I had the privilege of attending the opening of the Artscape Women's Humanity Arts Festival 2014. This year's festival Icon is dancer, choreographer and teacher Mamela Nyamza.
Pics from the opening night of the Artscape Women's Humanity Arts Festival 2014.
She put on two shows, 'Hatched', and 'I Stand Corrected' created together with Moijisola Adebayo. I was lucky enough to watch both shows, and to sit in on a pre-show talk she gave at the Artscape Resource Centre where she discussed her journey growing as a young black dancer in a largely white world. I was struck by her hearty honesty as she spoke about her beginnings at the Zama Dance School in Gugulethu, her relationship with the owner and her mentor, Eileen, and her journey across the world sharing the stage with her son Amkele.
Pics from talk at the Artscape Resource Centre.
After watching her dance I was obsessed. Her body is an incredible vessel, both fluid and hard, flexible but strong, and open. The movements were unnatural, but so was the subject matter. Issues of womanhood are rarely simple; like us, the issues we face are various and complex. Something as simple as a one woman admiring another can't be left without the need to correct it in some way, as if it were unnatural. I find love to be non-debatable. Those who claim homosexuality is un-African cling to the same straws as those who suffer under the delusion that all a lesbian woman needs to cure her is 'a good dicking'. That type of thinking has no place in a modern, African mindset. I applaud Nyamza and her associates for having the courage to face and engage with these issues. I challenge African theaters and audiences to create space and support for African artists to address our issues through art.
Pics from a dress rehearsal session before the start of the festival.
What are these issues I keep referring to? I feel like they differ for every woman, so I can only speak for myself. I'll tell you this for free though, I have huge issues with the simultaneous commodification and policing of women's bodies. Short skirt or no short skirt, unwanted comments are constantly thrown onto women's bodies. The attention places value on the amount of flesh concealed, and the moral looseness assumed of she who is forthright with her flesh. And something about the exoticizing of the black female form, sensual and always in some way or another, forbidden. The thrill of her skin on stage struck me, yet it birthed a haunting image of Colonials drooling over bare-chested, black women as they dance. We have nothing to hide. We had nothing to hide until Western modesty shamed us into clothing. A black body on stage should not be this exciting. But it is. I must unpack why that is so, for myself. Why would a mother's body be any less able to dance freely? There is something so undeniably powerful about acknowledging the power our bodies carry. Nyamza is unapologetic about her poise, as well she should be. I feel like I learned a lot about myself and my body through her sharing her art, and for that I am truly grateful.
