There’s a clip from an episode of Aziz Ansari’s Netflix show, Master of None, that I like to use when I’m teaching. It depicts his character at a party with friends and co-workers. A random guy approaches one of the party, a black woman, and tries to buy her drink. She politely declines. Afterwards, while she’s walking… Read More Master of Some
When I was 8-years-old, I had a friend named Jade. Jade lived next door and was an only child to adoring, attentive parents. I was a year or so older than her and we went to different schools, but we bonded over our shared admiration for her impressive suite of Barbies. Her parents weren’t crazy… Read More Heavy Hangs the Head
I come from a long line of women who get shit done. My mother’s mother, Emma, was a force unto herself. After her husband became blind, she went to work as nurse, so that she could support him and her four girls. She learnt to drive, becoming the first woman in her small town to… Read More On leaning in to the moment
Marikana was an echo of where we have come from but Life Esidimeni is a sign of where we’re going. That should scare us all, but not enough of us are paying attention because disabled people were the victims.
If you here require a practical rule of me, I will present you with this: ‘Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings. Arthur Quiller-Couch Ten years ago, I watched a documentary on the life of Nelson Mandela. Instead of… Read More Killing our darling: A meditation on Nelson Mandela’s Legacy
When it came down to it, it was a Grace Mugabe-shaped straw that broke the overburdened camel’s back. I still can’t get over it. Don’t get me wrong, I know that our former first lady, the fabled Amai, is terrible. But is she the most terrible of all the collective indignities we’ve endured? Is her 3-month PhD,… Read More Disgrace
According to all manner of South African media, it was #BlackMonday yesterday. Although I did not wear black or pray for the lost lives of South African farmers, I could not escape the blackness of the day. It rolled over me as I scrolled through pictures of white people proudly displaying the old South African… Read More Just another tragic Monday
When I was in my first year of university, I went, as instructed, to one of my lecturers’ offices to pick up my graded final essay. It was study week and the campus was quiet. I needed the paper to study for the upcoming exam, and had gone to campus specifically to fetch it. The… Read More The Risky Business of Sexual Violence
At least he was hated and killed – it’s better with us we’re still hated and with words. Jacob Zuma on Steve Biko It takes an astonishing lack of self-awareness to liken the (justified) political criticism one receives to the abduction, torture and murder of an anti-Apartheid activist and leader at the hands of a… Read More The Walking Dead
A few months ago, I found myself between a philosophical rock and hard place. The cause of my malaise? A stupid Father’s Day-themed diaper ad. The premise of the advert is pretty silly (and you’re welcome to view the offending ad in all its glory above), but the message it carries is that dads are… Read More Of Myths and Men: masculinity and the politics of the personal
Rumbi Writes 
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