The Scoove Africa 
Kindly Unfiltered debuted on September 25, and here’s all the deets you might have missed.
Kindly Unfiltered arrives as Mintslate Media’s first original production, but it’s already carving out a space of its own. Hosted by Seyi Oluwatimilehin (popularly known as Seyi Mint) and Wilson Ifeanyi, the podcast doesn’t pander to the outside gaze.
Instead, it is built for those living the diaspora reality, Africans navigating the messy, funny, and deeply human space between “unfiltered” Nigerian bluntness and the famously polite “kindness” of Canadian culture.
Part cultural diary, part candid conversation, Kindly Unfiltered brings nuance and humor to African diaspora storytelling, challenging the stereotypes and surface-level portrayals that often dominate mainstream narratives.
For Seyi, a former Nollywood actor turned producer, and Wilson, who straddles Nigerian roots with Canadian life, the podcast is more than entertainment it’s representation. It’s about Africans telling their own stories, in their own voices, with all the honesty and laughter that make those stories whole.
We sat down with the hosts to talk about the origins of Kindly Unfiltered, the cultural collision at its core, and why it matters that diaspora voices be heard on their own terms.
Why did you feel a podcast like Kindly Unfiltered needed to exist, and what gap do you think it fills in the African diaspora storytelling space?
(Seyi) In Canadian culture, people are generally more passive. They don’t often say things directly to your face. In contrast, in African, especially Nigerian culture, we tend to say things as we feel them. There’s even a saying: when two siblings enter a room and come out smiling, it means they didn’t tell each other the truth. But if they come out not smiling, it means someone has spoken the truth.
I wanted to draw a juxtaposition between both cultures: kindness versus unfiltered honesty. Being kind is good, but you can also be “kindly unfiltered.” By that I mean you don’t have to hurt people’s feelings to tell the truth, but the best thing you can do for someone is to be honest with them.
This ties into African diaspora storytelling. The gap it fills is representation—representing ourselves by ourselves. Too often in the diaspora, we are misrepresented. They give us accents we don’t actually speak with, or portray our culture in ways that don’t reflect who we really are. That’s why combining our unfilteredness with the richness of our culture is powerful. We are articulate, expressive people, and representing ourselves in the truest way possible helps close that gap.
You describe the show as living between Nigerian “Unfiltered” reality and Canadian “Kindness” culture- how do those two worlds collide in the stories you’re telling, and why is that tension important to explore?
Like I mentioned earlier, it’s important to explore this because the culture here is very passive. What we’re trying to do is reintroduce the idea that you can tell the truth—you can be unfiltered—and still be kind. It’s about showing the world that we are not everything they’ve painted us to be.
As Africans, we are different from the stereotypes. Two truths can exist, two cultures can coexist—especially in a country like Canada, which is so multicultural. Almost every culture, every ethnicity, is represented here.
But many times, these different cultures get absorbed into Canadian culture—except African culture. That’s why bringing this together is significant. It’s our way of putting our foot on the map and making sure our voice, our truth, and our culture are fully represented.
(Wilson) Well, for me, that’s just my daily life. I’m Nigerian, but I also live in Canada. And as a Nigerian, we’re very unfiltered. I’m very blunt. I like to say I’m like a basket—whatever you pour in is what you get out.
In Nigeria, people will tell you things straight up. But in Canada, it’s different.That contrast is something I live with every day.
Having spent many years in Nigeria and now living in Canada, I constantly navigate both cultures. And honestly, that mix—living in the collision of both—shapes how I see the world and how I move through it.
Many diaspora stories are often framed around struggle or success. Why was it important for you to center the everyday, nuanced, and even humorous moments instead?
(Seyi) I think we need to introduce our sense of humor to this part of the world. A lot of times, people here don’t really get it. Even when you try to blend into the culture or community in Canada, you realize their sense of humor is different. Sometimes you make a joke, and they just don’t get it.
That’s why I believe the more we extend that “humorous hand of friendship”—through content, comedy, or shows like this—the more people will begin to understand our humor. And once that happens, it won’t just stay in Canada; it will ripple into other parts of the Western world.
The truth is, we already understand their humor because we’ve grown up watching their movies and shows. But they don’t fully understand ours. So by sharing it with them, we’re giving them a chance to see us differently—not to change them, but to broaden how people see us and how they connect with our culture.
(Wilson) That’s the moment we live for, trust me. Success and struggles will always be part of our stories, but it’s the funny moments—the slang, the Pidgin, the “auntie moments” at family gatherings—that really bring our culture to life.
These are the things people don’t usually talk about, and when they’re left out, it takes away from the fun and fullness of our story. The success stories, the tragedies, the “struggling immigrant” narratives—those will always make it to the mainstream media. But these lighter, everyday moments often don’t.
We want people to actually see them. To see the humor in our mixed-up slangs, the family moments, the jokes around explaining Nigerian food. Those are just as important because they complete the picture of who we are.
Podcasts can feel intimate, almost like eavesdropping on a conversation. What tone or atmosphere are you hoping listeners experience when they tune in?
We hope they experience the exact same thing you just described—because that’s really what it was. Like Wilson mentioned, we were just being ourselves. The cameras were there, but we barely noticed them. The crew felt more like family members than a production team, and there was a lot of playful teasing back and forth—even with them on screen.
It felt like a chill corner, almost like sitting down with your best friend after a long day of work, scrolling Instagram, sending each other posts, and laughing—“Ah, look at that one, she didn’t even look good!”
And with the kinds of wild dilemmas we got? My Lord—get ready for a ride. This isn’t even eavesdropping. This is front-row access to the gossip—the premium gist.
What impact do you hope Kindly Unfiltered will have on both the diaspora community and listeners outside of it?
We want people to take whatever resonates with them—because you really can’t tell anyone what they should take away. Everyone’s perspective is different, depending on where they are in life.
But if I were listening to this podcast and looking back at the things we filmed, here’s what I’d hope for: I’d want people to see themselves and think deeply. I’d want them to have those uncomfortable conversations with themselves. To face the truth. To confront that family member who isn’t treating them right—and understand that you don’t always have to stay, you don’t always have to forgive, and you don’t always have to be the strong one who keeps everything quiet.
You don’t have to be passive. You can be clear, direct, and straightforward. Be bold enough to speak up for yourself. Don’t reduce yourself because of your color, your accent, or because someone says, “Oh, you’re too loud.” Own who you are—fully and unapologetically.
So yes, I want people to take whatever they take from it—but most importantly, I’d want them to see beyond the surface, think deeply, and be courageous enough to live their truth.
The Scoove Lyrics 
