the s as h
When Jo-Ann Strauss appeared onscreen in
2000, mentioning ‘grassroots levels’ while
answering a question, I did not know what
that meant, but I knew that she was brilliant
and from my community. I felt represented –
even as I quietly measured up the standards
reflected onscreen, and how I fell short.
I knew beauty had borders.
Fast-forward to 2019, as Sibabalwe
Gcilitshana made history when she strutted
down the Times Square Sun Arena stage
in a Mantsho gown. With dreadlocks and
a frenulum piercing, the 24-year-old UCT
graduate was the pageant’s first openly
queer contestant.
According to the LGBTQIA Resource
Center, ‘Some people have reclaimed
the word “queer” and self-identify as such.
For some, this reclamation is a celebration
of not fitting into norms... For [others],
“queer” is a radical and anti-assimilationist
stance that captures multiple aspects
of identities.’
‘I use “queer” because my sexuality is
on a spectrum,’ Sibabalwe says. ‘I’ m not
going to label [myself] to make you [the
world] feel comfortable. I’m still growing as
a person. I don't want to just say, “Oh, I’m
Siba the lesbian,” because it almost feels
like I’m limiting myself and the experiences
I’ m still going to have.’
When her colleague at Equal Education
first floated the idea of her entering
the pageant, Sibabalwe answered in
Millennial style: ‘LOL.’ But after realising
that she could amplify her daily activism as
a parliamentary officer and researcher at
the NGO, she uploaded the application
and ‘promptly forgot about it’. Weeks later,
she made the Top 35. ‘I freaked [out],’
she says, sitting across from me at Great
Eastern Food Bar in Melville, a day after
the contest.
Based in Cape Town, Sibabalwe
animatedly talks me through the
experience. She quickly found solidarity
and sisterhood in Zozibini Tunzi, who
As a child, I religiously
watched Miss South Africa
in cross-legged rapture.
REAL LIFE
