QUEER +
OCTOBER 2020 EDITION
Contents
22 18 What the Future Holds For African Drag Performers 20 How Africa has Influenced Queer+ Fashion Designers
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22 We Need to Think Critically about Pride
12 Tutu’s Long History of Fighting for LGBTQA+ Rights
28 Queer+ Shows
4 Our Queer+ Hero
14 Africa’s Policies Hold Key to LGBT Rights
8 History of Pride in SA
16 Community & Queerphobia
3 Editors’ note
24 African Queer Artists you should know
29 Queer+ Books 30 The Queer Experience 34 Society Needs to Do Their Work
Editors’ Note HAPPY LGBTQI+ HISTORY MONTH! October is a beautiful month on the LGBTQIA+ calendar. It’s a month-long celebration of the history of the community, and with the rich history of the battles won over the years, there is always something to celebrate. This October is special because it marks the 30th anniversary of the first ever Pride March held on the African continent. That march took place in Johannesburg on October 13, 1990. This year also marks 25 years since the 4th UN World Conference on Women in Beijing, in which South Africa’s Dr Beverly Palesa Ditsie spoke about the importance of considering LGBTQIA+ rights in the context of
human rights. With that, we decided to celebrate all things African, therefore, giving you our African Pride edition. This edition focuses on the good, the bad and the ugly of the community, in the African context. While Ditsie rarely gives interviews, she speaks to Queer+ about her activism, contributions to the community and being one of the organisers of the continent’s first Pride. We also look at various African queer individuals, who have made it globally and even highlight some firm favourites. Dr Nyx McLean, in this edition, gives insight into queerphobia and rethinking Pride. Enjoy!
LIAM KARABO JOYCE
JAMAL GROOTBOOM
CONTACT US PUBLISHER Vasantha Angamuthu vasantha@africannewsagency. com EDITOR Liam Karabo Joyce Jamal Grootboom EXECUTIVE EDITOR: LIFESTYLE Nelandri Narianan nelandri.narianan@inl.co.za DESIGN Sandhip Roy Sing sandhip.sing@inl.co.za PRODUCTION Renata Ford renata.ford@inl.co.za BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT Keshni Odayan keshni.odayan@inl.co.za SALES Charl Reineke charl.reineke@inl.co.za Kyle Villet kyle.villet@africannewsagency. com
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JHB pride 1994
OUR QUEER+ HERO LIAM KARABO JOYCE
LEGEND, hero, activist, unapologetically black, authentic, queer, artist, film-maker. These are just some of the terms people use to describe Dr Beverly Palesa Ditsie. And all these terms are appropriate. Known for her contributions to the South African LGBTQIA+, which include being one of the organisers of Africa’s first Pride March held in Johannesburg, she is also an awardwinning documentary-maker. And in speaking about the importance of considering LGBTQIA+ rights in the context of human rights at the 4th UN World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995, she became the first openly lesbian woman to do so. It was also the first time the UN was addressed about LGBTQIA+ issues, with Ditsie saying: “If the world conference on women is to address the concerns of all women,
it must similarly recognise that discrimination based on sexual orientation is a violation of basic human rights”. Now, 25 years after that speech, Ditsie is releasing her latest work, Lesbians Free Everyone – The Beijing Retrospective. The 55-minute film is a collection of interviews with some of the more than 20 activists who gathered in Beijing. The idea for the film has been around for 10 years but putting it together this year made sense. “It’s 25 years since the conference and we as activists have been speaking about it a lot. We have been speaking about documenting what happened in Beijing, and when we could not get on planes to physically see each other, a film made sense”, she said. For Ditsie, one of the biggest challenges was accessing archives. “I’m a very spiritual person and very tactile. I work with energy
and my best interactions are when I am with people. I found I had to use a lot more energy in a virtual environment. You have to make sure you hold the person’s attention and don’t miss any nuances, so I feel like I have been overextending, but the biggest challenge has been accessing archives when all buildings are closed because of lockdowns around the world.” Putting Lesbians Free Everyone together opened Ditsie’s eyes to how invisible lesbian visibility at the conference has become over the years and how much erasure has happened. “Many people don’t actually know about what happened during that conference so it’s important for that information to come out now from the people who were there. “What will come out clearly in this film is how solidarity was being exercised, how we worked so well together, we were from different
countries but we found our common goal and worked it and we have lost that, I feel. Not just as a queer community but as feminists within the community, as people fighting the patriarchy, the tyranny and racism.” Born in Orlando West, Soweto, in 1971, Ditsie says she was always a rebel. While growing up in the ’80s, she was immersed in the Struggle against apartheid but was well aware that racial oppression was only part of the fight. The other fight being that for the right of freedom of sexual orientation. When she was 16 years old, she was told about Simon Tseko Nkoli, the gay anti-apartheid campaigner who faced the death penalty with 21 other political leaders in the Delmas treason trial but had been acquitted and released. A year later, Ditsie, Nkoli and Edwin Cameron among others organised the continent’s first Pride March. Speaking on how her activism began, Ditsie said there was no definitive moment. “I don’t know if I can pinpoint a moment. I feel like my entire life has been a moment of revelations. One of my first lessons as a child was that we are all performing gender according to society’s rules and I’ve just always been very aware of my place in society and what was going on around me. I also grew up very much non-gendered and I always asked ‘why’, and that played a role.” While many 17-year-olds were doing what teenagers do at the time, she was paving the way for change. And while many might need to dig deep to find the courage to do so, for Ditsie it was a natural progression of her life. “I found a community of a people where we were all on the same page of fighting the people that keep us oppressed, and I was just excited to say ‘enough of the shame people throw at us, I am not ashamed to be who I am’. “When I reflect, I see that the journey has been incredible, I’ve gone from the highest highs to the lowest lows within the community and within my personal life. “When I started as a queer activist we had three words: gay, lesbian and bisexual, and everything outside of that was performative. “And now we have a language. I can identify as a gender non-conforming androgynous lesbian, and that’s an identity that fits me perfectly. And I’m loving where we are while at the same time I’m deeply saddened by how much we seem to be going backwards in how we discriminate against one another, so it’s been a roller-coaster.” Although selecting one particular thing
Capetown Pride 1993
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within her activism work as a highlight is difficult, she is quick to point out that the idea of chosen family is what she appreciates. “I could also say that the first Pride was a highlight, and it was.” While the issues of accessibility, exclusivity and discrimination continue to plague the queer community, Ditsie has been vocal about her feelings. In an open letter she penned last year, titled “A love letter to my queer family”, she expressed her sadness. In the letter she said: “You can imagine my shock sometime in the mid-1990s when the Pride committee, made up of mostly white men, started suggesting that the march should be changed from Pride March to Pride Parade. “I don’t remember who else was there, but I remember distinctly Paul Stobbs, then chair of the committee, saying that queer people were now free and there was no longer a need to protest. “I remembered Audre Lorde’s words; I remember even saying: You have always been free. But I am not. I am not sure if I said this out loud, or if I was even heard. By the late 1990s, the Pride March became the Pride Parade, changing routes, charging entrance fees, changing the essence of what the first Pride March stood for.” On the issues that face the community, Ditsie said the best way to address these was to go back to the drawing board. “While on the one hand, I love the youth and new vibrancy and new approach and how unapologetic this generation is, there is also this desire to do things with quick turnarounds and getting into activism for the glory and fame. “I never did this to be a legend. If you follow a purpose, your ego cannot be in front of you because it will trip you, and I’m seeing a lot of young activists who have their egos in front of them instead of the work, and as a result, we can’t even disagree with each other but still get the work done. If we understand that we are all working towards the same thing, then it will get better.” Her advice to young queer Africans: “Love yourself, God does not make mistakes, you are valid, our existence is valid, love yourself no matter what anyone else says, take up your space.”
Photo by RonĂŞ Ferreira from Pexels
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s i. ch in Mzan r a m e id r er P ry. the first-ev e c n i at its histo s k s c r a a b e y k o 0 3 lo ke a marks ars, let’s ta e y THIS year e h t r e v no nt has grow e v e e h t le i Wh LIAM KARABO JOYCE
ON October 13, 1990, South Africa’s first Lesbian and Gay Pride march was held in Joburg. It was the first Pride March on the continent and acted as both a gay pride event and an anti-apartheid march. To be clear, the march was both a political statement and a celebration. The march was organised by the Gay and Lesbian Organisation of the Witwatersrand (Glow) and attracted a crowd of about 800 people. Speakers at the event included Dr Beverly Palesa Ditsie, Simon Nkoli and Justice Edwin Cameron, who also organised the event with other queer activists. The purpose of the event was not only to demonstrate pride in gay or lesbian identity but also to provide a wider platform for voicing political concerns. The march was part of a broader struggle to decriminalise homosexuality in South African law and to end apartheid. Addressing the crowd, Nkoli said: “I am black and I am gay. I cannot separate the two parts of me into primary or secondary struggles. They will be all one struggle.” Marchers feared for their safety, with many wearing masks during the event. There was a strong presence of religious groups with many onlookers describing the march as “disgusting”. Despite this, there was a generally celebratory atmosphere to the parade signified by the chant “out of the closet and into the streets”.
Since the event in 1990, Pride marches have continued to grow in South Africa. Under the democratic dispensation, some in the LGBTIAQ+ community felt that Pride should be more celebratory than political. By the late 1990s, Pride March became the Pride Parade. This caused widespread divide within the community, with many saying that the Pride march should retain its political legacy and highlight some of the issues affecting LGBTQIA+ people in South Africa today. Today, the Pride takes place in every province, speaking to the existence of queer people in every corner of South Africa. While Johannesburg Pride remains the largest Pride event in Africa, other parades held in the Johannesburg area include Soweto Pride, which has taken place annually since 2005 in Meadowlands, Soweto, and Ekurhuleni Pride, which has taken place annually since 2009 in the East Rand township of KwaThema.
ON April 24, 2011, LGBTQIA+ rights activist and Ekurhuleni Pride Organising Committee member Noxolo Nogwaza was raped and murdered in KwaThema in what was described as a hate crime by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. Three years earlier, lesbian Banyana Banyana footballer Eudy Simelane was raped and murdered in the same township. In 2016, Ekurhuleni Pride took place in the township of Vosloorus. Since then, the event has been held in Centurion and KwaThema.
Pretoria Pride has been held annually since 2013 Annual pride parades have been held in Cape Town subject to interruptions since 1993, and as part of the Cape Town Pride event since 2001. Nelson Mandela Bay Pride has taken place annually in Port Elizabeth since 2011 while the Free State Pride has been held in Bloemfontein since 2012. Durban Pride has been held every year since 2011, while The Pink Mynah Festival is held in Pietermaritzburg. The event includes a beauty pageant, a fashion show, a pride parade and a picnic. Limpopo Pride has been held in Polokwane since 2012. In 2015, various government officials, including the mayors of Polokwane and the Capricorn District Municipality as well as councillors and members of the police service, marched in the parade. On August 9, 2014, a pride parade took place in Nelspruit. This marked the first time a pride parade was held in the province of Mpumalanga. One month later, the town of Ermelo organised its first pride parade. In the North West, the first pride parade in the province was held in November 2007 in Mahikeng. Pride parades have taken place annually in Klerksdorp since 2010. On October 1, 2016, a pride parade was held in the township of Kanana.
BACKGROUND BY FREEPIK.COM
PHOTO BY COTTONBRO FROM PEXELS
TUTU’S LONG HISTORY OF FIGHTING FOR LGBTQA+ RIGHTS
ARCHBISHOP Desmond Mpilo Tutu is mostly known to the world for his highly prominent role in the campaign against apartheid in South Africa. This role was internationally recognised by the awarding of the 1984 Nobel Peace Prize. Tutu continued his activism even after the country’s democratic transition in the early 1990s. Among other things, he served as chairperson of the country’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission which sought to deal with the crimes and injustices under apartheid, and to bring about justice, healing and reconciliation in a wounded society. He retired as Archbishop of Cape Town in 1996. In more recent years, Tutu has become known for his strong advocacy on issues of sexuality, in particular the rights of lesbian and gay people. For instance, in 2013, he made global headlines with the clear and succinct statement, in typical Tutu fashion, that he “would rather go to hell than to a homophobic heaven”. Tutu is by far the most high-profile African, if not global, religious leader to support lesbian and gay rights. This has added to his international reputation as a progressive thinker and activist, especially in the western world. But his stance has been met with suspicion on the African continent itself. Fellow Anglican bishop Emmanuel Chukwuma from Nigeria even declared him to be “spiritually dead”. For distant observers, Tutu’s advocacy around sexuality might appear to be a recent phenomenon. For his critics, it might be another illustration of how he has tried to be the darling of white liberal audiences in the Western world. In fact, his commitment to defending gay and lesbian rights isn’t a recent development; it dates as far back as the 1970s. In addition, it is very much in continuity with his long-standing resistance against apartheid and his relentless defence of black civil rights in South Africa. COMMON THREAD Shortly after the end of apartheid in 1994, Tutu wrote: “If the church, after the victory over apartheid, is looking for a worthy moral crusade, then this is it: the fight against homophobia and heterosexism.”
Driving both struggles is Tutu’s strong moral and political commitment to defending the human dignity and rights of all people. Theologically, this is rooted in his conviction that every human being is created in the image of God and therefore is worthy of respect. In the 1980s, Tutu and other Christian leaders had used the concept of “heresy” to denounce apartheid in the strongest theological language. They famously stated that “apartheid is a heresy”, meaning that it is in conflict with the most fundamental Christian teaching. Tutu also used another strong theological term: blasphemy, meaning an insult of God-self. In 1984, he wrote: “Apartheid’s most blasphemous aspect is … that it can make a child of God doubt that he is a child of God. For that reason alone, it deserves to be condemned as a heresy.” More than a decade later, Tutu used very similar words to denounce homophobia and heterosexism. He wrote that it was “the ultimate blasphemy” to make lesbian and gay people doubt whether they truly were children of God and whether their sexuality was part of how they were created by God. Tutu’s equation of black civil rights and lesbian and gay rights is part of a broader South African narrative and dates back to the days of the apartheid struggle. Openly gay anti-apartheid activists, such as Simon Nkoli, had actively participated in the liberation movement, and had successfully intertwined the struggles against racism and homophobia. On the basis of this history, South Africa’s Constitution, adopted in 1996, included a non-discrimination clause that lists sexual orientation, alongside race and other characteristics. It was the first country in the world to do so, and Tutu had actively lobbied for it. A decade later, South Africa
THE office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights launched the Free & Equal public education campaign for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender equality. Desmond Tutu and UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Navi Pillay greet each other after a press conference at the V&A Waterfont in 2013. | LEON LESTRADE
became the sixth country in the world to legalise same-sex marriage. ATTITUDES STILL NEED WORK Arguably, these legal provisions did not automatically translate into a change of social attitudes towards lesbian and gay people at a grassroots level. Homophobia remains widespread in South African society today. Tutu’s own church, the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, continues to struggle with gay issues. In 2015 his daughter, Mpho Tutu, had to give up her position as an ordained priest after she married a woman. Tutu gave the newly wed couple a blessing anyway. The question of same-sex relationships and the status of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender
and intersex people continues to be controversial across the world. In this context, Tutu is an influential figure who uses his moral authority to help shape the debates. His equation of racial and sexual equality is particularly important, as it foregrounds how the struggle for justice, equality and human rights are interconnected. We cannot claim rights for one group of people while denying them to others. This article is an abbreviated version of a chapter about Desmond Tutu in the book Reimagining Christianity and Sexuality in Africa, co-authored by Adriaan van Klinken and Ezra Chitando, and to be published with Zed Books in London (2021).
| The Conversation
AFRICA’S POLICIES HOLD KEY TO LGBT RIGHTS Here’s how
QUESTIONS of sexual orientation and gender identity and expression have continued to divide opinion across the globe. This is primarily driven by legal, cultural and religious beliefs and interpretations. In Africa, colonial-heritage laws have been applied to proscribe and criminalise same-sex relationships, behaviours and expressions. These laws stipulate penalties for same-sex relationships ranging from 10 years to life imprisonment and the death penalty. Some countries, including Uganda, Nigeria and Togo, have passed these kinds of punitive laws. Others, like South Africa, have reviewed their constitutions to permit homosexuality. Mainstream public sentiment remains largely anti-homosexual and overshadows constitutionally guaranteed rights in Africa. This is to blame for several instances of civil harassment, killing and mistreatment of people who identify as or are suspected to be lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT), among other varieties of sexual and gender minorities. Yet African governments have signed onto regional commitments and agreements to guarantee the human rights and inclusion of all people. One of the most important legal instruments is the “The African Charter”, which was adopted in 1981 and ratified by all African countries except Sudan. The Charter grants rights to everyone without exception, with its Article 2 stating that: “every individual shall be entitled to the rights and freedoms recognised and guaranteed in the Charter without distinction of any kind.” In Article 4, the Charter asserts that: “every human being shall be entitled to respect for his life and the integrity of his person. No one may be arbitrarily deprived of this right.” Regional policy documents such as this offer African countries that don’t protect LGBT rights the basis to draft domestic legislation as the first step to protection to all. AMBITIOUS ASPIRATIONS The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights is charged with ensuring that African Union member states protect the rights of all. The commission has several instruments that set out to ensure this happens. Frameworks include key terms such as “all” and “everyone”, among others, and reflect the
commitment to “leaving no one behind” as espoused in the Sustainable Development Agendas. Some of the frameworks this principle is enshrined in include: Agenda 2063: the Africa we want; the African Charter on Human and People’s Rights; the Common African Position Post 2015 Development Agenda; and the Africa Charter on Democracy. Even in the face of conservatism, these frameworks set out ambitious aspirations of inclusion that, if read with the liberal intentions of the drafters, highlight the rights of LGBT members of society. They lay the foundation for reasonable social action and progress because they advocate for inclusion in
Photo by Anna Shvets from Pexels
economic opportunities, justice, equality, repudiation of discrimination, and freedom from arbitrary and unjust treatment. They therefore envisage that all members of society should enjoy this wide array of freedoms. Notwithstanding the broad and liberal tones of these instruments, they fail to clearly and explicitly mention or recognise LGBT people as a minority group that deserves protection. Not mentioning LGBT people, unlike women, girls, the disabled, people living with HIV, youths, etc., leaves ample room for the discrimination of this group and their continued maltreatment. But national governments need to step up to the plate. Those that don’t protect LGBT rights must put these guarantees into their domestic laws. They must also then show a commitment to interpreting existing supportive regional instruments broadly and in sweeping terms. A narrow interpretation of the regional policy documents runs the risk of excluding LGBT communities because they aren’t explicitly named in the frameworks. PRACTICAL CHANGES State policies, laws and public attitudes have subjected LGBT individuals to exclusion, discrimination and fear. They are daily targets of threats; they face sexual harassment and are prosecuted and persecuted. They are also denied sexual and reproductive healthcare and are seldom protected by state laws and security apparatuses.
In a number of African countries, several legal guarantees sought by LGBT individuals and groups have been adjudicated on the basis of the African Charter. These include the case of Attorney-General of Botswana v. Thuto Rammoge and 19 others. The High Court of Botswana last year ruled that private consensual sex between adults of the same sex is no longer criminal. Another case came before the Appeal Court in Kenya in 2018. The court ruled against forced anal examinations for gay persons, citing Article 5 of the Charter. There have also been favourable rulings for LGBT people using the African Charter in Zimbabwe and Namibia. These rulings also provide the basis for countries developing and implementing policies and programmes that protect LGBT people. The AU also needs to strengthen the commission’s monitoring mechanisms. In countries with homophobic laws, the next level of engagement is to translate constitutional and policy stipulations into practical changes for LGBT people to protect them from public and summary punishment by mobs, among others. Countries with constitutional protection for LGBT people must also ensure that the guarantees actually translate to protection in practice. | The Conversation
Photo by Shamia Casiano from Pexels
COMMUNITY & QUEERPHOBIA NYX MCLEAN
QUEERPHOBIA is everywhere, be it in the most conservative of countries or the most progressive, because people do not understand queerness. There may be spaces or small communities of acceptance but largely we live in an intolerant world. South Africa is often held up as the exception to the rest of the continent of Africa. We have a progressive Constitution and laws. But those do not keep us safe if they are not implemented or if the people who are there to protect us allow their prejudice to prevent them from keeping us safe. Queerphobia is a hatred, intolerance, or fear of queer people, much like homophobia and transphobia are the hatred, intolerance, or fear of homosexual and transgender people, respectively. We use queerphobia to be all encompassing of the range of prejudice and discrimination of queer people – which includes lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, asexual, queer and every other person that is outside of the exceptionally narrow cisgender and heterosexual definition of “normal”. Queerphobia manifests in a number of ways from the language of “you people” or avoiding eye contact to the extreme manifested violence of hate crimes which we have seen continue to grow in South Africa. While I would like to focus on this aspect of queerphobia I believe it is important that we address what is happening within our LGBTQIA+ community. Queerphobia is not removed from the LGBTQIA+ community, it is within our community. Cisgender lesbian
and gay people can be biphobic, transphobic and queerphobic. This is often rooted in their need to convince the cisgender heterosexual mainstream that they are “just like them”. We call this assimilationist behaviour or values that ask LGBTQIA+ people to behave and not upset the status quo. To be good gays. This violence is one that I believe can be the most harmful to all people – cisgender heterosexual, and
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cisgender and transgender queer people alike. The other forms of queerphobia that manifest are often pinned to this assimilationist value. Assimilation simply put asks that people present themselves as same and not as different – and if they are different, they are asked to mask, deny, or outright hide and repress that difference. It creates a lot of pressure to conform and to deny a very critical part of oneself – the expression of one’s sexuality and/
or gender identity. Assimilationist values are also rooted in sexism, racism, classism, ableism, and many other forms of prejudice and discrimination. It is a toxic way of seeing the world, and we need to address this urgently. We need to address this aspect within our LGBTQIA+ community to strengthen our community, and to
understand that we cannot deny people who they are. When we get there, if we get there, we will be better able to do the critical and necessary work of confronting the cissexism and heterosexism that makes queerphobia-based violence possible such as hate crimes. I suggest this as the way to begin addressing queerphobia
in our communities and society because we need a sense of place, of belonging in a world that is incredibly violent towards LGBTQIA+ people. If we create a community that is safe for those within it to express themselves, and to know that they are welcome, we create a space for people to rest and to heal from the trauma of what they experience in their everyday lives outside of the community. It is important in building a safer LGBTQIA+ community that we ask the community what they need, and to open up organising to include as many people as possible. Often, we see, as is the case with Joburg Pride and Cape Town Pride for instance, that the organising is limited to a few very people who do not represent the needs of the full LGBTQIA+ community. People want to be included and will be there to do the work if they know they are welcome, and they are safe. Building community is not easy work, it needs us to ask the difficult questions, to listen, and to unlearn toxic conditioning. It is not a once-off event, a bringing together of people and declaring it a community, the work needs to be ongoing, and welcoming of new voices and identities as they emerge. The world we want is possible, but the struggle is long and will take place over decades, as it has before now. We need to find a way to create space for people to rest, to regroup, and to keep on resisting. Building an LGBTQIA+ community that is open and respectful and based on care for all members of the LGBTQIA+ community is integral to this struggle. Dr Nyx McLean is a transgender non-binary queer researcher who specialises in LGBTQIA+ identities and communities. Nyx holds a PhD in history and wrote their doctoral thesis on Joburg Pride seen through a critical anti-racist queer feminist lens. Pronouns: They/Them.
WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR AFRICAN DRAG PERFORMERS JAMAL GROOTBOOM & CHAD WILLIAMS
DRAG performers have been an integral part of queer culture as far back as anyone can remember. Drag queens and kings have also been one of the most prominent forms of breaking down gender and the performance of gender as a social construct. Drag queens have also gone from being relegated to gay clubs across the globe to being some of the biggest stars in pop culture. Trixie Mattel, Bob The Drag Queen and Alaska 5000 have become household names as RuPaul’s Drag Race has taken over the world. Now, sporting several international spin-offs including the UK, Thailand, Canada and Holland which is airing currently. This newfound global popularity for drag performers has also led to drag queens from the African continent finding prominence. One of the biggest being the first winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race, BeBe Zahara Benet. Born and raised in Cameroon, Bebe has been purposeful in making her African heritage a centre point of her drag persona. Speaking about the impact of her being the first winner of the multi-Emmy award-winning reality competition show for queer people on the African continent she said: “I do believe that me winning or having this incredible platform has given people encouragement and an opportunity for people to come forward and celebrate themselves – this is who I am. Drag is a form of entertainment, it’s my work and craft. “I feel that by me winning RuPauls’ Drag Race, it brought a lot of awareness about Africa and the beauty from where we come from.
Hopefully, it put Cameroon people on the map. “The younger generation is willing to take risks, live out loud. They want to be able to express themselves in whatever way they want to express themselves. “I remember growing up and seeing someone doing drag, we always thought they’re gay. “But I realised that we are just artists. Doing drag doesn’t define my orientation. “I feel that my winning RuPaul’s Drag Race and also being all the way from Africa gave people the audacity to just be themselves, all while encouraging and inspiring many people back home. “I would love to have an African drag race, but I feel that it’s important that we even just do shows in Africa. “We have to go back home to create visibility and opportunity back home.” In Mzansi, drag superstar Manila
von Teez has been a pointer for the South African drag scene since she appeared on SA’s Got Talent. Talking about why the South African queer community has such a deep connection with drag, she said: “Drag has for many years been an art form that allows the individual to be unashamedly the persona they take on. “Possibly, as the queer community often seeks acceptance and validation from the public, the fact that drag demands that acceptance and validation, it strengthens the connection.” And with drag being on an international stage it has also seen the birth of more drag performers. Speaking about the importance of African drag performers Manila said: “We all know that drag has for many years been the loud hailer of the LGBTQIA+, with drag also starting to be accepted across all performing platforms as an art form. “As most drag performers are MANILA VON TEEZ
BeBe Zahara Benet | Instagram/@birdlambro
from the LGBTQIA+ community, it is extremely important that when these opportunities arise, that the representation is flawless and contributes positively to the acceptance of the LGBTQIA+ community. When it comes to coming up with a drag persona it can be a daunting task for any queen. “When I started it was the likes of Angel Lalamore and Logan McGregor, and at the time, RuPaul’s
Drag Race started, so there was a lot of inspiration and personas available to take guidance from. I’m a huge Dita von Teese fan as well!” While drag has become a viable career for queens in the US, in other countries it has not gained any mainstream appeal, especially in Africa. “Hunger to succeed and be accepted into the mainstream more. The US’s drag culture has been much more active and more
accepted for many more years than ours,” said Manila. Commenting on her hope for the future of African drag performers Manila said: “More acceptance and opportunities. The understanding that if one of us succeeds, we all succeed. More and more gigs for everyone as broader South Africa embraces the art form more and more, and that the following and acceptance of all of us multiplies hugely.”
HOW AFRICA HAS INFLUENCED QUEER+ FASHION DESIGNERS JAMAL GROOTBOOM
WHEN it comes to fashion, Africa has been a lake of creativity that has never run dry. With several countries from across the continent not only “inspiring” some of the biggest luxury brands in the world, but also producing some of the best designers in the world. The fashion industry, much like most creative industries has also been a place that many queer people have been drawn too and subsequently work in. This is no different when it comes to fashion designers, and South Africa has been able to be a springboard for many openly queer designer to thrive.
1. RICH MNISI
Rich Mnisi is one of the biggest talents to have come out of the South African fashion scene. Not only has Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter been draped in Rich Mnisi but his signature printed polo neck sweaters and short-sleeves have become some of the most soughtafter items. And as it pertains to blurring gender lines when it comes to clothing, Rich has never been scared to show that clothes are for everyone. When talking about why his brand has gained so much popularity Rich said: “I think the growth of the brand has been gradual. Over the past five years we’ve been building; showcasing at local and international fashion
shows, collaborating with local and international brands and campaigns. It is great to finally be a part of the local conversation, to be embraced and celebrated by South Africans.” The brand was also recently selected as one of two winners for the 2020 edition of Vogue Talent’s Digital Event under the Scouting for Africa.
2. GERT-JOHAN COETZEE
When it comes to red carpet eleganza, GertJohan is no stranger. Having been the go-to designer for Bonang Matheba among other celebrities such as Minnie Dlamini-Jones, Demi-Leigh Nel-Peters and many others, he is the king of serving a sickening red
carpet gown that will have you gagging. Gert-Johan was also behind Somizi Mhlongo-Motaung’s epic wedding suit seeing him dip into menswear too. Speaking about his design process he said: “Whenever I design a garment, it needs to be special for that person and capture what their whole life is about. It’s important for there to be a clear mark that this is a Gert-Johan Coetzee garment.” Gert-Johan has also launched his new unisex fragrance Double Platinum Eau de Parfum by GertJohan Coetzee.
3. THULA SINDI
As one of the OG’s in the South African fashion scene, Thula Sindi has been able to stay relevant
since he started his brand back in 2005. He is one of very few designers who have been able to cross from runway to reality. Thula’s clothes can often be seen worn in the real world with various women showing off the craftsmanship and elegance of a Thula Sindi garment. Thula also opened his second Africa Rise Concept store in Marshalltown, Johannesburg which not only houses his clothes but those of other African designers such as David Tlale, Ephymol, Rubicon, Maria McCloy, and Imprint. Speaking about the idea behind the store he said: “This is my sole retail venture and as the curator, I have invited designers that I love to position us in a mall that understands and believes that we also belong in those spaces as African designers.”
4. RUALD RHEEDER
Menswear can sometimes fall behind when it comes to having a
wide variety of exciting options to choose from. However, Ruald has been at the forefront of getting all men to move away from the snooze fest that is the men’s section in retail stores. Giving them vibrate prints, sequins, and more silhouettes to play with. Ruald has shown on various runways including SA Menswear Week and the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. On a personal front, Ruald and his husband Clinton Savage also become dads last year.
5. DAVID TLALE
David Tlale is one of the biggest designers to have come out of South Africa. Not only has he shown at multiple fashion weeks in the country he has also been one of the select few from the continent to have shown at New York Fashion Week. Known for his extravagant fashion shows and clothes,
opulence has also been the name of the game when it comes to anything David puts his name on. David has not only grown his fashion empire but has also branched out in various other ventures including an underwear collaboration with Jockey, he is also a former brand ambassador for Courvoisier cognac, has a shoe range with Crockett & Jones, and most recently his collaboration with Avon. Speaking about this new collection and how he comes about it he said: “The inspiration behind the collection is the xibelani skirt, which is a Tsonga celebration skirt that women wear for their dances, or sometimes as normal regalia daily. And fusing it with the underwater, making sure it becomes trendy, fashionable, and globally appealing.” David has always pushed boundaries, not only in his designs but also in how to move in the business of the fashion industry.
WE NEED TO THINK CRITICALLY ABOUT PRIDE
NYX MCLEAN
IT HAS been 30 years since the first Pride march in South Africa. The first Pride march in Africa. Last year Joburg Pride announced a new venture of theirs: Pride of Africa. Joburg Pride has been under immense criticism in the past,
| Reuters
especially after 2012’s clash with the One in Nine Campaign who were drawing attention to hate crimes, and then ongoing criticism of pinkwashing as the organisers moved Joburg Pride from Rosebank to Melrose Arch and then to Sandton. I think it is audacious of Joburg Pride to assume that they can hold space for the Prides in Africa – because they are Prides plural, not a singular Pride of Africa. And yes, South Africa leads on the continent in terms of our constitutional protections but let us not assume that our LGBTQIA+ community is a role model for the rest of the continent. We have much work to do and we need to desperately tackle many
issues at home, such as our racism for one. If we try to imagine what a Pride of Africa would look like now, we may find ourselves with another out-of-touch Pride in which whiteness donned in rainbows and glitter sponsored by alcohol companies and financial service providers dominates. We seem to be chasing some strange dream of pulling off a New York Pride or a Sydney Mardi Gras. We need a reality check, desperately. We need to think critically about how we think of Pride, and who we allow to imagine Pride for us. Many of those who organise Prides organise them as if they are branded events.
Pride is not there to be commodified, to turn a profit. Pride is there to take up space, to honour the lives we have lost, to keep pushing against the cissexist and heterosexist violence, and to celebrate our full and whole selves. Pride needs to be more than gay and lesbian people. It needs every letter of the queer alphabet, and then some because we need to acknowledge that the LGBTQIA+ is something we adopted – the labels, the definitions, and how these are expressed. Let us ask queer people in South Africa how they name themselves, and I am sure we will find a richer, more representative naming than what we have got to go on from the North and West. We need to think critically about what the other ways of naming, knowing
and being are. This is important because if we continue to give people such narrow options for defining themselves, we will forever be stuck with a very white and very bland concept of ourselves, of our community, and of Pride. We need to make space for everyone to participate in Pride. We must create space for lived experiences of those who attend Pride – their daily struggles, the racism, sexism, ableism, classism, xenophobia, and every other violence they experience. We must also make space for their joy, and their beyond the cardboard cut-out expression of their identities. When we can create these spaces in South Africa for all members of the community, then
we can begin to speak to the idea of collaborating with other Prides across Africa. We need Pride marches that are inclusive and downright political interwoven with joy and rage and mourning and hope. We need to imagine Prides that will take the lead from the community, and then we need to make the space for the community to take ownership of the Prides of Africa. Pride(s) of Africa should not belong to one organisation to determine for all people across this continent what Pride looks like. Pride(s) of Africa should belong to every LGBTQIA+ person who calls Africa home, and should be where they feel seen and welcomed. We need an inclusive and ethical understanding of Pride.
AFRICAN QUEER ARTISTS you should know JAMAL GROOTBOOM
Music is an integral part of many African nations with various genres having gained global popularity including Afrobeats from Nigeria and gqom from South Africa. And while many artists from the continent have gone on to receive global recognition, when it comes to queer representation there still a lot of room for some queers in this house. To help you, we’ve compiled a list of seven queer music artists who you need to know.
DESIRE X
TROYE SIVAN
ONE of half queer supergroup FAKA, Desire has been an unmistakenly queer artist who has travelled the world because of their unique outlook of queerness with a very in your face approach in the visuals both live and in their music. With FAKA’s music even being the inspiration for Versace’s S/S 2019 collocation landing them and fellow bandmate Fela Gucci to be front row at the show but also having the world take note. Recently they dropped their first solo album, Desire, which saw the artist push boundaries thematically with regards to queer expression and sonically playing with various genres including gqom and various club infused subgenres. They are a voice that had changed the queer scene for both South Africa and the continent.
While Troye Sivan started his journey as the lead actor in the Spud movies he later gained popularity on YouTube and spun that off into a highly successful singing career. When Troy came out in 2013 it was a big moment since he was the lead in a highly successful film series. His debut album Blue Neighbourhood explored the trials and tribulations of queer adolescence. And for the time having an openly gay man making music that focused on queer love opened lots of people, especially his young audience at the time, to the normalcy of it. Although he is Australian, Troye was born in Johannesburg before his parents moved Down Under when he was 2 years old. And still today his music is unabashedly queer with him dropping his latest EP In a Dream in August.
LELO WHATSGOOD As one of the premier DJs in the country, Lelo is not only getting the party started but is also using his platform as an activist for the queer community. Having played at fire sets at Boiler Room X Ballantine’s, Afropunk South Africa and an impromptu set at Rocking The Daisies, Lelo is one of very few DJs in the country that isn’t confined to one genre. He is also the head honcho behind Vogue Nights Jozi, which was the first ballroom-based event in South Africa since the ballroom scene has found popularity again in the modern age, mostly due to the popularity of Pose on FX which has also led to the competition show Legendary airing on HBO.
DUA SALEH SUDANESE-AMERICAN poet Dua Saleh is one of the newest queer musicians to be making waves in the music scene. Having started writing poetry from a young age, they recorded their song First Take in 2017 followed by their debut EP Nūr last year. Having gained overwhelmingly positive reviews with Pitchfork calling the EP “sophisticated, warm but industrial”. They dropped their second EP Rosseta in June which also received stellar reviews from music critics with Medium calling it “clean-cut and layered as it feels more substantial and complete” compared to their debut EP. Dua is also set to appear on the third season of the Netflix series Sex Education as a non-binary student.
ANGEL-HO Cape Town rapper Angel-Ho has been a prolific musician when it comes to her music. Being a Black trans pioneer in music, Angel-Ho has made waves both on the continent for her gripping visuals and is one of the best experimental artists with her sound. With her album Death Becomes Her being hailed by Pitchfork as one of the Best Experimental Albums of last year. This year she dropped her EP Alla Prima which she describes as “hip-hop haute couture” and also used her queerness as the jumping point to express her art. Whether it be in songs, music videos or live performances. She’s been one of the biggest trans musicians to have come out of the continent.
MX BLOUSE When it comes to hiphop whether it be on the continent or globally, queer bodies rarely get the same space or opportunity to shine. Johannesburg based rapper Mx Blouse is making waves for fusing kwaito, hip-hop and electronic music into an explosive sound. While they got their start in journalism in South African media, when they moved to Joburg from Cape Town music was calling. Having dropped their debut EPRe: Mx last year, they released their first full album Elementality this year which received a positive response from fans and critics.
DOPE SAINT JUDE Capetonian rapper Dope Saint Jude has been a queer voice in South Africa that’s been able to make her voice even through adversity. As a black queer ciswoman from the Cape Flats, she offers a unique outlook on the queer experience. And while hip-hop in Cape Town is popular, when it comes to queer bodies there is still pushback when it comes to breaking it in the very cis-het male-dominated space. Dope Saint Jude dropped her EP Resilient in 2018 and after taking a bit of a break made her return this year with her single and music video Go High Go Low earlier this year, where she again used her outlook at a coloured queer woman from the Cape Flats as the centre point of the visual. The rapper resides in London where she is busy working on new music.
QUEER+ SHOWS THE BOYS IN THE BAND
LOVECRAFT COUNTRY
THE BOYS IN the Band is a movie adaptation of the 1968 stage play of the same name by Mart Crowley. Centred on a group of gay friends who reunite in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. However, when the host, Michael’s, former college “straight friend” Alan pitches uninvited the whole night gets turned upside down. Starring Jim Parsons as Michael, Zachary Quinto as Harold, Matt Bomer as Donald, Andrew Rannells as Larry, Charlie Carver as Cowboy and Robin de Jesús as Emory, Brian Hutchison as Alan McCarthy, Michael Benjamin Washington as Bernard and Tuc Watkins as Hank. This film adaptation is special in the sense that all the characters are played by openly gay men. Which is very rare, even today, although it might not seem relevant for queer people outside of the United States. The film gives a brief look into the queer experience of gay in the late 1960s/70s since the play and movie take place a year before the Stonewall riots and predates the HIV and Aids crisis of the 80s and 90s. What struck me about the film is how certain parts of gay culture are unchanged to this day. One specific moment showed it was a scene where Alan asks where Harlod is and Emory responds that “she’s always late” and then quickly changes to using he/him pronouns so as to not confuse Alan. The use of interchangeable pronouns among cisgender gay men is a very common occurrence and is an aspect found with many friends groups that have consisted of mostly cisgender gay men across the world, more colloquially known as a gaggle of gays. ● The Boys in the Band is streaming on Netflix
Based on the 2016 novel of the same name by Matt Ruff, Lovecraft Country stars Jurnee Smollett as Letitia “Leti” Lewis and Jonathan Majors as Atticus “Tic” Freeman. The HBO show follows Tic and Leti as they navigate a Jim Crow 1950s Lovecraftian horror America. The lead characters not only have to deal with segregation and overt racism but monsters, magic and science fiction. The show isn’t specifically focused on black queer people, however, for the first part of the show several characters, both lead and supporting, are the focus of a single episode. Spoiler alert! As the show progresses, we find out Tic’s father Montrose Freeman, played by Michael K Williams, is a closeted gay man in the episode Strange Case. In this episode, we are given a much-needed glimpse into the life of black queer people during the Jim Crow era. Earlier in the season, we find out that Montrose’s love interest Sammy, played by Jon Hudson Odom, is very much an openly – well, as open as you could be in the 50s – gay man, with Montrose interrupting him during a cruising engagement in a back alley. Gay cruising describes the act of searching about a public place in pursuit of a partner for sex. However, what stood out was how the screenwriters and showrunners have tackled Montrose and his queer identity, with him coming to terms with being a gay man and through the help of Sammy, and then embraces the larger members in black LGBTQI+ in their city. Seeing the evolution of Montrose is something not shown often, especially when it comes to DL (down low) closeted black gay men.
QUEER+ BOOKS
BLACK BULL, ANCESTORS AND ME
FRESHWATER
Nkunzi Zandile Nkabinde
Akwaeke Emezi
SHE’S a sangoma and a lesbian, bring out the wine because this is going to be a good read. Nkunzi’s urge to live and draw others into her sense of interconnectedness emerges as a consistent theme in her story. As a sangoma, Nkunzi is able to explore dimensions of her sexual identity because of her relationship with both male and female ancestors. “In Zulu culture, a man must be a man and do male things and a woman must be a woman and do female things but with sangomas, it is more flexible. I can dance like a woman and wear a woman’s clothes and dance like a man and wear a man’s clothes. I can do the work of a man, like slaughtering a goat or a cow although in traditional Zulu culture a woman cannot slaughter …” Conscious of her constitutional rights as an urban young lesbian in a time of a relentless spate of hate crimes against township lesbians, Nkunzi is simultaneously sensitive to the demands of the guiding ancestral voice of the traditional, rural Zulu patriarch whose name she bears. She’s on a quest to find a middle path of balance and integration between the living and the dead, the traditional and the modern.
Freshwater explores the surreal experience of having a fractured self. This award-winning, semi-autobiographical novel centres around a young Nigerian woman, Ada, who develops separate selves within her as a result of being born “with one foot on the other side”. Unsettling, heartwrenching, dark and powerful, Freshwater is a sharp evocation of a rare way of experiencing the world, one that illuminates how we all construct our identities. Ada begins her life in the south of Nigeria as a troubled baby and a source of deep concern to her family. Her parents, Saul and Saachi, successfully prayed her into existence, but as she grows into a volatile and splintered child, it becomes clear that something went terribly awry. When Ada comes of age and moves to America for college, the group of selves within her grows in power and agency. A traumatic assault leads to a crystallisation of her alternate selves: Asụghara and Saint Vincent. As Ada fades into the background of her own mind and these selves – now protective, now hedonistic – move into control, Ada’s life spirals in a dark and dangerous direction. Narrated by the various selves within Ada and based in the author’s realities, Freshwater heralds the arrival of a fierce new literary voice.
THE QUEER EXPERIENCE
members of the f o s ie r o st g in r e sha of this ueer+, we will b Q f o n io being members it s ed ce y n ie er p In ever ex r munity and thei rld at large. o w LGBTQIA+ com e th d n a a ic outh Afr community in S
LUCINDA DORDLEY, A 23-YEAR-OLD MULTIMEDIA CONTENT PRODUCER FROM CAPE TOWN SHARES HER EXPERIENCES A LESBIAN CISGENDER WOMAN. HOW would you describe yourself? I think the word that would best encapsulate all that I am is “growing”. I tend to be very loud because I’m easily enthused and believe that I should be able to express joy when I feel it. I try to be unapologetic about myself – my fatness, my queerness, how coloured I am – but I’m still working on that. I’ve made a lot of progress because I have spent a lot of time trying to make myself malleable for the comfort of others and I am tired of that. I am coming into my own, and it’s an interesting transitory period. For now, I cannot properly describe myself because I am in a constant state of flux and flow. How old were you when you knew you were a part of the LGBTQIA community? I think I’ve always known, but I spent a lot of time suppressing it. I had a phase as early as preschool when I wanted to be a boy. I dressed like one, spoke like one, emulated what I had codified as “masculine” behaviour, and pursued girls like one. Everybody brushed it off as a little tomboy phase, but I realised later on in life that my innocent 5-year-old brain made the connection that this was the only way that I could be with another girl. I went through something similar in my early teens as well, but I didn’t fully accept that I am a lesbian until I was about 21 years old. I had dated both men and women until then but realised that the connection simply did not feel the same in a heterosexual relationship as it did in a queer one. What was the response like from your family and friends? It’s been quite awkward with my family. A lot of the time, my sexuality isn’t acknowledged at all. When it is, there are often massive arguments. My mother finally seems to be
warming up to it, and I hate using that term, but we make do with what we get. She told me she was disappointed when she initially found out, and I have no idea of whether she still is. I don’t think it ever bothered my father – speaking about my love life still makes him feel as awkward as when I was bringing boys home. He was the first one to outright ask me if I were a lesbian when I was 11 years old, and I said no at the time because I was still questioning as well. My friends didn’t make a big deal when I came out to them, even when I started dating as a teen. There was ridicule from others because teenagers are mean and nasty, but not a mean word was ever said by my friends. Were you scared to let others know about your sexuality and/or gender identity? The only people I’ve ever been afraid to tell were my family. All my friends’ families knew I was queer before my own family did. My lecturers, employers, even my librarian knew I was a lesbian long before I even dared tell a family member. I felt like I was leading
Backgrund picture by Ann H from Pexels
Can you tell us about the first time you experienced homophobia/transphobia/biphobia or queerphobia? I honestly don’t remember the first instance, but I very vividly remember being at the matric camp in 2014 and telling a girl there that she looked pretty as we were going to bed. We were in a room filled with other girls, and one of them said: “Make sure you don’t sleep by Lucinda tonight. We’re not safe with someone like her around”. I didn’t know how to react, so I went to bed and pretended to be on my phone for a while. What was it like being a member of the LGBTQIA community in the area you lived in? Growing up in my particular neighbourhood in Stellenbosch was difficult. It was unstimulating. I never really identified with anyone around me there – everyone was happy and comfortable in their little bubble, unwilling to explore or venture off into the unknown, so I never really made the effort to build any lasting connections except for the one I have with my best friend. They’re still living there, and very queer, but we’ve had very different experiences in the same neighbourhood. I ran away to Cape Town’s CBD as much as I could, even crashing on a friend’s couch for an extended period to escape the noose of Stellenbosch. I was unhappy there and knew I never would be if I stayed. There was freedom in Cape Town, to be with others like me, so I worked hard to be able to afford to move. What is it currently like for you? I’ve crashed on a couch in Zonnebloem for almost a year, I’ve spent a year living in an all-queer apartment in Observatory and now I’ve branched out to live by myself in Harfield Village. I’ve come to realise that no matter what the geographical distance is between me and the city, the community remains the same. You get to choose who you surround yourself with, and I am grateful that I’ve made the friends that I have because some of them have become better family to me than my own blood. I’m more content than I’ve been in a while, and I know a large part of that is attributed to the freedom of no longer living in Stellenbosch.
| Photo by Sharon McCutcheon from Pexels
THE QUEER EXPERIENCE
a double life, and still sometimes feel like I am, as queerphobia is quite normalised among my relatives. I have a cousin who is queer as well, so for now, I take all the backlash so that they don’t have to if they decide to come out.
THE QUEER EXPERIENCE
ROWAN RORY ROMAN, A 27-YEAR-OLD EDUCATOR FROM CAPE TOWN SHARES HIS EXPERIENCES AS A PANSEXUAL CISGENDER MALE. HOW old were you when you knew you were a part of the LGBTQIA community ? Not sure the exact age but I started questioning in my late teens and early twenties. What was the response like from your family and friends? I didn’t really request a response from them to be honest because I have no control over that... their response is theirs. I have supportive people in my life because those who weren’t supportive left. Were you scared to let others know about your sexuality and/or gender identity? As a teenager yes. As a twentysomething, no. I couldn’t care less. Can you tell us about the first time you experienced homophobia/ transphobia/biphobia or queerphobia? Homophobia and biphobia both in and out of the community; too many to remember, if I’m allowed to be honest. What was it like being a member of the LGBTQIA community in the area you lived in? In Observatory the LGBTQIA community ran that place! It was art. It was love, understanding, acceptance and belonging. How would you describe your overall experience as a member of the LGBTQIA community? It’s been an interesting journey and no shade to the parade – we could treat each other better. I’m proud to be part of the community and I always will be.
THE QUEER EXPERIENCE
“I didn’t really request a response from them to be honest because I have “no control over that...their response is theirs.”
SOCIETY NEEDS TO DO THE WORK THEOLIN TEMBO
A RECENT panel discussion was held focusing just how important it is to recognise the intersectionality that exists within people, and how these intersecting identities ties into ongoing fights against systemic oppression. An Impulse Talks panel discussion addressed the #BlackLivesMatter (BLM) movement, and how black queer lives also factor into that. Over recent months the conversation of black bodies dying at the hands of police brutality has gripped the world. The recent murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Collins Khoza and Nathaniel Julies has had a ripple effect and forced people to look at the injustices facing the queer community. The discussion was facilitated by Impulse Cape Town‘s Wentzel April and Ashraf Booley, and featured activists Bayanda Ndumiso, Rowan Roman, and trans rights activist Zoey Black as panellists.
Impulse Group Cape Town is part of a global volunteer group of active gay men who promote healthier sexual lifestyles using modern social approaches. Booley started the discussion by asking the panel where they stood on the BLM movement, and Roman answered that he personally believes that “we can’t not be for the #BlackLivesMatter movement if we understand our history as a country”. “As a people of South Africa, it doesn’t make sense to not support it because it is in our everyday lived experience. For me to then say I don’t believe that this is a movement that deserves my support is to say I don’t believe that my country is a country that deserves my support.” Booley added that it cannot be only people of colour supporting this movement but that it’s necessary for white people to get involved. Roman said: “I agree, and the reason I think the solidarity and support of white people are essential, is because the only reason, we are in the predicament that we’re
in as a country, and as a people is because of our history. And if we don’t address that, and we don’t stand together in opposing that history, it is going to repeat itself… It’s constantly (already) repeating itself in very minute ways. There are instances of microaggressions, and a microaggression is the start. It escalates and it becomes bigger.” Black said that even when talking about the subject on a global scale, it’s important to remember there are particular groups of people who have been disadvantaged in particular ways. “Movements like BLM are attempts to dismantle or reconfigure the system to give visibility, to give balance to those groups because they’ve been so disadvantaged for a long time. I think deep down people have to ask themselves conceptually why this movement exists, what is the need for it, and why am I supporting it or not supporting it?” Booley added that if social movements want to be representative, they must use
intersectionality to advocate for the most marginalised member. “How do we then ensure that all black lives matter? We’re talking about queer people, transgender people, disabled people, refugees and all other black lives along the gender spectrum. How do we ensure that all those lives are valued and represented?” Roman explained that often when there is a singular incident of a black man who is killed, people connect and feel galvanised because “he is one of us, he is a man of colour and he was killed in complete senselessness”. “But then, when we scroll down our feed, and then there is footage of a young trans woman being brutalised, and you look at the numbers if you look at the comments and the shares of what is essentially the same thing...we sympathise differently because we have been conditioned to sympathise differently.” Roman elaborated that there are some viewpoints and thought patterns that we are taught in society. “As a society, young boys are taught that if you see someone that does not look masculine or talks ‘like a girl’ or cries, that is a moffie (faggot). Even though they are developing in other aspects, that part of your identity is still conditioned to believe what you were taught as a child. Booley added: “From the moment we are born, gender stereotypes are still enforced on us with something as simple as colours.” Roman continued adding that that is something children are conditioned to believe, and it ties back into how trans people are viewed in society because “now a trans life is taken away unjustly and cruelly” but people then don’t get affected by it at all. He explained that people are left unaffected by when a gay life gets taken, but with a straight life, they feel it so viscerally.
“Again, it comes to the identities, because there are some identities we are so fixed in and obsessed with… but we need to break those walls down, but we can only do that inside, and start with ourselves.” Ndumiso said that when talking about intersectionality, it’s important to remember that people are complex beings and that their identities exist simultaneously. “One person has different identities, they have their own beliefs and their own principles. When we talk about intersectionality, it is to recognise that you are not just one thing. Everything that affects you, you are that thing.” “And in movements, even if they are focusing on gay rights, I still believe that movements need to start practising intersectionality because it’s not just about one thing. That one thing can lead to other things,” Ndumiso said. “We need to start linking other struggles to the struggle that we see so that we can feel and know. The minute you are focused on one struggle, you stop noticing other people. You start practising devaluing...” Black said that as a trans woman “when people see me for the first time, the only thing they can see is that I am trans”. “The perspective of (their) view is so critical because how they place me in terms of their hierarchical
structure about what is important to them, now suddenly becomes a factor. And speaking to that notion of empathy, I think when we talk about BLM, and GBV, people set those priorities for themselves in relation to themselves.” Black explained that for straight cisgender white men, a lot of these issues don’t necessarily directly impact on them. “For a lot of people, I think this is how we operate. We see a group of people or see an identity or a struggle, and then we place it in relation to ourselves, and we go ‘oh, that is not my struggle’ because that doesn’t affect me. “If everybody said that, nobody would have anybody in their corner ever, and that is a difficult world to live in… Just because you aren’t black doesn’t mean you can’t advocate for black lives, just because you are cisgender, doesn’t mean you can’t advocate for the protection of trans people.” Booley surmised the point, to say that especially within the LGBTQIA+ community, gay cisgender men need to ask themselves if they are standing in solidarity with transgender people. “I’ve had to call myself out on that in the past, question myself on that. We really need to do better.” When the panel was asked how to address how society can change and better itself to fix the systemic oppression, Rowan answered that people need to do the work. “If you are the oppressor, you need to do the work. We (queer people) are tired of doing the work. It cannot be a constant battle.” “I’m tired of being the one to have to educate,” he said. “I’m done. Listen, if you have access to the internet to troll in my comments section, you have access to the internet to google (for) yourself and where you are at in your way of thinking – and address it. It’s not my job. It’s not the job of people of colour to educate white people. It’s not the job of queer people to educate straight people.”
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