Bio: Loves Africa. With all its complexities, its color and its noise. Her goal is to visit at least half of all African countries in this lifetime, north, east, south and west. Her work has appeared in O the Oprah Magazine, True Love, Move, Cleo, Cosmopolitan, House&Leisure, Clutchmagonline.com, Mimi Magazine and Marie Claire.
Posts by Luso Mnthali:
Ten African Descended Beauty Queens You Should Know
May 4th, 2012Miss Black France was recently crowned and it got me wondering – what was the point? Are we still at a point where we need to beg to be included in pageants that have been including representatives of black beauty for years now? What are side pageants such as Miss Black France offering that the bigger main competitions just aren’t? I’m of two minds about this. One is they might be necessary for a short while, but the other means presenting the atttude that black beauty is under threat in some societies. It doesn’t make for a convincing argument when you seek inclusion. Then again I don’t live in France.
Black women have in the past won the mainstream Miss France, but in some quarters it was not enough. They believed there were women who still remained unnoticed or ignored by that particular pageant. The Miss Black France organisers had the go ahead from the main Miss France owners, but some raised a few expertly threaded eyebrows. Was this a dangerous precedent that they were setting for the long of limb and pulchritudinous of face? Or is there some real merit to bringing back these sorts of pageants? I’m not so sure.
There still seems to be an aura of entitlement (ahem) surrounding these competitions but I’d like to think we’ve come a long way, and aren’t reverting back to those days of separate and unequal competitions. Well, it is beauty after all – there are no equals. But as far as taking note of black women, I think these pageants continue to do that, for what it’s worth.
1. Miss France 2000
Sonia Rolland
Her mother is Rwandan and father is French.
2. Miss Universe (Angola) 2011
Leila Lopes
The fourth black woman to win this title and current queen. Go Leila!
3. Miss Universe (Trinidad and Tobago) 1998
Wendy Fitzwilliam
I remember watching this and thinking, now there goes a smart, strong, beautiful black woman. I can still hear the words of the ad for the next year’s pageant in her home country. The way she would say “rule the universe” always made my day. She was the second African descended woman, also from Trinidad and Tobago, to capture the title. The first was Janelle Commissiong in 1977.
4. Miss Universe (Botswana) 1999
Mpule Kwelagobe
The third woman of African descent to win this title. She went to my high school in Botswana. Of course, everyone says they knew her back when…
We’re really proud of this woman, who won it straight after Wendy Fitzwilliam. The 90s were good to black women.
5. Miss America 1983
Vanessa Williams
In the year Oprah won Miss Black Tennessee year the Miss America pageant had not yet fully integrated. The first black Miss America was Vanessa Williams, crowned a good 12 years after Oprah had her turn in the segregated pageants of the South. Miss Black Tennessee, a scholarship pageant, still exists. Even though Vanessa had to relinquish her crown due to some nude photos suddenly rocking up to displace her win, a black woman, Suzette Charles, took over her reign. And from where we’re standing, Vanessa (and Oprah) just went from strength to strength. Scandal, what scandal?
6. Miss Honduras 2011
Keilyn Gomez
She went to the Miss Universe pageant in 2011 and represented with her natural hair. I remember thinking now why don’t more black women, more beauty queens, just be themselves? She also talked about authenticity, which she had down pat.
7. Miss World (Nigeria) 2001
Agbani Darego
The first black African Miss World. There had been two white South Africans to hold the title before her.
8. Miss France 2009
Chloe Mortaud
Her parentage is African-American mother and French father.
9. Miss South Africa (1992, 1993, 1994)
The special thing about these editions of Miss South Africa was that it was the first time a black woman had won the title in the mixed event. Before that, there was a Miss South Africa and a Miss Black South Africa. Confused? I know I was. What used to happen was that Miss South Africa was a segregated pageant, just like the population. It was Apartheid after all. Then came Nelson Mandela’s release, and it was just a short while to go until beauty pageant Apartheid couldn’t show its ugly face. So there went Amy Kleinhans, what South Africans call a Coloured woman, testing the waters as Miss South Africa in 1992. Not Miss Black South Africa, but queen of all she surveyed as Miss South Africa. Small steps. Finally ‘non-whites’ could also compete in the same pageant. You couldn’t just spring a whole dark face on the unsuspecting white population, so when Amy won the country could see what the reception of a not completely white Miss South Africa would be. Turns out she was accepted just fine, so the organisers decided it was time to make a big splash. It was then Jacqui Mofokeng’s turn in 1993. And then finally, the one everyone, black and white, still knows and loves – the 1994 freedom ringer queen: Basetsana Makgalamele (pictured left, now Kumalo). Miss South Africa still puzzles everyone from time to time (white women still win it more than any other group) but they finally got it right in at least conceding that black people are the majority and there should be a black Miss South Africa to represent the country. Now and then. At least there’s no more sending one white and one black representative to Miss World, where one is called Miss South Africa and the other is called Miss Africa South. Africa South, hell is that? I sat next to Miss South Africa 2004, Claudia Henkel, back when we were in law school. I also auctioned her off for charity there once. She was definitely no fun to walk around campus with, the differences in height were comical. But black and white could totally walk around campus, study, eat, talk together and compete in national beauty pageants. Well, she could, I couldn’t! Heavens no. But many young women, black, coloured and those of Asian descent in South Africa know that they have that chance, no matter what we ultimately think of beauty pageants. They are free to do so
10. Miss Black France 2012
Mbathio Beye
15 Songs for Malawi’s First Female President
April 9th, 2012Malawi’s president Bingu wa Mutharika (Christened Tryson Webster Thom when he was born) has died of a heart attack last week Thursday. Mutharika was in power for eight years, and was grooming his brother to succeed him. His vice-President, Joyce Banda, whom he expelled from the ruling party in 2010, went on to form another party, a fact which those in power at the time of his death wanted to cling to, in order to prevent her assuming the presidency.
After a brouhaha swirled over reports of his death, and it was greatly feared that a succession battle was taking place in the corridors of power, wisdom and the Constitution finally prevailed. We Malawians now have a female head of state, Her Excellency President Joyce Hilda Banda.
To say that I am so very proud to be Malawian right now…it’s a little overwhelming. Of course this is not the end of our troubles, but I hope she can restore faith in organs of state. I hope she surrounds herself with the right people, and does not succumb to the beguiling ways of power. On our continent, it is all too often that good leaders, or potentially good leaders, choose tangled paths. Madam President, here’s to a good tenure. May you lead with fortitude and grace, and may my beloved birthplace see a new dawn. Kwacha!
*Kwacha means dawn. It is our currency, and also sets a jubilant tone when said out loud, with a fist raised.
1. Fela Kuti: Coffin for Head of State
Pretty self-explanatory.
2. Third World: Jah Love.
Reggae has always been huge in Malawi, and Third World is gold. Malawi Gold! Dagga, sensimilia or weed is known as chamba in Malawi. Folk always want to talk about Malawi Gold with me…they should try Jah Love.
3. Lucky Dube: Together As One.
The patron saint of African reggae, Lucky Dube, has a special place in the hearts of many Malawians. RIP. You are missed. And yes, Bingu, RIP. Unfortunately, you won’t be too missed. I’m just stating facts here. (Video filmed in Cape Town. As per usual.) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIReRYHd1cU&feature=related
4. Yvonne Chaka Chaka: From Me To You.
To say Malawians have a soft spot for South African music is an understatement. And of course women really represent in African music. Business and politics? We’re getting there.
5. Brenda Fassie: Black President.
An obligatory MaBrrr song on this list. If you know me, you know I adore this woman. Just as an aside, and not much to do with Malawi, really, but when I lived in Washington DC, I saw her boobs-baring performance at the Zanzibar club (yes the one the Time Magazine music special decided Africa was not ready for.) We’re always ready for a spot of boobs-baring. Just not in Malawi – a highly conservative, cover yourself from head to toe type of nation.
6. Spoek Mathambo: Stuck Together
A song about forever love, and has the word tombstones…just listen: “let me rest my bones, lay me down to sleep now.” In recent years, President Bingu liked to refer to Malawians as his children. Ah, well. We’re also, as a nation, stuck together. Bingu or no Bingu. From the old to the new. Let the past rest. Ah, geez. I just like this song, okay?
7. Led Zeppelin: Stairway to Heaven
Of course. As an African and a rock music enthusiast (often seen as a rare breed), how would we leave the gods of rock out? I think, Bingu, your stairway lies on the whisperin wind… DPP woyeeee! (A politicking phrase he has come to be known for)
8. Destiny’s Child: Independent Women
Both the band name and the song name are great. President Joyce Banda got rid of her first husband (I would have liked to say she kicked his ass to the curb, but she took her kids and left him – dignified woman), and is now coming back harder than ever as a President.
9. Sam Cooke: A Change Is Gonna Come
That most handsome of all of yesteryear’s singers, Sam Cooke. Classic. And always relevant.
10. Jimmy Cliff: Give The People What They Want
And what they want is for our roots woman to turn things around. And it’s the truth, woman.
11. The Very Best: Warm Heart of Africa.
Esau Mwamwaya is a Malawian with an international profile as a musician. With London-based DJ/production duo Radioclit, he formed The Very Best. Anyone who sings about loving the Warm Heart of Africa is a good egg in my book. And the indie rock outfit Vampire Weekend features.
12. Madonna: Holiday.
This song a hit in Malawi when it first came out. We didn’t know back then…
Also the late president died on the eve of a major holiday. Malawians comprise 80% Christians, so Easter weekend is super-important. I won’t even go into the whole prophesy thing, it irks me. Also, I didn’t realise Madonna’s choreography was so bad back then.
13. Queen: Radio Ga Ga
This always reminds me of Malawi. I remember my family visiting from Botswana in 1984 and there was not a day we didn’t hear this song. Radio is still the main news and entertainment provider in my country. Also, now you know how old I am.
14. El Presidente: Without You.
This video just cracks me up. Malawi’s main export is tobacco. I first heard this song in law school. The words are also interesting for our purposes. (‘For our purposes’ is an awful phrase I heard a lot in law school) I encourage everyone to read the Constitution of their country. And the band is called El Presidente. Dude! Our late president apparently wanted to smoke out us chickens, as he called the people of Malawi. We’ve come home to roost, so smoke that.
15. Blk Sonshine – Building. I love this song, this band. Masauko, one half of Blk Sonshine, is the son of Malawian nationalist the late Henry Chipembere. Peace to all who make Malawi great, and raise our flag. Please get back into the studio Neo and Masauko, you made beautiful music together. Keep building everyone!
Colour My City: A Fashion Tour Through Cape Town (Photos)
March 13th, 2012Young, up and coming South African photographer Zanele Jamjam took us on a fashion tour of Long and Kloof Streets, the fabled ‘spine’ of Cape Town where the world walks, and you can watch the beautiful people from everywhere. Step into any boutique, gallery or cafe in this busy district and you’re sure to find something unique, colourful and inspiring. From designers who call Cape Town home, such as Michelene and Alexandra Hojer, to the now US-based Thulare Monareng, this street is a fashion lover’s delight and offers a glimpse into what makes the city so much fun.
Production and Fashion: Luso Mnthali
Photography and Maquillage: Zanele Jamjam
Models: Vimbiso and Dumisane
Shot on location in the Company’s Gardens, Hadeda Arts and Crafts, and iKhaya Lodge, Cape Town
Africans Are Not Invisible: Rounding Up The Kony 2012 Campaign Debate
March 7th, 2012By now you’ve probably seen the new Kony 2012 video from the Invisible Children organization (already headed towards at the 4 million mark within two days of being posted – the original movie came out in 2006) or if not seen #Kony2012 trending, along with #Uganda and #LRA, and wondered what in heck happened?
If not, brace yourselves, because this is one bumpy ride.
In a year that folk in the US should be concentrating on the polls, their economy, the rights of women (cue Sandra Fluke to center stage) and any manner of issues that can consume a society, they are now being asked to support a crazy activist campaign. Crazy in that once again Africans are being made to look like they need saving by yet another White person with a saviour-narcissist complex. And complex it truly is, as you will read in various of the posts that I will link to. It is too complex an issue for only the Invisible Children organization to be visible in its treatment, but it also owes the critical mass of attention it’s currently receiving to that organization.
Related: Tom’s Shoes, To the Rescue?
Simply put: the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) is a rebel group led by one Joseph Kony, who for over 25 years abducted boys in northern Uganda to become his soldiers, and girls to be sex slaves. At this point, you must know Kony is one hideous, hideous man. No question. And anybody would want to stop him. Yet the timing of this IC campaign is suspicious – why on earth does the IC lead saviour campaigner, former child soldier Jacob’s best friend in the whole world, not explain that Kony is no longer involved in Uganda, and that no one knows where he is? Why is the IC funding the Ugandan military, and how are we even going to sit here through the days of AFRICOM and pretend like the US government and its army are simply ‘advisers’? Why does this campaign look like only Americans can save Ugandans/Africans, when meanwhile Ugandans have been saving and helping themselves for many years? Completely nuts.
Related: African Wealth Still An ‘Old Boys Club’
Crazy in that this hipster almost all-white movement’s axis point, the video that went viral in a day, comes at a crucial time in American politics. A time when the questions asked by some are why neo-colonialist assumptions about the rightness of aid and awareness are no longer finding easy answers. And as Africans we are asking ourselves why now? Before any of you get excited, or don’t, for whatever reason, there are some very real points to take into consideration. From a Ugandan’s perspective like Musa Okwonga’s (he has family ties to the region in question) to Solome Lemma’s take on this campaign, there are some very strong points to be made about why supporting the Kony2012 campaign is the wrong idea.
Related: Meet AfriPOP! Socialite Solome Lemma
Like I said it’s all too complex, and I have my own opinions on the various branches of the story. But suffice to say that the crazy campaign that is Kony2012 is a reflection of white America’s ongoing internal battle: it wants to be seen as ‘the good guy’ always. The white saviour mentality is strong in this IC guy, and even his film exposes this. But that’s just my opinion, I really would like yours.
Let us know what you think.
The Rihanna and Chris Brown Reunion: For Better or For Worse?
February 23rd, 2012The lyrics leave nothing to the imagination, but the imagination is blown thinking a woman who was beaten up by the man featured in the song would go back to him in any way. Looks like Rihanna’s done it in a provocative way too. Gone back to him, publicly, and suggestively – even if only in song.
Rihanna has gone to the edge and we think that for her, there’s no coming back. We know there are a number of women’s organizations and possibly abuse counselors who all want to get a piece of her right now, most likely to ask,“Why?” Why would you do this Robyn Rihanna Fenty? For the most part she is clearly not doing anti-abuse advocates any favors, as she seems to think that singing about wanting to once again sex her ex, her basher boy and confirmed woman-beater/comeback kid, is a good idea. Whatever is on her mind, or not, some of us are just plain tired with talking about how we hate that he was given all the fanfare at his Grammys comeback this year. All based on her history with him. And now here she is. If you ever wanted to find a person on whom not to model your life on young women, here she is.
I know I sound like Granny Hubbard-Mnthali but honestly, this is just beyond yonder, in the words of Jesse Jackson. Okay so say thanks to your ex tweeting you a Happy Birthday. We get it, you’re fine, you’re moving past what happened. Bully for you. But then this? You’re both giving it to us in the worst way, and we want you to go away. Seriously.
It’s not that Rihanna needs the fame or money, she’s got it. But what seems really sad and depraved is that she craves notoriety, in the way that a person used to being in the public eye, for better or worse, does. It’s not enough that she was beaten black and red by Chris Brown in 2009, and has since seemed to have forgive him – we are happy she can heal enough to do that. But she has to go one better in their apparent reconciliation (have you seen anything as juvenile as all these high-jinks? Wait. Don’t answer that.) But just after, or sometime before all that tweeting, these two lights of the world managed to concoct a musical project together.
A sort of birth of their somewhat depraved love-child. Enjoy the ‘Christening’. I’m too through. But if anyone wants more from these fun folk, and major essays and dissections on the pair of them, there are plenty of places to go.
Can Thandie Newton Play an Igbo Woman?
January 31st, 2012No sooner had the announcement been made that the film adaptation of Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s award-winning novel Half Of A Yellow Sun was to star Thandie Newton, than a petition rang out. By now many people, mostly of Igbo or other Nigerian origin, have complained that the casting of Thandie Newton as the book’s Igbo female protagonist Olanna, is a slight they are not willing to suffer. The 2006 book tells the story of the Nigerian-Biafran War of 1967-1970, in which over a million people were killed or died of starvation. To be fair we do not know yet what role Thandie has accepted, but many are outraged that she could possibly be playing the role of Olanna.
The director, Nigerian novelist and playwright Biyi Bandele has a great cast locked into the film, including Nigerian Brit Chiwetel Ejiofor. Surely Bandele could have a say in who plays the Nigerian woman? Why did he not insist on a Nigerian actress if not an Igbo one?
As the petition’s originator, Ashley Akunna, said in the comments section on Clutch:
“This petition is about authenticity. Igbo people come in all complexions. However, the majority are dark brown in complexion. Thandie Newton is a wonderfully talented actress. However, I would be lying to you, if I said I know anyone in my village who looks like her. I have traveled all across Nigeria, from Abuja to Calabar, and Thandie Newton is not an accurate portrayal of what Igbo woman look like. Not in the slightest. Hollywood is known for giving preferential treatment to black female actors of a lighter hue. And that is definitely being displayed here with the casting of Thandie Newton. 365 days out of the year Africans are portrayed in media as some of the darkest people you will ever come across. However, when a role requires a beautiful Igbo actress, they want to cast a bi-racial woman who looks nothing like the people she is supposed to be playing. That is nonsense. Of course I would love an Igbo woman to have this part. But frankly any African woman who fits the description of what an AUTHENTIC IGBO WOMAN looks like will fit the bill. Don’t give me a watered down version of my ancestors and accept me to be happy. It is an insult to Igboland. FULL STOP.”
We clearly shouldn’t take crumbs and call it a three-course meal, as someone else commented.
Clearly the issue is a deep-seated one with us black women. We want to see media representations of ourselves – fair ones, not ones about us being beautiful or having full agency only when we’re fair, light-skinned or bi-racial. Which is basically how it’s worked out thus far. There are not many dark-skinned actresses outside of Nollywood that don’t get a raw deal. We were given a template by others, and we are expected to fully adhere to it. The shame. We have to be represented accurately, especially if the impetus for such representations is from ourselves!
Which is why I support the petition and hope that the production company for Chimamanda’s film strongly reconsiders Thandie Newton for the role, and puts in a Nigerian, darker-skinned actress if not an Igbo woman. I am sure this would be easy to do as there is a wealth of talent in Nigeria. We need to see other faces besides the well-known ones from the West. Cast someone well-known in Nigeria and trust me that movie will make bank like nobody’s business. Because Nigeria is the second-biggest film industry in the world (after India) it makes sense to take on the viable marketing scheme of a Nigerian face, rather than a British-Zimbabwean one, much as we adore Thandie.
It’s interesting how this works – you write a book, it is your IP, but through birth, it also belongs to the people you belong to and wrote about. The book is now the cultural heritage of the Igbo people. I wonder if the author takes no issue with who portrays one of her characters. Is this not part of the danger of a single story about Africans or black people that she herself warned of? We are multi-hued, let the contemporary portrayals of Africans finally reflect that.
Ogochukwu Nzewi, an Igbo woman living in South Africa, weighed in:
“There must have been prior engagement with her for her to be happy with the casting – it’s not something she’s hearing about now. Many factors contribute to make a movie, including financiers. She may have had to compromise, though unfavourable to many of us. It may be the excitement of having her novel made into a movie. There’s no rush for it to be made a movie. She should have had more editorial control, and put her foot down on casting. It should be as close to the novel as possible and not be compromised. Also, it’s the same old London movie mafia – where are the new faces? We have brilliant Nigerian actresses, even those living in London!”
“We don’t know who Thandie’s playing – but the question remains – how much can we compromise? We continue to have these voices, representing us. And they are not always close to our truths.”
Does Trevor Noah Care About African-Americans? (+ Video)
January 15th, 2012Trevor Noah, the young South African comedian who has built his stock in trade on telling uncomfortable jokes about race, was great on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno last week. If I want to tell someone I admire them, but then slap them afterwards, like he did, this would be my time to do it. He made us laugh, and he made us proud. He almost didn’t embarrass us. Almost. The second half of his set, though, made me cringe. I knew it would be problematic for some people. Trevor is what we here in the hyper-racialized society of post-Apartheid South Africa still call ‘Coloured’. Not mixed race, nor biracial, but Coloured. That good old moniker for black folks from a pre-Civil Rights America. Yet here we are, and this twenty-something comedian who looks like a lot of people in Cape Town, but usually recounts that he isn’t a Cape Coloured in many of his routines, has done something I’m extremely uncomfortable with. Trevor’s (read: socially dysfunctional construct) racial make-up is black South African mother and (white) Swiss father. So don’t call him out, he feels your pain as a black person anywhere. And as a Coloured person. And as a white person. He’s exempt, he’s everything.
He’s made fun of “black men’s credit ratings” in a year when the US is pretty much broke, and it’s not just the black man whose credit stinks. Maybe he was pandering to the mostly white audience, who knows? But when it comes to a man from Africa denying a whole group of people something they fought hard for, it’s time to call Trevor out. His stereotypes do hurt people.
Not only did he make fun of some African-American names, he also said they shouldn’t be called African-American, because they’re not African. Huh? Who died and made him President Of All Africans And Their Affairs? Is he the New Brother Leader? African-Americans elected to call themselves this, no-one was going to give it to them, and no-one should certainly take it away. Witness how white folk from South Africa were all over him after the performance, saying how proud he’d made them. Hmm. It stinks of something.
Making jokes about a group of black people, a comedic generalization that could look like a cheap stunt to some, is risky. Trevor, who was called out on Twitter the day after his performance by an African-American man, defended himself by tweeting: “Lmao. An American called me racist for speaking about some black Americans. I’m not racist some of my best parents are black!” See, can’t call him out he’s black and therefore has no prejudice in his routines, ncaw…!
It’s hard for comedians, they can’t use the material they used to use any more. It’s sort of dated, because those ‘Shaniqua/Dashiqua’ jokes were already told in the 90s, by African-Americans might I add. But that was when white people would laugh amongst themselves, or with their African friends. “Don’t you think that’s such a ridiculous name? What kind of name is that?” I would just smile, and walk away where I didn’t have to answer their slimy racism. It’s no laughing matter when it’s your children being named something you believe is close to an African name. Something that’s close to a name the same laughing white people’s ancestors changed, arbitrarily. This is what Trevor’s Twitter respondent says: “We don’t know where we’re from, like you.” I think Trevor touched a nerve there. The guy was hurt and this time an African was doing the hurting. Read the comments on the NBC website. When are we going to stop this? An audience full of white people, and we’re gonna make fun of each other? It’s too soon!
The 80s and 90s were filled with the quiet desperation of Africans at home and abroad having to watch people who looked like them, make disparaging comments and racist jokes about them. The horrible ooga booganess of it all, bone in nose included, made it difficult for Africans on American campuses to mix easily with other black students. I know it was about a certain kind of fear and misinformation, of not wanting to be associated with ‘those type of blacks’ and it came from both sides. No side was not guilty of prejudice, but it certainly had a linked history. This is our dirty linen: we were divided. But in many instances we crossed that divide, and tried to understand each other.
Names are difficult. There is a place in Botswana called Kanye. When everyone kept talking about Kanye West, I thought it was a new beautiful part of Kanye, Botswana, that I didn’t know about. I didn’t know Trevor wanted to be ‘the coolest black in the world’, but it didn’t sound like a compliment. Trevor, I wish you all the success in the world – but backhanded compliments aren’t really compliments. They’re just mean, namean?
Kwaito Singer Mshoza’s Lighter Shade and the Politics of Skin Bleaching in Africa
December 8th, 2011It was bound to happen.
We seem to be a carbon copy, if not an unreasonable facsimile, of that the land of the free and home of the brave. South African Kwaito artist Mshoza is only doing very publicly what a number of Africans have been doing to themselves for years under what they believed to be the veil of secrecy. Skin bleaching was once such a problem in South African the government banned the bleaching agent hydroquinone, which makes you ‘light and bright.’
In fact hydroquinone was linked as a possible carcinogen according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, which is also proposing a ban on any products containing the chemical.
Okay now that we’ve done the public service announcement, what on earth is Mshoza thinking?
This week she appeared on the popular South African talk show Motswako to declare her “passion to be white”. The horrified interviewer, Penny Lebyane, later said “Yes I was angry, Yes I took it personal! Yes I even wanted to shake her so I can get her to realize what she’s doing to herself!”
Now with all the jibes, twitter rants, expressions of horror and solidarity with blackness etc, let’s get real. Fact is the light skin amongst many societies, not least black ones, have always been considered most desirable or, if attainable, a mark of not only beauty but upward mobility.
Mshoza’s declaration goes one better than the king of pop ever did – she admits she wants to look more white. To her whiteness is something she intrinsically believes will make her happy. Is she really to blame? Or is it the society we live in? As one smart person put it: “our femininity and aesthetic, particularly as Black womyn is a highly politicised space…”
What I find strange are the people wanting to attribute Mshoza’s choices to anything but societal pressures. How are we educating our girls? What kind of self-esteem messages are we giving them? I know that we do not love our girls enough if this is the kind of nonsense that they eventually will end up doing. For a myriad number of reasons, we are taught to hate ourselves from day one, even by people who love us.
But is Mshoza alone in her desire to emulate a certain Eurocentric image of beauty? Perhaps many of us need to have that discussion, with our weaves, our fake nails, and fake eyelashes. Until white people get not only tans but African curly, bouncy, thick and tangly natural hair transplants and weaves, I’m never going to buy that ‘enhancement’ argument. I’ve only ever worn a weave once in my life. I bought a straight-haired wig to hide my bald head during winter. I kept forgetting I had it. It’s not about enhancement, it’s about denouncement, a worldwide phenomenon with black women. If much of what’s on our screens, in our music and out of our mouths is anything to go by, we are a deeply hurt people.
Can we not candidly discuss Mshoza’s decisions as they reflect our society’s ills? Whether her personal inspiration is Christina Aguilera, Michael Jackson or Rihanna, we know that women’s images are constantly being manipulated to suit a certain agenda. When do we get to take back the conversations, and set a new agenda?
Let’s talk about it.
‘Darfur Is Dying’ And It’s All A Game?
December 6th, 2011“He said playing it made him sad.” Susana Ruiz there, speaking about her 9-year-old nephew. Ruiz is the project leader of the USC team that designed the online game Darfur Is Dying sponsored by MTVu in partnership with the Reebok Human Rights Foundation.
So in 2006 the Reebok-sponsored website MTVu decided it would go further than most sportswear companies in deciding who to ask to be their current celebrity endorser. They decided on a game that millions have played before: the ‘game’ of war. And the celebrity in question? None other than the glamour-intensive area in Africa’s largest country by square mile, known as Darfur. At the time, South Sudan was but a hope in the eyes of South Sudanese. It was also ground zero for celebrity self-aggrandizement. People from the vapid world of Hollywood who were looking for ‘the real’ had searched high and low. And they found it in abundance in the deadly and chaotic situation that was Darfur. We all know about George Clooney’s involvement, but there were others, including Ryan Gosling, who made ‘Darfur’ and ‘Save Darfur’ t-shirts into one of those dubious celebrity fashion statements.
But this game, this game I have only just heard of as an African, after apparently over a million people have played to get ‘narrative-based stimulation’ makes me equally, if not more, sick. It’s almost as if each game played was supposed to signify a death, or displacement. As I had to ask my friend, you need a game to have empathy for other people? And college students need a game to stimulate conversation about a region that probably has its own encyclopaedic volume by now. It boggles the mind that people’s suffering can be so charmingly distilled into an easily accessible ‘teachable moment’ in game format. We doubt this was the intent, but the critics of the game are not far off when they say they “have noted that despite the number of players, the actual crisis was unaffected, and the sole outcome of the game was to give publicity to the game’s creators.” Yikes. Sounds like George Clooney. I think we need to see a Borat sketch on this game. Which game do you want Ryan, Dar-Four or Dar-Five?
H/T: Kate Bomz
Get to Know: Director of Sundance Award-winning Feature Film “Pariah”, Dee Rees
November 28th, 2011Photo Credit: Focus Features (l-r.) Aasha Davis as Bina and Adepero Oduye as Alike in writer/director Dee Rees’ Pariah, a Focus Features release.
I recently sat down and had a talk with the amazing filmmaker Dee Rees, about her coming-of-age movie Pariah. Set in a black community in the US, it is the tale of a young lesbian’s struggle growing up under the shade of her family. The movie was screened at Cape Town’s Out in Africa Film Festival, stunning audiences (including myself) to tears. The film’s main protagonist Alike (pronounced Ah-lee-kay) is played by Nigerian Brooklyn-based actress Adepero Oduye.
AfriPOP!: Are any of the characters in the film drawn from your own experiences?
Dee Rees: It’s a semi-autobiographical story and Alike, in the film, is a bit like me at that age, when I was finding myself. Except she’s much younger and I came out when I was 27 years old. Really late. Finding yourself is easy, choosing is the hard part. Alike is a bit like a chameleon where she has to shed those costumes, not check the boxes, of who people want her to be. People are flawed, but are well-intentioned. They’re not actively trying to hurt you.
But where did it actually start? In the film Alike is a budding writer. You say it’s a semi-autobiographical story, but you were not that teenager finding yourself, your coming out took place when you were much older.
Yes, it did. When I did come out there was this big intervention with my family. My mom and my grandmother flew out one weekend: “Are you okay? Did anybody touch you?” “No, I wasn’t touched, I promise nobody touched me.”
Then my dad flew out the weekend after that: “Is it because of the divorce?” “No it’s not because of the divorce.” So yes, a lot of initial trauma like something was wrong.
What’s strange is that my parents used to censor what I watched on TV, but I could read anything. I was reading crazy stuff I wouldn’t have been allowed to watch if it was on TV, but I could read it as long as it was in a book. So writing the story was a cathartic experience. The impetus was reading lots of Audre Lorde. All the poetry in the film is my own original poetry. I also read Alice Walker.
Take us through the process of getting the film made, how long has it taken you from conception to screen?
This started as something I wrote in 2005, from being a thesis I needed to graduate, to making a short film for the graduation (from NYU’s Tisch School of Visual Arts) After that, it was a process of meeting the right people, and having it workshopped through the Sundance Institute, their screenwriter’s lab, then onto the director’s lab. We finally shot it in 2009 in just a few weeks.
The editing process was what took a lot longer, we had to be so thorough, and it was all in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, on my old laptop. We also had to find a distributor. It was a lot harder than it seems, almost no-one wanted to take it on. “It’s what? Black? Black female? Teenagers? Coming of age…what? Lesbian? Hell no!”
I heard you say you fell into this career. Tell me more about how you got to this point?
This is my second life. I figured that with writing you couldn’t have a life. So I got my MBA, it was the degree to have, back then. I started working in marketing, selling panty liners. We were basically selling insecurity. I was spending long hours there, and I thought – you can spend your life doing something you don’t like, or make a change. Then I got laid off. I eventually got another job on the East Coast, selling Dr Scholl’s bunion liners. After that, it wasn’t long until I was selling toothpaste at Colgate-Palmolive.
But then I met the producer of the film, Nekisa Cooper. I had seen an ad being made for the company, and I was very interested in the process, the creative side of bringing an ad to life. I decided to go to film school, and got in despite some saying I wouldn’t be able to do it. I wasn’t even the best in class. It was an uphill learning curve. So yes, I took the cubicle route. From panty liners to here. It wasn’t easy. Film school wasn’t easy, I had to learn everything from the beginning. But, even struggling in that environment was better than being mediocre at something you hate.
The film Pariah is about identity. What other themes do you want explore in your future projects?
I will always come back to the theme of identity because that is what interests me most. Even the new project I am working on, Bolo, which is currently at the script phase, is about identity.
Can you tell us about this new project you’re working on?
[Laughs excitedly] No, I can’t tell you much about it except to say it’s an HBO series and stars Viola Davis. She plays the headmaster at a San Francisco private school.
Would you consider making an African-based or Africa-centred movie with similar themes to Pariah? Don’t know if you know much about the lives of black lesbians in South Africa, but it is a dire situation safety-wise.
Yes, I was actually recently introduced to the amazing photography of Zanele Muholi by a colleague and am also familiar with some of the struggles of black lesbians in South Africa. I would consider making a story set in South Africa with similar themes about identity and family, but I think that there are probably other black South African filmmakers who would have more of a “right” to tell their own story. I’m a firm believer in the idea that if you don’t tell your own story, someone else will tell it for you and that having control of one’s own image and story is an important and empowering cultural necessity. I’d have to think very deeply, and be passionate and confident about the characters and communities that I’d be representing, before coming in as an “American” filmmaker and risking the potential of getting it wrong.
How was the movie received at the various festivals you attended? What are your feelings on that and hopes for the movie once it opens in the US?
The movie has been very positively received at film festivals both domestically and internationally, which proves the universality of its theme. If you strip away the layers of race and sexuality, Pariah at its core is about identity. Identity is a struggle that everyone at some point in their lives has had to deal with. My hope for Pariah’s US theatrical release is simply that it inspires audiences to view the world around them in a different way and sparks much-needed dialogue around LGBT identity across all communities.
Director: Dee Rees
Cast: Adepero Oduye, Pernell Walker, Kim Wayans, Charles Parnell and Aasha Davis.
Pariah has won the Sundance Award for Excellence in Cinematography (Bradford Young is the cinematographer) and opens in selected theatres in the US on December 28 2011.