Tag: Gigi Lamayne

  • Where the women at? Koolin in the City, the La Femme Remix, and questions of misogyny in hip-hop

    My rhymes aint got no gender

    I’m killing both like I’m Caitlin

    I’m amazin’

    I don’t need no validation from crits

    Don’t need to make your MC list to let me know I can script

    Don’t need a rapper to swallow

    To let me know I can spit

    — Rouge

    The recent cataclysmic rise of South African hip-hop is an indelible cultural phenomenon, premeating not only our airwaves and nightlives, but also how we speak, dress, dance, earn, spend — and (in many ways) think.

    Earlier this year DJ Switch called in Shane Eagle, Kwesta, Reason and Proverb to record  the much-talked-about single, Now Or Never. The track functioned as a call to reclaim lyricism in the industry — poetics over posing — all centred on the provocation: ‘what happened to rap?’ The official remix featured a 12-man lyrical legion, including PRO, Siya Shezi, Zakwe, Youngsta, and Ginger Trill, sparking web wars over whose bars hit hardest.

    But the remix also rang with this deafening question: why was not a single female rapper featured on the track? Later, we learned that Rouge had received the call-up and declined. In an interview with Balcony TV, she explained that being the only female rapper on the track was neither a complement nor an opportunity. ‘I don’t want to be the only female artist’.  Rouge wanted audiences to distinguish her verses, not because they were attached to a woman, but because of their incisive lyricism, their cadence, their flow.

    Following the original all-male call-out, Switch asked DJ Ms Cosmo to gather a crew of the country’s best female emcees for the LaFemme Remix. Among Cosmo’s fleet of femme foxes: Rouge, Fifi Cooper, Gigi Lamayne, Patti Monroe, MissCelaneous, Miss Supa, Clara T, Phresh Clique, Nelz and BK. At last week’s Koolin in the City, the squad were out in force, celebrating the release, and the culmination of Women’s Month.

    ‘There are no women in hip-hop they say,’ said the online advertisements, ‘Now ya’ll know’. It resonated with Ntsiki Mazwai’s recent letter to ‘Brothers in SA Hip-Hop’, in which she wrote: ‘you have conveniently told SA that we [female artists] don’t exist’.

    Koolout’s femme celebration had inserted itself amidst a wider contemptuous dialogue about the positioning of women emcees in the industry. Banesa, Koolout’s Creative Director, was well aware of the encasing contestations: “[I was asked] “why is it that you [only] have a female line-up when it’s August?” What about all the other nights? So that’s another debate”. 

    Indeed, encircling all of us on that Troyeville rooftop were brave, beautiful, and brutal utterances about women in hip-hop: the grind and the glory of trying to make it in an industry that, like many others, is permeated by patriarchy, both subtle and overt. ‘Because of the subjugation that happens in all fields’, said Banesa, ‘women are just not very prominent in anything that requires them to use anything other than their womb. And that includes hip-hop. 

    She adds: ‘because it’s a female line-up, [we assume] this place should be full of women all of a sudden. That’s not how it’s gonna be. That’s not how it’s gonna go down. Chances are it’s gonna be full of guys that wanna see your tits.’ 

    In speaking with femme artists and audiences at Koolout, I was struck not only be the scope and complexity of challenges for women in the industry, but also the fraught tactical decisions women make about how to rise and resist.

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    Rouge’s internal conflict over the terms of her involvement in Now Or Never is just one example. And she is not the only one to contest the label: ‘female artist’. ‘We’re rappers. We’re artists’, Phresh Clique told me. ‘Don’t put a label on it. You don’t put a label on another artist. If it’s a guy rapper, you don’t say “male rapper”. If I say I’m a female rapper, it’s like I’m doubting myself. Cos I’m like, “feel bad for me guys. I’m a woman”. Ms Cosmo later echoed: ‘I do strongly believe [that you should] look at me as an artist and look at me for my skills’. The real and relentless frustration for these women is that they so rarely get to discuss their actual artistry. Instead, the conversation pivots around ‘what it’s like to be a female in the game’.

    And yet, as Jean Grae once said, ‘It’s not possible to discuss women who rap as “just” rappers until or unless people who consume and participate divest from basic patriarchy’.

    Each of the women I spoke to was entangled in charged questions about how and when to wear gendered labels.

    Female hip-hop, I think, does need to be separated’, said Banesa, although she was very aware that many others held a different view. ‘I was having an argument with one of my friends who was like, “there shouldn’t be a separation”. [But] I think the labels are important because it’s the reality of the world we live in. It [women in hip-hop] is a different animal right now’. On her account, women needed their own space, for now, to grow and to build. The quest to be ‘just an artist’ might involve first asserting oneself as an equal. Clarity, for example, dropped these bars for the Koolout audience — a call for a gender-free evaluation of her craft and her impact:

    ‘I’m trying to stay positive in a world that’s so negative

    Masculine/feminine the gender’s irrelevant

    As long as I’ve got time, I’ve got minds to change’

    Despite attempts to dismantle categories like ‘female artist’, many also offered sharp articulations of the ways in which the industry is gendered.

    ‘I will always be female whether I like it or not’, Ms Cosmo told me later that evening. ‘I’m not gonna shy away from the fact that women in the industry haven’t been given the opportunities that the guys have. And we have to fight tooth and nail to actually get those opportunities’. 

    ‘This is a man’s world’, Phresh Clique explained. ‘You know when women start getting into any male dominated industry, there’s this thing [of being silenced]. They’re sleeping on us. And the thing is we’re here. They’re just turning a blind eye.’

    ‘As females, we’re doing something really awesome’ says Ms Cosmo. ‘That’s why I did a song like the La Femme remix to really push the female agenda, to push female artists. Actually to the point where the female remix has been dubbed better than the guy’s remix. A lot of people have said that.

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    Koolout’s rooftop was steaming with some of the fiercest females in the art world. But existing in that space was not always easy. At a prior Koolout event, I recall a small insurrection in which a group of women disrupted a crewe of male emcee’s chanting the hook: ‘bitch wait outside, let me finish what I’m doing’. Indeed, in discussions of hip-hop and misogyny, it is often lyrical content that attracts the most attention and debate. OG, Miss Supa’s freestyle at the August event took direct aim at references to women as ‘bitches’:

    Bark is the meanest

    Ask me where the meat is

    Grab it and eat it just like a dog would do

    It’s probable

    Never seen one as hungry as I is

    No wonder why you would hurry to call me ‘that bitch’

    Woof!

    Don’t want you pissing in my territory

    Hip-hop is mine

    His story to her story

    ‘There are many people at these hip-hop things who hate me,’ chimed Lady Skollie, a hip-hop head, pioneering visual artist, and fierless gender activist. Through her art and online presence, she has publically critiqued sexual violence and misogyny in the local entertainment industry. In a recent interview for Pap Culture, for example, Lady Skollie attacked common assumptions that famous men ‘make’ the women they sleep with ‘valuable’. ‘Oh yes’, she said, ‘because I was never an individual before you injected all that greatness into me through my vagina’. Even Banesa told me that it has sometimes been assumed that, due to her position at Koolout, she must be sleeping with one of her colleagues.

    Incontrovertibly, female emcees receive fewer bookings and fewer opportunities than their male counterparts. ‘Sadly we make the least amount of money when we have a female line-up’, Banesa explained, ‘because they don’t have a big pull’. ‘They see us doing and putting in the work’, said Phresh Clique, ‘but do they trust us enough to own it on stage?’

    In a genre where self-assurance is currency, some female emcees have also embodied in their work a powerful collision of ostentation and unashamed vulnerability. It resonated when DJ Muptee dropped these impromptu bars:

    I know I want to utter

    But when I do I stutter

    C-c-can we connect on a conscious level, brother?

    Among those female emcees that have grabbed the mic, battled on stages, or claimed their space in the booth, there remain concerns of a double standard.  Now that women are gaining entry, of course they need time to hone their craft’, Banesa says. ‘But every time there’s a mess up, [the response is] “you see, that’s why we don’t let you guys in’. Phresh Clique agree: ‘if a guy comes in the game and he’s new, they’re gonna hype him up like “yeah yeah yeah, another boss in the game”. But when a female rapper comes through they look at everything. When the critic comes, it’s heavy with us. They check you from the steez game, to the bars, to the way you’re spitting, to the flow. You literally have to work extra hard in order for them to see. We literally have to rub it in their faces like “yo, we’re here”’. 

    To add to this, women in hip-hop are not only women. The vast majority are also women of colour. ‘You can’t just say “female hip-hop”’, affirms Banesa. ‘Then you’re talking about black female hip-hop. Then you’re talking about coloured female hip-hop. There’s the girls who grew up on the other side of Sandton, or the Soweto cats’. The casting of hip-hop as particularly violent, misongynist, or brash (over and above any other genre) is arguably located in centuries-long attempts to suppress the voices and artistry of black and brown bodies. Academic, Tricia Rose, has argued that female rappers, most of whom are black, might find it difficult to condemn the misogyny of male emcees because of the need to collectively oppose racism, and to avoid contributing to the notion that black masculinity is “pathological”.  ‘You’re exposed to a plethora of issues that need to be dealt with. And it gets a bit overwhelming’, Banesa told me. 

    Each of the women emcees I spoke to was finding her own way to confront knots of power and privelege, grow the industry, and support women’s work — while aso carving out space to be ‘just an artist’. These complex struggles reverberated through their versus, which echoed defiance, sensuality, audaciousness, rage, humour and poetry. ‘What happened to rap?’ In this case: women happened — are happening. And it’s about time we tell that story.

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  • The confessional battle-cry of Lex LaFoy’s Alienation

    Lex LayFoy recently dropped a powerful, confessional battle-cry against complacency and conformity in the form of Alienation, produced by Sonic Boom SA. It blazes honesty, liberated self-expression through its uncut and unabbreviated lyrics, set to the dirtiest, grimiest trap beat by AHT Gee.

    The passionate uproar channels Lex LaFoy’s various incarnations, draws from her multiple processes of personal evolution in order to speak in an immediate and uncensored way to all of those battling against the sharp edges of the world, to all of those who are feeling isolated and frustrated by their inability to ‘properly’ embody preconceived notions of how a person should or shouldn’t be. The track explodes the absurdity of these imposed definitions and points to the way that they’re entirely inappropriate for the complexity of human experience. It says that it’s okay to feel estranged by these unrealistic and artificial constraints, it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling- the fact that you exist and are going through the things that you are, means that there are others like you; that there are tribes of support to be formed through our mutually difficult processes of self-definition.

    Lex LayFoy is at the top of her game, and seems to be fully embracing her own power after recently leaving iFani’s label disGuiz, through which she grew exponentially and produced juicy, jaw-droppers like Sushi Dip and Flex. She’s a creative force to be reckoned with, a fierce-polymorph of unstoppable ability; from the energy of her live performances, to the immediacy of her message in Alienation– she can drop truth with the same intensity that she can drop a dance move.

    Lex LaFoy is part of a powerful movement of femmes currently redefining South Africa’s music scene through the ferocity of their skills- from Gigi LaMayne to Patty Monroe, Fifi Cooper to LaFoy’s own collaborator DJ Doowap, with whom she toured Europe in 2014 as a part of the Purple Velvet International Female Hip Hop Tour. These firebrands are firmly at the wheel, making sure that there’s no such thing as a backseat for women in the industry.

    Keep glued to Lex LaFoy’s Facebook Page for details about her upcoming debut album Honey Bass, set to drop in a couple of months, as well for another international tour with DJ Doowap, and for a soon-to-be-released LP, combining EDM, pop, trap, and hip hop, as part of the trio called TriGO. You can also check out her Hlanganisa Mix Tape on SoundCloud.

    In the meantime, check out the video for Alienation, take strength, and know that you are not alone…

  • The Fashion Lab Johannesburg – High Fashion, High Art

    As its name suggests, the Fashion Lab is an experimental space dedicated to pushing the boundaries of clothing and style. Founded in Johannesburg in 2014, it has used the workshop format to create cutting edge clothing which meets high fashion with high art.  The workshop has an egalitarian ethos ” developed for anybody wanting to learn new skills, develop additional techniques or just experiment and explore to further their existing ability. Mentors are all experts in their specific fields, and have lots of practical and professional experience that they love to share”. Participants have worked on everything from drapery to textiles to doing fashion shots with smartphone cameras.

    The Fashion Lab Johannesburg 2

    Along with teaching, the Lab has given birth to numerous striking collaborative projects. In 2014, they produced the ‘L’afrique C’est Chic’ shot for GQ Magazine, a celebration of contemporary African style.  Its participants have experimented with music photography, producing stylised and baroque shots of local band The Sextons and rapper Gigi Lamayne. Photographed by Richard Thompson, Lamayne looks regal in silver and black dresses and headpieces. It’s an incredible futurist piece which looks like character designs from some yet unconceived science fiction epic.

    The Fashion Lab Johannesburg Gigi 2

    Perhaps the most ambitious work produced to date is the short film Feral. The key theme of the work is fear- ”Fear of Time. Fear of Change. Time waits for no one.” The two minute film focuses on two dancers wrapped in an arcane power struggle. Alison Sischy Smith, in a skeletal white costume and Kieron Jina, in coffin black, writhe and snake around a set full of masks, puppetry and headgear. The result is supremely effective- more a plunge into the psyche than a conventional fashion piece. The success of this film shows the strength of the Fashion Labs collaborative ethos.  Linking together different creative people in a workshop space allows their collective imagination to soar.

    The Fashion Lab is on Facebook and Feral can be viewed below.

  • Women’s World Wide Web – Reviewing SA’s Feminist Movement in 2015 

    While it may be true that over the years certain features of the multilayered feminist project have been incorporated into laws and institutional structures, the emergent new wave expands on feminist ideals via new and varied avenues of protest against heteropatriarchal norms and values. In the South African context specifically, and across the globe more generally, collaborations between women; as well as their insights, information and imagery being distributed online, is evidence of a form of feminism that is increasingly innovative for its character of being part of everyday public life. As will be discuss in this essay, this new feminist project goes beyond institutional ideas of equality by engaging with the specific experiences and struggles attached to the female body and psyche through globally accessible online spaces.

    Internationally, a formal emphasis on gender equality and women’s empowerment policies can be seen through happenings such as the African Union’s declaration on Gender Equality and Women’s Empowerment, namely, the “African Women’s Decade 2010-2020” as well as popular actress Emma Watson of Harry Potter fame being appointed the United Nations’ new Goodwill Ambassador in 2014, focusing specifically on women with UN’s gender equality HeForShe campaign.

    These are instances indicating that a macro level emphasis on gender equality is far from dormant. It is however important to note that there have been continuously evolving renderings of feminist movements (the plural needs to be emphasized as not all feminist groupings are able to speak to all experiences of womanhood) on more micro-levels, particularly sparked by technological changes in the platforms women use to articulate their presence in society. While women may not be burning bras, they are certainly igniting a new kind of fire amongst themselves – in some cases even getting rid of their bras as seen by the #FreeTheNipple campaign.

    During an interview with poet and activist Lebohang ‘Nova’ Masango, she spoke to how what defines this upsurge of popularized feminism is its digital dimension. Social media has allowed for a proliferation of varied circulations of female realizations and representations. The internet has opened doors to new platforms on which women can articulate themselves, as well as allowing for a larger sense of community. As explained by Nova, “People are not afraid to self-identify as feminist anymore”. Of course, this popular embracing of women power is not only a result of internet connectivity but can also be attributed to celebrities like Beyoncé using her iconic status as a platform to advocate for a new brand of feminism, albeit mainstream. And perhaps this is what is new about feminism – it is no longer perceived to be a movement for marginalized female intellectuals, queer activists, or other such ostracized communities.

    While Nova makes mention of the controversy around Beyoncé as a feminist figure given her irrefutable connection to both capitalism and consumerism (something that feminism as a political and social ideology is irrevocably at odds with), not to mention that for many men she is the ultimate sex symbol, the importance of her ascribing to the feminist label goes beyond semiotics. In sum, as an immensely talented, hugely successful business woman, she has made it clear to the world that feminists do not have to be frumpy. “You can be sexy…You can be married and have a career and whatever, you know,” says Nova.

    Award-winning Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, has also been an inspiration for the recognition that women can care about what they look like as well as be taken seriously in any chosen field. There is a strong emphasis on the need to encourage and celebrate women’s ability to play more than one role at a time. The article On smart women being ‘hot babes’ written by Simamkele Dlakavu sums this up aptly in which she states that a woman looking after herself “goes beyond the aesthetic, it is a political act…”. Another woman who is the epitome of women’s ability to be successful in multiple roles is South African novelist Lauren Beukes. She is an award-winning, internationally best-selling novelist who has written some of South Africa’s contemporary greats including Zoo City and her most recent book, Broken Monsters which won best adrenaline novel in American Library Association’s 2015 Reading List for adult fiction. She in addition to this writes comics, TV shows and films. Her documentary Glitterboys & Ganglands about contestants in South Africa’s biggest female impersonator pageant won Best GLBT Film at one of the largest black film festivals, the San Diego Black Film Festival in 2012. Her work is injecting a strong female presence in genres that are heavily dominated by men.

    The intersectional nature of women moving purposefully is a clear foundation of this contemporary feminism, where groups are coming together to address issues related their own experiences of womanhood, as it intersects with other experiences.

    The Feminist Stokvel is one such example, where eight accomplished black women came together in 2014 with the aim of creating a “safe and nurturing space” for black women’s voices to be paramount.

    Danielle Bowler, Kavuli Nyali, Lebogang Mashile, Milisuthando Bongela, Nova Masango, Panashe Chigumadzi, Pontsho Pilane, and Wisaal Anderson are the founders of the Stokvel. They have focused on the politics and pain around natural hair. As one of the founders, Nova explains that this is because “we [black women] have so much pain, trauma and shame attached to our hair”. In September the collective hosted The Feminist Stokvel Hair Soiree: Dem Baby Hairs in which women raising black children were invited to discuss and get advice on how to nurture their children’s’ hair. This was in recognition of the fact that the hair of black women is problematized from a young age when girls are instructed by schools on what hairstyles are appropriate. Flowing from their own experiences, their aim was for black hair to be an entry point through which other issues experienced by black women may be discussed.

    This is an example of the zooming in on specific female experiences, as well as an attempt to re-define dominant ideas related to physical appearances. The platforms created by the collective pays long-overdue attention to experiences and evaluations of black hair and uses this as the medium through which to affect solidarity, self-love and self-appreciation. This is an example of gendered and racialized realities intersecting and being given a voice through the efforts of women working together – reclaiming the black woman’s body and allowing her to cultivate positive views about herself through a community of women on the same path.  On their blog and Instagram page, the use of weekly hashtags such as #wwlw (Women We Love Wednesdays) and #FSFridays (Feminist Stokvel Fridays) are some of the ways in which they celebrate the achievements of their members as well as recognize the work of women more generally. These posts emphasize their attempt to expand definitions of beauty and to highlight women’s success at performing multiple roles. It also connects their work to the role that the internet and social media play in contributing to a feminist project.

    While the use of the internet to extend feminist activism and to aid the possibilities for collaboration has been around since the ’90s, contemporary digi-feminism or cyber-feminism has progressively been taking on a more provocative nature. The ever-increasing use of social media and proliferation blogs and websites, and the production of digital art confronting and challenging power relations and gender imaginaries are all evidence of support for platforms used to critique hetero-patriarchal ideas and spaces.

    A controversial and hugely popular campaign, #FreeTheNipple, protests the double standards women face regarding how their bodies are perceived and the censorship of their bodies. This campaign relies on women uploading images of exposed breasts. Celebrities and female MPs have participated in the campaign which aims to desexualize breasts. This campaign is turning traditional body politics on its head by arguing that all bodies should be protected and embraced. In doing so, the participants are advocating that holding onto notions related to heteronormativity are not only irrelevant but increasingly dangerous as they are used for the justification of physical and emotional violence, human rights abuses and exploitative beauty marketing campaigns.

    In her video Afro Cyber Resistance, French-born and Johannesburg-based online artist and activist Tabita Rezaire questions the democracy of the internet by stating that it is a “colonized space”. She addresses the representation of marginalized identities within larger internet structures such as search engines, highlighting that “the internet is a space for sharing and disseminating information. And whoever controls this flow of information has power”. In response to this, she approaches the internet as it were a site of resistance, participating in the information that is uploaded online, and actively claiming internet space with contemporary and evocative digital imagery.

    South African photographer Zanele Muholi’s latest book, Faces and Phases 2006-2014, contains portraits of queer black women is another instance of the fight to ensure that all bodies are permitted visibility in the public domain. The book was launched in December 2014, in conjunction with the 16 Days of Activism for No Violence Against Women and Children campaign. It is comprised not only of gripping portraits of black women identifying as gay, lesbian, transgender or intersex, but also includes testimonies and poetry, allowing readers to see these women as more than just visuals, human, rich characters with even richer lives and histories. Same Mdluli in his article on Muholi’s book describes it as a heterogeneous collection of stories challenging what is perceived as ‘normal’ in terms of sexual orientation”. Jody Brand’s CHOMMA also offers a visual commentary on South Africa’s street life and gender-bending. She confronts the viewer with photographs that interrogate gender and sexuality stereotypes. Much like Rezaire is challenging the oppression of digitized spaces in her work, Muholi and Brand’s photography challenges ideas around heteronomativity, each one of them confronting ideas about spaces and faces in their own way.

    Movement around issues of gender, race and power points to broader social, as well as economic initiatives where women are breaking barriers socially as well as making an impact on popular culture trends. The Other Girls is one such female collective that has Jo’burgers planning their social lives around The WKND Social. Inspired by New York’s brunch and laidback daytime party scene, Thithi Nteta, Nandi Dlepu, Vuyiswa Muthshekwane Nothando Moleketi and Tumi Mohale launched The WKND Social as an innovative way to get people to explore the different parts of the city through “Good Food. Good People. Good Music.” Held at different venues on a monthly basis, it is a refreshing and brave alternative to parties and events being primarily hosted and promoted by men.

    Speaking about bravery, Cape Town based jewelry designer Katherine-Mary Mary Pichulik came out with a new jewelry series called Brave Women. Using portraits and videos of women wearing her accessories, she aims to highlight how these women “create, make and do in spite of their fears”. The most recent woman to be featured in her series is Talia Sanhewe, award-winning reporter, entrepreneur and founder of her own production company. Similarly, Vusiwe Mashinini, started her own production company when only but 23, called VM Productions, and with the aim of opening up a space for women in the male-dominated media production industry, Mashinini employs women with a variety of skills relevant for her company.

    Female musicians, and rappers particularly, are also making their presence felt within the always developing hip hop scene. Ntsiki Mazwai, Yugen Blakrok, Miss Celaneous, Dope Saint Jude and Gigi Lamayne are some of South Africa’s female rappers who have been adding new flavour to the male-dominated rap scene. Mazwai stood up for herself and fellow female rappers in her open letter titled “Dear Brothers in SA Hip Hop” stating that male hip hop artists need to see women as their equals, not simply “as your back up vocalists or twerkers”. She also emphasized the importance of recognizing the contribution that female rappers have made to the growth and diversity of South African Hip Hop. Aside from their contributions to growth, these artists are also growing in leaps and bounds – and accordingly being recognized for it. Gigi Lamayne was the winner of the Best Female category at the 2013 South African Hip Hop Awards and Yugen Blakrok was nominated for Best Freshman, Best Female Emcee and Best Lyricist at the 2014 SA Hip Hop Awards.

    Miss Celaneous and Dope Saint Jude, both from Cape Town, are women who are using their creative work to make commentary on perceptions of women, gender, sexuality, class and the Coloured community. Miss Celaneous is a promoter of women’s freedom and often-overlooked dimensions of Coloured culture and this is expressed through her use of slang and provocative lyrics. Dope Saint Jude has been described as a “socially conscious advocate for feminism…and gender neutrality in Cape Town” by Okay Africa, with her lyrics and videos complicating distinctions between gender, race and class identities and thereby bringing to the fore issues related to power and inequalities. With a mixture of Cape Coloured slang and ‘Gayle’ (slang used in queer Coloured subcultures) tracks such as “Keep In Touch” are saturated with both metaphors, blatant references and high-powered social commentary on the tensions she sees in society. In doing so, she promotes the multifaceted nature of her own personality, and consequently refracts as a role model for many.

    As mentioned earlier, feminist movements are always evolving in response to contemporary experiences and realities. This essay has highlighted some of the preliminary trends, people, as well as online and practical dimensions of an ever-strengthening wave of women moving powerfully in South Africa within the current context of global attention to women’s empowerment.  It’s not just about getting female faces out there. It is a process which involves the re-evaluating and reconstructing conceptions and perceptions of womanhood, the female body and women’s role in society through online spaces, women for women collectives and the bending of stereotypes; as well as looking at how these ideas intersect with other social categories. And it’s about love, in every sense of the word.

    [Written by Christa Dee & Sindi-Leigh McBride]