Posts

The art of loving

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Ndiphe olo thando Ndibathande bonke Ngomphefumlo nangenqgondo  nangamandla onke

Almost ten years ago I got my first tattoo: Luthando eyona nto, Love is the greatest. Not only did it mark my body, it marked who I was becoming. My first tattoo co-incided with me leaving the church and trying to figure out spirituality and who I am for myself. I had been raised in the church; I knew all the hymns and scriptures but something didn’t feel right. In leaving the church I knew I wasn’t leaving God—or rather God wasn’t leaving me—but I was leaving the church version of God which did not make any sense with the spiritual experiences which had led me to God when I was in high school and my childhood. I had experienced God through the love I received from others. I knew God existed because I had seen people choose love. So in leaving the church I took with me some of the gifts I needed to navigate the new experience of seeking for myself and the importance of understanding love has been an enduring …

On Spirituality

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A while ago I thought I was doing a thread on Twitter. Turns out I did it all wrong so I've decided to rework the tweets into a blog post of sorts.
I was musing about spirituality; African spirituality to be specific. I've been to a few occasions and her people reference "African theology" which is unusual in the Methodist church. But I recognised it as a response to the moment where people ware talking about spirituality beyond the Christian discourse. Obviously this has been happening for years but within the context of the consequences of Christianity and even Atheism in relation to young people who find themselves estranged from their family's traditions while living in complexes and estates. 

So here are my musings:
MaAfrika,can we talk about ukuphahla?Ingxaki is this,our bodies and spirits want to do something some of our parents refused to teach us in the name of impucuko. Now our spirits remember something we lost #threadI started having this conversation a …

Remembering my grandmothers

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A few months ago I got atattoo with my grandmothers’ names: Hlathi and Bhele. Hlathi is my paternal grandmother’s isiduko and Bhele is my maternal grandmother’s isiduko. I have also been fascinated by how no one called them by their names but rather their family names. Their names are part of a picture of Xhosa women dancing taken by Constance Stuart Larabee. It is on my arm above my elbow. Below that is an image a student of mine drew of a woman wearing a headwrap and where there’s supposed to be a face there’s a fist: she told me it represented parts of who I am: strength, black consciousness, black womanhood.

4th of July

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