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Pumla Gqola’s mind exhilarates. The tone of her writing in this book is as conversational as it is probing and insightful. Doors of insight open up page after page with daring freshness. Here is a literary presence that makes thinking a pleasure.
Njabulo S Ndebele
Is Simphiwe Dana full of contradictions? Without a doubt. But so are the rest of us. What sets her apart is that she is not only a genius, according to the author, but a renegade. The book is an exploration of this theme in the public life of Dana: the musician vs. the social activist; the feminist vs. the tabloid sleaze fodder… The author looks for the meaning of Dana’s music and distils the answer to: “our insides matter”. This portrait of Dana – it is not a biography – derives its charm, and occasional irritation, in that the author is a self-confessed fan and friend of the artist. It is a timely square in the quilt that is Simphiwe Dana, an outstanding artist of her generation.
Lizeka Mda
Near every sentence in this book is a piece of soul music. I was left impressed, envious, and excited. While it claims to be about thinking of Simphiwe Dana out loud, the book is really a beat for millions of gifted, young, uncontainable Simphiwes who dare reimagine our society. I know of very few scholars who can make feminism sound so clear, enjoyable, hip, right and black, all at once.
Kopano Ratele
In A Renegade Called Simphiwe, Dana is described as being a planet, rather than a star. If so, then this book is the tidal flow that both reveals and conceals that planet. It wonderfully mimics the contradictions that its subject embodies, blending the passionate play of emotional involvement with the rigour of academia to produce a book that is both a pleasure to read and a spur to introspection.
Chris Roper
A Renegade Called Simphiwe
Pumla Dineo Gqola
For my parents, Thato and Dambile, with all my love, and in deepest gratitude
For my own engagement with images, I often prefer less information, some blurryness, some grey areas, some wonderment/questions… I am attempting to open up a variety of possibilities to the readings, or even destabilise some clear-cut fixed positions. I think people are often annoyed by the blurriness, so whether this strategy works is anyone’s guess.
Ingrid Masondo
Think it through. Being human means there are decisions you may not survive.
Simphiwe Dana
Our visions begin with our desires.
Audre Lorde
Acknowledgements
Although one person sits in front of her computer to write the many words that eventually become a book, a book is also the result of many others’ efforts. I am extraordinarily blessed to have many people in my life who made writing this book possible through various forms of support, listening, loving and pushing.
Melinda Ferguson, thank you for asking me to write my dream project as part of the first five books on your imprint. Thank you for your faith in me and the freedom that only a writer can bestow on another. As importantly, thank you also for the courageous inspiration in your life choices to face some odd and scary places within myself. I know I have tested your patience and almost lost both our minds in the process, but I appreciate you more than you know.
Simphiwe Dana, thank you for the magical music, for your beauty and for your generous spirit, all of which inspired this book. I hope some of what lies between these pages feels true to you.
I am eternally grateful for my writer friends who put up with my endless talking about the book, instead of writing it. Gail Smith, as usual, let me go on many tangents, affirmed me and loved me. Thank you for doing such a wonderful job of co-mothering our son. Dina Ligaga, for always pretending I am much more interesting than I am, for teaching me so much and for being gentle with me. Sarah Chiumbu, for always telling me what you think, being generous with your heart and time. Angelo Fick, Yethu’s uncle, who will not agree with me on any popular culture topic but has given me almost two decades of love, laughter and the best intellectual conversations.
Thozama Vokwana, Thumeka Scwebu Sibulela, Unathi Conjwa Mdlungu, thank you for being constants in my life. Thozie, I can’t wait to hold your book in my hands soon. Putuma Patrice Gqamana, our conversations and your friendship truly feed my spirit.
My wonderful brother, Sizwe, who brought his friend and my chosen brother Mandla to the last book launch and lets me complain about writing ad nauseam. I do hope you make more time for your own writing in the midst of your exciting life. My brilliant sister, Viva, who never gets tired of reading endless bits and pieces from me or of playing the same games with me. Amazing Lebo, who has always believed I could achieve things more spectacular than my wildest dreams. Big sisters don’t come better than you. Ncumisa, my chosen sister and oldest friend, who bought multiple copies of my previous book and pretended to buy them for a range of people I have never heard of. Tat’ uTshezi, my daddy’s best friend, thank you, Tenza, for calling me to tell me how proud you are of me when it matters, since Daddy’s passing on.
Khalo Matabane who laughed at me when I was having mini-crises about nothing and convinced me to laugh too. George Lwanda who shared his tastes in non-fiction titles with me, made me laugh until I cried, and reminded me that generosity should only be met in kind. Thank you for both embodying your middle name and also for holding up a mirror to my face when that was the last thing I wanted to look into. Thank you for helping me make the decision to join the rooms that are saving my life one day at a time.
Shireen Hassim who always knows exactly what to say even when I haven’t seen her in months and we are both rushing in opposite directions. Nomntu Mali, thirty-one years after first meeting you, I still want to be you when I grow up. Prudence Mabena, Thandisa Nkonyeni and Puleng Shirley Koaho, friends of my youth who have come back into my life with such grace, insight and magic as I wrote this book and continue to teach me, makes me a better person and therefore writer.
Achieng and Zuri Ojwang who came to pick Yethu up for an outing that turned into a sleep-over, and Nonceba Ludidi for lovingly taking our sons on so many elaborate excursions as I wrote. Achieng and Nonceba, I am delighted by your friendship. Sithabile Ndlovu, my life would be utter chaos without you. Thank you for being the other mother to my son for these past five years.
Thank you, Grace A. Musila, who edited this manuscript with the grace of a writer and her signature generosity intellectually and personally.
And finally, to my angel boy, Yethu, who fills my heart with utter bliss every single day. I promise we can google image superheroes many times a day again now that Mama is not ‘always working on the book’. And I am really sorry we lost Menisana.
Preface
In the last decade, I have been fascinated by the ways in which South Africa seems to be experiencing what I have now taken to calling ‘a creative explosion’. I have been amazed by how many really daring artists exist at this time who so brazenly create
