Zoe Chin Loy: ‘Being Jamaican Is a Flex Anywhere in the World’

A rising cultural connector on Miami’s art scene, diaspora politics, and the pull of music in her bloodline

Lunch with Zoe Chin Loy begins not with a greeting, but with a pace-setting move. She arrives at Wynwood Miami’s beloved Dukunoo Restaurant—where she serves as public-relations strategist and unofficial cultural host—as if already mid-conversation with the city itself. It is Art Basel week, and the room thrums with the usual swirl of artists, DJs, and the global Caribbean diaspora in their annual migration to Miami’s creative epicenter.

Zoe, who is Jamaican, seems to glide inside the chaos. Miami’s electric fusion of sound, style, and spectacle suits her—she calls it “organized madness,” but she wears it like a uniform.

We settle into a table just as the early dinner rush breaks open. She is juggling phone calls, text messages, and menu suggestions with the ease of someone accustomed to being in three places at once. Over the next three days, her schedule is stitched tightly together: celebrity pop-ins, creator events, diaspora brunches, charity work, political meetings.

This evening, though, Zoe wants to talk about her next act: her decision to run for Youth Diaspora Representative of Jamaica for the Southern USA, a territory spanning 13 states and thousands of Jamaicans abroad.

If you ask her why she is running, she answers without hesitation:
“My love for Jamaica inspired my future political journey.”

At 34, Zoe speaks about politics with the certainty of someone who has been working unofficially in the space for years. She breaks down the job of diaspora rep as if describing yesterday’s to-do list: “Collecting community insights, listening to the issues affecting Jamaicans abroad, reporting findings to Foreign Affairs, helping with citizenship, connecting creatives and businesses.”

Then she says the part that feels both audacious and entirely believable:
“I want to be Prime Minister someday.” She laughs, but not dismissively. The ambition fits her.

Philanthropy as muscle memory

Zoe describes her life as “philanthropy and advocacy in motion.” She was raised in Kingston by charitable parents who made community service ordinary, even expected. In Miami, she continues that tradition—organizing hot meals for the unhoused, mobilizing donations after hurricanes, coordinating relief shipments with Jamaican MPs.

“It’s just how I was raised,” she shrugs. “Give back first. Fix later.”

Music, however, is where her lineage becomes unmistakable.

Herman Chin Loy is her father, a seminal figure in reggae history—visionary producer, creator of the “Augustus Pablo” sound, and owner of the iconic Aquarius Records in Half-Way-Tree, with branches in the U.S. and Japan. Her cousins are part of Copper Shot; her extended family stretches into Bass Odyssey’s orbit.

She herself has worked quietly behind the scenes on creative projects for years. When asked about her own music, she blushes a little.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she says—then admits to playful studio experiments. “But yeah, I have a few remixes with Willy Chin. ‘Passenger Princess,’ ‘Gyalibanz’—our twist on ‘Taliban.’ They went viral. It was fun.”

A connector at the center of Miami’s Caribbean scene

Her work with Dukunoo Restaurant and the brunch-centric event brand Rise & Toast has helped transform both into diaspora hubs—mandatory stops for Caribbean celebrities, touring musicians, and influencers passing through Miami.

“It’s a celebrity destination,” she says lightly. As if on cue, R&B singer Omarion wanders past our table.

During Art Basel weekend, she orchestrates everything from live art installations to DJ sets to late-night pop-ups—yet seems unbothered by missing Basel events herself.
“Dukunoo is the only place you need to be for Art Basel,” she insists, moments before her phone buzzes with an invitation to DJ Khaled’s 50th birthday party.

“If I had my dream job, I would be a Jamaican socialite,” she muses. “Still a connector, but doing it my way—more casual, more authentic.”

Her currency online is authenticity, she says—a reputation built from honesty, stretch marks, motherhood, COVID-era vulnerability. Her following of over 100,000 grew not from glamour, but relatability. Brand deals followed. Then modeling. Then Miami Swim Week. Then social-media management.

Through it all runs one throughline:
“Anything to help Jamaica, to push Jamaica—I’m there.”

A mother, an artist, a realist

Zoe had her first daughter at 18. “My kids are my inspiration,” she says. “I feel like I’d be worthless without them.” She sighs, half-joking, half-serious:
“I love them… but I always tell people, don’t have kids.”

She is also a tattoo artist—something she fits into the seams of an already maxed-out schedule. For her, it’s another form of storytelling.

As we finished our well seasoned brown stewed fish at Dukunoo, we take a walk to a nearby recording to Drink Champs with DJ EFN and NORE with guest Eric Sermon. I asked what gives Jamaicans an edge in Miami—a city dominated by Latino culture—she pauses.

“I wouldn’t say it’s an advantage,” she says slowly. “But being Jamaican is a flex anywhere in the world.”

Building for the next generation

One of her proudest current projects is J Is for Jamaica, a children’s book that introduces ages 0–12 to Jamaican culture. Each letter features cultural icons—from ackee to zinc fences—with simple visuals for toddlers and deeper explanations for older readers.

“My goal is to make the younger generation feel what I feel now… but sooner.”