Nor is it an attempt to latch onto social campaigns like #MenAreTrash and #MeToo.
Cherrie Bomb is a collection of lived experiences that express what it feels like to be a womxn in a patriarchal society.
Curated by Nthabiseng Lethoko for Umuzi’s First Thursdays, Cherrie Bomb aims to interrogate and shed light on the norms of patriarchy and toxic masculinity. For a female audience, the exhibition is supposed to be representative and voice the daily subjugation of the female body. For the male audience, the exhibition is meant to be the mirror that prompts self-examination. Ultimately, the exhibition aims to demystify the severe effects that male dominance has over womxn.
The pieces featured in the exhibition are all by womxn.
‘Safe Space’ by Botshelo Mondi & Motshewa Khaiyane
Botshelo Mondi and Motshew Khaiyane explored the creation of safe spaces. The threat of patriarchy is an accepted norm in every public and private environment and the female body in particular is affected as a result. Essentially, this body of work titled, Safe Space, seeks to express the problems or politics of space as well as the subtlety and pervasive nature of patriarchy. The work comes from visualising patriarchy as a physical mass that occupies and intrudes in a way that marginalises and overlooks its victims.
In Boitumelo Mazibuko’s Lobola photographs, she captures how this traditional ceremony places value on her, value that she did not consent to, which ultimately makes her a possession. Even though the beauty of the ceremony is acknowledged through its celebration of the women joining her partner’s family, the treatment of her as an asset can lead to her demise.
‘Lobola’ by Boitumelo Mazibuko
Basetsana Maluleka and Nompumelelo Mdluli interrogate the accountability that womxn are supposed to have for men’s actions and expectations in The Constant.
Tshepiso Mabula examines how the male gaze has made the female figure subservient and an unimportant item placed on the periphery through her work titled The Gaze. This work aims to shift this portrayal and show women as defiant figures that reject patriarchal standards by defiling the female figure.
‘The Gaze’ by Tshepiso Mabula
Lastly, Thakirah Allie’s Hey Sexy is a multimedia series documenting the everyday phenomena of street harassment and catcalling. Since 2016, the project has developed and infested from sharing the artist’s own experiences of it, to that of other young girls and womxn in and around the public spaces of Cape Town.
Regardless of gender, we are accustomed to the expectations and consequences of patriarchy. Toxic masculinity, a distressing by-product of the system, has daily repercussions for anything and anyone unlike it. The necessity of this exhibition is undeniable and the conversations it intends to spark will be vital to reimagining our society.
Cherrie Bomb’s first exhibition took place in Cape Town and will soon be in Johannesburg during another Umuzi’s First Thursdays.
‘The Constant’ by Basetsana Maluleka & Nompumelelo Mdluli
Azania was the alternative name proposed for post-apartheid South Africa. During the racial segregation and discrimination of the era, the name Azania manifested the idea of a people that were emancipated to move the rhythms of freedom, belonging and becoming. Clinging onto the essence of this name, Lesego Seoketsa has made it her own.
Azania, Azania Forest, is the fashion savvy explorer that is a vessel for Lesego’s creative expression. Azania Forest was born in 2012. Uncertain of everything she undertook a hiatus which allowed her to centralise her vision, and in 2015 Azania started her blog where she shared her creative experiences and expressions. In 2016, Azania announced that she would be launching a magazine in February the following year. The hype was an ego-booster and a debilitating reminder of her deadline. Now in 2018, Azania magazine has not launched and is being reimagined.
Azania expresses herself through photography, fashion design, styling and writing. Her exploration and understanding of the experiences of Black Womxn have fuelled the subject of her work, especially her photography. Capturing captivating personal portraits became a crucial part of creative expression and in the time she was meant to be focusing on her magazine, she was consumed by the complexity of photography.
Even though it began with the simple need to “just take pictures”, her photo series are deeply inspired. Azania’s series Woman with the Brown Eyes was inspired by Kees van Dongen’s Woman with Blue Eyes and aimed to counter and challenge European beauty standards. “A black girl with chubby cheeks and a wide nose and short hair is also a subject to be celebrated.”
The muse for her series We Will Rise was the brilliant queer communist painter, Frida Khalo. This series celebrated the persistence of Khalo’s spirit and Azania’s journey of self-celebration and self-empowerment.
Lastly, Mbona Lisa borrows its name and framing from Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. This series spoke to the qualms about land in South Africa and how womxn need to reclaim their bodies from societal constraints for it is their personal land.
Both Woman with the Brown Eyes and We Will Rise were exhibited in a traditional art gallery space and with the constant production of artistic expressions, Azania has been often referred to as an artist. Without any formal training in the fine arts, Azania is still battling with the acceptance of this label. However, from the belief that as a human being created in the likeness of a Creator that creatively expresses, Azania is an artist.
Like a forest, Azania is a dense unpredictable space that manifests without manipulation and houses beautiful, mysterious and sometimes dangerous creations. A forest is where Azania moves towards her highest calling. To this young black curious creator, the climax is internal and with divine intervention she believes her celebratory creative expressions will continue to presents themselves as love and freedom.
When you are tucked comfortably into Johannesburg’s Northern suburbs, the word of inner city enclaves that accommodate you and your neighbours is enthralling. So you make that journey – it’s towering buildings, that one bridge and with every red light, you cautiously gaze at the dense bustle of unfamiliarity. With one turn, the stark difference of your destination will assure you know that you have arrived. Almost every other person will have a takeaway coffee cup in hand and you will be left to figure out of all the cafes on every corner, which actually serves the best flat white. There will probably be an art gallery or two, maybe even three. Black boys will be skateboarding between cars trying to find a parking spot and you will wonder why they can’t use the empty bicycle lanes instead. The weekend market that you most likely came all this way for sells craft beer, artisans baked goods, cold meats, and overpriced international and local cuisine. Once that gets old, there will be a steak house or a concept store stocking local apparel or a pop up juice or gin bar that you can drop by. As you pose for a photo with the street art, you admire the luxury apartments and hired security guards and imagine a life here. Your visit will probably end in a dimly lit bar with an even darker dance floor. When you arise the day after, you will be certain of the lackluster of suburbia so you decorate your Instagram page with this colourful experience and encourage more of your friends to join next weekend.
Surely, it’s not far fetched to imagine that visits to enclaves in Johannesburg’s inner city are something like that for the people that those spaces have been designed for?
Familiar with suburban life myself, the city was marketed in a way that confused my understanding of gentrification and rendered it simplistic. To be clear, gentrification is basically when people of a higher income or status relocate to or invest in a low income (and typically “urban”) neighbourhood. The aim is to capitalise on the low property values and in doing so the property value is inflated. This results in the original occupants of the neighbourhood being displaced because they cannot afford to live there anymore.
Moreover, this re-development of particular enclaves is culture led. Even though buy-to-leave investors seek to hollow out the neighbourhood through gentrification, there are certain landmarks that are salvageable and add to the authenticity of the space. However, through the curation of the space, the culture and character of the neighbourhood is altered. Everything that made that neighbourhood culturally unique is demolished. Consider it a social cleansing. Despite the occupants that have been economically excluded from the space, original visitors that frequented the space will slowly disappear because the social fabric has been gentrified.
The space now culturally barren uses art as a substitute for culture. Hence the street art and influx of galleries. According to academic art historian, Stephen Pritchard, this “complex deception” is referred to as “Artwashing”. Artwashing is basically art in the service of gentrification, which ultimately destroys the social capital of a space.
The establishment of galleries has become frightening because soon after, the gentrification begins. Think the corner of Bolton road and Jan Smuts, a block parallel to an art gallery, which now houses overpriced international cuisine and a sneaker store. Think Keyes avenue – affordable flats were replaced by a mile of eclectic restaurants, a noteworthy bar, sneaker stores, and luxury boutiques to neighbour the art galleries.
In gentrified enclaves around the world, the prevalence of artwashing has seen the rise to protests by artists themselves. Considering the mainstream rhetoric of the financial status of an artist, how can their work be used to manifest into the spatial expression of economic inequality? Personally, I have not witnessed Johannesburg’s interrogation of arts use in the reconstruction of a space and its culture. One thing that is for sure is that it is happening as the authentic culture of various spaces is being compromised in the name of capitalism.
Africa’s representation has been exhausting – it’s typically about poverty and her friends, disease, unemployment and corruption. From the West, Africa is every NGOs wet dream or just one long sad story. Now being raised in Sweden with strong Ethiopian and Eritrean roots, Teddy Goitom and Senay Berhe knew the pitiful narrative. It all changed when they traveled to the continent in 2009 and witnessed its “hidden” glory for themselves.
This exposure was revolutionary for Teddy and Senay. As seasoned directors, they were compelled to use the power of film to capture how fellow creatives were navigating themselves on the continent and releasing their creative expressions. Behold, the birth of Afripedia, a visual guide for African creatives.
Created by Teddy, Senay, and fellow director of Stocktown Films, Benjamin Taft, the documentation of Afripedia’s content began on that 2009 journey to Ethiopia, Ghana and Burkina Faso. The trio are film heavy weights and have been innovating visual storytelling since the late ‘90s and Afripedia’s gripping and spirited essence is a testament to the mastery the trio have over this medium.
The foundation of Afripedia is to develop the imagining of Africa, hence the determination to share the documented stories with Swedish television, as well as the world. The initial process to gain Swedish co-producers and sponsorship was difficult because these potential partners wanted a European voice to narrate these African stories. However, Afripedia values the voice of the storyteller and the ownership of their narrative so Teddy, Senay and Benjamin financed their own productions.
The project of Afripedia was fuelled by a DIY mentality, with extensive research and nurturing global connections. YouTube and film festivals added to Afripedia’s reach and gained the site some funding in the end. The result being five short films being released in 2014 – Ghana, Kenya, South Africa, Senegal, and Angola. Since the launch of these films, Afripedia has been part of more than 80 film festivals, the films have been shown on SABC, BET and Afridocs. Ethiopian Airlines, KLM and Kenya Airways have included the films on their in-flight entertainment.
These insightful films took about five years to complete and with the burning desire to continue the work they have started, Teddy and Senay have begun extending their documentaries into an actual database where the creatives can be found. This idea expands Afripedia into a platform on which African creatives can be recruited by clients and connect with each other in order to build their team.
The platform focuses on African creatives talented in production, so photographers, stylists, art directors, film directors, illustrators, graphic designers and animators. Before the platform is released in May 2018, Teddy and Senay are currently inviting prominent and emerging creative talent from Africa and the diaspora to join. When it is available to the public, the curated platform will be a virtual booking system, way to connect creatives and clients, and a digital portfolio.
To keep up with the innovative ways Afripedia is elevating the exposure of African creativity, subscribe to their site here.
So the first time I encountered the term ‘cisgender’ was on my colourful Twitter timeline. Some troll was ignorantly spewing his privilege and a beautiful bisexual boy that I follow called the troll a “cisgender straight white male” while telling him to take several seats.
After tediously Googling the term, I was informed that being “cisgender” means that your gender identity matches the sex that you were assigned at birth. So basically when you were born your physical attributes, which are anatomically and physiologically predetermined, and your internal conviction that you are either male or female, plus the cultural behavioural expressions of those convictions, all marry each other harmoniously.
When the beautiful bisexual boy was calling out that troll, “cisgender” sounded like a swear word because how could one body have so much hegemonic power, such unadulterated privilege. It seemed obscene until I realised I am cisgender and confronting this privilege was bewildering since other components that make up my identity, such as race, nationality, sex and sexuality are not necessarily hegemonic.
Initially, I was confronted by my cisgender privilege a couple of years ago when I approached a public restroom that did not have the universal male or female signage. Instead the figure on the door was just a person, which I certainly am, but this privilege of fitting comfortably at one end of the sex/gender binary made me question if I even belonged in that gender neutral space because hello hi, the entire world has created public restrooms, and every other space, on the dominant societal assumption that everyone is cisgender. This prolonged perpetuation of the sex/gender binary has caused for the maintenance of gender inequality. As a human being dedicated to the decolonisation of my mind, walk through this with me as I unpack how de-gendering is crucial to decolonisation (decolonisation in this context being the undoing of hegemonic “norms” and mindsets.)
Firstly, let’s get this one thing clear, “nature” does not dictate how we perform gender, instead we do as producers of our culture. The assignment of sex at birth is based on our understanding of gender identity. So girls have uteruses and boys have penises. This basic arrangement of gender and other various subtle and overt arrangements of gender are reproduced socially by power structures in order to shape individual action, and because of the histories of the powers that be, these arrangements appear solid. Therefore it is dominant ideologies that perpetuate the sex/gender binary in order to maintain power dynamics.
I believe that if we started with discarding sex assignment at birth as a “regulatory practice” that “institutes the production of discrete and asymmetrical oppositions between ‘feminine’ and ‘masculine’, where these are understood as expressive attributes of ‘male’ and ‘female’” then we could ultimately de-gender society and “true humanism” could be realised and instituted (Judith Butler). Being freed from these shackles of the sex/gender binary allows individuals to step into a personhood that is not regulated by hegemonic norms or socially prescribed ways of being and interaction.
However, this immediate route to de-gendering is essentialist. We are still part of a world that has “norms” and ideals that are deeply interwoven into our social fabric. For example, the social construction of the female body and the normalisation of the male body has considered the female body as “the other”. This othering of the female body is based on anatomy and physiology and this othering also seeps into the subjugation of a feminine expression of gender. Femininity is still assumed to be debilitating. People with female bodies and whose gender expression is feminine are victims of oppression. Hence histories that reflects the need to implement equality constitutionally, institutionally and domestically.
So before we can de-gender, I believe we need to de-cisgender first. There are and always have been and there still will be many more individuals who are non-binary, transgender and queer. Forget my privileged gender neutral experience, there are people who wake up every day compromising how they navigate their existence because of this idea that there are only two sexes and their manifestation should either be masculine or feminine depending on their body. I believe that once cisnormativity and its partner in crime, heteronormativity, are overthrown from our mindsets and understanding of bodies and sexuality, then surely the superiority of the male body and masculine expression would collapse?
It is important to realise that the crux of our minor differences are what these dominant ideologies that perpetuate oppression are built on. It is about damn time that we interrogate this social construct and unlearn how we have been taught to prescribe ideas onto our bodies as well other people’s bodies.
Only once the intricate hierarchies involved in our understanding of gender are undone then we can move into the dismantling phase of the entire construct: no body will be categorised and no personhood presumed in accordance. Essentially, people could simply be people.
Summing up everything that Elijah Ndoumbé encompasses is no easy task. The magnitude of their brilliance is enthralling and their approach is delicately interrogatory and essentially decolonial. Calling Elijah an artist is a fitting label but really Elijah is gifted & accountable to the need of expressing themselves and members of their community through various channels.
Born to a French father with Cameroonian roots, Elijah’s father was considered métis in the country where Elijah was born and initially racialised, Paris, France. The term métis suggests “racial impurity” due to being part European and part African, Africa being considered inferior. There was no conversation about Elijah’s father’s Blackness. The only time Elijah would indulge in their ancestry would be through the traditional meals their Cameroonian grandmother prepared. Elijah later moved to the West coast of America, where Elijah’s white mother is from.
PXSSY PALACE ST. GEORG [Munroe and Nadine] (Point n Shoot | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah NdoumbéElijah’s ballet classes in suburban America subtly posed questions about their race and gender. Ballet class was filled with slender, white girls with perfectly arched feet and Elijah had a more prominent ass, darker skin and flat feet.
“The thing about ballet is that it is a form of dance that relies on a particular and biased body type…this experience of art was very fucking gendered and very racialised and I didn’t realise it at the time because of the context of the space that I was raised in…I don’t want to be the only weirdo in the room, I want to feel seen. When you feel desperately isolated and alone because you know something is different about you and there is shame attached to that, like throughout my childhood, there was shame attached to the desire I have and the ways in which it would show up in my life or the ways I would respond.”
U DON’T EVEN KNOW ME, captures of @zengaking & @ma_tayo (1) from larger series (120mm | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
Elijah’s becoming was profoundly jolted during their time at Stanford University where they were “severely politicised.” Studying “Power” and “History” within the context of their bachelors in African & African American Studies and Feminist, Gender & Sexuality Studies intensely informed Elijah about the dynamics of the violent histories that riddle their body, their family’s bodies, and the bodies of members of their community. Subsequently, this questioning of embodiment has nuanced Elijah’s work. “It’s actually quite a decolonial way of thinking – to burst out of the frameworks and to imagine what it looks like for us to build our own while simultaneously infiltrating the ones that exist…I’m a non-binary trans person, who has body dysphoria, also regardless of my complexion, I’m also Black, I’m a person of colour, I’m of African decent; I carry these things in the end. I carry a multitude of things and those things are going to show up in all spaces.”
Untitled [A Kween, Ascends] (120mm | Cape Town, South Africa | 2017) | Credits: Shot by Thandie Gula-Ndebele and Nazlee Arbee Creative Direction and Styling by Elijah Ndoumbé, Nazlee Arbee, and Thandie Gula-Ndebele Makeup by Thandie Gula-Ndebele Assist by Tandee MkizeInitially through the pen, Elijah struggled with this questioning in the form of written pieces that require prolonged simmering in love and care. Elijah was then captivated by expressing themselves through a camera lens and with inspiration and guidance from BBZ London based cultural consultant and video artist, Nadine Davis, Elijah began poetically capturing themselves and members of their community through photography and videography in various personal and global contexts.
Now based in Cape Town, South Africa, Elijah has captured the emotionally intense experiences of Trans womxn who experience a lot of casual violence, through their work with the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Taskforce (SWEAT) in a video called SISTAAZHOOD: Conversations on Violence. There are also a couple of photoseries’ accessible on Elijah’s website. The prominence of visual work attributes to the attention paid to this creative outlet but there are infinite ways for Elijah to exist.
Danyele, a muse (120mm | Palo Alto, California, USA | 2017) by Elijah Ndoumbé
More recently, Elijah has had the privilege of “doing the work of making space to think”, this time has been an incubation period, in which Elijah has played with other mediums. For example humbly picking up a pen to doodle with some Miles Davis in the background and a “fuck it” mentality. Elijah’s exploration of themselves as an illustrator stems from their desire to be free from operating in fear, especially through a medium that will potentially fuel their other creative expressions. Furthermore, Elijah wishes to deconstruct the notion that only formal training like “art school” certifies one as an “artist” and the labelling of their creation’s as “art”.
Elijah has also been gravitating to the creative medium they first formally explored, dance. Complimentary to these embodied movements that resemble freedom and release are Elijah’s well versed music mixes, which could blare through the speakers of events like the Queer Salon. Created by Elijah and facilitated with a Black & Brown Queer DJ duo, Nodiggity, the Queer Salon makes space for Queer, Trans and non-binary Black, Brown and indigenous people of colour to be prioritised through art. While lamenting with me over experiences on dancefloors in Berlin and public restroom lines in Johannesburg, Elijah accentuated their urgency to continue building and facilitating safe and sustainable community spaces.
Elijah’s current phase of rest has revealed a beauty of the unknown to them and reinforced that despite daily negotiation of their textured identity, their artistry will always be an unyielding, irrefutable and indispensable embodiment of them and theirs.
Catherine, portrait of (120mm | Palo Alto, California, USA | 2017) by Elijah NdoumbéExpress. (Point n Shoot | Cape Town, South Africa | 2017) by Elijah NdoumbéHabibiatch (Point n Shoot | Berlin, Germany | 2017) by Elijah NdoumbéPortrait of the Artist in Their Home Studio (120mm b&w | Cape Town, South Africa | 2018) by Thandie Gula-NdebeleEli Ndoumbé live at Yours Truly (Digital | Cape Town, South Africa | 2018) by Thandie Gula-Ndebele
Extracting from the Afrocentrism of Fela Kuti (and more than a hundred creative writers, photographers and illustrators from Africa and its diaspora), Cameroonian journalist Ntone Edjabe’s sensational media platform, Chimurenga, aims to enrich, nuance and stretch the portrayal of the African continent so “who no know go know”.
Meaning “revolutionary struggle” in Zimbabwe’s Shona language, Chimurenga takes various forms in order to present the complexities of African lives and their discourses. Its outputs include: a quarterly gazette called The Chronic; the Chimurenga Library – an independent collection of pan-African periodicals and personal books; the African Cities Reader – a biennial publication on an urban African lifestyle; the Pan African Space Station – an online radio station and pop-up studio; and the award winning publication of culture, art and politics – the Chimurenga Magazine.
Initially published in 2002, the Chimurenga magazine is an enthralling collection of essays, reports, fiction, photography, cartoons, poetry, manifestoes, and art that not only produce new knowledge but intentionally speaks to the intensities of the world.
“[Chimurenga is] an experience”, explained Edjabe. Historically, African life has had a single narrative, which has been deeply rooted in global consciousness. Africa as poor. Africa as the victim. Africa as dependent. “The moment you add a degree of complexity to it, it throws people off”. It is this divergence from the single African story that makes Chimurenga provocative and enticing. With hundreds of brilliant contributors, Chimurenga is able to produce content that is innovative in the creation of African narratives, which are in essence anti-colonial. The publications enlightening content has grabbed a global audience and earned the prestigious Prince Claus Award.
The website has some content but the magazine holds the true pan-African treasures. You can order a copy online and hard copies are distributed throughout Africa, Europe, the USA and India. The Cape-Town based offices are open to submissions from potential contributors that are willing to stimulate pan-African culture by imparting themselves and their experiences through intellect, freedom and diversity.
Since the inception of Celeste Arendse’s fashion brand, SELFI, inspiration has lived in the wells of her being and each garment is testament to the childlike process of releasing inner self expression. This approach has catapulted SELFI into the top-tier of local fashion heavyweights and the firm grab of an international market. With SELFI evidently having a global consciousness, Celeste longed for a space where her brand could extend its expression. Much sooner than expected, SELFI organically moved into its flagship store, a space that allows the brand to breathe and take various forms of Celeste’s self expression.
Located in Cape Town, the idea was for SELFI’s flagship store to be a concept store that houses products that resonate with the brand and are also some of Celeste’s favourite things. You can find accessory brands like Githan Coopoo, who creates wonderfully shaped ceramic earrings, and Lorne, who creates titillating metallic pieces of jewellery. Ceramic homeware pieces from Dayfeels with illustrations that also resonate with SELFI’s aesthetic can be found at the store, plus body products and books. Obviously SELFI products can be found in the curated store. “It’s just an amalgamation of my brand and things that I love”, Celeste explained.
The use of natural materials is at the heart of SELFI and throughout the store Celeste uses a duality of materials such as concrete, rock, marble and a cornucopia of plants. “You are in something natural but you are in a building…the sort of gentleness of plants and hardness of rocks…and we burn incense every day. There are elements of just being in a space that is a sanctuary.”
SELFI’s flagship store is curated to perfection. Throughout the year, Celeste will be nourishing the brands aesthetic by representing parts of herself that are sure to resonate deeply. Be sure to experience the flagship store and find new collaborative collections and unique timeless pieces when in Cape Town at Shop 3, 199 Loop Street.
Rochelle “Rharha” Nembhard, multifaceted visual artist, has been a loyal customer of SELFI, a Cape Town based fashion brand owned by fashion designer, Celeste Arendse. The comfort, quality and nostalgia of a SELFI garment made Rharha feel grounded and whole. Due to the modern, functional and bespoke design, the natural fabrics and the earthy tones, there was a distinct ease in the way Rharha felt in Celeste’s creations. So before 2017 came to an end, the two style mavens teamed up to produce their alluring collaborative capsule collection named, La Loba.
The name of the collection, meaning “wild woman”, is a story, element and narrative that Rharha added and then portrayed through the colour and shapes of the clothing. With the lookbook styled by Gabrielle Kannemeyer, online store images captured by Gemma-Mary Shepherd, and campaign images shot by Alix-Rose Cowie, they all injected vibrancy to a subtle SELFI shoot. All in all, the final product enhances the strengths of each half of this budding creative duo.
Even though Rharha and Celeste may live in contrasting worlds, they are both fluent in a language focused on its impact and penetration of the retail industry. Their ideal is to express this aim through every La Loba garment. Their collaborative collection juxtaposes a rich and delicate colour palette with flowing shapes and uniform structures “to exemplify the seemingly double consciousness of womanhood and societal expectations.” The distinct merging of feminine and masculine silhouettes challenge the one dimensional ideas of femininity. This collection celebrates duality and encompasses the full spectrum of womanhood with “confidence, charisma, and an undeniable old school African flair”.
La Loba will be available for a limited run, but there pieces available at the SELFI Flagship Store in Cape Town or Convoy in Johannesburg. For more updates on pop-ups follow La Loba on Instagram.
I am certain that it is impossible to shake off visual artist, Gabrielle Goliath’s, ELEGY performance. It has been weeks since I was part of the audience and I am still haunted by the memory.
The chatty room fell dead quiet as the seven operatic female singers dressed in all black walked in single file towards the almost cubic stage.
The first singer in line stepped onto the stage and began to sing the single note that was passed on to the next singer as she stepped off and the other stepped on.
The B natural note that was sustained throughout the hour-long performance resembled wailing.
As the performance taxingly progressed a singer would silently leave the line and stand to form a circle around the audience until only one singer remained.
Once the remaining singer joined the circle, they collectively exited the room.
Just like that we partook in the ritual of mourning that had been enacted by the seven black operatic singers.
Sobs now added to the soul-stirring silence.
The presence of the absent individual was hefty.The absent individual being a dead black girl, a dead black girl whose subjectivities were fundamentally violated and consigned her to a generic, all-encompassing victimhood.
Goliath’s ELEGY ceremoniously takes this form. The life of a South African woman, trans or non-binary, that was raped and killed is commemorated. At the performance that I attended at the Johannesburg Holocaust and Genocide Centre in collaboration with the Goodman Gallery, we commemorated the life of Karabo Mokoena, a young black woman who was murdered by her former lover.
ELEGY like most of Goliath’s topics is loaded. Goliath grapples with the problematic of the representation of violence, pain, suffering, trauma and the narrative of others and of another. There is a profound delicateness in Goliath’s imaging, sounding and writing about these sensitive topics. Goliath strategically works around the violence to create the affective impact her audiences are left with.
Through ELEGY Goliath created a moment where loss became a site for community and empathetic cross-cultural and cross-national encounters. During the Q&A after the performance, the audience was evidently distressed because the performance did not provide a means of catharsis, which was deliberate. Goliath made us personalise a traumatised black body instead of routinely objectifying it. A distinct decolonial and intersectional space is created during ELEGY, which presents mourning as a social and productive work. ELEGY gives to those who have not been given a moment and plagues us with the irresolution of gender based violence.
reads the first card in a stack held together by a rubber band and placed diagonally next to a pair of black sunglasses, which effortlessly makes up a frame on Anees Petersen’s evocative Instagram page.
The bravado of this statement fits something an underdog would say after they have won. Almost seven years ago, Anees started his streetwear brand, Young and Lazy, in Cape Town, South Africa and even though it looks like he is winning, it does not feel like he has won yet.
Anees’ ascent has grown him immensely as a designer. After being pushed in the right direction by his design teacher in high school, Anees studied fashion at Cape Town College of Fashion Design. He then opened a store with two other local brands and got his first job at Woolworths as a kids wear design assistant. Anees then got involved with “designer wear” at House of Monatic in the marketing department. He soon moved on to work closely for his South African design idol, David West, who unfortunately closed down causing Anees to work tirelessly at Unknown Union, where he got to show a collection abroad with trade shows in America and some pieces being sold in Japan and the UAE.
In 2012, Anees reverted his attention to Young and Lazy, now with a wealth of experiences in the design world and fashion industry. Anees had also been emulating other brands while he was still trying to find his identity and be secure within it. A solid source of inspiration has been his personal story and being the person he is, “where I’ve come from and who I am as a person, being a Cape Malay from Cape Town, you know, being born in the time I was born and to see the things that I’ve seen on a daily basis growing up in Woodstock when Woodstock obviously was not gentrified and I think for me that’s a story that is important to be told.”
Anees is also designing for his sixteen year old self. “I think for a lot of young Muslim kids from Cape Town…my hope is for them to be like, ‘fuck, you know, it’s actually cool to be Muslim. It’s okay to be into streetwear and all this stuff’…It’s okay to be proud of where you come from, embrace it, own it and use it basically as a thing to stand out.”
Young and Lazy is personal. It is not just a cool factory. It is a production that is built on Anees’ back. There is no process Anees is not involved in. It is all him. This DIY model ensures that Anees is felt throughout his brand. A couple of years ago, Anees even decided to pick a camera and shoot his lookbooks in order to capture details that hold the essence of Young and Lazy. His firm grip on his label has allowed him to learn intricacies of the production process and provide a South African brand that is sure of itself.
“I think Young and Lazy stands for those who do not conform to the norm. It’s about embracing yourself and being okay with yourself when you might not be the best. Like no one is ever going to be perfect and I think Young and Lazy just represents imperfection at its best,” said Anees. The people that fill up the frames of Anees’ Instagram page look like they have exhaled into themselves. It’s that work, the work that it takes to be yourself that gives Young and Lazy it’s inviting ease.
The authenticity of this brand attributes to Anees’ noteworthy achievements throughout the years. However, success means more to Anees. Success means being internationally recognised for design. Success means being the cornerstone of streetwear in South Africa. Success means being incomparable. Success means being celebrated for being yourself.
As Anees and I fantasise over being someone else, someone everybody surely wants to be, we ponder on how a life like Virgil Abloh’s is acquired. Anees attributed it to hard work and I can’t help but make links between him and Virgil. Earlier this year, Anees started DJing because “clothing is not enough”. There is no doubt of Anees’ genius as he expresses himself creatively through various mediums. Although subtle, Anees knows the value of everything he has to offer. Although slow, his steady pursuit to leave a legacy is likely.
It makes sense that a documentary about skin bleaching was made for black girls. Being a black girl, a dark skinned black girl, I know that I am a suitable member of the audience. Society has consistently told me that my quarter-to-midnight skin is undesirable so understand the simple joy of a documentary that attempts to speak of skin like mine as acceptable, beautiful and worth celebrating. More interestingly, this documentary attempts to understand why people are bleaching their skin and what the privileges of the desired outcome are.
The documentary, which borrows its name from one of the most popular skin bleaching products in South Africa, Gentle Magic, is directed by Lerato Mbangeni and Tseliso Monaheng. The skin deep shots are captivating and each scene garners the profound perspectives of university students, artists, writers, cleaners, video vixens, skin doctors and sociologists from around the country.
The complexities of this topic are highlighted throughout this documentary – male attention, Beyoncé, the definitions of beauty, self-esteem, health hazards, and the accessibility and affordability of the skin bleaching products.
However, self-awareness seems to be crucial to this film because ultimately racial identity is at the core of skin bleaching. The desire to bleach ones skin does not seem to be innately due to our mainstream Eurocentric ideals, I actually think Colourism has just been part of the Black community’s daily bread for centuries. It would be easy to blame colonial and other oppressive regimes for possibly embedding this form of self-hate but I am not confident that that’s the root.
I am still haunted by one of the slogans on André 3000’s 2014 Outkast reunion tour jumpsuits that read, “Across cultures, darker people suffer most. Why?” It is as if we all know this but cannot isolate the cause. The documentary itself is investigating the reasoning behind this ritual but the answers are terribly contradictory and ultimately there is an incompleteness in our understanding. However, the introspection of individuals and ultimately a culture that glorifies light skin, is imperative and the subtle advocacy of self-love is compelling.
