Photo album I
by Lindeka Qampi for Inkanyiso
When: 26th Sept. 2015
Where: Meadowlands, Zone 2
Soweto, Johannesburg, South Africa
About Lindeka, the photographer
and
and previous Soweto Pride
Photo by Lerato Dumse
What: 2015 Fire & Ink
Theme: Witness
Where: Detroit, US
Camera used: Canon 600d with 60mm lens @ f2.8
L-R: Featuring Samiya Bashir, Rosamond S. King, Dora King, Muholi Zanele, Ola Osaze, Yvonne O. Etaghene and Kagendo Murungi. © Lerato Dumse (2015/10/11)
More on Fire & Ink
http://2015.fireandink.org/
Text by Lerato Dumse
Photos by Lerato and Constanza McKinstry
A total 360º is the best way to describe the change of weather that awaited Zanele Muholi and I when we arrived in Ann Arbor, Michigan (USA). Unlike the windy and wet Michigan that greeted us on September 29. 2015, Johannesburg was sunny and dry when we departed from OR Tambo International Airport a day earlier. The University of Michigan, Penny Stamps School of Art and Design invited Muholi to give a presentation as part of their Distinguished Speaker Series on October 1.
True to its name and nickname of “Tree Town”, I watched through the hotel window, as trees moved violently in the direction of the wind. I packed my equipment bag, ready to walk to Michigan Theatre, where the event was to be held. Muholi was already there and had completed the technical setup; I also found a good spot to document the talk. About an hour before the presentation started, Stephen Warner, who works as a staff organist at the Theatre started playing music on the Barton Theatre Pipe Organ.
I was particularly impressed when he played Gabi Gabi, which is a South African song popular at weddings. Stephen continued blessing us with his calming music while the estimated 800 people who attended the talk started arriving.
Professor Marianetta Porter, who is a mixed media artist at the University of Michigan, gave a fitting introduction of Muholi and her work. She opened by saying, “to introduce Zanele Muholi as a photographer, is like describing an ice berg solely by its tip.” Prof Porter hailed Muholi as a storyteller, a biographer, an archivist, a translator, an educator, a champion of human rights and a visual activist whose work and life gives light to black LGBTI individuals in South Africa. Adding that Muholi is an artist of global magnitude, who has won numerous prizes.
To break the ice after coming on stage, Muholi thanked everyone “for coming out tonight.” She then addressed the LGBTI people, their families and friends in the audience, telling them that it is okay. “It is not a crime to be, we did not give birth to ourselves, we are born by mothers and fathers might not be homosexuals,” Muholi continued. She gave some background into what motivated her to start documenting and told the attentive group that, “if you don’t see yourself in any magazine create your own because it is your life anyways.”
Before delving deep into her work, the activist provided context about the history of South Africa. Detailing how in 1990 SA had the first gay pride, adding that for the first time in 1994 all citizens had the right to vote, in 96 the government amended the constitution, which protects everyone’s sexuality, race, religion and traditions. Explaining that the major point for producing her projects is to make sure,“our voices and visuals form part of academic text and art spaces where they are hardly found.”
Her first treat for the audience was from an earlier publication Only Half The Picture, taken from 2003-2006. The first image titled Zol, was captured while she was still a student at Market Photo Workshop. In this self-portrait Muholi is seen smoking, she then explained that she decided to smoke paper for that photo, people often assume that she smokes weed because of her dreadlocks, while in reality she doesn’t smoke or drink alcohol. Muholi’s visual activism dates back to the early 2000s when she started doing research and documenting hate crime cases. She reminded the audience that she works as an insider in the LGBTI community.
The next projected series was the highly favoured Faces and Phases 2006-present which is a collection of more than 250 portraits of Muholi’s friends and acquaintances that identify as lesbian and transgender. It was inspired by Busi Sigasa a friend of hers who died at the age of 25. Muholi has dedicated the project to her [Sigasa] and many other young individuals who might not be in the pictures, but are striving to survive in the spaces where they live. Muholi elaborated that she returns to some of the participants and does follow up. It is also important for her participants have a name and surname as well as the location where the photo was taken.
Being 2006-present was the next chosen series. It is about intimacy and a bond between lovers. As the artist put it, “it is about that personal space we share we those we love and who make us feel sane when things are not going our way.”
Her aim with this particular project was to shift the focus a little bit away from the violence, because she wanted to talk about “the love that disrupts the perpetrator.
”ZaVa 2012-2014 is produced as she moves between paces looking at people and herself. The title derives from the first two letters of her name and that of her partner, Valerie Thomas. Muholi shared with the audience that she requested Valerie to collaborate in the project, in order for them to share their love, just like she has shared the love of other participants. “I convinced her that this is how I would like our grandchildren to remember us,” adding that this work is like letters to their grandchildren.
She closed with the 2013 wedding of Ayanda and Nhlanhla Moremi. Muholi revealed that most of her projects are done periodically; to make sure they connect to either heritage sights or special moments in SA history and beyond. She went on to say that she wants to ensure that she contributes to history, as a SA citizen. Muholi has documented a number of projects as a way of contesting that wrong myth that it is Un-African to be homosexual. Since embarking on this journey of documenting, she went back and forth looking at herself, looking at friends, looking at friends of friends, touching on intimacy, and looking at portraiture.
The talented artivist said, “It is a way in which we speak and confront those who dare not to believe that we are part and parcel of society.” Most importantly she continues to document because she wants to ensure that those who come after her have a tangible documentation as a reference point and for posterity.
Previous talks
2015 Sept. 2: When Faces Meet in Gothenburg, Sweden
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2015 Aug. 23: Muholi and Dumse present at Light Work
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2015 April 30: “States of Visual Activism”
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2015 March 16: Response to Muholi – Artist’s Talk
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2014 Nov. 17: Announcement – MoMA presents two best South African artists
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2014 June 17: Muholi’s Ryerson University (RIC) Talk
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2014 March 12: Photos from SF Jazz Center – Artist Talk
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2013 Oct. 10: The Artivist Talk visuals
by Balekane “TK” Moloi
As a 27 year old woman growing up in the dusty streets of Duduza, a small township in the eastern wing of Johannesburg, just outside Mpumalanga province. I had a life some would say was an average upbringing, when considering the family history and background. I grew up in a large family, with neighbors who had the spirit of Ubuntu and togetherness in their hearts. I learned from a young age what it meant to be part of a community, which cared for their own as family. I learned what was the true meaning of the saying, “it takes a village to raise a child.”
I am the fourth of five children who were raised by a single mother. Life was not easy most of the time because my mother was a raising us with no financial support, only the moral support of the neighbors from time to time. She had the burden of raising us the best way she possibly could, feeding five mouths three times a day, putting clothes on our backs and keeping us warm in harsh cold winter. We lived a four-roomed shack, which also cost her money that she did not have enough of.
I have an older brother and sister and a younger brother who is seven years younger than me but looks older because of his lean tall structured body and not to mention his handsomeness. I was treated as a princess when I was younger by my older siblings, especially my sister who was my mother’s first-born child. She practically raised me as her own child until she passed away due to AIDS. When she fell ill my family tried by all means to make the heartache easier for me, they thought it would break me into pieces but miraculously I pulled through though it was not a walk in the park.
Her passing took its toll on me. It felt as though my soul was buried six feet under with her decaying body from all the bedsores she had developed during her last stages with the disease. Although its still hard not to cry when I reminisce about her and the unconditional love she showed me through the glorious years we had together. I gather strength and console myself with the promise that I made to her to always love and protect her daughter who is now a beautiful 15-year-old young lady.
Faces and Phases portrait of Balekane TK Moloi, Duduza, Johannesburg, 2013
I remember when I was about six or seven years old when my mother bought me a Barbie doll with a matching kitchen set, it was the first and last present I ever got for Christmas. To me it felt as though she had bought a wrong toy as I was used to playing with boys toys, and the whole set was lost in less than a week. Growing up in my neighborhood was an adventure everyday especially during school holidays. We used to play in the dark streets until way passed our bed time and we would even miss a bath or two at times because we would be so tired from all the running around the whole day. One would pass-out during supper, those are days I would go back to any day. Except for the spanking we would get from time to time, for taking a walk to the local dumping site to find “treasures” for ourselves. To adults they were meaningless junk. During summer time we would go for a swim in a nearby pond that would fill up when it poured hard the night before, we used to call the pond “ikofi” because of its muddy color after we dived in.
When I was in Grade 2, that April my baby brother was born. Just like any other 7 year old I resented him for taking my place as the baby of the family. As time passed he grew on me and made me melt like ice on a hot summer day. The thought of being an older sibling to him put me at ease. When I was 9 years old my mother took me on vacation and the destination was Soshanguve, in Pretoria. That was the best trip I had as a child because when we came back home, I had all the bragging rights. I was the only one who had been on a train.
At 13 years old when I was in my eighth grade I had my first crush on someone and to my surprise it was on my math teacher because she was a beautiful creature. All the boys in our class would talk about things they would do to her had they been given the chance. The thing that worried me the most was that all my female peers had crushes on male teachers and then started to ask myself what was wrong with me?
Why was I feeling that way about another person who was just like me? I learned to understand the reason behind my feelings in the years to come as I grew up and understood myself. My crush and I became like sisters as the feeling was mutual, but I lived as one of her learners and she gave me the attention I longed, that made her more of sister than a potential lover. We would talk about anything during our lunch breaks at school but I never mentioned my infatuation I once felt for her because it was rather embarrassing to me.
I never understood at that time why I was feeling this way about other girls who were older or the same age as me. Thokozile Mashiane groomed me throughout my high school years and ended up encouraging me to take on a challenge of studying physical science and pure math, which was not everyone’s cup of coffee amongst my peers. High school was bliss until I had a major setback in my matric year. About two and a half months before I was scheduled to write my preliminary exams, I became critically ill.
It was around seven in the morning when I woke up with a splitting headache. It felt as though my head was smashed with a five-pound hammer. I had promised my mother that I would help her prepare our Sunday lunch, but then she suggested that I go back to bed for another hour or two and she would wake me up when she starts preparing the dessert. When I woke up my feet felt as though they were placed in a bucket of ice, my body was aching with pain and my fingertips were almost grey. However those were the least of my worries at that moment, because I needed the restroom faster than you can say “busting bladder’. As soon as I tried to raise my heavy head I realized why I was in such a need for the toilet. I had a drip connected to my arm and I was at a hospital, a place I wouldn’t willingly go to even if someone paid me a million bucks.
I was still dazed when a familiar face walked in, it was my aunt, Nomasonto Ntuli, and she helped me to the toilet just in time, before I could create my own mini dam. She then went out and came back with more familiar faces that I recognized as my uncles, aunts, older siblings and cousins. I remember the first words I could utter were, ”Am I dying?” and they all bust out with laughter and tears before answering, “you almost gave all of us heart attacks”.
Later that day I was discharged to go home because the medical team could not explain my being unconscious for more than four hours. They said I must come back for more tests the next morning. We went home and like any typical black family my house was full of people, it was a though we had a traditional ceremony that morning. Neighbors, my immediate family and friends from around my hood all came. A week passed and I did not go to school because I had migraines and suddenly one morning I woke up with a loss of sight. I had gone completely blind over night and unable to lift my own eyelids. We thought it was because of the headaches but we had not expected what happened next.
Over the following couple of days I woke up without the feeling of my legs, they were all wobbly and felt as though they were ripped off from my abdomen. I told myself they are probably cold, so I must go out of bed. When I put my feet on the floor I could not feel the coldness of the floor, since I had lost my sight, I thought they were not on the floor. Then I did what any other normal human being would do when attempting to walk, I stood up only to fall flat on my face and my mother came rushing in because she had heard the impact of my fall. I could not see her facial expression when I told her I cannot feel my legs and I can’t walk. In my mind the only thing that was hovering was one word “PARALYZED”.
What consoled me was the fact that I could not see the terror in her eyes as she realized what was going on. Scared of what was to become of her once normal healthy, and promising child. All I could do at that moment was to hope that it would end soon. My older brother took the responsibility of suggesting that I see a traditional healer because all modern medicine had failed us completely. Like any desperate mother, she agreed to the idea.
They took me to bab’Ngwenya who worked on me for weeks and miraculously took me from my vegetative state to almost normal self. I wrote my preliminary exams with a walking stick and stiff legs, but at least I was on my feet and had regained my sight. By November I was fully healed, even though I was far behind with my schoolwork, as I had missed two months of the syllabus in my learning areas. A day after Family Day in December 2005 I went out that morning to buy The Star newspaper. To my surprise, I found my name amongst thousands of other people who had also passed matric. When my mother returned home from work the first thing I saw on her face was how proud she was. Although she did not say it in words, her look was enough for me. I was also proud of what I had achieved. I had done what most would not have done if they were in my shoes in the past seven months.
The following year I opted to take a gap year, but my older sister would not hear any of it, so I took a bridging course at Central Johannesburg College and moved to Jozi Maboneng. There, I met new people; some friendly and some not so friendly and that did not bother me at all. What mattered to me was the fact that I was an 18-year-old living in the big city that is feared by most for its reputation. I found the city to be just like any other. Life was not a walk in the park, I was learning how to play the piano and read musical scores composed by the likes of John Jackson, Robert Lockwood Jr. Louis Armstrong and Sam Taylor just to name a few.
Later that year I was invited to attend a project known as “Democracy Begins in Conversation” which was directed by the New York born activist Betsi Pendry. The project took place at Constitution Hill and we had the privilege of meeting the eleven judges and having a conversation with them about our constitution and the work that they do. We attended an 8 weeks course with the project and had a presentation of all the work we had done during the project. We showcased our photography skills that we acquired during our time at the Market Photo Workshop in Newtown. Paintings, plays, poetry and music were used to translate and interpreted our views on the constitution.
In 2007 I decided to study towards a degree and I ended up tackling a Bachelor’s Degree in education. I then enrolled with Tshwane University of Technology (TUT), Soshanguve campus. Again, I met new people and made new friends. The first semester was the hardest because of the change of environment and lifestyle but I managed to do well. Towards the end of that year my older sister had a massive stroke that paralyzed the entire right side of her body. From then on everything went downhill with her health. The ARVs barely kept her alive while her health deteriorated every time I went home for visits, which were more often than the previous year. Most times when I was home I could not bare to see her in that state, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease the pain she feeling and that I saw in her daughter’s eyes.
I often asked myself “how can God be so cruel, why her and not someone else?”
During that year I suffered a minor setback with my health, I had dehydrated kidneys but that was the least of my worries. I did not do well that year and to make matters worse, the National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) financially excluded me from their fund and my appeals were in vain, they just would not budge. I had to make a plan for funding in 2008, without any luck from banks for loans I decided to drop out. My mother was against the idea and said she would make a plan to get the funding even if it meant they slept with an empty stomach every day. I tried by all means to convince her they needed help with my sister who needed caring 24/7, but my efforts were in vain yet again.
I went to the university clinic one morning because I was just not feeling well and was transferred to the hospital in Ga-Rankuwa were I was diagnosed with having depression. I would hide the medication when I went home because we had enough problems already and I did not want to stress my family even more. Life had turned into a “female dog” on me. I was anti-social and could not focus in my schoolwork as much as I would have liked. The only thing that could take away the pain was alcohol; it hurt more when I was sober.
One morning when I was preparing to go to class I got a message to call home ASAP so I did exactly that. As soon as heard my mother’s voice on the other end, l knew what she was about to tell me. I was not ready to hear it. She said my sister had passed on and I broke down and cried on the street pavements without any care in the world as to who was watching.
For God’s sake I was in pain; couldn’t they understand what I was feeling?
I gathered whatever strength I could to get myself home like my mother had ordered me to do during our conversation. I took the first taxi to town and then the first available train headed home. I arrived home to a house full of relatives and neighbors. As strong as I thought I was I broke down when I saw my mother on that mattress, what she had told me was true and irreversible.
On the Friday before her funeral a hearse pulled over at my doorstep and I was standing outside with my cousin. I asked her why was it here and she just said, “everything will be alright” and took me inside the house. When I saw the coffin being wheeled into the bedroom where my mother sat for the last two weeks it dawned on me that I had lost the only person that meant everything to me other than my mother. On the day of the funeral I was practically a walking, breathing corpse. Nothing made sense to me and all I wanted was for all those people to just leave my house and let us be. I mourned my sister’s death for about 4 years before I could fully accept that I would no longer seat and joke around with her, I would never see her beautiful smile again.
A week after the funeral I discovered that my mother has breast cancer and she was scheduled to go under the knife a week later.
Again I asked why must my family suffer so much?
Why were we being punished like this?
I had just lost my pillar of strength and now this. Life couldn’t be this cruel in a space of a month. That’s when I started to think that God was testing my faith in him. The day came and my mom was operated on successfully. However the chemotherapy was the worst that I’ve seen of my mom looking helpless, we pulled through and survived cancer.
By the end of the year I had massive amount of money that I owed to the university and had no idea how I would pay the debt because all the little money that was supposed to go to my studies had to pay for my family’s health. In the years to come I had to grow up and make means to take care of my family so I started looking for work and support my family, as the conditions were now not so good.
In 2011 I was awarded a scholarship at a local primary school as a sport assistant and the following year I was promoted to being a supervisor of 18 people. It was not child’s play but I managed to keep a sane head. It was a blast working in a different environment, learning brand new things every day. I worked at James Nkosi Primary School for almost three years before my contract was terminated in July 2014. Since then I have been doing temporary jobs to keep busy and support myself and help around the household.
May 18, 2014 Balekane ‘Teekay’s facebook photo
All the events that took place in my life have made me the person that I am today and I do not regret all the decisions that I made throughout the 27 years of my life. I am proud to say that I am a proud black young lesbian woman living in the township.
I am thankful to the people who have supported me and groomed me to be a humble, respectful and loving person. Most of all, I owe much gratitude to the woman who gave birth to me, Nokusa Lydia Moloi, she is my everything I would not trade her for another parent ever.
Previous life stories
2015 Aug. 30: Losing and regaining self love
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2015 Aug. 28: I have always wanted to enter a pageant
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2015 Aug. 13: Cheated out of a goodbye
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2015 May 5: My journey so far in life
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2015 May 14: “I’m happy living my life the way I am
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2015 April 16: My story as a Zimbabwean Transvestite
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2015 Jan.3: I dropped out of the closet many times
Theatre performance review by Lebo Mashifane
I feel the chill of “the winter rain”…no; the chills of a great performance as I become engulfed by Sibulele Gcilitshana playing the role of Thokozile in a A New Song play written and directed by Napo Masheane, opened on Wednesday, 28 October 2015.
Sam Mathe – live theatre (The Sunday Independent, October 25 2015, p. 2) “A New Song will make history… when it becomes the first theatre production to be staged at the Market Theatre with a woman as a producer, writer and director.”
This beautiful busy bee butterfly – yes, I said it, bee butterfly; has been locally and internationally active as a performer, publisher, executive member and founder of several items and she still breathes and bleeds for women empowerment.
I personally remember Napo as the voice that said “Whatever you want, wants you. Whatever need, needs you. Whatever you seek, seeks you” (a poem she recited). As if she spoke directly to my soul and made me feel like I could grip a dream and have what is impossible, become tangible. She has returned to my attention, this time with A New Song depicting beauty and bravery to captivate my soul, skin and site. One woman, one face as the emphasis of their concept that every woman is different even though they have struggles and successes.
Four black women are “domestic workers” to lonely white women. Napo could have her own way of describing it perhaps. Themi Baleka who plays a role of Bantu,a helper that looks after a white-owned family house and raise a baby of the white-owned family to eventually calling the baby that she raised as “madam” as she now works for her. Bantu being the first to “comply” to the passbook system yet eventually reaches her demise. These black women carry different domestic struggles from their homes to their “madams” homes. By “their home” I also consider the home of their core, their hearts – their hearts’ desires and their hearts’ destructions.
They thirst for freedom, liberation from racism and sexism.
The portrayal of black heroines who fought to death in the 50’s in South Africa. They fight for their rights no to carry pass books/ “reference book” (a barcoded booklet from the home affairs department issued to the black citizens). The guts of a brave and bitter black woman make her the leader of the Congress movement that eventually makes her an independent free woman. ‘Sbindi uyabulala, sibindi uyaphilisa’ (a Zulu saying translated to bravery you kill, bravery you rescue).
Lebo Mashifane, featuring in Faces and Phases series. Photo taken at District Six, Cape Town, 2009
“Sometimes silence is the best conversation”. “Sometimes silence is the only weapon” are the words of not a black, nor a white woman, but an Indian woman who plays a discreet yet dense role in the play.
The intense feeling along with the astounding lighting and music that includes Congo drums made me quiver and chant to “Mayibuye iAfrika” (Africa must return to its rightful owners – as the character Thokozile well defines the Zulu phrase). A fusion of images displayed from an overhead projector, words, emotions, acting, dance and music that gives one the shivers.
I cried tears of joy when I read that the main theatre at The Market Theatre is changing to John Kani Theatre in honor of the great legend of South Africa. It is paramount to honor our pioneers while they are still alive; unlike nonsensical practices of honoring them when they are dead whereas opportunities availed for them to witness their commemoration.
Let Africa return to its rightful owners. Since even street names are changing in the country, perhaps in the near future even The Market Theatre could be renamed… maybeeee Gcina Mhlophe Theatre!!!
ONE WOMAN, ONE FACE!
Previous by Lebo
2015 Jan. 17: My Durban virgin-ity breaks
by Lebo Mashifane
”Hail, the Dark Lioness” Rocks the sky to tears as it hail on our way home! Yes, it literally hail hard as we left Stevenson Gallery, Johannesburg where the opening of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition entitled ”Somnyama Ngonyama (meaning Hail, the Dark Lioness)” threw back Thursday to appreciating black beauty.
Brave Beauty, Miss Tee Menu standing in front of her portrait…
Zanele has turned the camera towards herself and captured her reflection in perfection. Daring dark dindy and the fresh flamboyant femmes framed on gallery walls. I can even ”taste” the beauty ofs long hair, lashes, beautiful bodies, dresses, make up, perfume and nail polish. The energy that fills the white walls with women – WOW effects!
Black and white photographs of black LGBTI people poses on white walls. Muholi’s self-imagery (Somnyama Ngonyama) featuring her other series Brave Beauties (photographs of transwomen) is exhibited in Stevenson’s Art Gallery until 29 January 2016. The brave beauties performed dance and music miming at the opening night on 19th November 2015. They brought diversity of art to the exhibition, they are even operating a sound system – swapping and switching from phone to phone – music to music. Through all the excellent and hard work, they remained beautiful and well collected throughout the event.
The bravery of accepting self – transitioning the body and facing the family, the community and self! That really takes balls!! Does one even really comprehend the adversity that transgenders face? It is easier to be still the family’s “girl” for a lesbian, but for a trans – the family needs to realize that, that is not the case.
Being with Christie Van Zyl at this event took us down memory lane when we met the transgenders in Cape Town who came from various places in Africa to work on their documentary film “Exquisite Gender”.
That was the first time Chris and I were faced with the true reality of TRANS!
We were so confused at first and after watching their documentary, it was as if scales were removed from our eyes. Now we know, love and appreciate TRANS! :-)
As we our eyes meet the Brave Beauties, featuring transwomen and feminine gay men on this exhibition.
Muholi’s stamina that has become international has produced the beauty of art from a black and white collaboration – you can use your discretion… She has travelled the world and continues doing so. She has captured herself in different continents and compiled her hard work as an art exhibition, an expression!
The privilege of capturing the event is something I will always be grateful of to Muholi. She has mastered the art of photography, well, to me that is. I don’t mean just from a point of being a photographer that captures breath-taking shots, freeze a moment and make it last forever. I also mean that she has mastered the art of photography from the aspect that she has shared the skill to so many people on an international scale; and they come to her events armed with guns that she has equipped them with, including me – and like soldiers, we shoot! Which photographer do you know that mentors so many people and unleash potential by also paying the price for it?
It was beautiful seeing familiar individuals and other fancy faces at the event. The priceless opportunity of being reunited with people that we have met far and wide. Muholi’s connections that are making the black queer network in Jozi. It seems as if Muholi’s entourage also includes a gallery, as Faces and Phases was exhibited by Stevenson’s Gallery in Cape Town and Johannesburg, now Muholi is flashing new body of work in the same space.
Massive thanks to the organizing of transport that delivered us at the gallery and safely back home. As LGBTI’s from KwaThema it would have been a likely impossible for us to attend that event without transport or accommodation arrangements for the night due to long distance. Not everyone would have manage to pay a taxi fee of R20 for a 30minute’s drive from KwaThema to Jozi for an exhibition that begins at 7pm when taxis to KwaThema stop operating from Jozi CBD.
To all that were at the event, you are beautiful and may peace be within. This is for all the late mothers, lovers, etc and broken hearts – Sukuma, ushaye izandla (get up, clap your hands) and believe in love!
As Yaya Mavundla (also programme director of the event) had performed at the event the song by Naima K.
Related links
http://www.stevenson.info/exhibitions/muholi/index2015.html
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http://www.culture-review.co.za/culture-somnyama
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http://mg.co.za/article/2015-11-20-zanele-muholi-the-dark-lioness
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http://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/11/magazine/zanele-muholis-transformations.html?_r=0
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Black like me: Pictures of selfie control
http://www.timeslive.co.za/thetimes/2015/12/01/Black-like-me-Pictures-of-selfie-control
My name is Kgomotso Masigo, I am a 28 year old born in Soweto. I’m the eldest of three 3 girls raised by a single mother.
For a few months now I’ve been following Zanele Muholi, and ever since then I had the itch to share my story with her. I haven’t opened up about this to anyone before. This is the good, the bad and the ugly story of my life.
I’m a lesbian mother of 1 a 10-year-old girl named Katlego. I named her Katlego because she is the only thing I have perfectly right in my life. This is how the story of my life begins; I remember it like it was yesterday. When I was in middle school I started getting excited about girls. It was the most confusing time of my life, but I did not pay much attention to it, as I was still too young. I went to High School and the battle began with myself because my interest in girls started growing. I was a very popular girl at school and loved by many, except I wasn’t much loved by me, but never showed that to the world.
Archived photo from 2015 Soweto Pride by Lindeka Qampi
In 2000 I decided to come out to my mother and that wasn’t received well. I can say that that’s when all the rebelling started. My mother is a very aggressive person and in her house you can only be what she says you are. After that encounter I decided to go right back into the closet and be what everybody including my mother says is right. That’s when I met a guy who is my baby daddy and we dated for a while.
I fell pregnant in matric when I was 18 years old. I didn’t know what was going on except only that I was going to be a mother. The thought brought me joy but I still battled with myself. The relationship between my mother and I was damaged. Not only because I was pregnant, but because I resented her, she resented me as she knows that I am not like any other girl.
I come from a family that did not know love and togetherness; all we knew was war. I learned to defend myself more than to love myself even with all my flaws; I know that it’s okay not to be perfect.
In 2005 I gave birth to my little girl and that’s how my life changed for good. Knowing in my heart that I have to make this world a better place for my princess, I studied, learned everything that I know now and worked my ass off.
At age 19 I moved out of home, as the situation there was getting worse by the minute. I must say, I did very well for myself accomplished almost everything that I wanted. I had my own place; a secure job and I could afford my life.
At that point I could date girls but still kept everything under the carpet. I love my mother with every vein pumping blood in my body, in other words she is my life I can’t imagine my life without her and I still support her in every possible way I can. Even when we still didn’t have a healthy mother and daughter relationship and the fights were getting worse. She cursed me out calling me all sorts of names whenever she can. In 2013 I got ill but this is not any kind of illness, its spiritual I consulted a prophet and I was told I have a calling to be a prophet. That year was the most tragic year at least that’s what I thought. I lost everything that I had worked hard for, all my dreams and hopes shattered before my eyes and I was forced to move back home.
Oh what a journey everything was just falling apart and my mother was getting violent, she looked at me with despise, anger and hatred in her eyes. I was convinced that I wasn’t born by her that I wasn’t from her womb. She would chase me with a knife and threaten to kill me. Some days she would love and embrace me and then out of the blue hate me again. As strong as I thought I was I reached a stage of depression and got hospitalized, the only support I had was from my little sister who has held my hand, been my ride or die chick. I lost all hope but kept going for the sake of my child and sisters. You know when they say God has plans for us all its all true and I believed that again on October the 5th 2014.
I met an amazing woman named Karabo, she was a God sent and still is. She came into my life when I had nothing and stood by me. Showed me love and supported me. I again decided to come out for good this time, she fought the battle with me and we grew stronger together and even more in love but just as I thought things were getting better I got attacked by a very close male friend. He was angry that I was dating a woman while he had been pursuing me for year. He wanted to set me straight. I got him arrested and carried on with my life and the wounds in my body and in my heart. Up to this day I’m still battling rejection from my mother. I still carry on and other things in my life are getting together, I just pray that one day things will work out.
Now the main reason for telling my story is because I feel this big hole in my heart that I need to engage with people like me and share my story. My wounds don’t define me though they are a part of me. I will continue to be amazing. I would love to meet you and have a conversation with you and other women that you work with.
To be honest, I would love to be one of the women you work with. I know there is something I can bring to the table, I love images and I’m good with words. My heart has been aching to join a group of women with great minds and are extraordinary.
Thank you.
Related life stories
2015 May 5: My journey so far in life
and
2015 May 14: “I’m happy living my life the way I am
and
2015 April 16: My story as a Zimbabwean Transvestite
and
2015 Jan.3: I dropped out of the closet many times
and
2013 Oct. 2: ‘I am a normal transgender woman’
by Phila Mbanjwa
I have found peace through these words from my heart. They are not only inspired by life and love experiences, but form part of what society lives through everyday.
I have seen lives ended and dreams shattered. Promising futures wasted by wrong decisions that felt right but were in fact wrong decisions. While some stories remain untold. Words shattered because we think the world is not listening.
How can you listen to silence?
My love for words…
I discovered that I could write when I started listening to hip-hop with my older brother Skhumbuzo. There was a cd with all the old school hip hop legends, but the one song I loved the most was track 16, Eminem singing, ‘Cleanin’ out my closet.’ Even though the language was explicit, he told his story. I wanted to tell mine. But what was it?
It took me about 2 weeks to know the lyrics and when I rapped alongside him, I felt such great power coming from within my chest; people were dancing to the beat of a crazed drummer.
Growing up I had this crazy mean streak and hip-hop lit up the fire and the words would just spill. I usually wrote about AIDS, as it was a relative topic to write at that time.
Thobe & Phila (2012)
Photo by Zanele Muholi,
to appear as a cover photo in Queer Africa Reader edited by Sokari Ekine & Hakima Abbas
My love for writing grew a step further when I got into township theatre with my cousins. We formed a group called Silwanakho, which was raising awareness about AIDS, TB and rape. No topic was off limits when I started writing the scripts for our performances. We performed at a Sunday School Rally, with my 4 cousins, Ziyanda Mhlongo, Bongeka Kunene and Amanda Mdletshe.
Our group grew from there. The boys in our hood were keen to join us. I had to broaden my writing by including male characters. My family was very supportive of our drama group; we rehearsed at home because our lounge was very big. We were approached by my former Primary School to perform at an event they were hosting. The scripts were already in place. I played lead, but because I was also directing I decided to give my older cousin, Nomfundo Dlamini the lead role. Everybody was involved, even my 6-month-old cousin had a part, she cried in all the right cues. The performance was out of this world, with great improvisation by the other actresses and actors. We received a standing ovation and an advance invitation to the Heritage Day Event hosted on September every year.
Weeks passed, we went back to our old schedule of rehearsals, and we became a family rather than a drama group. As much as I was directing and writing, my sister took charge of the group. We were young but we were growing up, and fast. The choices we then made became a repelling force to the group. Relationships started in and outside of the group, Priorities changed and changed fast. We no longer saw each other as sisters and brothers, but we saw romantic compatibilities. Soon the group dissolved. One by one we fell off.
The ink in my blood found comfort in love. I lived and breathed my partner’s words. I became a love poet, because of the woman who completed and inspired me. I was fired by her passion and my success. We kept going; just as dust fizzles carried by the wind go back to the soil. We had our flaws and we fell out, and the anger could only be expressed by the ink on the paper. I saw and painted demons with my words. I murdered, burnt and raged on every paper exposed to me at any moment. As dust returns to the soil, waiting for the perfect gust of wind. The year was 2011 and I had stopped writing. My last piece was ‘’I see demons.” I still remember it because my heart just kept on thinking of murdering her.
I see demons
The knives lay there sharpened
Fires blaze, from the wood
Fired up by the demons lurking me
Eating out my flesh, snapping my veins
I die with you.
Whispering words of blood
The thought of your name, filled my nose with
The pungent smell of your stale blood,
The rope lays there waiting to embrace your body
While my demons devour you by cut burning flesh
As I see you scream
I see my demons in you,
And I carry yours in me,
Tearing up my flesh,
Gunning for my heart
Inviting death to make love to me.
The screams of anger and rage from my mouth.
The blood I still smell. I can also smell your rotting body
I hear the worms feasting on my monster in a cold dark place,
As your demons devour me,
Creating an immortal soul in me,
A hardened heart of cold stone grows within me.
The knives are sharpened
The fire blazes
I smell your blood and rotting skin
In 2012 I was shattered, I could not write, the fire was gone, I moved to Durban, worked on healing from the tough breakup. I was a mess but I needed to be strong. I cried myself to sleep some nights, while smoking became a habit. I lost weight, I tried writing with no luck, and my mouth just couldn’t utter the words to be put on paper. I had made myself a poet of love; all my creativity had placed it in the hands of someone else. I stopped writing, even my Facebook posts changed from anger to just a daily status update of a clueless girl.
I started writing again in 2013, but I was not writing for me. I had told my partner that I can write, ‘’I’m a calligrapher’’, I said.
I wrote:
“May the dust not carry my name to leave it in the dust,
As I become the soil, but let me live.
Carrying your name, for I know that my love is
And you are forever mine”
Typical, isn’t?
I was writing about love after all my years of drying up, was the piece appreciated?
Was it approved?
Did it make me happy?
The overall answer to all the questions was no.
I rested, resorted to living a normal life in the countryside, Ladysmith. I wish I could say I miss that place, but I don’t.
Yes, I appreciate the growth maturity and responsibility it brought to my life, because I was a loose cannon at times. One needs to slow down, but there my life came to a halt.
No writings for 2 years, I was just breezing through life, with the pain and unfinished business of my past. For my growth I needed to face my demons, and there is only one way I fought my demons and defeated them. It is through a pen and paper.
I ignored the adrenaline of grabbing a pen and murdering souls and facing my own demons.
Just as my favorite rapper said, ‘’I’m cleaning out my closet.” All the skeletons and pots of black blood had to be thrown out. It was not until May 2015, when I was invited to the first ever Yithi Laba Intergenerational Conference in Johannesburg, by Zanele Muholi, Lerato Dumse and the rest of Inkanyiso group; when I got the invite I kept saying, I don’t want to talk about my job, I just work to shop. I went back to an old piece I wrote for Inkanyiso in 2012 for Zanele Muholi. As I read through it, I found myself; I could feel something I had not felt for years. I felt the thunder in my chest.
I owed it to myself to release the pain because it was no longer anger. I had to share to lift the burden of pain off my heart, I questioned my strong character and personality, was it a coping mechanism?
I found myself writing
“Where I died”
Bottles were always popped
we club hoped all night
I was always high
High on weed
Drunk in love
Your love my weakness
the night was always young and we were
I spent my youth falling in love
with u.
With u I lived a thousand words
Ngakubiza nkondlo yami ebhalwe emzimbeni wami.
I lived a thousand years whether ngingaphezulu or ngingaphansi kwakho
I thought my loving u was my life but now when I am gone from this
I now know where I died
I remember.
You sang for me and took my breath away.
I gave up life to live at your side
your side made me alive until the day
I looked in the eyes of the monster.
The monster I loved.
“A lovers quarrel will strengthen a relationship”
U will say we are stronger today than we were yesterday.
Because yesterday I saw your weakness I saw the vulnerability in your eyes.
With each fist I got.
Evoked a fire that rekindle a love so deep that I fell in love
I lived a thousand years whether ngingaphezulu or ngingaphansi kwakho.
I thought I lived but what the love I thought was.
Was my grave.
I lived in my grave when I thought I lived a thousand years. Ngingaphezu or ngingaphansi kwakho.
I chose to stay decorated with black and blue because a part of me believed.
I lived everytime I was the punches were delivered.
I remember when I died
I died when I chose to love my abuser.”
I felt my heart pounding, A warmth caressed my face, warmth of my tears, I thought of what I did not only to myself, but to my family, it took one piece to find me, I found myself crying, emotional, not even thinking about the bruises, the kicks and punches. I wanted to pray but the pain in my chest wouldn’t let me. I reflected on the things I had done, all the anger and wrath that I held in my heart.
Praying seemed hard, so I thought let me tell Him through a gift He gave me, how I really feel.
I was afraid to seek my God
I am afraid to seek my God
I was and I still am afraid to seek my Saviour
My God,
When my heart is so heavy with hatred
How would He look at me?
For I am dirty and heavy hearted
They say His arms are the resting place for those in despair
But my head defies defeat
I know He walks with me
Even in the shadow of death
He walks with me,
He holds my hands
Even when I walk with the stains, scars and tears the world can’t see,
He sees my bare soul
A soul that longs for Him, but still holds the pain and heavy heart
That breathes fire at the sight of possible hurt
I am still afraid to seek my God
I remember when He got me
He held me so close, so tight
Even when I screamed and cried
Akazange angidedele,
(He didn’t let go of me)
He held me so tight so close
The warmth of His love
I felt it
Stroke by stroke
I felt and was touched by the heavens
Yet today I am still afraid to seek him
Find him, be one with Him
With this heavy heart take me and cleanse me
I have felt His love
All the way through but with the demons I carry on purpose
They take me away from His love
They drag me into this deepest dark turmoil of hatred
I am afraid to seek my God
Though I have felt his love before, my heavy heart takes me away from it
With all this pain I carry I am afraid to seek my God
After writing this piece, I felt at ease, a better person than I was.
I had gone through turmoil, self-inflicted and a part of growing up, yet I still have a whole lot of growing up to do.
I continued writing for the Yithi Laba Intergenerational Conference. I felt that it was the platform to share my journey of abuse through my words.
We find ourselves in crowds where we have to shout for attention, The Yithi Laba members just listened, I was me, uMaMbanjwa, once again I had a piece written from the heart and personal experience. Through all I have been through, never even now do I wish it on another human being. I was ready to talk and be listened to. I was read to share about:
The Price of False love
Sinikeza abantu ubuthina
Sizinikele all in the sake of being loved
We sell ourselves short
Just to belong
Ukuze silale sibanjiwe
Kodwa sikhala izinyembezi
Sizenza izigqila zothando siphenduke izigqila zocansi
Ukuze kujabule lo esizitshela ukuthi uyasithanda
For the sake of forged happiness we carry the most hurt and pain inside
Insecurities of not being good enough,
You second guess yourself
Because wena impilo yakho usuyinikele komunye umuntu
You need the opinion of your master
To dress, live and eat.
Usuzidayisile ngenxa yokufuna ukuthandwa
Wathandwa uzelwe usathandwa namanje,
EmaZulwini nasemhlabeni
Stop looking for love where there is none,
Yeka ukuzenza isigqila socansi
Just because you want to keep the farce of a relationship going.
Ubani owathi bekezelela ubuhlungu ozizwisa wena?
It’s not going to end well,
Because wena usuthathe umuntu ophila emhlabeni
And you made them your everything,
When they leave what happens?
Uhamba nobuwena bonke,
Somebody is taking you away piece by piece
Uyamnikeza uyamvumela ngoba uthi
Uyamthanda???
At the end of it all uzothi udlale ngawe
But…….
Uwena odlale ngawe.
Indeed siyadlala ngathi, I had let another person dictate what I wrote, I had laid myself on the bed of nails as my blood, and my ink was dripping from my body. During that time I felt alive. “Oh well, Love makes us do crazy things,” or so we say. While fooling ourselves, so we may sleep better at night after hours of weeping.
After my pieces and presentation, sharing for the Yithi laba conference, I was home. I felt lighter, I started writing without the need of approval, and I wrote for me, I wrote what came to mind.
I started a blog on Tumblr; called “Words from the heart”
It has been 2 months and 36 posts.
I am writing for me, it may seem crazy, but I think if I hadn’t listened and fell in love with Eminem’s cleaning out my closet, would my closet be clean and the demons hanged on the wall of my blog?
Writing is my gift, to fight or speak, but not to be silent; this is the only silence I will ask for
“Silence
I plead for silence for every 300 women raped
In our country every hour.
Give me silence and let us mourn the
Deafening screams and silence moans of agony
Numbness and pain
While waiting for him to finish planting
His seed deep between the legs that
Fought, kicked and screamed not to open for him”
My words will not stand for only me, but will fight for you too!
Yithi Laba conference delegates on Day 1 at Con Hill before the tour.
Previous by Phila
2013 March 10: “I love women and they love me”
by Tinashe Wakapila
Relationships are simply the mirrors of your happiness; they reflect it and help you celebrate it. Most people enter into relationships with an eye
toward what they can get out of them, rather than what they can
put into them. Nobody will fix your life or make you feel special, if
you are not able to give that to yourself first.
Just like when you get into a relationship and expect to feel loved. Okay, get me right, that is the reason to be in a relationship, but there is a certain way you have to get into one. You cannot get into it broken, with doubts, fears or because the reason you are in it is to heal. No, you must find closure, love and healing by yourself. ONLY THEN, can the other person’s love become a soothing completion. There are two words that most people use when they define the same thing, but it does not have the same meaning.
One such example is complete and finished. It has been said that, “When you marry/love the right one, you are COMPLETE.” And “when you marry/love the wrong one, you are FINISHED.”
When you get into a marriage or love relationship expecting to give, including giving what you are not putting into yourself, then you are Completely Finished. Its logic, you cannot give what you do not have.
When I was young my mother would let me rock myself to sleep, and when I cried too much she would sit there. Her heart breaking as I soothed myself with a thumb or sucker (pacifier). At that moment I thought she was evil, how could she do such? She would only come with her breast so I can suckle, after I had silenced myself. Now as an adult that concept has come to play, I do not run and get all dependent, on my mother or other people. Often when the going gets tough I’d rather stand tall and work through my battles. My mother and other people become soothers after I have done most of the groundwork.
Coming to same sex love, should I spend my life regarded as “her best friend who lives with her?”
Because the human species that brought me in this world has refused to get it. Shall I then shun the whole idea of me walking down the aisle with the one I love because s/he is like me?
I refuse, because as long as there is a legislation that allows me to be in holy matrimony. I shall render my single power and do exactly what any girl dreams of, walk down the aisle with her, even if it means my wedding will have 10 people or less. I will not care, as long as the witnesses available share the same sentiment as me, I shall rejoice.
Yes it was my dream to have my mother covered with blankets for traditional celebration purposes. But I have crossed the traditional norms of marriage; the other who is supposed to be giving is like me. Should I then die labeled as “single”?
While I have a loving soul mate who has vowed to carry me till the grave. There is nothing as sad as parents who spend all their lives denying their child’s sexuality, and when she dies while she is with her homosexual family, want to act as if they knew so much about their child and claim her belongings. Saying all they knew was that “she was with her friend.” No, it should not work like that. When one decides to make it their business to reject their own, they should allow it to be till the end, to enable those who carried her to lay her to rest, amongst the community of people who were fond of her.
I have a note for those who have refused to acknowledge me. I am not going to die single; I have found her. Give her the respect she needs when I am gone, just because you refused to embrace what we have embraced does not give you the right to hold on to your disrespect even when I am gone. She is my one and only, the person I cherish.
I refuse to be labeled single and unmarried, just because traditionally things were not done appropriately. If you have not noticed, I have passed the ‘appropriate’ already.
Faces and Phases participants, Phila Mbanjwa and Tinashe Wakapila, a selfie taken by Phila somewhere in Durban (28.06.2015)
Blessed are those who will go through a traditional celebration for their marriages as gays and lesbians, because they are complete. I too will have completed my service with or without the traditional wedding. That white wedding and the few acknowledgements shall witness my Holy matrimony. It is not everything you take that is given. Never put your happiness in other people‘s hands, they will drop it. Love is not a feeling because feelings come and go!
It is therefore a decision to commit, to meet the needs of another person without expecting anything in return.
So what if I do not get commemorated and get called broken and indecisive, my feelings and emotions still come back to believe this:
No one colors the world quite like you. No one reflects the light of existence the way you can. Today, I will color this world and brighten this day in my own special way because I am broken and shattered.
Done for what its worth.
Previous by Tinashe
2015 Jan. 3: I dropped out of the closet many times
by Lerato Dumse
After spending nearly a week in Durban attending a conference with Feminists, Artists, Academics and Activists.
On November 30 2015, collaborators and friends, Lindeka Qampi and Zanele Muholi, made their way to Italy. They are participating in a 2-week Artist Residency in Cagliari and Nuoro in Sardinia Island. Their latest cultural exchange project follows an invitation by Tight Rope Walkers (TRW) Culture Association.
Even though many people warned about the cold weather expected in Italy during December, it was surprisingly sunny when the duo arrived at the Department of History, Cultural Values and Territory, at the University of Cagliari. They found a few students waiting for them while their classmates continued trickling inside the classroom, until approximately 30 of them had arrived. Professor Felice Tiragallo gave a brief introduction on the work done by Muholi and Qampi before handing over to them to present.
Assisted by an interpreter, the South African artists took to the stage to share their work. Qampi began her presentation by providing some background into her work, and her reasons for capturing her images. Lindeka shared about how she started photography in 2006 at the age of 36, explaining how she has moved from street photography to photographing her family, as a way of re-enacting scenes from her past. Her image selection highlighted the different cultures that South Africa has to offer. Technical glitches caused by the university’s computer, forced the group to change classrooms and the determined Qampi was able to continue projecting her work.
Her photographs highlighted the use of blankets in various aspects of South African culture. One of the photographs was of her husband, Mzwabantu Mafilika covered in a blanket that he has owned since 1991 when he returned from initiation school. Qampi spoke about how she has started fusing photography with poetry and recited one of her poems titled Blanket. The poem spoke about a blanket that provides comfort when she is alone in the dark, trying to cope with life’s challenges.
Muholi followed with her presentation, which complemented Qampi’s work, speaking on the theme of self-representation. As a way of introduction and giving context about her work, Muholi screened “We live in fear” which is an 11-minute documentary. The art activist explained to the group that she produces her work, as a way of denouncing phobias is South Africa and beyond. The Anthropology students listened intently while Muholi projected her most recent and well-received body of work titled Somnyama Ngonyama. Muholi informed the group that she started working on the high contrasted self-portraits in 2012, during an Art Residency at Civitella in Umbria, Italy. The work was inspired by her need to respond to racism as an artist. She shared how racial incidents compelled her to produce the work in the different African, American and European countries she has visited, during her travels giving lectures and photography training.
2015 Dec. 4: With Anthropology students at Cagliari University, Italy… Photo by Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
The group seemed to be overwhelmed by the presentations and were unable to ask questions when the platform was opened for them to do so. The following day the artists turned the tables during their second session with the Anthropology students. The group was given an opportunity to share their thoughts; they were requested to speak on the problems/challenges facing their communities. The group, which comprises mostly of youths had to imagine themselves as members of parliament handling different portfolios. Although some of the students are not from Sardinia or even Italy, the problems raised pointed to global challenges facing countries such as Germany, Turkey and South Africa. Amongst the biggest problems raised was food shortage, lack of recreational facilities for youngsters, scarce public transport that prevents people from accessing education institutions, a culture of not valuing education in some communities and a gap in the tourism industry, which could boost the economy of communities.
Having coughed out some challenges, the following day students had to identify their responsibilities as Anthropology students and members of those communities. The aim of that exercise was to assist them in coming up with solutions. The group then paired up and took portraits of each other, as a way of teaching them the process of making. Some of the students have photography as part of their course and own cameras; while for some it was their first time handling a DLSR camera.
The three day lecture series was ended with a group photo taken by Muholi, as a way of marking the time spent with the group, who highlighted that people might be separated by distance, mountains, oceans and time, but are bound by life’s challenges such as global warming, financial crisis and technological advancements.
Current and previous Photo Experience on Visual Activism.
The group photos show special moments shared with many individuals we met through our journeys, especially those who believe in our work on visual activism.
We felt loved, recognised and appreciated. We learnt and shared knowledge.
Indeed 2015 has been a great year…
2015 Dec. 5: Sardinia, Italy. With participants from Nuoro PhotoXP… Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
2015 Dec. 4: Cagliari, Italy. From Feminists Association home. With Lindeka, Pat, Muholi, Stepy and Lerato. Photo ©Lerato Dumse/ Inkanyiso media
2015 Nov. 28: Salt Rock Hotel, Durban, South Africa. With delegates of 2015 Feminists, Artists, Activists, Academics un-conference. Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
2015 Nov. 8: With youth in Cotonou, Benin, that we trained basic photo skills. Photo by Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
2015 Nov. 14: With youth in Dbango, Porto Novo, Benin, that we trained basic photo skills. Photo by Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
2015 Oct. 5 With students from Human Rights in Sub Saharan Africa Class taught by Prof. Frieda Ekotto at Michigan University. Photo by Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media
Previous related PhotoXP
2014 July 16: Through the eyes of young women photographers
by Tinashe Wakapila
Knight and shining armour come in the image of males, who are strong and powerful. These men fight and correct problems every now and again. My article is a grieving article, a poetic article filled with flashback memories of a Knight and shining amour who came as a woman and turned my life around. If I forget to mention anything on this article, just know that it is all recorded inside.
Qhawekazi, Ndlovukazi, Siwiliwili, Ngane yeZulu!
The day I stepped my feet into VMCI I experienced anew life changing moments spiritually. Get me right dear reader or article viewer, what I am about to write is not what VMCI is only about, but rather the circumstances that befalls this wonderful church.
2015 April 25 MaGesh Zungu, Brooklyn, New York City. Photo by Zanele Muholi
MAGATSHENI MAGESH ZUNGU
My hand and heart ache as I type
THE LATE…….Like a Rose that has been plucked out of the fresh valley of different bouquets, very addictive yet healthy scent/ fragrance that passes its fresh molecules around. So was her warm welcome to the children of the Lord in the house of God VMCI. I do not know how she might have made you feel. My encounter with her, I as a foreign national in Durban, queer gendered woman, youth, believer and lady prayer, she taught me that love covers a multitude of sin. Regardless of how you may feel towards your life never miss the important thing which is Praising and Worshipping God, she said.
I am getting carried away with Myself, Magesh. The second time of my coming to church, my IsiZulu was not up to standard, I went up to her to pass my greeting she looked at me with her warm eyes and an understanding nod of encouragement and said to me “I know you are not from around I spoke to ubaba (Pastor Zungu) ukuthi siyenze i plan for us to have an interpreter.”
She placed herself in my shoes with my obvious confusion of the language. I felt at home, even when I was far away from her with her everlasting care, love and encouragement.
She taught me the way to hold myself high and she said “Njengoba Indlovukazi iyagqoka umqhele we glass, uyayisabela ukuthi if it drops it will break, always raise your head up high and never look down.
MORAL: The Hero that we lost as VMCI, is not just an ordinary Mam’ Mfundisi, she was extraordinary, her care was the care I had not known. For one moment I said to myself, this is a rare human.
God finally realized his Angel was missing and took it away.
A mother, best friend, sister, wife, caregiver, healer, counsellor, psychotherapist, name it, she was all in one.What touches me the most is that I was a foreigner, a rare human in another land, she preached to me about Moses and how he grew up in the foreign land but still took domain. She never said she cannot encourage me because I am different. Instead she sought to make me strong and hardworking.
She was a Warrior, a lady. An ambassador, a soldier of the Lord, a woman of virtue, who would have stopped at nothing to bring a smile on a down face, a spiritual strength at a thirsty soul.
The skies look wonderful and clear, oh the heavens cannot contain the beauty that you bring out and radiate.
Your memories are everyone’s life solace.
May the beautiful memories of the times we spent with you when the spirit and flesh were still together be even enhanced with us, celebrating and joining you in spirit every time
WE DEVOUR IN OUR SPIRIT WORLD.As I wrote this article I was smiling hard with a tear on my cheek, you are reading and listening from the heavens above, there is nothing your children value more than your love, nommater where we are, what we are doing, your memories will keep us going and smiling.
Uyathandwa and the wonderful castle you are building for all of us there is surely glamourous, fashionable and classical just like you Mom.
We will make you proud.
Words will be endless
Farewell Dwala Elihle.Founder of Dwala, now and forever remember you told me to write minutes after our Dwala meeting.
This will not be my last but today I am proud to write the glimpsed minutes of your life from the day I met you till we parted, I submit it to you.
Related link2015 Dec. 24: Remembering Magesh Zungu
Previous by Tinashe
2015 Jan. 3: I dropped out of the closed many times
by Lerato Dumse
While we were attending the Fire & Ink LGBT conference in Detroit, USA, Zanele Muholi informed me that she had confirmed her presence at Amherst College, in Massachusetts from October 14-16, 2015.
We travelled from the Detroit conference to New York City (NYC), where our bus to Massachusetts was to depart from. So we spent two days in NYC Metropolitan, which is home to millions of people from different countries and have different races and ethnic identities, which is not that different from Johannesburg, something that I’m used to.
Muholi and I had an early start to our day on October 14, as we left Brooklyn and headed to 42nd Street on our way to the bus. After arriving at the city centre we were unsure whether to take a left or right turn and opted to ask someone who was dressed like one of the traffic officials. He gave us an unconvincing answer to take the left route, with scepticism in our hearts and minds we took his advice and hoped for the best. We arrived at the bus stop with some time to spare, as the bus had not arrived yet. I took the opportunity to finish my left over ribs from a restaurant in Chelsea and delicious oxtail which is my comfort American food sold at a Caribbean fast food restaurant in Brooklyn.
The bus arrived and we boarded ready for the approximated 4-hour trip that lay ahead. NYC traffic didn’t disappoint even for a Wednesday morning. We were stuck in a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam while navigating our way out of the city. Many of my movements in NYC are on the subway, so it felt like I was on one of those tourist buses (which I always wish to ride) as I was sitting on the top part of the double decker bus. We eventually made it to the high way were the traffic was flowing smoothly. It was a little unnerving looking outside the window and realising how narrow the high way is, my biggest fear was the bus tipping over.
As we neared our destination a beautiful landscape of some of the most beautiful leaves came into our view. Bright, vibrant and happy colours provided a pleasant sight for me and I think its safe to say to my fellow passengers. The place is so beautiful I think it can probably cure depression and turn any grumpy teachers, bosses and parents into happy people. We had a safe journey and just before our drop off spot the driver announced that those who were continuing to the last destination should wear their jackets. He should have given us the same warning as well, as soon as I stepped outside the bus I realised the temperatures were much lower than in New York. We had to wait briefly for our organised cab to pick us up and take us to The Lord Jeffery Inn, our home in Amherst. In the first few minutes waiting at the parking lot it became apparent that not many black or people of colour are in Amherst. I have proclaimed before, I fear for my life when I see white American police, I didn’t even have to see them, my paranoia just took over.
The senseless racial killing of congregants from Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in South Carolina reminded me just how the lack of gun control in the states poses a threat to people with my skin colour. I believe the two biggest threats to my life are my race and sexuality. When I have to travel in an African country I investigate homophobic incidents towards lesbians and their laws. For the USA and Europe I investigate their racism, I say this understanding that homophobic violence exists in these places as well, as evidenced by the high numbers of murdered trans women of colour in America.
When I researched racism in Amherst the one incident that the media has covered is of Carolyn Gardner, a Math teacher from Amherst Regional High School. She has been the target of racist graffiti some of it found in the boy’s toilets at the school. In my thinking these kids must be getting this attitude somewhere, most probably home or other adults around them. So all I could do was pray for protection from my guardians and hope for the best, while in Amherst and the United States. We arrived at our temporary home and rested for the night, preparing for a busy day on October 15th.
2015 Oct. 15 Muholi sharing her work with students, curators and researchers @Amherst College… Photo by Lerato Dumse
The following morning we made our way to Hampshire College, Muholi had a classroom lecture with students from the Department of Film, Photography and Video. The class was an intimate number of less than 10. Muholi conducted the session in a roundtable setup, which enabled everyone to face one another and contribute to the discussion. The intimate session allowed students to have a conversation with Muholi and ask her different questions, including the popular one where people ask if she is not worried that her work puts the participants at risk. The session also helped us to get some insight from another guest speaker, Jennifer Bajorek. She spoke about the sad reality of many African families that sell the photographs of their deceased relatives at the fraction of the price that they are then resold for in Dollars. Bajorek is a researcher and the founder of a non-profit organization called “Resolution” it is dedicated to photography and photography collections in Africa.
Following that enlightening conversation, we had a little less than an hour to make our way to another campus and meet with students from the Department of Feminist Studies at Hampshire College. Female students dominated this class; we found them already seated and waiting for Muholi to present. With the lights dimmed, students watched silently as Muholi projected a documentary and her photographs. The only disturbing sound came from a student who kept taking aggressive bites from an apple.
Although we were tired and starving, our minds were on the last event of the day, which was a public lecture at Pruyne Lecture Hall later that evening.
The lectures sponsored by the Department of Art, the History of Art, as well as the Interdisciplinary Studies Institute at UMass Amherst College were a success and well attended.
Previous by Lerato
2015 Oct. 4: South African Visual Activism open eyes in Liverpool
Text by Lerato Dumse
Photos by Sandisiwe Dlamini & Lerato Dumse
Over the last couple of days there have been numerous news reports about snakes being spotted in residential homes and incidents of humans and animals being bitten in South Africa. So when we arrived at the Cradle of Humankind on January 22. 2016, for the conversation between Lyle Ashton Harris and Zanele Muholi at the Nirox Foundation, my first thought was ‘I hope there are no snakes here.’ The place looks beautiful with a green nature ambience created by the many green trees that surrounded the studio that Lyle used during his Artist Residency at Nirox and the conversation venue.
The conversation was made possible through a partnership between Nirox Foundation and the US embassy. In her opening remarks, Elizabeth McKay, US embassy Acting Deputy Chief of Mission thanked everyone for attending the event, “which celebrates the rich traditions of art in South Africa.” Calling Zanele and Lyle talented and proactive, Elizabeth also thanked the artists for bringing their voices and critical work into conversation about art and the intersection of sex, race and gender. Adding that Lyle is the second American artist that the embassy has sponsored to spend time at Nirox.
Front row (right) Elizabeth McKay, US embassy Acting Deputy Chief of Mission interacting with audience.
This is not the first time that Harris and Muholi’s work have crossed paths. Harris came across Muholi’s work around 2007 when a friend who had visited South Africa told him she (Muholi) was someone to look out for. Shortly after they were part of a group show in New York, which received a good review in the New York Times.
In giving context about his history with photography, Lyle explained that he was an economics major, and it was during his junior year that he visited his brother in Amsterdam and started doing photography. His stepfather Pule Leinaeng convinced everyone that, “they need to let the boy do what he needs to do.” He had his first New York show in 1994 at the Jack Tilton Gallery. Harris shared many of his signature shots, some of which he referred to as infamous. One gender-bending image taken in 1994, remains relevant especially with the Black Lives Movement, “Saint Michael Stewart” (named for a young black man who died in police custody, in the photo Harris wears both lavish makeup and a New York City police uniform. He also projected “Lyle Ashton Harris in collaboration with Thomas Allen Harris, Brotherhood, Crossroads and Etcetera. #2 1994, the image initially spoke to the complications of desires of the body.
Harris has managed to successfully cultivate a diverse artistic practice ranging from photographic media, collage, installation and performance. His work explores intersections between the personal and the political, examining the impact of ethnicity, gender and desire on the contemporary social and cultural dynamic.
“We Live in Fear” a documentary collaboration between Muholi and Human Rights Watch was a hit with the local audience when it was screened at the event. The activist then explained that the documentary was produced in 2013 and narrates how she does her visual activism focusing on LGBT community. Muholi explained that she has started working with herself, “trying to remember the person she is.” The project was born from an urge to introspect, as she “becomes a different person, aging as a female bodied being, confronting personal demons that we hardly deal with as human beings especially photographers.”
Muholi shoots her Somnyama Ngonyama series at every space she wakes up during her travels and added that she doesn’t need to paint herself because she is already black. The images are on blackness and representing the self, as she wakes up feeling different, sometimes she doesn’t like herself.
Muholi has had two solo shows and one group exhibition for Somnyama and was well received in New York, Johannesburg and Nuoro Italy.
Muholi told the captivated crowd that in this series she uses her body as her artistic response to on-going racism in different parts of the world, but has not divorced the self from exploring issues of gender, class and sexuality. One of her striking images in Somnyama speaks on being the ‘black sheep’ in your family.
“Many queer people are disrespected in their own families, especially when you are a female and there are expectations for dowry or ilobolo to be paid for you.” The activist said she wanted to create an image “that speaks on being the black sheep in a family where you are expected to provide for one to be respected.”
Apart from the artists presenting their work, a special reading and musical performance was on the programme. It was the first time that Harris’ mother Rudean Leinaeng was reading from her forth-coming book in the African continent, titled Coal, War and Love. It is a fictionalised treatment of a family history based on her grandfather Sergeant Albert Johnson Snr. Albert fought in the Great War, WWI and became one of the famous, ‘Harlem Hell Fighter’ a black area in New York. The story talks about a boy forced to leave school after the forth grade, he travels and makes the world his classroom. He struggles to find his place in early 20th century America as a black man. Albert marries the woman of his dreams and risks his life in the war, with hopes of making a better life for her and their children. He enlists in the 15th coloured regiment of New York and wins many medals. Rudean read from chapter 25, which takes place in 1917.
Mixing various instruments such as a flute, rhythym guitar, whistle and vocals allows Lerato Lichaba and Tubatsi Mpho Moloi to create a rich and unique sound. Their style of clothing is beautiful and embraces African fashion. The creative duo makes use of ordinary objects such as pipes, to create unique sounds. Born in Mzimhlope, Orlando West Soweto, Lerato is a self taught Guitarist who began his journey with the guitar at the age of 16 years. While Tubatsi has been performing with Lerato since 2013, he has toured the world on a musical production called Umoja where he was also acting and dancing.
Previous by Lerato
2015 Dec. 8: Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia
Feb. 2016: Announcements on upcoming exhibition, artist talk/lectures in the US
Source: Posters provided by hosts and partners
Previous lectures:
2015 Dec. 8: Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia
and
2015 Oct. 14: Brief visit to Amherst
and
2015 Oct. 9: Muholi presents at Penny Stamps Distinguished Speakers Series
and
2015 Sept. 8: Faces and Phases presented at Hasselblad Foundation
and
2015 Sept. 2: When Faces Meet in Gothenburg, Sweden
and
2015 Aug. 23: Muholi and Dumse present at Light Work AIR
and
2015 March 12: Muholi addressed scholars at Brighton University, UK
and
2015 Feb. 27: Announcement
Public Lecture by Zanele Muholi @UCLAN, London
and
2014 July 18: Women’s Day Lecture at UFS
and
2014 June 17: Muholi’s Ryerson University (RIC) Talk
and
2014 Mar.21: Photo of the Day from Human Rights and LGBTI in Sub-Saharan Africa class
and
2014 Mar. 18: Sharing South African Queer Knowledge with students in America
and
2014 Mar.5: More than an activist
and
2014 Feb.4: Black Queer Born Frees in South Africa
and
2013 Nov. 4: From Market Photo Workshop to Bremen University
and…
Photo Album
by Lindeka Qampi/ Inkanyiso media
What: Black Girls Only
Where: Women’s Jail, Braamfontein, Con Hill
When: 31.01.2016
Camera used: Canon 6d hand held
About the photographer
2015 Sept. 12: ‘2015, the year of breaking silence’
by Lerato Dumse
It has been a good start to 2016 for Zanele Muholi, who is selected as an honouree for the 32nd annual Infinity Awards. The International Center of Photography (ICP) made the announcement beginning of February and the ceremony will be held in New York City on April 11, 2016.
The announcement comes a week before the acclaimed photographer is due to collect an Outstanding International Alumni Award from Ryerson University in Toronto, Canada. In 2010 Muholi graduated with a Master of Fine Arts in Documentary Media at the institution.
The award winning photographer, artist and activist from Umlazi, in Durban South Africa, has managed to build a name by documenting black members of her LGBTI community. It was her exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum that impressed the Infinity panel that selected the winner in the documentary and photojournalism category. Her solo exhibition titled Isibonelo/Evidence was mounted from May to November 2015 at the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art.
Isibonelo/Evidence comprised of eighty-seven portraits produced by Muholi between 2007-2014 including her equally acclaimed award winning black and white portrait series Faces and Phases. The exhibition fused photos, videos and text by featuring same sex weddings and a timeline detailing the horrors of hate crime incidents, combined with personal testimonies.
Click to view slideshow.Congratulations for Muholi have been coming in from far and wide for this award, which is “widely considered the leading honour for excellence in the field.” Infinity awards are also ICP’s largest annual fundraiser, supporting all of its programs, including exhibitions, education, collections, and community outreach.
Click to view slideshow.
Muholi is no stranger to the world of winning awards, she has won numerous awards including the Fine Prize for an emerging artist at the 2013 Carnegie International; a Prince Claus Award (2013); the Index on Censorship – Freedom of Expression art award (2013); and the Casa Africa award for best female photographer and a Fondation Blachère award at Les Rencontres de Bamako biennial of African photography (2009).
Her Faces and Phases series has shown at, among others, Documenta 13; the South African Pavilion at the 55th Venice Biennale; and the 29th São Paulo Biennale. She was shortlisted for the 2015 Deutsche Börse Photography Prize for her publication Faces and Phases: 2006-14 (Steidl/The Walther Collection).
Muholi is an Honorary Professor of the University of the Arts, Bremen.
Past recipients of the Infinity awards include Muholi’s mentor David Goldblatt, who also supported her financially to complete her MFA. As well as Berenice Abbott, Lynsey Addario, Richard Avedon, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Roy DeCarava, Elliott Erwitt, Harold Evans, Robert Frank, Adam Fuss, David Guttenfelder, Mishka Henner, André Kertész, Steven Klein, William Klein, Karl Lagerfeld, Annie Leibovitz, Helen Levitt, Mary Ellen Mark, Inez Van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin, Daidō Moriyama, Shirin Neshat, Gordon Parks, Sebastião Salgado, Malick Sidibé, Lorna Simpson, Mario Testino, and Ai Weiwei.
Full List of 2016 Recipients:
Lifetime Achievement: David Bailey
Art: Walid Raad
Artist’s Book: Matthews Connors, Fire in Cairo
OnlinePlatform and New Media: Jonathan Harris and Gregor Hochmuth for Network Effect
Documentary and photojournalism: Zanele Muholi
Critical
Writing and Research: Susan Schuppli
Related links
2013 Aug. 31: Black lesbian visual activist wins Mbokodo award
and
South African artist wins in the US
by Sicka ‘Shaz’ Mthunzi
I grew each day and everyday and I’m growing through transitioning in different art forms. Viewing the world through the ‘EYE’ is a very interesting and very ‘eye opening’ to how the world functions. The ‘eye’ refers to a camera, a tool that I didn’t have any interest in, until I was introduced to photography. I never saw photography as an art form; I always thought that there was nothing fascinating about just shooting.
August 2015 I registered at Market Photo Workshop (MPW) for the Foundation Course (FC), which took 8 weeks. I thought to myself 8 weeks was nothing, little did I know that pressure and a pile of work waited for me. On the 28th of September I received a call from MPWs admin office asking me to come in the next day to get documents and info on when my classes where starting. The next day I got there and was told my classes start the next day, and I thought to myself these people mean business and it was a wake up call that I must take this very serious and expect pressure.
The first day we had Orientation where we were introduced to every stuff member, rules and requirements of the school. Every member was very welcoming from the head of the school John Fleetwood, to the lady who cleans, I love and adore her and call her mamNthabiseng. There where 11 of us in class and I don’t know what happened to the 12th person since MPW takes 12 per course. For our classes we had my favorite visual literacy taught by Michelle Harris, my other favorite subject is Analog taught by Ilse van de Merwe, adobe Photoshop and bridge by Sanele Moyo, Professional practice with Natalie Payne, Technical practice with Michelle Loukidis and Mpho khwezi as our Analog trainer and assessment supporter.
We then had Mr Tswaledi whom we always went to, to get cameras that we hired from the school, which was a digital cannon 550D camera, a Nikon analog camera and a tripod, but we were not allowed to take both cameras home at the same time. MPW takes 6 FC classes a year, so when we started the fifth FC was about to finish and we were the last one for the year. Every class we attended we were asked “why are we here?”
My response was “my mentor Zanele Muholi is a photographer and I work with her writing and documenting for the Inkanyiso website, and I’m also an artist, so when going for shoots I will know how and where I want to be shot.”
In Loukidis’s class (technical practice) we were taught the functions of the digital camera, how to work with different light and she also took us outside to shoot. With Moyo we got to learn how to use Adobe Photoshop and bridge, how to edit and manipulate images using Photoshop. Payne helped us with professional practice where we got tips about the industry and also writing our own CVs, biography and photographer’s statement. Michelle Harris taught us how to view the world in a different way, how to see beyond, create images and helped us build our confidence and communication skills.
Mpho Khwezi was assisted Ilse with analog and he also helped us with preparing for assignments. We did analog with Ilse, which is the old and more traditional part of photography using film and the dark room. We had seven assignments for the course and submitted every Monday. They were visual elements, exposure, home, hard and soft light analog, SA photographer, brochure that I hated and personal selection. During crits we would place our pictures on the wall and present them. Both Michelle’s were critiquing us and in our final crit. we had an extended person added who hasn’t seen our work. Crits were very important because you are told where you went wrong and also about your progress when you are resubmitting.
In looking at an image analysis is very important because you get to notice and understand everything about the image. Usually most people who don’t go to exhibitions, when they look an image they look at it for a few seconds and end up missing the little points that make up the whole image. Through learning image analysis I can look at an image for a long time like we used to see how this top class people do when they get to exhibitions. My experience at MPW was worthwhile and very inspirational and because of my mentor advising me to go, I now respect what photographers undergo. I am looking forward to carrying on with photography and have my own body of work, which I would exhibit in my township.
Related link
2014 Dec. 7: My eight weeks at Market Photo Workshop doing FC
by Lerato Dumse
When I saw a woman blowing smoke at a bus stop in Cleveland, my mind was shocked, for some reason it was like my first time seeing someone smoking. Then it hit, I don’t remember seeing anyone smoke in the 7 days I was there, it was a breath of fresh air from all the huffing and puffing I often see in the different places I visit. As the woman continued enjoying her smoke, we drove past on our way to the Airport to catch a flight to Toronto Canada, for the next agenda on the schedule.
I arrived in Cleveland, Ohio State in USA with Zanele Muholi on February 3. 2016. The Cleveland Museum of Art invited Muholi for its Contemporary Artists Lecture Series. The lecture was scheduled for Saturday, February 6 and a change of venue was necessary due to a higher volume of RSVPs than initially anticipated. As expected, we had our fare share of jet lag, having travelled more than 18 hours from Johannesburg.
However there was a schedule that had to be honoured. The first public engagement on February 4 was the screening of one of Muholi’s successful projects, her award-winning documentary Difficult Love. It was part of Sistah Sinema’s monthly screenings, with the Cleveland version hosted at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA). Sistah Sinema is a space for films by queer women of color and was started in 2011 in Seattle, and continues to grow its footprint in other parts of the country. An upbeat Deidre McPherson who is the founding director of Sistah Sinema’s Cleveland chapter waited for us as we arrived at MOCA. She greeted us with a broad smile, firm handshake and what I sensed to be some nervousness; trying to make sure we are comfortable.
First to arrive was a mature gentleman, whom Deidre identified as a regular in the screenings. More people started arriving and picking seats ready to watch the doccie. The screening was ended by an engaging Q&A session with the artist. We concluded the cold night by going out for dinner at an Asian restaurant that served potions that can conquer any appetite.
A final sound and visual check, interview with Phyllis Seven Harris who is the Executive Director of LGBT Community Center of Greater Cleveland as well as Student Critiques at Cleveland Institute of Art kept us busy the day before Muholi’s Public Lecture.
We arrived at Gartner Auditorium an hour before the talk was scheduled to start and finalised our setup and watched as the venue started filling up. Barbara Tannenbaum, curator of photography at Cleveland Museum of Art opened the event by introducing Muholi and made a special announcement about her [Muholi] being honored with a 2016 Infinity award. Muholi started her lecture by giving a brief historical background on South Africa. “This year marks twenty years since the SA Constitution was amended, ten years since same sex marriage was legalised and celebrate twenty-two years of democracy,” explained the activist. She acknowledged how homosexual rights are unfortunately not a reality for many talented African artists and activists who cant speak out due to repressive laws in other parts of the continent.
After outlining the pillars behind her work which include Visual History/Archiving, Self-Representation, Collaborations, Participations and Collectivism Muholi started projecting her images, starting with her latest project, Somnyama Ngonyama. She informed the audience that she opted to “use her body as material,” as a way of taking a stance against racism in South Africa and other parts of the world. Moving on to other projects, the artivist shared how losing and continuing to lose friends forced her to document the LGBTI community.
After concluding the lecture Muholi was whisked to another part of the museum for a book signing and spend some one on one time with those who had questions.
Click to view slideshow.
Previous lectures
2015 Dec. 8: Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia
and
2015 Oct. 14: Brief visit to Amherst
and
2015 Oct. 9: Muholi presents at Penny Stamps Distinguished Speakers Series
and
2015 Sept. 8: Faces and Phases presented at Hasselblad Foundation
and
2015 Sept. 2: When Faces Meet in Gothenburg, Sweden
and
2015 Aug. 23: Muholi and Dumse present at Light Work AIR
and
2015 March 12: Muholi addressed scholars at Brighton University, UK
and
2015 Feb. 27: Announcement
Public Lecture by Zanele Muholi @UCLAN, London
and
2014 July 18: Women’s Day Lecture at UFS
and
2014 June 17: Muholi’s Ryerson University (RIC) Talk
and
2014 Mar.21: Photo of the Day from Human Rights and LGBTI in Sub-Saharan Africa class
and
2014 Mar. 18: Sharing South African Queer Knowledge with students in America
and
2014 Mar.5: More than an activist
and
2014 Feb.4: Black Queer Born Frees in South Africa
and
2013 Nov. 4: From Market Photo Workshop to Bremen University
Text and photos by Lerato Dumse
They say and I believe that you forget the feeling of pain. You might not forget the incident that caused you pain, but the actual pain, you forget. I remember some particular cold days in my life, however I don’t remember feeling as much cold induced pain on my face as I felt while walking in Toronto Canada on February 11 2016, on my way to attend the Ryerson University Alumni Awards.
We arrived in Toronto on February 9 because Zanele Muholi was being honoured with an Outstanding International Alumni Award, as a former MFA student in Documentary Media at Ryerson University. A day before the awards Muholi paid a visit to a documentary class at the School of Image Arts for a public Visual Activism talk.
We stayed at the Chelsea Hotel that was less than a 10-minute walk to the Sears Atrium where the awards were held. So it made more sense to walk and avoid being stuck in afternoon traffic. Since everyone had “warned” us about the cold weather, I made sure that I dressed warm, but Toronto managed to sneak an uppercut on my face.
We eventually arrived and were pleased with the warmth that welcomed us inside. We made our way to the 3rd floor where the award ceremony was taking place. We joined the queue to check-in our coats, Muholi had to leave for a dry run of the ceremony and meet with the President, Vice-President and Chancellor, after handing over my coat I made my way inside to begin shooting.
I appreciate meeting and interacting with black people when I am outside of South Africa, I admit that I am spoiled since I come from a country where I form part of the majority. So I feel strange when I arrive at an event and I am one of less than five black people, which was the case at the awards. Nonetheless I floated amongst the crowd, capturing candid shots of Muholi as she mingled.
A friendly lady came up to me and we struck a conversation starting with the weather of course, before moving on to my favourite topic, politics. The alumni awards coincided with South Africa’s State Of The Nation Address, in explaining the current political happenings in SA I spoke about the various #MustFall movements. She seemed to be shocked by my support of the #RhodesMustFall movement and told me to wait while she “tries to find someone she can introduce me to,” that was the last time I saw her that evening.
The ceremony began, the catering and open bar service were halted as everyone found a seat and settled down. Tyler Forkes who is the Assistant Vice-President, Alumni Relations took to the podium as the Master of Ceremonies and invited the Interim President and Vice Chancellor, Mohamed Lachemi to the stage to give his opening remarks.
Followed by Ronald D. Besse who was tasked with welcoming the six recipients. As a Ryerson alumni who graduated with a degree in Business Administration in 1960 and continues to serve the institution, Besse was able to make an impassioned plea to the award recipients to continue finding ways to support Ryerson and its programmes. While sharing about the hard work done by various volunteers and board members to raise funds for Ryerson, he was also successful in introducing laughter in the formal and low-lit room.
The alumni awards were established 18 years ago (1998) when Ryerson celebrated half a century since it’s founding and half a decade as a university.
The moment of truth finally arrived, and Interim Vice-President, University Advancement, Rivi Frankle was called to the front to facilitate the handover of the award certificates .
2016.02.11: Muholi received an award from Rivi Frankle and Mohamed Lachemi
Muholi got on stage posed for a photo with her award before approaching the mic to give her acceptance speech. The art activist was full of gratitude for those who supported her vision and work. She paid a special tribute to her mentor and MFA funder, and his wife Lily.
Speaking to the media, professors and friends Muholi continuously spoke about her wish to see more Africans joining the documentary programme and having a scholarship available to prevent them from experiencing the same hardships she faced. “I have deep gratitude to all the people who supported me since the beginning of my photography career, it means that one cannot stop working hard but I need to continue with the on-going projects. I am determined to carry on training photo skills to many individuals and ensure that we have a lot of conscious minded visual activists. People who’ll raise socio-political issues of concern and tackle all forms of prejudice using photography as a tool of articulation,” Muholi affirmed.
I have been fortunate to be able to travel with Muholi and on the 11th of February I had the honour of attending the ceremony where she was recognised. It was a real heart warming moment and one of my biggest tests as a photographer, wondering if I would be able to capture the moment, so it can be shared with many, especially those back at home.
Check more on 2016 Alumni Achievement Award recipients
Related link
2013 Nov. 4: From Market Photo Workshop to Bremen University
Text and photos by Lerato Dumse
So here I was, looking at the beautiful night view of New York City from thousands of feet in the air. While the plane made a descent into LaGuardia airport, my excitement ascended as I tried to capture many shots from the window seat on the left side of the flight.
Zanele Muholi, Themba Vilakazi and I ended up in the late night flight because our original flight from Columbus, Ohio had been cancelled due to the bad weather that affected NYC days before. After some negotiating we were transferred to the next available flight which was a different airline and going to a different airport. The first sign that my haven ended on touchdown was when we were stuck inside the plane for over 15 minutes while waiting for someone to open the door. Eventually we were freed and after disembarking we headed to baggage claim, where the next part of the adventure continued. With no clear communication we moved up and down the carousels until we were told which two might have them.
Together with a handful of fellow passengers we waited for our bags. After waiting for more than an hour, an employee from American Airlines came to announce that our bags were never on the flight and said we need to come to the baggage office. After taking down our details we were given toiletry bags (which are not user friendly for a black female) and given little hope or indication of when we would receive our luggage. Our check-in time at the Airbnb was 3pm and now we were leaving the airport past 11pm, I was just praying the person who was supposed to give us the key would not dose off.
Fortunately all went well and we arrived at our new home had some pizza and called it a night.
We woke up the next morning February 17 2016; it was a big day on the calendar. Muholi had a public lecture at New York University’s (NYU) Gallatin School of Individualized Study.
The talk was scheduled to coincide with her exhibition at the school titled Zinathi. The show, which opened on February 5, premiered many of the photos installed. Zinathi beautifully merged Faces and Phases and Somnyama Ngonyama, while a video projection play on the opposite wall featuring documentaries and art videos including Difficult Love, Lona Wumzimba Wami, We Live in Fear, Puma Film for Peace. The innovative show presented some of the Somnyama self-portraits in metal plates.
The on-going Faces and Phases series had both follow up portraits and new participants. Portia Modise, former Banyana Banyana striker who is the first soccer player from the African continent to score more than 100 international goals is one of the new faces in the project.
While self-portraiture is the route explored by the activist in her latest body of work Somnyama Ngonyama. This talented artist has turned the camera on herself, in what she calls an “artist’s response to on going racism.” The images were taken in different locations whilst travelling in Africa, America and Europe. Muholi describes this process as one of self-discovery, and so through this series we get to see and experience the many ways she imagines herself.
Muholi opened the talk by sharing that she had planned to study at NYU and be supervised by Deb Willis, whose work she read and still goes back to her work Family History Memory. Born during apartheid South Africa (SA) to a domestic worker mother and Malawian migrant father, Muholi admitted that she didn’t grow up with a camera.
“I am a product of bantu education, which causes many people to continue being affected by unemployment,” Muholi explained. The archivist revealed that her talk would focus on contemporary SA and not venture into the 1700s history. As a precautionary measure in her LGBTI work, Muholi admitted that she works with people who are out of the closet. “I did not want to end 2014 without including and recognising Portia hence I documented her on Christmas Eve of that year.”
Muholi echoed her sentiments that members of the LGBTI community cannot rely on mainstream media to “document and tell our story” so she took it upon herself to also document. The visual activist then projected her wok, which included a diptych image relating to the death of Sandra Bland, the image was created while she was on residency at Light Work in Syracuse.
The activist also shared how her work aims to inform racists that, “we are black 365 days and don’t have to mimic it.”
26.02.2016 Muholi speaking at the closing of Zinathi exhibition in New York
Celebrating the ending of the successful show with NYC friends at NYU Gallatin gallery. From L-R: Elaine, Yvonne, Elliot, Muholi, Christin, Mahlot, Rin and Jenna.
Related links
2016 Feb. 12: Outstanding demonstration of excellence
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2016 Jan. 31: Muholi’s upcoming mo(ve)ments
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2015 Dec. 8: Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia
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2015 Oct. 14: Brief visit to Amherst
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2015 Oct. 9: Muholi presents at Penny Stamps Distinguished Speakers Series
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2015 Sept. 8: Faces and Phases presented at Hasselblad Foundation
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2015 Sept. 2: When Faces Meet in Gothenburg, Sweden
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2015 Aug. 23: Muholi and Dumse present at Light Work AIR
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2015 March 12: Muholi addressed scholars at Brighton University, UK
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2015 Feb. 27: Announcement
Public Lecture by Zanele Muholi @UCLAN, London
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2014 July 18: Women’s Day Lecture at UFS
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2014 June 17: Muholi’s Ryerson University (RIC) Talk
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2014 Mar.21: Photo of the Day from Human Rights and LGBTI in Sub-Saharan Africa class
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2014 Mar. 18: Sharing South African Queer Knowledge with students in America
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2014 Mar.5: More than an activist
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2014 Feb.4: Black Queer Born Frees in South Africa
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2013 Nov. 4: From Market Photo Workshop to Bremen University
