent of the models you see from South Sudan will tell you the same thing: Adut Akech is the spark."

Nyanda is practised at presenting herself with poise. She sat at The Baobab House in Juba, a cultural hub where artists and creatives gather, and spoke about both the milestones she has reached and the setbacks she has endured. Her story shows how personal ambition collides with social norms, family pressures and the institutional weaknesses of a young country.

Barriers at home: patriarchy and weak protections

Family resistance turned into estrangement for Nyanda. She says she lost the support network that had raised her — including a stepbrother who had cared for her since she was seven — after she refused a marriage arranged by relatives.

"They don't support me," she said.

Those familial pressures are compounded by structural gaps in South Sudan's creative industries. There are few established agencies to manage careers and protect young talent.

Models and other creatives describe a landscape where predatory agents and abusive trainers can exploit the lack of regulation and oversight. Nyanda recounted how rejecting the advances of a modelling coach led to the loss of paid work and damaged relationships in the small local scene.

Without reliable "mother agencies" and formal career pathways, many aspiring models are left to navigate contracts, travel arrangements and trainers on their own. That puts them at risk. It also slows the development of a fashion and creative sector that could offer jobs and alternative livelihoods for young people in a country still rebuilding after years of conflict.

Leaving home is costly: passports, visas and mobility

Nyanda's background — born in Yirol, raised in Nairobi and now based in Juba — ought to fit the international modelling world; she moves between cultures and connects with both African and diaspora audiences. In reality, her South Sudanese passport often acts as a barrier rather than a bridge. Since 2023, she has faced multiple visa rejections that have kept her from opportunities abroad.

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Visa refusals do more than disappoint Nyanda — they stop her from being seen by agents and designers abroad and from earning work overseas. Fashion weeks in cities like London are where models meet agents, designers and brands — often the places careers get started. They're where models can be discovered by designers, agents and brands; where photographers and stylists network; and where the economic value of a new face can begin to accumulate. When talent from countries like South Sudan struggles to secure travel documents, that talent is shut out of those markets.

For countries that host large fashion weeks, including the United Kingdom, that means fewer voices and faces from parts of Africa that have been reshaping global fashion. It also means designers and agencies in London lose access to a growing pool of talent.

The effect is cultural as well as economic.

Implications for the UK and the industry

London's fashion sector has promoted diversity in recent years as both a cultural and commercial asset. Models from East Africa now appear on international runways and in campaigns. The sector's ability to remain globally competitive depends in part on ease of movement and cross-border collaboration.

If South Sudanese models can't get visas, UK designers will simply encounter fewer new faces from the country, narrowing casting options. That could blunt the innovation and fresh perspectives that come from engaging with new talent. It also affects the business side: agencies that aim to represent diverse talent may face higher costs and logistical hurdles arranging travel and compliance for models from countries with limited diplomatic reach. Those costs get passed along to agencies and, to brands that want to work with rising stars.

There's also a cultural side: when creatives can't travel, chances for cultural exchange and diaspora ties shrink. Diaspora communities in the UK and those involved in cultural exchange use creative industries to forge ties and boost mutual understanding.

Restricting the movement of creatives restricts those connections.

Where change might begin

Local cultural spaces such as The Baobab House are trying to fill gaps. They offer training, community and exposure that young creatives otherwise lack. But such hubs can't replace formal industry infrastructure — nor can they change visa rules abroad.

Within South Sudan, a push toward safer, more accountable practices in modelling would require regulation, training for agents and better legal protections for young workers. Those steps would lower the risk of exploitation and create clearer pathways to the international market.

On the international side, host countries and industry bodies can examine policies that make it easier for legitimate cultural exchange to happen while maintaining robust vetting to prevent abuse. The UK could work directly with South Sudanese arts groups or fund verified visa assistance so commissioned artists and models can actually get to shows and shoots.

For now, individuals such as Nyanda keep trying. They rely on role models and local networks. They also face a practical reality: without reliable agencies, supportive families and the ability to travel, many careers stall before they begin.

Nyanda's case is a reminder that talent alone isn't enough. Systems matter.

So do passports, paperwork and protection. And while a single face on a runway can change perceptions, it takes more than visibility to build an industry that can sustain young professionals and contribute to a fragile country's economy.

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Since 2023, Nyanda has faced multiple visa rejections.

This article was created with AI assistance.