Kristina Menissov does not wait for a seat at the table. Instead, the half-Kazakh, half-Ethiopian creative is building her own shoreline.
A true global citizen, Menissov trained in opera in Italy, rose to international fashion acclaim as a Vogue Mexico cover model, earned the title of Glamour Bulgaria’s International Woman of the Year, and took home the Fashion TV Award. Today, based in Los Angeles, she is leveraging that massive digital reach to spearhead a new kind of creative autonomy.
Her latest single, “SUMMER,” serves as a bold manifestation of that independence. Released under her own imprint—executive-produced, funded, and owned entirely by Menissov—the track actively strips away the traditional, male-gaze-driven tropes of seasonal anthems. Instead, it replaces them with a celebratory, unapologetic ode to personal freedom, financial self-sovereignty, and female sisterhood.
We sat down with the independent recording artist to discuss taking control of her masters, flipping the script on media tropes, and why true luxury isn’t about being chosen—it’s about owning the beach.
- “Summer” actively reframes the traditional, often heavily sexualized “Hot Girl Summer” trope into something centered around personal freedom and luxury completely independent of the male gaze. What inspired this narrative shift?
I was tired of watching us perform summer for someone else. The original trope told women: be hot to be chosen. I wanted to ask: what if we’re hot because we’re free?
My earlier songs “Crown,” “Potion,” “Geisha” were about selling that fantasy. I wanted to empower women to feel sexy, but my DMs were full of male validation I never asked for. That’s when I knew: I was empowering the gaze, not the woman.
I looked at my real friends, CEOs, mothers, artists… working 80-hour weeks and still waiting for permission to feel sexy. “Summer” was my permission slip to them, and to me.
No male lead. Not waiting for approval. Just women who own their houses, their businesses, their masters, in swimsuits they own.
Luxury is not lingerie for the male gaze. It’s a woman who paid for her own beach and decides if she wants to wear a gown in the water.
That’s the reframe.
- Your quote on the release has been making major waves: “We’re not asking for a seat at the table. We’re building our own beach.” Can you unpack the deeper cultural meaning behind those words?
That line came from years and years of waiting.
Waiting to be cast. Waiting to be signed. Waiting for a seat.
As a half-Kazakh, half-Ethiopian woman in fashion, I was always called “interesting” but never “standard.” I realized the table was never built for us. So why beg?
The beach is my metaphor for the new economy. It’s decentralized, global, female-led.
We built “Summer” with no major label, with female stylist Anna Gupta, female-owned brands like Impress Swim, Alani Nu, Naked Sundays, on the beaches that raised me as an LA girl in the last 10 years, Laguna and Malibu. We own the location, the looks, the masters.
Culturally, it means: stop asking them to diversify their table. Build your own shoreline. And then invite your people.
- You were named Best Music Influencer by Influencer Insider and Model of the Year at the National Social Media Awards. How do you strategically use your massive digital platform to advocate for female independence?
Awards like Best Music Influencer and Model of the Year gave me reach. I turn that reach into voice — literally and figuratively.
When I post behind-the-scenes at EastWest Studios — Studio 1 — I’m showing young girls around the world that we belong in legacy rooms.
When I post about being dropped by a label, I’m showing immigrant girls that it’s not all perfect behind the polished picture. Failure is part of independence too.
When I post my success with my son by my side, I’m showing mothers that you can build an empire with a child on your hip.
I don’t use my platform to be liked. I use it to show what’s possible.
That’s my advocacy: not preaching independence, but modeling it daily
- The music video features a beautiful emphasis on sisterhood, using your actual real-life friends. Why is communal female joy a radical act in today’s media landscape?
Because the algorithm profits when we’re pitted against each other.
Media sells female rivalry: who’s hotter, thinner, richer. Sisterhood is un-monetizable for them. So we made it the entire video.
Bakhodir Yuldashev didn’t shoot hired models pretending to laugh. He shot my actual circle… women who have held me through sad days, business losses, and Billboard meetings. When you see that laugh, it’s not directed. It’s documented.
Communal joy is radical because it says: you don’t need to be chosen by one man when you are already held by ten women. That’s the security the industry doesn’t want you to feel. A woman who feels held is not a good consumer. She’s a dangerous creator.
- Your lyric “Who needs a boyfriend, I’ve got my girlfriends” is being quoted everywhere as the anthem for this summer. What was the moment in your own career when you realized you didn’t need a boyfriend, a label, or anyone’s permission, and you just needed your girlfriends and your own vision?
Honestly, I’m still learning my power. But there were two moments that cracked it open.
The first was becoming a single mom. No one was rushing to help. No matter if I was sad, tired, heartbroken, I still had to get up and feed myself and my newborn son, do immigration paperwork, and figure out how to make a living. That teaches you very quickly that no one is coming to save you. You are your own superhero.
The second is still in process. Sometimes I forget. I catch myself waiting to be rediscovered, to be cast, to be signed again, you know waiting for that big institution to step in and say, “We got you.” And I wait… and I wait…
And then I remember: no one is coming. You go cry to your girlfriends, and you get back to work.
That line – “Who needs a boyfriend, I’ve got my girlfriends”… isn’t shade to men. It’s a love letter to my circle. My stylist Anna Gupta, my girls from LA who showed up at Laguna at 7AM for the shoot, my hot mom girlfriends who have their own empires and their own kids to raise and still showed up.
They are my label. They are my investors. They are my forever plus-ones.
I didn’t send that lyric for approval. I funded it.
- You won the Glamour Women of the Year Bulgaria International Model award. How do international honors like this shape your sense of responsibility toward your global female audience?
Glamour Bulgaria honored me as an International Woman. And I thought, isn’t “international” just my middle name at this point?
I’m half-Kazakh, half-Ethiopian, my dad lives in Germany, I trained opera in Italy, I have a half-Italian son, American-made, globally raised. I’m a citizen of the world.
My audience is not one country. It’s the diaspora of girls who look like me and never saw themselves on one cover, let alone Vogue Mexico.
So an international award is not a trophy. It’s a responsibility. It says: you now represent more than yourself.
That award rewired how I create. I don’t create for one city anymore. I create for a girl in Kazakhstan who needs to know she can belong anywhere. For a girl in Ethiopia who needs to see her features on a Vogue cover. For a girl in Los Angeles who needs to know starting over is not failing, but freedom… or I simply do not release it.
- How did you ensure that the creative direction of the music video, directed by Bakhodir Yuldashev, strictly honored your vision of rejecting the male gaze?
By being the executive producer, not just the talent.
I wrote the treatment. I hired Bakhodir because he shoots women like cinema, not like content. He understood the assignment: this is not a video about being desired. It’s a video about being free.
I approved every cut. If a frame made us look like we were performing for an invisible man on the beach, we cut it. If a frame made us look like we were having the best day of our lives with each other, we kept it.
Rejecting the male gaze isn’t about covering up. We’re in bikinis. It’s about who you’re looking at when you’re in them. In “Summer,” we’re looking at each other. And we’re happy as is.
- Independent music releases require a huge amount of business acumen. What advice do you have for female artists trying to navigate the music industry without major label backing?
Stop asking for a budget. Become the budget.
- Own your masters from day one. I recorded “Summer” at EastWest because I paid for EastWest. No one can shelve what they don’t own.
- Monetize around the music, not just from it. Streaming won’t pay your studio rent on day one. But if you build a world, a visual, a community, a lifestyle that people want to be part of, then partnerships come to you. Brands who admire your audience, people who believe in your mission. The music is the heart, the ecosystem is the business.
- Build a circle you trust. Hire people who align with your vision and protect it not their ego. My circle is small, loyal, and obsessed with the details. That’s worth more than any big team.
- Document, don’t just create. Your vlog, your fitting, your studio sessions, that’s content that pays for the next song. I funded half of this rollout just by showing the making of it.
Major labels offer a seat. Independence offers the whole beach. But you have to be willing to be CEO, not just singer.
- Your previous track “Crown” (Solo Version) also carried a strong message of self-sovereignty. How does “Summer” build upon the foundational themes you laid down in “Crown”?
“Crown” was me fighting for power inside their fantasy. “Summer” is me walking out of that fantasy entirely.
Listen to the lyrics of “Crown”: “I’ll be your naughty naughty dripped out in lace,” “I’ll be your second wife,” “Queen of your harem.” I was writing what I thought power sounded like… being the most desired woman in the room. Being chosen. In “Crown” era, I was exploring power through fantasy, meaning the lace, the harem, the “be your Jasmin.” It was valid, it was my art then. But I outgrew the fantasy. I don’t want to be the queen of someone else’s harem. I want to be the CEO of my own beach.
“Summer” is the answer to that realization.
“Crown” says: “Follow me you’ll get the crown.” It’s still asking you to follow me, to look at me.
“Summer” says: “Who needs a boyfriend, I’ve got my girlfriends” and “Loose your phone, loose yourself, let’s just unwind we’re offline.” It’s not asking to be looked at. It’s telling you to look away… from your phone, from their approval, from the invisible man on the beach.
“Crown” was about owning your allure. “Summer” is about owning your house, your helipad, your beachfront world, your masters. As I wrote in Q1 – luxury is not lingerie for the male gaze. It’s a woman who paid for her own beach and decides if she wants to wear a gown in the water.
“Crown” was: I’ll crown you if you choose me.
“Summer” is: I crowned myself. No permission. No male lead. Just women who own their houses, their businesses, in swimsuits they own.
- What do you hope a woman feels the exact moment she turns on “Summer” and plays it on her phone or in her car this season?
I hope her shoulders drop.
I hope she turns it up one notch louder than is polite. I hope she texts her best friends: “We’re going to the beach. Today.” I hope she puts on the good swimsuit, not the “when I lose 5 pounds” swimsuit. The SPF she loves. The lip gloss that makes her feel like her.
I hope for 3 minutes and 17 seconds, she doesn’t think about who will validate her hotness. She just is hot. Because she decided.
That’s freedom. That’s luxury. That’s SUMMER.
Connect with Kristina:
Instagram: @kristinamenissov // Tiktok: @kristinamenissov // Youtube: @kristinamenissov
