Too soon and not fair to call Dana a renegade

Athambile Masola A RENEGADE. This is what Professor Pumla Gqola thinks of Simphiwe Dana in her, A Renegade called Simphiwe.

A renegade is a person who deserts and betrays an organisation, country or set of principles. The word is bestowed on Dana as an accolade for what she represents, not only in music, but in the public discourse of South Africa.

The book, not a biography, comes at a time when the attention on black women has been heightened by Dr Mamphela Ramphele launching a political party, the inappropriate comments about Lindiwe Mazibuko ’ s body made in Parliament and singer Mshoza’s comeback after a skin-lightening procedure.

By writing about Dana, Gqola attempts to bring our attention to the idea of a renegade.

As someone who has benefited from the work of feminism, I cannot deny the significance of women like Dana, who try to shift public discourse in a country that has little space for women who break the rules. But being a renegade happens within a broader context and not simply the immediate circumstances of an artist’s career. Calling Dana a renegade has left me wondering about the idea of a renegade.

Dana’s race politics are explored in the book and Steve Biko is cited as an example of a renegade who influenced the singer. But when it comes to her “soft feminism” I am left wondering who the renegades are who have influenced Dana?

Is it not too soon to call Dana a renegade?

Dana is not the first nor the last woman to demand that her voice be heard. While I deeply admire the author, I read the book with some discomfort because women like Dana are not renegades simply because they are, but rather they stand on the shoulders of other women such as Miriam Makeba, Charlotte Maxeke, Nontsizi Mgqwetho, Lillian Ngoyi and others who paved the way for black women to own the public space. They lived at a time when black women were minors and invisible.

Gqola’s book merely glosses over such names and fully focuses on Dana’s work as an artist and an activist. This is her prerogative because the book is her personal project – a friend has chosen to write about another friend’s success as an artist and a thinker.

But there is a danger in forgetting there is an entire generation of renegades who should not be glossed over because their stories have given others permission to be renegades at a time when it is easier to be a black woman.

Despite my misgivings about the title and the questions it raises, the book explores contemporary South Africa and interrogates those whose voices matter in our public discourse.

Do black women’s voices matter?

How can the citizenship of black women be more meaningful?

The book highlights the need for more books that place women’s voices and experiences at the centre of public discourse.

We need more women to write and to write more about black women who disrupt what Gqola refers to as the “narrative of inferiority” often associated with black women.