“We won’t wait forever for men to give women opportunities.” The words of American boxer Claressa Shields — known in the ring as “T-Rex” — echo across the amphitheater of sport and resonate with striking similarity to those of rising star Sarah Apew: “Don’t let a man tell you that you can’t make it. Women can achieve anything.”

Only age and geography separate these two athletes. What unites them is a shared mission: to break stereotypes and defy expectations, becoming true icons of both athletic and social empowerment. Korean–German photographer O-Young Kwon traveled to Ghana to meet the National Team member and immerse himself in the local sports culture of the “Star of Africa,” where boxing is embraced with the fervor of a liturgical rite.

His visual testimony offers us a rare kind of passport — unlocking access to places and moments deep within the athletic soul of the African continent. Through his lens, we’re invited into the boxing identity and rich legacy of the noble art in Accra and beyond.

What motivated you to travel to Ghana and produce this special report? Why this country, and why this particular sport?

“It was a very particular moment. During COVID — as you’ll remember — it was incredibly difficult to move or travel. Back then, I was working mostly abroad, so when the pandemic hit I thought, ‘Okay, I can’t work. How do I survive?’ That’s how I began researching and, for the first time, I started planning my work ‘in reverse.’ Normally, I’d choose a subject first, and then determine the destination. But this time, I had to choose the country first — a place where I could still move freely — and only then decide what story I could tell. 

When I arrived in Ghana I immediately started looking for stories to tell and I remembered a magazine article I read many many years ago about boxing in Jamestown. It used boxing as a lens to portray local society, neighborhoods, and daily life. That story stuck with me. So I started researching boxing again, and I found out that many fighters from that area had become hugely successful — especially in the lightweight and featherweight categories. It all began to make sense, almost organically. I reached out, and doors immediately opened. Nuhu, a local coach, welcomed me. He and Ransford co-founded the Sea View Boxing Club Jamestown. Their mission was to cultivate juvenile boxers and invited me to their training sessions. 

That’s where I met Sarah. We had a great connection right away, and we decided to tell her story. She opened the doors of her home, offering an intimate look behind the scenes, a world far from the ring. To this biographical portrait I wanted to include real moments of training in the hot Accra mornings, as well as nighttime bouts in the ring and on the beach.”

What kind of energy, aesthetic, or sporting details did you observe in Accra? Tell us about the vibe of the city and its identity.

“It was my first time in Accra — although not my first time in a major African city. Accra is one of Africa’s most dynamic and historically rich cities and a real beauty, especially because of its immense coastline that shapes so much of the city.

You immediately notice the monumental architecture — like the government buildings in the city center and the the black star gate. I actually found it easy to navigate. I was lucky — I studied urban economics and city planning, so I didn’t have too much trouble exploring a city that is, in many ways, very complex. That made the whole experience really enjoyable. Of course, like many big African metropolises, it’s fast, dusty and chaotic. 

But it’s also very honest — nothing is hidden. I knew what I’d find in the city center, and I also knew what I’d see on the coast or in the poorer districts. I’d love to go back. The feeling I got from Accra is that it’s a tough city, fast-paced, and in a way, aggressive — and that aggression is partly due to natural circumstances. The sun is scorching. There’s dust, sand everywhere, burning trash and engine fumes fill the air. It’s noisy, full of car horns and people yelling in the streets.

But Accra is also incredibly versatile. Fox example there’s a strong Christian community and a strong Muslim one. It’s a place where Islam and Christianity seem to coexist peacefully. Muslims and Christians share their churches and mosques and do their prayers together. They see many similarities, other than what divides those religions. Some gave it a name and call it “Christlam”. Honestly, I’d never seen anything quite like it. It felt like a symbol of tolerance and openness. Accra also feels very modern. 

Compared to other major African cities, it’s more organized. You get the sense that there’s political stability. The last changes in government were smooth and peaceful, so there’s a level of trust in the system. All of that made Ghana a productive space for photography and I spent about a month and a half working on numerous stories.”

Given your academic background, how did you become a photographer — and where did your journey begin?

“I have to start with my family. I was born in Berlin to Korean immigrant parents who came to West-Germany in the 1960s. At that time, like many Italians, Greeks, and Turks, Koreans came as guest workers. South Korea was basically a ‘new’ country then — it had been devastated by the war, and life was unstable, without any social security. My parents seized the opportunity to move to Europe as guest workers. 

My mother became a nurse, and my father worked underground in coal mines. It was incredibly hard at first. They were treated as foreigners for a long time. But they chose to stay — they realized Germany had a strong public school system and free healthcare. It was a good place to raise kids. They sacrificed their own lifes and decided to stay to bring up my older brother and me, and it was very important to them that we receive a proper education, go to university, and have physically safe and lucrative careers. That’s why I studied. I even thought about quitting after just two years, but then I remembered everything they sacrificed.

I finished my bachelor’s degree. At the same time, I kept developing my real passion — photography. It started as a hobby, especially during my travels. After graduation, I moved to Hamburg and worked as an assistant for an advertising photographer. That’s when I realized: you can actually make money doing this. For about sixe years, I worked as a freelance photographer, mostly for fashion and commercial clients. But I was exhausted by the superficiality and dishonest Interaction between people. 

That’s why I broke up with the commercial industry and dedicated myself to a more journalistic approach in photography, to reach more depth and a long lasting value. I shifted toward travel photography, and I started asking myself: “Who are these people I’m photographing? What are their stories?”. Looking back, I feel I made the right choice. Now I get to tell stories that matter — not just to me, but to society and the world we live in.”

Would you say there’s an ideological pillar to your photography? A foundational idea rooted in your family’s background — and in the need to tell stories that often go untold by mainstream media?

“Absolutely. When you look at all my work side by side, at first glance they might seem very different from each other. But the intention behind them is always the same: to portray and give visibility to specific and marginalised groups of people who are often misunderstood — or misrepresented — by the public. What I aim to do is challenge those assumptions. I want people to say, “Wow, I had a completely different idea about this community — this project made me rethink my perspective, or even renegotiate my opinion. That’s the most rewarding moment.”

In Ghana, and especially in Jamestown, does boxing go beyond being just a sport? What role does it play in the community, socially speaking?

“It’s hugely popular — I’d say it comes close to football in terms of passion. In Jamestown, boxing is everywhere. You feel it in the air. You see people practicing it in the streets, or simply talking about it. 

Ghanaians are incredibly proud of their boxing legacy. Jamestown is a large district in Accra, located on the southern coast, and it’s a boxing hotspot. There are so many boxing clubs in the area. Nearly all of them are small and poorly equipped, often outdoors, not in proper gyms. The club I visited was in a building with half its roof missing — it had collapsed and was never rebuilt. You can imagine how hard it is to train under those conditions. And yet, the excitement those kids feel when they slip on a glove — or even just wrap their hands in tape — is immense. I felt that boxing was somehow helping bring out the best in them.

What also struck me was the level of respect they show toward their coaches. These trainers aren’t paid. They do it out of pure passion, hoping to shape a new spirit within the community. If you grow up in Jamestown, boxing is part of who you are and every kid dreams of becoming a champion.”

How does the glitzy world of contemporary boxing — with all its big-name promoters — show up in this more raw and local setting?

“Global boxing is watched and admired. Everyone here is aware of the spectacle, the money, the hype. But they don’t look at it through a cynical lens. Personally, when I see those big events shaped by marketing machines and flashy promos, I sometimes think it’s all orchestrated — like the results might not even be legit. But in Ghana, they still focus on the great national heroes of the past. I went to a youth tournament, and one of the legends of Ghanaian boxing showed up. He was welcomed with such awe and reverence — as if his career had never ended, like he was frozen in time. It was a kind of timeless glory — untouched by trends or commercial hype.”

Let’s talk about Sarah, the subject of your reportage. Can you share a bit about her story? How did she find boxing, and how has the sport transformed her life?

“Sarah comes from the northern Volta region in Ghana — one of the poorer areas of the country, where most people are either fishermen or farmers. Her mother moved to Accra with Sarah’s older sister and opened a small street stand, selling food and household items. Sarah stayed behind in Volta to finish school while her father worked as a farmer. When she graduated, she made the move to Accra, carrying with her a dream: to become a professional boxer. That’s where she met Ransford and Nuhu, the coaches at Sea View Boxing Club Jamestown. And that’s where her journey truly began. Sarah is not only fighting for herself, but also to make her coaches and her entire club proud.”

In speaking with Sarah and observing her family situation up close, did you ever sense a certain pressure or expectation placed on her — maybe the feeling that she might be the one to change her family’s future?

“I actually sensed a strong support from her parents and her sister — but it was genuine, not pressured. Sarah has a passion, a goal, something she wants to pursue in life, and that makes her parents feel lucky. So many other young Ghanaians don’t have that — no clear path, no real prospects, no driving force. She wants to become a world champion, the first Ghanaian women’s champion in history and to do so she trains every day with the same passion. In her free time, Sarah still helps her mother at the food stall — it’s her way of showing respect and gratitude for the unconditional support she receives every single day.”

How does Sarah experience life as a female boxer in the environment where she lives and trains?

“I talked to her about this too. Sarah first fell in love with the sport watching videos of American boxer Claressa Shields — her heroine, her role model. It was through Claressa that she understood women could achieve whatever they want. If Claressa could do it, so could she. She also compares boxing to football, where female footballers are respected, so why is there still such a conservative and patriarchal conception in boxing? This is something she wants to change. 

Sarah knows she can become a role model for other girls too. She wants to show that boxing — a sport often dismissed as violent — actually depends on something entirely different. It’s about how you train, how you apply yourself, the kind of discipline you carry. That’s where the game begins — because yes, Sarah still calls boxing a game.”

As a storyteller, what’s your personal take on boxing? Is it one of your key sources of sports inspiration?

“To be honest, I’m more into mixed martial arts. A good friend of mine competes professionally in Hamburg. I practiced Wing Chun for a while — a form of Kung Fu — but since I travel often for work, it was hard to build a steady routine. So before this project, my only artistic connection to the fighting world was a photo series I did about that same friend in Hamburg. He launched a social MMA program in a rough neighborhood, helping get kids off the streets. That was my first visual exploration of combat sports.”

After this experience in Ghana, do you think boxing will continue to be a source of inspiration in your work?

“Yes, absolutely. Sports in general will continue to accompany my artistic path. I’ve done visual stories on cricket in Sri Lanka, football fandoms in Belgrade, streetball in Johannesburg, even documented the sports facilities in a NATO base in Afghanistan. For some time now, I’ve been documenting the cultural imagination around sport, and I truly believe these kinds of reportages hold emotional and motivational power and that sport has a power that can connect cultures trough emotions. Sport can have a deep impact on your mental healt and your life — I feel it myself. It’s much more than just physical effort or competition. That’s why sports culture will continue to be a big part in my future stories.”