A Personal Interview with Dr. Ambassador Sonnia Agu
No scripts. No filters. Just truth.
Interviewer: Let’s start simple—why RAZZ? Why now?
Sonnia Agu:
Because I’m tired. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of packaging pain. Tired of the silence. RAZZ is not just a book—it’s a release. It’s a mirror. It’s what I wish someone gave me 13 years ago when I returned to Nigeria full of dreams and zero clue what was waiting for me. And you know what? I’m glad it took this long—because now, I have range. I have fire. And I’m no longer scared to be too much.
Interviewer: Were you scared at any point to tell these stories?
Sonnia Agu:
Absolutely. Not because I didn’t want to share—but because Nigeria isn’t always kind to truth. We laugh at trauma. We shame survivors. We bury uncomfortable conversations. But I reached a point where silence felt heavier than the risk. So I chose me. And by telling my truth, I’m giving others permission to do the same. If one girl, one boy, one ‘Razz’ soul finds power in these pages—then it’s worth it.
Interviewer: How did you know it was time to speak?
Sonnia Agu:
The signs were everywhere. Dreams. Losses. Divine nudges. I lost things I thought I couldn’t live without. I gained clarity in places of pain. God literally shut every other door so I could sit down and write this book. And when I did, the healing began. RAZZ is the beginning of my un-becoming. And my re-introduction.
Interviewer: You’ve built a strong brand. Wasn’t there a fear that this might ruin the “Dr. Sonnia” people think they know?
Sonnia Agu:
Honestly? That version of me—polished, careful, diplomatic—she served her purpose. But now, it’s Sonnia Agunbiade. That girl from Surulere. That Igbo-Yoruba blend. That lion in heels. I’m done editing myself for rooms I don’t even respect anymore. If my truth ruins a brand, then maybe the brand was never real. I’m not just a title—I’m a testimony.
Interviewer: There’s humor in the book, but also grief, rage, betrayal… What was the hardest part to write?
Sonnia Agu:
The chapters on abuse. And the one where I talk about being homeless despite my Harvard, Oxford, MIT certificates. Imagine sleeping in your car after you’ve hosted global summits. That kind of cognitive dissonance—it shakes you. But I had to write it raw. Not for pity. But for power. To show that glory doesn’t exempt you from grit.
Interviewer: What do you want readers to feel after reading RAZZ?
Sonnia Agu:
I want them to laugh, cry, shout “eehen!” and then sit in silence, processing. I want people to question stereotypes—especially about women, tribe, and class in Nigeria. And I want them to find themselves. Their own hidden razzness—that untamed, unrefined, God-ordained energy the world told them to suppress. RAZZ is your permission slip to be.
Interviewer: And finally… if you could speak to your younger self, the girl before the brand, before the betrayals—what would you say?
Sonnia Agu:
I’d say: You’re not crazy. You’re just early. Keep going. Everything they tried to shame you for will one day be your superpower. Your name will open doors, but your scars will teach nations. Trust the girl you were before the world got noisy. That girl knew. That girl was free. That girl was