Pride and Shine: Inside La Goutte d’Or’s renaissance

“It takes a village to raise a child.” — African Proverb

June is a big month for Paris. Between the city’s annual fête de la musique, men’s fashion week and the general ardour of the sun, the capital teems with life, its windy roads filled with newcomers and music. But nowhere captures this cultural momentum quite like La Goutte d’Or, long regarded as the capital of the African diaspora in France.

While often misrepresented by official narratives as chaotic and marginal, the neighbourhood at the heart of the 18th arrondissement has served as a gateway to Paris for generations. Made up of Barbés, La Chapelle and parts of Montmartre, the area’s layered history, shaped by arrivals from Spain, Portugal, Eastern Europe, North and West Africa, and more recently Southeast Asia, has turned it into a vital node of diasporic life. It’s a bridge from the local to the global, more renowned to some than the famous monuments lying across the river. For La Goutte d’Or residents, Mamoudou Camara and Youssouf Fofana, pride and authenticity are the defining words of the neighbourhood. 

Mamoudou, one of the co-founders of the Paris African Cup of Nations that took place this June, calls the neighbourhood a ‘village’, and a “space where the community keeps to itself, doesn’t go out much, with very strong values, and where African roots are impossible to sever.” Despite gentrification and the emergence of new businesses, according to Mamoudou, it’s impossible to uproot the tree that connects all these African countries to the heart of Paris.

For many young people, football is the tree’s trunk–a ubiquitous connective tissue between their roots, hopes and realities. With over 85% of the players on France’s latest World Cup squad of African heritage, shaping the nation’s football legacy and fuelling moments like PSG’s historic first Champions League victory, the sport is a historic source of pride and cultural power for the diaspora. 

But beneath the surface of national triumph lies a deeper issue: Players from the diaspora are celebrated when they win, yet just as quickly scapegoated when they lose, or when their presence is seen as too dominant. Shedding light on this tension, Mamoudou recalls a comment made by a then-12-year-old Kylian Mbappé, speaking to the unspoken politics of selection, “Looking back in history, the best players were Black and Arab, apart from Platini and Cantona,” he asserts, following up adamantly, “We’re not going to apologise for existing. The skills are there. That’s not up for debate.” 

That contradiction between being central to national pride and still peripheral to its institutions is precisely what led Mamoudou and others to build something of their own. The Paris African Cup of Nations, now one of the largest African street football tournaments in Europe, is one of them. It started during Ramadan in 2019, with a simple idea: If the neighbourhood kids couldn’t travel home to tournaments, they’d bring the tournaments to the neighbourhood. 

Inspired by the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) and grassroots tournaments emerging in places like Évry, they turned to their quartier. “We brought together 24 countries in the neighbourhood alone,” he says, laughing. “Teams formed overnight. The whole neighbourhood mobilised. We had to do everything ourselves.” What began with a Snapchat account and a few word-of-mouth signups quickly snowballed into a city-wide event. Held annually in Square Léon, deep in the Goutte d’Or of the 18th,  Paris Africa Cup of Nations has become a summer staple–24 teams, 24 diasporas, one community field.

If  Mamoudou brought football to the centre of the neighbourhood, Youssouf Fofana did the same, albeit drawing from fashion, with equal clarity of purpose. As the founder of Maison Château Rouge, named after the neighbouring quartier, his work has long been rooted in the stories, struggles, and collective pride of the area. Since launching the brand in 2015, Fofana has made it his mission not only to represent the neighbourhood through design but also to invest in it actively. 

His most ambitious project to date sits just a few blocks from Square Leon: the cultural institution, International Youth Union, housed in the former Tati department store. Once a landmark of working-class commerce in the 18th century, Tati was shuttered in 2020. Rather than seeing it erased, Youssouf transformed the building into a radical experiment in cultural infrastructure, community-making, and diasporic solidarity. It all started with the same essence that  Mamoudou had of changing the narrative and redistributing the cards so that people from the area can tell their story, by them, for them.

Put differently, in Youssouf’s words, it’s all about learning how to “create a new institution for this diaspora with an impact as strong as other ones we’ve known for a long time, like Palais de Tokyo.” He goes on to acknowledge, however, that despite the systemic issues that make these institutions traditionally hostile to robust representation of diverse cultures and experiences, “Instead of complaining and saying that we don’t have an institution or a place to represent us by people like us, we have to lay the first stone and above all not to be afraid–we too can build this kind of institution, and not wait for it to come from the outside.”  

During Fashion Week, the space hosted a week-long pop-up in collaboration with Jordan and the Paris African Cup of Nations. At its centre was a full-scale replica of “La Cage”, the metal-fenced football pitch in Square Léon where Paris African Cup matches are held. Surrounding it were the 24 national jerseys of the tournament, co-designed by Maison Château Rouge and Jordan, each representing a participating country. “People on Twitter were saying our jerseys were better than those of the real Africa Cup of Nations,” Youssouf joked, explaining how the project was an intuitive synergy of two passions: “We were lucky to be invited by Paris African Cup 18 to design the jerseys. It was full immersion, football on one side, street style on the other. I love fashion, so we wanted to bring something professional, something real. And it worked.”

Around this centrepiece, a robust programme of activations unfolded. Ghana’s Free The Youth hosted design workshops, Nigeria’s Street Souk brought a pop-up and party, Paris Gambit organised a chess tournament, while Iraqi author Dalia Al-Dujali held a launch for her latest book, Babylon, Albion. Alongside programming was a café with a rotating global menu, from Afghan curry one day, West African mafé the next, or a “Spike Lee juice,” tried by the director himself. Taken together, the activations embodied the spirit of collective authorship, echoing International Youth Union’s commitment to making a living model for new ways of being and thinking critically together.

For Youssouf, the collaboration was inspired by the Bandung Conference of 1955, a historic moment when newly independent African and Asian nations came together to assert a shared vision, separate from Western power blocs. “I wanted to do the same thing, but in fashion,” he explains. “There are big groups like LVMH, Kering, and then there are independent brands, collectives, thinkers, designers, and diasporic people with shared visions. Why not come together once a year, in our cities, and celebrate what we’re building?”

Much of this mission revolves around the partnerships that enable each other to be nurtured and grow into something larger — Jordan has been an integral part of this journey. Over the course of 6 years, the brand has collaborated with Youssouf and Mamoudou to support their vision for their neighbourhood. “Jordan did not only focus on the sales aspect and how people consume, but rather on how to create solid projects that will have value over time,” Youssouf explains. “I don’t know too many brands that decide to collaborate with someone not on products, but on cultural projects. It’s an innovative approach, less ephemeral and more long-term.”

From here, a smooth and sincere relationship was established, and Jordan entered into a symbiosis with the 18th, investing in long-term relationships with the district’s cultural figures. “We wanted the Jordan France team to meet our community first and foremost, but let us manage the rest,” Mamoudou explains, who’s breakthrough moment with the brand came in the shape of a simple but symbolic gesture: “When the person [at Jordan] said, ‘When are we putting the logo on your jersey’ – I knew our project was a good one.” What followed was a process of mutual learning that dispelled stereotypical notions of sponsorships in favour of something more tangible. “We learned a lot from them, but they also learned a lot from us,”  Mamoudou asserts. “From the start, we weren’t interested in one-off deals to capitalise on our neighbourhood. We have to leave a legacy, not just take our spotlight. We know that the 18th arrondissement has potential, and so do they.” 

We had Zidane, sure, but today, there are more players like us, because the diaspora is bigger than before. We’re visible now. We tease each other, and we hold each other to high standards. That’s part of our culture too, our form of French excellence. When you mix that with our African values, something magnificent comes out.

Youssouf

Central to both Youssouf and Mamoudou’s work is this legacy mindset, which clearly articulates their mission. Nothing either of them does is about visibility for its own sake, but rather about accountability, lineage, and building structures that last beyond the fleeting clout circles of fashion or football. It’s really about roots, and something they repeat throughout both our conversations: being true to yourself.  “Stay true to yourself and don’t distort your project; you mustn’t forget where you come from,” says Mamoudou. Meanwhile, Youssouf explains, “I know where I come from, where I grew up. I know my reality. I know who I’m doing this for. Even if people don’t always understand my choices, I have a line of sight and people around me who keep me grounded.” 

From this foundation, a movement has emerged, bent on self-determination, cultural clarity, and refusal, all powered by the youth. Unlike earlier generations who were taught to stay quiet and assimilate, this generation is loudly rooted and intentional. Born on French soil but globally attuned, they’re carving out new spaces of influence, whether in fashion, in football, in culture, and setting the tone for the diaspora across Europe and beyond.

Nowhere is that shift more visible than on the pitch. With the rising prominence of the African Cup of Nations and the Women’s African Cup of Nations abroad, both happening this year in Morocco, coupled with homegrown initiatives like Paris African Cup, there is a new excellence in Football centred around Africa. As Youssouf explains, “We had Zidane, sure, but today, there are more players like us, because the diaspora is bigger than before. We’re visible now. We tease each other, and we hold each other to high standards. That’s part of our culture too, our form of French excellence. When you mix that with our African values, something magnificent comes out.” 

Looking ahead, Mamoudou sees these models of success continuing to expand abroad. But more importantly, he predicts a more profound shift — a return to the continent, a renewed commitment to Africa, the land of their ancestors. 

The stakes of this movement are urgent. In a society increasingly divided over questions of race, religion, and belonging, Paris African Cup and International Youth Union offer a counter-model; one that is at once intensely local and expansively global. As the diaspora evolves, the 18th offers a blueprint for a generation that refuses marginality, choosing to lead with pride, purpose, and play. 

With special thanks to La Goutte-D’or, its residents and the community for their warm welcome.