“Indian-Australian? Never felt that, never heard of that, never tasted that, never smelt that.*”
These are the opening words of Sabella D’Souza’s work titled 22/f/aus. As a performance artists based in Sydney she interweaves notions of cultural hybridity, virtual identity and the transnationality of cyberspace with identity signifiers such as race and gender. A central focus in her work is unpacking the importance of safe spaces on and offline for people of colour and queer people.
“WikiHow*: to perform whiteness
The privilege of passing is undeniable”
22/f/aus plays in the discursive make up of the internet and the kind of interactions and social “passing” that it has engendered. The work is presented in a similar fashion to YouTube makeup tutorial and a wiki-how guide to survive the erasure of racial, and queer identity in virtual communities, specifically for women and non-binary people of colour. By utilizing the conventions of a YouTube or wiki-how tutorial the viewer is initially overcome with a sense of familiarity, having scrolled through a number of these online before. However, the subtitles that display across the bottom of the screen push you into a different frame of reference. The work is powerful in its ability to use the language of the internet video to paint a picture of what it means to occupy a space that is considered “white by default”. With her step-by-step instructions merged together with her own experiences on online interactive platforms, D’Souza exposes casual exoticization and how certain online spaces make one feel as if they need to “pass” as another identity to enjoy a safe online experience.
If you are a hater, Nodiggity are not for you. For real, if you have hate in your heart, don’t even bother reading further and most certainly don’t click their mixcloud link because, in their own words, “Nodiggity is for the lovers, by the lovers”.
This dope duo of audio and visual curators from Cape Town consists of two talented womxn who are making their mark through djing, design and whatever mediums and platforms that are available to them (I mean, they have T-shirts called NodiggiTees available on Insta). They’re pro-femme, pro-queer, pro-POC and very pro creating and curating spaces for femme, queer, people of colour to get the fuck down in comfort and style as a way to subvert the traditional Cape Town nightlife experience.
Listening to them talk on ‘The Cooking Question’ podcast, I actually feel pangs of jealousy because I realise that I’ll never be as effortlessly cool or comfortable with myself as these 2 femxles. While they’ve only really known each other for just over a year or so (after Jordan slid in Nickita’s DMs after her performance at Mother City Live Festival in 2016), they have the rapport of life long besties. I actually highly recommend listening to the podcast to really get a feel for who is behind the audio and visual delights.
In terms of the audio delights, Nodiggity have put out a few sick mixes on their mixcloud and soundcloud pages which show off their immaculate taste in music. They describe their djing style as a “House, gqom, jazz and jazz hop – same Whatsapp group”, which is pretty accurate although I’d add soul and R&B in there too. House tends to be the base they work off of but they don’t shy away from the snares of hip-hop and gqom, and the jazz influence often shines through with a love of keys. They mix the classics over new school beats. They mix new school vocals over old school beats which makes their mixes sound timeless but, at the same time, incredibly current. Give their latest mix a listen below then go catch them live at a venue near you.
Michel-Rolph Trouillot in his book Silencing the Past: The Power and the Production of History interrogates ideas about the history and pastness, demonstrating how positions of power silence certain voices from History. He points to how oppressive, destructive and inhuman interpretations of people of colour led to colonial powers not being able to imagine histories or a History that could be animated, directed and authored by people of colour.
The work of Kitso Lynn Lelliott also unpacks the philosophical and ontological constructions of race that emerged during European Imperialism, which resulted in multilayered tools and attitudes for ‘Othering’. One of the most important tool was that of hegemonic colonial languages; language as the foundation of these constructions, as well as what allows for these constructions to continue to have life. In this sense, Lelliott, similar to what Trouillot states, looks at pastness as a position as much as a temporal concept (Trouillot 1995: 15).
Her solo presentation of a multimedia body of work, titled I was her and she was me and those we might become, was born out her PhD research related to the perpetuation of the idea of “racially marked beings” and how this led to the erasure of knowledges held in diverse languages. This becomes more apparent when one thinks of language as more than sounds for communication. Language carries a particular imaginary of the world, a way to interpret the world and a way to describe the world.
As a way to speak back to these dominant narratives, Lelliott uses the “language of the ghostly” to gesture towards the presence and absence of omitted knowledges and histories. This is incredibly powerful as it is a reminder of the conscious and active act of silencing, while simultaneously pointing out that the imaginaries, mythologies, memories and multitude of ancestral histories can never be silenced.
About her installation Lelliott stated that, “It is a gesture to reclaim an agency to articulate the narratives that make us, through dialogue that is always in flux, so they might produce a shape we see fit for ourselves.” In this statement we can directly see interest in voicing from spaces beyond epistemic power, as well as how epistemic articulation that pushes against hegemonic forms of knowledge identification and construction offers avenues to break down these hegemonic practices and knowledge hierarchies. This is particularly relevant in a time when we are thinking about decolonial practices and how they can be played out in real life.
“. . . But we may want to keep in mind that deeds and words are not as distinguishable as often we presume. History does not belong only to its narrators, professional or amateur. While some of us debate what history is or was, others take it into their own hands.” (Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past 1995: 153)
The video begins with blurry images of Sondra and her twin brother when they were young. Rotating in the middle are what look like a 3D scans of alternating sculptures coloured in blue. A distorted version of the song ‘You Are Everything’ by the Stylistics plays, creating a somber, mournful mood. Two minutes in, a paused moment in a basketball videogame appears on the screen. The screen rotates around the players in the game, and two smaller videos come to view. The one video shows Sondra’s brother looking at “artefacts” in a museum’s collection of African, Oceanic, and American art. The other video shows the museum from Sondra’s perspective. The fast-paced beating of drums switch the mood to one of urgency. Sondra and her brother are seen taking photographs from a close range, and scrolling through information on their phones, as if taking notes for a strategic operation. A revolutionary one perhaps.
Photography by Constance Mensh
Suddenly what sounds like a computer generated voice breaks the sound of the music. It tells the history of the “objects” housed in the glass cases seen in the museum. This digitized narrator echoes the cold, detached and uncontexualized manner in which these “objects” have been displayed, mimicking the way in which they were taken from their places of origin.
During this commentary we see Sondra photographing her brother on a basketball court. This references the way in which people of colour and their cultures have been objectified, quite literally. It also references the fact that her brother, an NCAA basketball player, discovered that a videogame was created and included him as a player without his knowledge or consent.
Photography by Constance Mensh
The colour of the walls plays a significant role in the installation. Rosco Chroma Key Blue is the colour often used on TV sets and in the production of special effects for movies and videogames. Due to the fact that the colour contrasts so strongly with most skin tones, it is used as a kind of negative on which a context for a body can be constructed. This can be interpreted as referencing the videogame, or as a way to make audiences feel as if they are in a space where their own images are being taken involuntarily for the manufacturing of a digital body within a manufactured context.
Smaller video screens within the installation show digital constructions of Sondra’s brother show uncomfortably intimate views into his nose and mouth, replicating a kind of internal medical scan.
Photography by Constance Mensh
This installation connects to her other work in that it is a continuation of her critical engagement with technology. Viewing digital technology as a medium used to monitor and contain people of colour, a lot of her work unpacks the systematic oppression and exclusion of people of colour within this. On the other hand, her work attempts to operate as a kind of reclaiming of digital space by her use of this technology and putting a stamp on how blackness shapes and shifts these technologies. Often taking her personal history and that of her family as a point of departure, she emphasises how CGIs (computer generated images) must not be divorced from the politics of representation and identity formation.
Image from the Bridget Donahue Gallery
In this installation she combines visual vocabularies from the past, present and future to make a comment about digital identity theft. Reflecting on the fact that basketball video game fanatics will be able to insert a disc into their consoles and control a computer generated construction of her brother, the insertion of time spent at the museum produces a parallel between these two experiences. This highlights the horrors of data mining and the possibility of someone else creating a digital profile, and then serving it back to the person from whom it was stolen. The video game itself, like most others, offers a form of identity tourism (Nakamura 1995).
This work points to how an imagined future of digital technology as an equalizer and a path to the removal of erasure is a myth. Instead, it widens the conversations about race, gender, class, ownership and identity that are happening already.
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
Since its inception in 2006, the label Butan has become a part of South Africa’s streetwear landscape. The name Butan came from re-arranging the word ‘bantu’. This can be viewed as symbolic of how the label takes pride in bringing an African perspective to streetwear. “We pride ourselves in being an African label with a strong African narrative, and a look and feel that aims to express who we are as young Africans living on the continent today. This ideology carries through from design to marketing and even governs the way we run our company. Certainly we can’t deny the western influences in streetwear, yet we have come to create a unique look and feel for our brand and continue on this very exciting journey.”
Butan’s objective is to reflect the local youth and street culture that the brand is embedded within. Julian Kubel, the founder of Butan, made reference to this in his statement that the brand “was never created as an entity that exists outside of street culture, trying to penetrate a certain market segment. The brand grew organically from within the culture and has been intertwined with it ever since.”
Their latest collection ‘Hidden Panthers’ taps into this directly. Referencing the slogan ‘Aluta Continua’ which translates to ‘the struggle continues’, Butan has plugged into broader political conversations. This is a phrase which holds relevance for people of colour in South Africa beyond its origins as a slogan in Mozambique’s struggle against colonialism. The erasure of other forms of personifying, animating and giving meaning to beauty and style is being fought against from multiple fronts. The idolatry of western beauty standards by the cosmetic and fashion industry is being hacked away through critique. This involves subverting and rejecting violent, colonial frameworks that have attached negative connotations to people of colour. It also involves celebrating black hair, black adornment, black styles, black histories and black cultures.
“By incorporating a powerful struggle slogan into our clothes I by no means pretend that we are immediately having a powerful impact on people and their political awareness yet it does make people curious and ask questions and dig a little deeper. There are many elements in our clothes that express a strong Pan African philosophy calling for African unity and proclaiming African pride. A lot of our themes and stories tie back to that agenda. Even if we can just create awareness of these stories and get people to engage with African history and get a deeper understanding of the rich cultural heritage of our country and continent, I think we have done our part.”Julian expressed that communicating this through various media is an important way to reach different kinds of audiences. In addition to their ‘Aluta Continua‘ lookbook created in collaboration with Bubblegum Club, Butan decided on a short film. This incorporates the significance of ‘Aluta Continua’ with conversations between hair stylist Mimi Duma and makeup artist Shirley Molatlhegi. In between shots displaying the collection in the streets of Kliptown, Mimi and Shirley share how they encourage people of colour to be proud of their skin and their hair. This connects to the foundational concepts for the collection, and the Butan philosophy.“We are witnessing a revolution in thought and an emancipation that is allowing people to rid themselves of these social shackles and to celebrate their ethnicity and culture. Such movements of awareness have previously been witnessed in the 60s for instance in the US, where they were spear headed by institutions such as the Black Panther Party. Our current range, the Butan ‘Hidden Panthers’ collection, pays homage to that particular movement and its philosophy.”
Check out the Butan x Bubblegum Club short film below:
“We are the future, for the kids by the kids,” states Antonio Druchen, one of the organisers of DOOMSNITE, a new party for young people in Cape Town. Antonio along with Qaanid Hassen, Naledi Holtman, Raeez Kilshaw and Likhona Camane created the event with the intention of gathering young people like themselves in one space for celebrating and connecting. Under the guidance of Crayons’ Ra-ees Saiet, they were able to host their first event on the 29th of January. Their hope is that this event will grow and become a space that represent creative freedom.
Reflecting on the time that sparked the idea for the collective, Raeez expressed that, “I felt as though we [had] all met before, in a spiritual realm.” This is representative of the kind of collective connection they have already created through their time together since meeting at a project hosted by Corner Store called Summer Camp. This was an apprentice programme for young up-and-coming artists in Cape Town to show them that they can cultivate skills in creative practices such as DJing, styling, and photography, and be successful.
The team refers to themselves as a kind of collective that also allows for each member to work on their individual practices independently too. This allows them to build a brand for their event, and offer each other support, without being completely absorbed by one project. Therefore, their collective is not exclusively about producing together, but also about providing each other with creative and emotional support. This is reflective of the direction that a number of people of colour from Cape Town are taking with regards to cultural production.
Influenced by underground, English-born hip hop artists MF DOOM, the team curated their first event around this. “MF DOOM’s ability to use music to portray many different characters reflects how music came first for him and for us, it’s the same thing,” explains Naledi. “Inspired by MF DOOM, we find beauty in creating a whole new world of intricate personas, vivid visuals and detailed bodies of music, all behind a mask,” Likhona expressed. Ensuring that the space was representative of the energy that has brought them all together – freedom, creative pleasures and wholesome music – their first party was explosive. Expressive visuals, music and dance coloured the night, and this included performances by Garth Ross and Guillotine Squad.
In addition to being a space for having a good time, the aim for the party is for it to be a platform that can facilitate networking between young people. This extends the party into an informal support structure.
Be sure to check out their next event in February at The Living Room.
“By incorporating a powerful struggle slogan into our clothes I by no means pretend that we are immediately having a powerful impact on people and their political awareness yet it does make people curious and ask questions and dig a little deeper. There are many elements in our clothes that express a strong Pan African philosophy calling for African unity and proclaiming African pride. A lot of our themes and stories tie back to that agenda. Even if we can just create awareness of these stories and get people to engage with African history and get a deeper understanding of the rich cultural heritage of our country and continent, I think we have done our part.”
Julian expressed that communicating this through various media is an important way to reach different kinds of audiences. In addition to their ‘
“We are witnessing a revolution in thought and an emancipation that is allowing people to rid themselves of these social shackles and to celebrate their ethnicity and culture. Such movements of awareness have previously been witnessed in the 60s for instance in the US, where they were spear headed by institutions such as the Black Panther Party. Our current range, the Butan ‘Hidden Panthers’ collection, pays homage to that particular movement and its philosophy.”
