Igeza lensizwa as fashioned by ILanga le Theku. By Simphiwe Blessing Mthokozelwa Ngwane (Student no. 717988) (Ethical Clearance no. H20/03/17) Thesis submitted to the Faculty of Humanities, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, In fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Department of African Literature, School of Literature, Language and Media, Faculty of Humanities, University of the Witwatersrand. Supervisor: Dr. Danai S Mupotsa Johannesburg 2023 ii Declaration University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg School of Language, Literature and Media Declaration by student: I, Simphiwe Blessing Mthokozelwa Ngwane (Student number: 717988), am a student registered for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the year 2023. I hereby declare the following: ▪ I am aware that plagiarism (the use of someone else’s work without their permission and/or without acknowledging the original source) is wrong. ▪ I confirm that ALL the work submitted for assessment for the above course is my own unaided work except where I explicitly indicated otherwise. ▪ I have followed the required conventions in referencing the thoughts and ideas of others. ▪ I understand that the University of the Witwatersrand my take disciplinary action against me if there is a belief that this is not my own unaided work or that I have failed to acknowledge the source of the ideas or words in my writing. Signature: Date: 15 March 2023 iii Abstract The objective of this study is to explore, analyse and interpret igeza lensizwa fashion inspired photographs on the back page of the first isiZulu-language lifestyle supplement called ILanga le Theku. These were photographs of street-casted young black men from around eThekwini that were being foregrounded as public scripts of youthful Zulu masculinities. Through a discursive approach to Critical Masculinities Studies, I interrogate how young Zulu men made situated decisions in the fashioning of their masculinities. The study engages other interlocutors that were involved in the fashioning of igeza lensizwa. These were the female-led editorial team, the mostly male photographers that street-casted and photographed young men, the young men that agreed and those that did not agree to be street-casted, and the female readers, as represented by the female persona. All these interlocutors had a hand in shaping the form of igeza lensizwa. The archive of the fashion inspired photographs of amageza ezinsizwa and their accompanying captions were approached as key sites where masculine representations were being articulated and contested. The study demonstrates how ILanga le Theku devised various literary techniques to cater for its two implied readers/audiences of igeza lensizwa. Through analysing these literary techniques, the study crafted two concepts to offer more context-based readings of Zulu masculinities as represented in ILanga le Theku. The study foregrounds a concept of igeza lensizwa as being comprised of ukuzithemba [self- confidence] and ukuzizwa [self-regard]. The other concept is, thirst-trap which is achieved if the image of igeza lensizwa complies with ukuheha [to entice] and ukuchaza [to have an affect], in relation to the implied female audience. The study demonstrates how these two concepts offer insights on Zulu masculinities by engaging how young people eThekwini were changing dual gender systems norms and matters of desire. Moreover, the study shows how the section was also a site that challenged the myopic limits of homosocial desire with its limitation of masculine desire only incorporating interpersonal attractions. Furthermore, the study demonstrates that through shifts in spectatorship, facilitated by an auto-ethnographic queer lens as method, I inferred looking relations that, inter alia, explored how young men were asked to introspect, and confront masculine beauty. iv Dedication For my beloved late parents: Phumla Mercy Ngwane (1963 - 2006) and Fanizane Leonard Ngwane (1956 - 2000). Thank you for indulging little Simphiwe and letting him be who he wanted to be. It was only through your tender indulgence that I have grown-up to be who I am. v How to put into words something so astounding to the ears? Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites in a field – but they’re all we have. I will try (p. 88). Beatrice and Virgil (2011) by Yann Martel. vi Acknowledgements The completion of this thesis has been made possible by the support of several individuals and funding from one institution. I would like to acknowledge the financial support that I received from the Andrew Mellon Foundation Doctoral Scholarship, which I was a recipient of, for a few years. My gratitude extends to Dr. Danai Mupotsa, my supervisor. Your equitable supervisory guidance was appreciated. Thank you for gently, yet persistently, challenging my epistemological blind spots. In isiZulu it is said “umenzi uyakhohlwa kodwa umenziwa akakhohlwa”, thank you for coming to my rescue when I most needed an ally. Professor Hlonipha Mokoena, thank you for being a sagacious inspiration. In the words of Rumi, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there”. Gratitude also goes to my employer the Gauteng Provincial Legislature (GPL), for its generous dissertation writing leave. I would also like to thank two staff members at the ILanga Head Office. Ngiyabonga, Mr. Arthur Konigkramer, Managing Director of Mandla Matla, for granting me access to the ILanga library. Ngiyabonga Ms. Nokukhanya Zibani, ILanga librarian, for facilitating my archival visit just before the COVID-19 National Lockdown in March 2020. Gratitude also goes to Ms. Gloria Mkhwanazi at the Periodical Section of the Bessie Head Library in Pietermaritzburg. Thank you to Mr. Petri Swart at the Photogrammetry Department of the eThekwini Municipality for the historical aerial maps of Durban Point. My heartfelt gratitude goes to my respondents who agreed to be interviewed (face-to- face) during COVID-19 alert level two in September 2020. Your generosity of spirit was simply beautiful. Thank you for taking me with you, as you remembered your time with ILanga le Theku. Ngiyabonga: Thobile Nxumalo, Zandile Tembe, Nkosinathi Mshengu, Sizwe Blose, Lucky Cain, Thuli Dlamini, Mthamiz Luthuli, Sihle Masinga and Sabelo Masuku. Thank you to my friends and siblings for being steadfast accountability partners, as this was very much a COVID-19 project. A PhD project is a lonely pursuit, even more so, for a part-time candidate as you are not part of a cohort. COVID-19 exacerbated the loneliness. Thank you for always checking up on me and for the light moments that helped me push-on during the lockdown periods, when inspiration was dwindling. vii Thank you for reading excerpts I sent you guys at 4am and being my sounding boards for my early morning ideation and writing stints. Ngiyabonga: Fezeka Ngwane, Siyanda Mkhize, Louis Molantoa, Andisiwe Jukuda, Sandile Ngwane, Thobile Ngwane, Dineo Nkomo, Nelson Dlamini, Dr. Simphiwe Rens and Prof. Shepherd Mpofu. My love for history and the archive was cultivated and nurtured by a group of special lecturers and mentors. Thank you for inviting me to be part of various archival research projects, where I honed my skills. Thank you for being patient with me when I made errors, and being skilful in showing me how it should have been done. Thank you: Dr. Vukile Khumalo, Prof. Catherine Burns, Prof. Jacob Dlamini, Dr. Vanessa Noble, Prof. Julie Parle, Prof. Thembisa Waetjen, Prof. Goolam Vahed, Dr. Marijke du Toit and Prof. Johan Wassermann. To Sphelele Vilakazi, ngingaqalaphi kodwa, muntu wami, baba ka Thimuni no’Zulu. Thank you for reading every draft version of my chapters. Thank you for being my constant, being steadfast in your support and not handling my ideas with mittens. Thank you for believing in me and being part of this journey. In the words of Walt Whitman, “Will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?”. Ngiyabonga Binda! Mphephethwa! viii Table of Contents Declaration ii Abstract iii Dedication iv Quote v Acknowledgements vi Table of contents viii List of Illustrations xi Chapter one Locating igeza lensizwa 1 Introduction 1 The search and how I will go about it 5 A feather on a black bull 10 Structure and organisation of the thesis 25 Chapter Two Reading igeza lensizwa 33 Introduction 33 Gender representation in print media and spectatorship re- organised 34 African print cultures and the entry of the tabloid print genre 49 Men and masculinities that are regarded 57 Stylising the self and black dandyism 65 The dandy and black dandyism 67 ix Theoretical frameworks 72 Transgressive masculinities 73 Reading the fashion inspired: The Eye Has to Travel 77 Methods of identification, collection, and interpretation 82 Conclusion 91 Chapter Three Iphepha Labantu Abasha: A young team writing for the urban youth 93 Introduction 93 Competition pressures and deciding on a profitable youth 96 The young, writing for the young 100 Amageza ezinsizwa and inducing thirst-trap reactions 114 Izidlakela eziqimbile (2006 – 2007) 117 Izinsizwa ezidla ukotini (2008 - 2010) 126 Heartthrob fillers 134 Oshukela base Thekwini (2012 - 2013) 145 Conclusion 153 Chapter Four Igeza lensizwa eThekwini: Mapping relations in a social space 156 Introduction 156 EThekwini, Durban Point and its unique past 160 Shifting practices in the foreground and connections to the background 165 Asibhungukile eThekwini 177 Conclusion 184 x Chapter Five Kusayilo igeza lensizwa naleli? Moving towards a flexible definition 187 Introduction 187 Deciding on igeza lensizwa’s ethos 191 Fanele uzithembe 194 Fanele uzizwe 200 Dressing to kill and “performing the thought” 204 Conclusion 217 Chapter Six Concluding implications of amageza ezinsizwa kwi’Langa le Theku 219 Bibliography 232 Appendix 1: Approval of Study 257 Appendix 2: Approval of Ethics Certificate 257 Appendix 3: Informed Consent Form 259 Appendix 4: Participant Information Sheet 262 Appendix 5: Interview guide 264 Appendix 6: ILanga permission letter 266 xi List of illustrations Figure 1 Dumisani Shibase, igeza lensizwa for the 10th of January 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 6 Figure 2: uTimuni, nephew of Shaka, the Late Zulu King Plate, 13 from George French Angus's 1849. The Kafirs Illustrated. 18 Figure 3: ILanga endorsement of Durban’s Finest November 11 – 13 2004. Courtesy of the Bessie Head Library (PMB). 103 Figure 4: ILanga le Theku masthead. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 106 Figure 5: Group photograph of ILanga le Theku’s inaugural editorial team taken at the Durban Point Waterfront a few metres away from ILanga’s headquarters 107 Figure 6: Cover page of ILanga le Theku 27 July 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 109 Figure 7: S’phelele Nala, uSwahla lwensizwa for the 15th of February 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper 117 Figure 8: Nhlakanipho Mdlalose as igeza lensizwa for the 24th of May 2007. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 124 Figure 9: S’fiso Mhlophe igeza lensizwa for the 30th of October 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper 129 Figure 10: unknown, igeza lensizwa for the 1st of April 2010. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 132 Figure 11: Billy Khambule igeza lensizwa for the 6th of May 2010. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 134 Figure 12: Mthoko Ngubane as igeza lensizwa for the 6th of February 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 141 Figure 13: Taye Diggs as igeza lensizwa for the 27th of July 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 143 Figure 14: Mashiya Ngcobo igeza lensizwa on the 25th of October 2012. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper 148 xii Figure 15: Nzuzo Miya igeza lensizwa for the 21st of February 2013. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper 151 Figure 16: Insurance Map of Living quarters at Durban's Point, 1931. 164 Figure 17: Alex Wynne, igeza lensizwa for the 18th of November 2010. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 166 Figure 18: S’busiso Ndlovu, igeza lensizwa for the 9th of December 2010. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 168 Figure 19: Mthuthu Ndebele, igeza lensizwa for the 6th of December 2012. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper 170 Figure 20: Boysie Ngcobo, igeza lensizwa for the 31st of May 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 172 Figure 21: Dez Peterson, igeza lensizwa for the 28th of February 2013. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 174 Figure 22: Annual Surveying aerial shot photograph of 11 Browns Street at the Durban Point. Surveying & Land Information Department, eThekwini Municipality. 176 Figure 23: Patriq Lukadu, igeza lensizwa for the 24th of July 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 179 Figure 24: Unnamed model, igeza lensizwa for the 10th of August 2006. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 195 Figure 25: Vuyo Ngwabe, igeza lensizwa for the 11th of December 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 197 Figure 26: Kwanda Ngubo, igeza lensizwa for the 4th of October 2012. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 200 Figure 27: Jesse Ngandu, igeza lensizwa for the 31st of July 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 202 Figure 28: unnamed igeza lensizwa for the 7th of April 2011. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 206 Figure 29: West, igeza lensizwa for the 19th of July 2012. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 213 Figure 30: Sabelo Khulekani Shongwe, igeza lensizwa for the 23rd of August 2012. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 215 1 Chapter One Locating igeza lensizwa Introduction At the turn of the twenty-first century as my teenage self was grappling with issues of gender, desire, and rites of passage into manhood, a poignant memory stands out as I recall this period. The setting of this memory is rural KwaZulu-Natal. I recall two aspects of this memory which piqued my interest on what activities I associated with manhood at an early age. These were based on observations I had made from my male adolescent cousins. The memory is from my families then annual December visit to KwaMaphumulo, near Stanger, in the iLembe district of KwaZulu-Natal, to visit our maternal grandparents. My two cousins were being raised by them. Both in high school and in their middle to late adolescents years. They fancied themselves as ladies’ men. Both enjoyed playing and watching soccer. Moreover, they took great care of their appearances, both in dress and, one cousin went as far as having skincare regimes. I remember on their dressing table, there being, amongst others, their body lotion (Dawn1), a jar of Blue Seal Vaseline, and a medley of Gentle Magic2 skincare products: a bar of soap, a jar of face cream and a face toner. I recall recognising these as female skincare products, as back home in Pietermaritzburg, my late mother, my aunt, and our helper used these products. But here was one of my male cousins engaging in skincare regimes, whilst being very sure of his prowess of being a ladies’ man. Thinking of this memory dislodges feelings of awkwardness and inadequacy I felt as a teenage boy, because I was not interested in girls, and by extension – was 1 A popular South African body lotion brand. 2 A popular South African female skincare brand. Its pricing is very entry level. A bar of soap is R7 whilst a jar of face cream is R19. My remark that it is entry level is based on a comparison of other teenage skincare brands I recall seeing in a teenage tabloid sized newspaper called Free4All which was distributed in Pietermaritzburg and Durban schools. Moreover, this is based on the price of the unisex skincare brand called Young Solution that I started using in high school, a Young Solution face wash is R65 whilst a face cream is R68. These are 2022 prices. 2 not interested in being a ladies’ man, nor was I interested in soccer. This self- awareness made me feel anxious, as I could tell that these activities were rites of passage, that I did not desire. When I eventually entered my middle adolescent years, the only activity that I engaged with that was similar to my male cousin’s, was developing a skincare regime. Instead of Gentle Magic though, I used the unisex skincare brand called Young Solution. The decision on the brand was influenced by the then popular teenage tabloid newspaper called Free4All. Reflecting on these old anxieties and levels of inadequacy during my middle adolescent years, now at the age of thirty-five, having fully accepted of homosexuality, I can hazard a guess on what caused these anxieties. The adolescent years are a crucial transitional period, as one moves from boyhood on a journey towards manhood. Along this journey there are rites of passage which are carved out by each locale’s cultural and social norms. In her multivalent piece, titled Conjugality, Danai Mupotsa (2020) offers an insightful framing of rituals, which clarify the feelings of inadequacy and anxiety that gripped me. Mupotsa frames these as being processes of becoming, that are “not simply an entry but a continuous process of symbolic, material, psychohistorical and temporal entry to the proper but never quite/never right” (Mupotsa 2020: 378). My fear was that I did not desire the acts and practices which I myself, thought were crucial in the process of becoming insizwa [a young man]. I had bought into the socialisation qualifiers that, for example, enjoying soccer and being a ladies’ man were important practices in shaping my social body in the image of Zulu masculinity. In their middle to late adolescent years, my cousins were considered izinsizwa (young men), a period which historically, was inaugurated by the practise of ukusoka (circumcision). Long abandoned in the seventieth century by Zulu people, the practice was a male group ritual, where male age-mates (izintanga) were banded into a group (ukubuthwa), and in this grouping, boys (abafana) were ushered onto the journey to manhood. Inaugurating them onto a journey where their masculinities were subject to examination and validation by peers and adult men (Kimmel 1994 & Whitehead 3 2007).3 Neither of these rites of passage exist nowadays, but the term isoka is still in use, to refer to a young man that is popular amongst girls. The term, isoka has a medley of associated meanings which the thesis intends to interrogate from different angles, at different points of the thesis. One of these meanings is marking a period where a young man can commence courting, another being, a young man popular amongst girls (Nyembezi & Nxumalo 2018; Doke, Malcolm, Sikakana and Vilakazi 2012: 763). During this adolescent period, concerted efforts are made to solidify the organisation of desires, as young men are then culturally expected to initiate courting. Both the John Colenso (1905) and the Alfred Bryant (1905) Zulu-English dictionaries give the same definition of isoka, as an unmarried man, an accepted lover, a sweetheart, and a young man liked by girls. Noleen Turner broadens the term of isoka/ubusoka and argues that there are other aspects to the term such as, “one who presents himself in a very positive light not only to women, he is also admired by other men” (Turner 1999: 198). Reading this through Mupotsa's (2020) lens, these are rituals as processes of becoming that usher young boys towards “adult sexuality”. It is this very ritual of becoming that gave me the greatest angst in those adolescent years, as the practice of ubusoka is heterosexual in its origins and requires the performance of skill sets from young boys, which would then be examined and validated by age-mates and older men. As izinsizwa (young men) my male cousins took great pride in honing their prowess’s of ukucupha isisoka. Ukucupha isisoka are the skill sets/techniques that are required to ensure courting success, such as the ability to smooth-talk. Cupha as the verb stem of the first word of the term, means; set a trap, or lay a snare (Doke, Malcolm, Sikakana and Vilakazi 2012: 129). This snare, being comprised of the practices which “will present him in a good light” (which have been honed) are the ones meant to woo women into accepting the young man as a 3 Amongst the Zulu, the practice of circumcision was halted by Shaka Zulu, yet Bryant (1949; 1965) argues that the circumcision practice fell into disuse among the Zulus and neighbouring tribes during the reign of Jama (1757 - 1781). The history of when circumcision guilds became amabutho is contested, Jenkinson (1882) notes that Zulu people used to practice circumcision universally, but Bryant argues that even though the custom of circumcision became obsolete among the Zulus, the practice of grouping various youths of similar ages into amabutho continued until Shaka turned them into ‘real regiments’ (Bryant 1949: 494; also see Laband & Thompson 1982). 4 lover. Moreover, secure praise from his peers. Therefore, ubusoka valorises success in courting practices. Thinking alongside Mupotsa (2020), that rituals are done so as to produce a coherent subject, I viewed by cousins as being coherent, whilst I was not. This doubt in my own coherency can be best understood if we view it through the lens of biological determinism as described by Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí (1997). Oyěwùmí (1997) problematize the universalism of a dual sex-gender system which relies on a biologic. This being an essentialism that relies on how the body is perceived by sight, and the singularity of meaning, intention, and relation in language. I was anxious that my physical body was not elaborated with social and gender practices that would announce my masculinity. Yet, one of my cousins - with his assured status of being isoka - was using skin care products that advertisers didactically positioned as being for female consumers, whilst I was using unisex skincare products. What could have been the significance of developing a skincare regime that this particular cousin and I strived towards? The development of a skincare regime signalled our interest in the self, looking good and enhancing our looks. But for my cousin, this had an unintended benefit of increasing his chances when courting. The isiZulu concept of being igeza lensizwa underpinned both our interest. The concept of igeza lensizwa (which will be explored in the following section) largely rests and valorises the self and the techniques of self-fashioning. Whilst ubusoka valorised the skills of courting, which was dependent on successful courting. The thesis intends to take seriously the aspects of presentation and admiration as both undergird the concepts of ubusoka and igeza lensizwa. This commitment to indigenous isiZulu concepts is inspired by Dilip Menon’s provocations in his edited book, Changing Theory: Concepts from the Global South, where he argues that indigenous concepts and words are embedded with entailments that have conceptual implications for the humanities and social sciences (Menon 2022: 6). These isiZulu concepts piqued my interest to thinking about how masculinity in the media does not project an essence but, “a set of actions, relations and discourses, used to distinguish an individual from others or one group from another” (Ratele 2016: 139). I have chosen to begin this chapter with a memory undergirded by the practice of ubusoka and elements of igeza lensizwa as it is embedded with key issues that my doctoral thesis intends to interrogate. These are that; masculinities require demonstration and 5 approval from other men to legitimise them. Secondly, the subjectivity of ubusoka and its practices, are not stagnant, being aesthetically beautiful and enhancing this male beauty through activities such as skincare regimes does not dilute men’s manliness as you can enjoy playing soccer with a matte face, whilst other team members sweat profusely. Thirdly, each locality can have a multiplicity of masculinities and there are other interlocutors in the making of masculinities. Fifthly, why did my male cousin’s usage of skincare products that are advertised as female products not undermine ubusoka bakhe (his ladies’ man status)? What role did the multivalent concept of igeza lensizwa play in making his social and physical body coherent? And finally, since my cousins were popular amongst women, did women have a say on how masculinities should be fashioned? The search and how I will go about it The central aim that informs this thesis is to explore and describe the fashioning of igeza lensizwa as represented on the back page of the isiZulu-language lifestyle supplement called ILanga le Theku. A dictionary search of the meaning of this term presents rich veins of enquiry for my project. The John Colenso (1905) Zulu-English dictionary defines the noun igeza as a “nice-looking person” (Colenso 1905: 170). Whilst the Alfred Bryant (1905) Zulu-English dictionary defines igeza as “any nice- looking person, young or old and of either sex” (Bryant 1905: 182). The Doke, Malcolm, Sikakana and Vilakazi (2012) Zulu – English dictionary defines igeza as “a handsome person” (Doke, Malcolm, Sikakana and Vilakazi 2012: 245). Based on these definitions, igeza has no age nor gender qualifier. The addition of insizwa adds these qualifiers. The Doke (et al., 2012) dictionary defines insizwa as “a young man approaching manhood; vigorous young man who has not yet assumed the head-ring” (Doke et al 2012: 599). The pairing of these two isiZulu nouns genders the term and articulates an age bracket, as according to historical Zulu customs, only senior and married men wore head-rings (izicoco) (Khumalo 2001). Therefore, the definition of igeza lensizwa is a handsome young man on the journey to manhood. Of interest in this definition is the isolation of an accessory (isicoco) which acts as a differentiator 6 between young men (izinsizwa) and older men (amadoda). This isolation draws our attention to the importance of sartorial items in the configuration of Zulu masculinities. Having outlined the dictionary definition of igeza lensizwa, its conceptual clues to the sartorial. And earlier, laying out the practices involved in ubusoka, and the honing of skill sets required. The thesis considers the role played by ILanga le Theku through its establishment of the igeza lensizwa fashion inspired photographic section (figure 1) and its focus on the self. Igeza lensizwa was a weekly photographic section, where ILanga le Theku photographer’s street-casted young men (izinsizwa) around eThekwini. Figure 1: Dumisani Shibase, igeza lensizwa for the 10th of January 2008. Courtesy of ILanga newspaper. 7 This was guided by the editorial team’s brief. This brief was informed by several facts, some being contemporary ideas of what made a young man attractive, others, cultural ideas of what made isoka. This involved creative, transgressive, and contemporary renditions of ukucupha isisoka, which would result to peer admiration. All of this was underpinned by the age of when a young man could be desired (sexually) and commence courting. This photographic section was devised with two implied audiences in mind and ILanga le Theku employed several techniques to cater for these two implied audiences. My own gaze as a homosexual man, was not accounted for, but this thesis carves out a queer looking-relation which is developed into a methodological lens to challenge the limitations of a solely heterosexual looking-relation (this is unpacked in chapter two). The igeza lensizwa photographic section fulfilled elements of performance, validation, and admiration. Performance took the form of young men’s style and what that stylisation was meant to convey to onlookers about his ambitions. Whilst validation was a huge part of the igeza lensizwa photographic section. The editorial team became arbiters of what made young urban African men attractive. The team venerating some practices, and at times, young men disputed these practices, as they foregrounded different ways to attain and embody being igeza lensizwa. ILanga le Theku demonstrated that there are different and shifting ways to secure the status of being igeza lensizwa. Validation was also secured through the accompanying captions which were written as thirst-trap4 reactions. Such reactions embody the “conjunction of desires” which is the “interplay between the observer- photographer and the viewer-consumer where much of the [desire] tension arises” (Murray 2022: 9). A female persona5 was used to craft the captions, in a thirst-trap 4 The term came about social media, post 2010 and it is used to describe a social media post (could be a selfie photograph or written text) that intends to entice a viewer’s sexual desire or invite them to publicly profess their attraction to the person who has posted. The post is meant to pique the viewers “thirst” which is a colloquialism for sexual frustration and invite them to ogle the social media post and let their imagination run wild. The trap is when the viewer allows their imagination to run wild without any consequences. (THIRST TRAP | meaning in the Cambridge English Dictionary accessed 19 January 2022). 5 The term persona is originally understood as a “theatrical mask” but has been used in Literary Studies to define “voices” in literary work, or an assumed role of a character which represent the thoughts of a writer, or a specific person the writer wants to present as their mouthpiece (Marshall, Moore & Barbour 2019). https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/thirst-trap 8 tone, allowing young women to vicariously ogle the street-casted young men with a lecherous gaze. Moreover, the female persona crafted fictive scenes between amageza ezinsizwa and herself, where she made her lustful desires clear and initiated courting. This subversive act disrupted cultural ways of how desire is organised, as in a patriarchal sense, isoka is meant to be the one to initiate courting. Through salacious writing, the female persona commented and commended the young men on their changing prowess’s. Lastly, admiration took the form of young men seeing their peers appearing on the photographic section and their stylisation being validated by the female persona. This form of validation inculcated admiration and became a drawcard that encouraged other young men to be street-casted or submit their photographs to ILanga le Theku to also illicit the same thirst trap reaction. Therefore, the thesis is interested in the editorial decision-making processes that were made and revised as ILanga le Theku catered for these two implied audiences, and how desire was crafted through the female voice. The archive of the fashion inspired photographs of amageza ezinsizwa and their accompanying captions will be approached as key sites where masculine representations were articulated. The thesis sets out to demonstrate how the igeza lensizwa captions and their employed writing tones and stylistic forms, became sites of contestation where young men’s changing prowess’s were examined and validated. Moreover, the thesis foregrounds the photographs and their accompanying captions, as windows into the machinations of young urban people’s lives eThekwini through popular culture, their speaking mannerisms and changing world views. The study has three main questions: 1. What are the implications of amageza ezinsizwa’s employment of certain practices from ubusoka have for crafting transgressive masculinities? With the understanding that there are multiple masculinities in any given society, what effect would the emergence and articulation of transgressive masculinities have, as an alternative to more dominant Zulu masculinities? Moreover, what beneficial role does the multi-fold nature of ubusoka have in enhancing transgressive masculinities? 9 2. Secondly, what implications does ILanga le Theku as a site of production and circulation have for igeza lensizwa? As the first isiZulu-language lifestyle supplement, ILanga le Theku’s young editorial team was attuned to the type of readers that they catered for. Borrowing their speaking mannerisms, devising writing styles and tapping into popular culture to ensure relevance. The thesis explores the igeza lensizwa captions as a reflection of the creative ingenuity that was ILanga le Theku. Through interviews with the editorial team, the editorial decision-making processes will be analysed to understand, and articulate the three shifts that are evident in the photographic sections eight- year run. The second question will further be explored through considering how desire was crafted. The captions accompanying amageza ezinsizwa and their thirst-t rap tones, as articulated by the female voice, will be explored as configurations of desire. This will be done by considering how the editorial team articulated the “learnt affective expectations and sociocultural scripts about desire” (Regan & Berscheid 1999) in relation to igeza lensizwa. The thirst-trap captions subverted some Zulu sociocultural scripts, such as, who gets desired, and what “appropriate” affections should the one doing the desiring have. The configuration of desire will be explored by examining how the editorial team wanted amageza ezinsizwa to “affect” the female audience, with a focus on isiZulu verbs (used by the editorial team) that denote lust and desire such as ukuheha [to entice] and ukuchaza [to have an affect]. 3. What conceptual value does considering the articulation of igeza lensizwa through Roland Barthes (2013) two-prong definition of dandyism have for putting forward a conceptual definition of igeza lensizwa? This question takes the two aspects that make-up a dandy; his ethos/dispositions and his techniques (style and social practices) and contextualised them to my exploration of the making of igeza lensizwa. In answering this question, I analyse the captions to identify isiZulu descriptors that characterised the type of young men that were considered amageza ezinsizwa. Moreover, I explore the editorial decisions that were made in articulating the shifting brief of what made igeza lensizwa. Lastly, I pay attention to the young men’s style and approach them as style narratives, as these represented the young men’s 10 ambitions, and at times, negotiated what they might have materially lacked, but signalled how they envisioned themselves. Overall, the objective of this study is explorative, carried out through analysing and interpreting igeza lensizwa in the context of the first isiZulu lifestyle supplement; ILanga le Theku. This general objective has been approached by systematically and thoroughly considering the four sites of meaning that underpin an image, which will be unpacked in the following chapter. The thesis will therefore attempt to explain the significance of igeza lensizwa in the articulation of shifting representations of urban Zulu masculinities. The aim therefore is to interpret igeza lensizwa in ILanga le Theku as a site of contestation and articulation where both external and internal masculine hegemonies where tested and challenged. A feather on a black bull Literature on Zulu masculinities has been very skewed, with a preference for rather “hard” anachronistic practices, which undermine Connell’s (1996) definition of masculinities as being comprised of multiple configurations of practices, structured by gender relations. The image that is presented by literature on Zulu masculinities is underpinned by “hard/tough” characteristics such as: circular migration, blue collar employment, fatherhood issues, oppression of others, aggressiveness, and sexual prowess. Most of these characteristics are foregrounded as having been shaped by the change of locale, as work became an important rite of passage. These Zulu masculine tropes have been foregrounded as being linked to traditional Zulu masculinities. This bias and lack of imagination, neglects the fact that traditional masculinities are themselves socially constructed, contested and are also multiple (Everitt-Penhale & Ratele 2015; Ratele 2016). These tropes and practices are grouped together and foregrounded as essentialist self-evident concepts of traditional Zulu masculinities that are portrayed as having hegemonic status. Contemporary literature on Zulu masculinities still foregrounds “traditional” Zulu masculinities as being hegemonic. But contexts are structured differently, allowing the valorisation of certain 11 configuration of practices and not others, and in some locations, “traditional” masculinities are marginalised. These biased anachronistic images have been fuelled by the mythological image of Shaka KaSenzangakhona (Laband 2008; Wyle 2008 & 2021) and by extension, Zulu men, and their imbued martial prowess. Another observed bias is by literature that that does not critically consider race when it comes to South African subcultural youth history and black delinquency narratives. For example, a reaction to shifting rites of passage amongst young African men has been written by Ben Carton (2000, 2001 & 2014) and Robert Morrell (2014). They argue that at the turn of the twentieth century, as more young African men entered the cash economy, work increasingly became a marker of Zulu masculinities. African men’s labour was what was wanted in cities, and when not working, Europeans feared their “idleness” which they believed led to “crime, drunkenness, illicit sexuality, and riots” (Vahed 1998: 72; also see Peterson 2021). This thinking was influenced by black youth delinquency thoughts of the twentieth century, yet this aspect has not been considered when exploring African youths in relation to “inappropriate black leisure”. Attention has rather been focused on the secondary element, which is leisure activities that Europeans in cities like Durban and Johannesburg, channelled Africans towards, such ngoma dance, and competitive stick fighting. Bhekizizwe Peterson (2021 [2000]) writes that white mine managers, were operative in recasting the social organisation and performance of traditional males. This they did by imposing criteria’s that were consistent with European school or military parades. For example, in Durban, ngoma dance was encouraged and sponsored by corporations as it could be used as entertainment for dignitaries. Whilst competitive stick fighting as a one-on-one sport, testing male prowess, Carton, and Morrell (2014) argued that it determined social ranking between young men. This the young men did, so as to be seen in the eyes of their peers as manly heroes or champions (iqhawe or ingqwele) in body and spirit (Carton & Morrell 2014: 125). Carton and Morrell (2014) contend that these activities, in the face of daily racial indignities, gave Zulu labour migrants a sense of masculine self-worth. Moreover, another “martial reaction” to the urban setting by young African men has been captured through Durban’s nineteen-twenties amalaita gang activities. These were gang activities of young African men who defied authority in the Borough of Durban, with some being unemployed and others employed as 12 domestic workers around Durban (La Hausse 1990 & 1996). Literature has fashioned them as being delinquent and their “belligerent” activities have been characterised as their unfortunate reaction to urban life. This is the predominant narrative of shifting rituals of becoming amongst young Zulu men. This narrative would have us believe that the only “appropriate” reaction to shifting rites of passage amongst young African men in new urban locales, was the honing of martial prowess’s. Black youth delinquency narratives, economic motivations, and the pursuit to stifle labour unrest, had a big role in the “appropriate black leisure” that Europeans wanted Africans to engage in, in the Borough of Durban. During the second half of the twentieth century, Tim Gibbs (2014) explores the changing patterns of migrant Zulu masculinities and how salaried work, maintained young men’s family obligations, with some, saving to establish their own “homesteads” and “build webs of relationships” (Gibbs 2014: 432). This then allowed them to “assert their prestige as ‘big men’ in much the same manner and idiom as their fathers did a generation ago” (Gibbs 2014: 432). Gibbs argues that younger circular migrants and taxi owners worked towards gaining patriarchal dividend and to establish “a chain of stable relationships that allowed them to become ‘big men’ presiding over a substantial home” (Gibbs 2014: 448). This narration only focuses on the ultimate outcome of Zulu manhood and its associated patriarchal dividend. Gibbs neglects other prowess’s which are important during the period of being insizwa and its associated practices. His work eclipses the role of ubusoka which many young Zulu men engage in, so as to heighten their standing amongst their male peers and how women regarded them. These practices were also important on the road towards Zulu manhood, as male bonding is crucial, since masculinities require performance, examination, and evaluation. The masculine shifts that are flagged by Carton and Morrell (2014) with young men sparring for their peer’s respect and establishing a social order and those flagged by Gibbs (2014) with migrant taxi drivers’ pursuit of becoming “big men”, address in varying ways, a singular reaction to how young Zulu men responded to urbanisation by shifting their social and gender practices. But the indignities that young African men faced in the cities were not only remedied by an assumed channelling of youth energy into martial activities, least they get misdirected in white cities. Scholarship on African ngoma dance and competitive stick fighting, falls into the myopic trap of assuming that 13 young African men’s bouts of energy, was naturally channelled into martial activities such as ngoma dance and competitive stick fighting. Yet, if we consider what Kopano Ratele (2016) contends that “to a greater or lesser degree, every man is always in negotiation with his ‘ancestors’, deliberately or unconsciously. All men are involved in contestation around the past of manhood” (Ratele 2016: 109), we can consider other forms of masculine social practices that were less myopically martial. Moreover, Ratele’s (2016) insights that past practices of masculinities are available to contemporary men’s articulation of their masculinities, gives a glimmer of hope and opens-up ways of how alternative configurations of practices can be sought and located. Furthermore, Liz Gunner’s (2014) critique of the excessive focus on combative leisure activities such as ngoma dance and stick fighting offers alternative possibilities, as she contends that this excessive focus has created an illusion of a singular understanding of Zulu masculinities which are characterised by hardness and militancy. This has subsequently overlooked what Gunner (2014) calls “older aesthetics of the body” (2014: 350) which encompass more genteel and dandyist masculine social and gender practices that pre-date metrosexual practices.6 These practices can be located in the same archive as the “hard/tough” Zulu masculinities. If we take cue from Gunner’s (2014) assertion that more genteel and dandyist masculine practices can be located in “older aesthetics of the body” the first source of information to interrogate this, would be historical accounts of regal ceremonies like Umkhosi Wokweshwama (first fruit ceremony).7 Historically, no other Zulu ceremony rivelled Umkhosi Wokweshwama when it came to putting the Zulu kingdom’s male population on grand display. The ceremony was revived by the late Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini in 1990 and continues to be held annually in December.8 Historically, the first fruits ceremony was where the entire male population gathered in full regimental 6 Gunner (2014) was building a case for isicathamiya, the movement of ukucothoza and the sub-cultural practice of oswenka (best dressed competition) which is a by-product of isicathamiya. Ukuswenka offered African men that entered circular migrant an outlet to build their self-worth and dignity in the face of racial legislation and inhumane urban segregation and housing. 7 The whole ceremony is known as Umkhosi Wokweshwama, but it is comprised of the “little one” and the main “big one” (Gluckman 1934 & Makhanya 1997). After the little umkhosi, regiments gather at the military kraals for about twenty days before the appointed day, where they spend their time working the kings land, preparing their dress, and learning new dances and songs for the occasion (Krige 1936). 8 With destruction of the Zulu kingdom in 1884, together with its military system, by Secretary for Native Affairs (SNA) as a consequence of the Zulu kingdom’s defeat in the 1879 Anglo-Zulu War, Umkhosi Wokweshwama and similar rituals were prohibited (Carton & Morrell 2014). 14 dress and where the king would make laws and decrees, issuing fines to transgressors, and most importantly, the king and his regiments (amabutho) were medicinally strengthened (Leslie 1875; Haggard 1896; Samuelson 1905; Gibson 1911; Samuelson 1929; Gluckman 1934; Bryant 1965 and Krige 1934, 1936). After the fortification and strengthening of amabutho, feasting followed and amabutho were reviewed by the king, all wearing their best war-plumes. After the reviewing, the regiments competed in various military manoeuvres and dancing competitions (ukugiya). These are the “older aesthetics of the body” that Gunner (2014) locates the existence of different masculine practices that articulate Zulu masculinities which place importance on the aesthetics. So revered was Umkhosi Wokweshwama and its associated sartorial splendour, that the historian and missionary, Alfred Bryant (1949) dedicates an entire chapter to the fictitious Jomela family as he unpacks their fine Zulu form and the wardrobe that the family adorns. In the book The Zulu People as They Were Before the White Man Came, Bryant (1949) presents the Jomela patriarch as having three suits of clothes. One was reserved for festal occasions like weddings, another for daily wear and his best, was his court- dress, reserved for regal ceremonies like Umkhosi Wokweshwama. Umkhosi Wokweshwama can be read as an annual culmination of the Zulu social system that undergirded the journey towards Zulu manhood. The most comprehensive description of the education of a Zulu male, comes from Eileen Krige’s one and only monograph, The Social System of the Zulus (1936), which has become a canonical text of Zulu social history. Her study adopted a structural functionalist9 approach to meticulously documenting Zulu life stages. The study is a synthesis of a century of extensive literature on Zulu social history written by colonial officials such as James Stuart and historian and missionary, Alfred T. Bryant whose seminal work, Olden Times in Zululand and Natal (1965), was derived from the accounts of traders, colonial administrators and missionaries. A key chapter in Krige’s book (which was co- authored with George Mahlobo10) is on Zulu age-set rituals and their important 9 This theoretical approach was rooted on a Durkheimian understanding of society and kinship and placed importance on social anthropologists to analysis social relationships as they existed in the field. Structural-functionalism believes that all customs served a function or purpose, everything is interrelated and changing one part would result in a ripple effect (Kuper 1987; Gordon 2011 & Bank 2016). 10 Based on their co-authored journal article, Transition From Childhood to Adulthood Amongst the Zulus (1934) Bantu Studies, 1: 157 – 191. 15 foundation in the Zulu military system. This system was intricately woven into Zulu social life, since regiments produced, propped up and established Zulu patriarchy and masculinity by initiating boys on the journey towards manhood. Yet, the Zulu army was never a standing army, but was built on the long-established circumcision guilds11 which were integral in the life-stages of male izintanga (age mates) as they steadily graduated from being boys (abafana), into young men (izinsizwa) and finally men (amadoda). At the age of around eighteen, young men (izinsizwa) were grouped together (ukubuthwa) and given a name during Umkhosi, and the king decreed what colour shields, plumes and furs would differentiate them from other regiments (Knight 2015). The traditional way of viewing the different plumes and skins as markers of differentiation between regiments, eclipses another element at play. The standard understanding is that these vestments and accessories put on display the Zulu Kingdom’s ability to dominate and exploit both the domestic and wild animal resources of the region (Laband 2018). Moreover, there was also an occult element, as the wearing of certain hides, claws, or plumes, was believed to imbue the wearer with the attributes of the animal in question (Laband 2018). For example, buffalos are associated with being cunning fighters and vultures are regarded as having stamina during a fight. Therefore, wearing the hide of a buffalo and the feathers of a vulture would imbue the wearer with these desired skills on the battlefield. Besides the differentiation element and that of the occult, there is another element that has been eclipsed when considering these vestments and accessories. That is the dispositional element of pride and self-regard which are alluded to, in several ethnographic materials which describe male ceremonial dress.12 Accounts by missionaries, hunters, explorers, and traders such as Nathaniel Isaacs (1836) Nomleti Samuelson (1905) and Robert Samuelson (1929) provide lucid 11 The history of when circumcision guilds became amabutho is contested, Jenkinson (1882) notes that Zulu people used to practice circumcision universally, but Shaka halted the practice, yet Bryant (1949; 1965) argues that the circumcision practice fell into disuse among the Zulus and neighbouring tribes during the reign of Jama (1757 - 1781). Bryant argues that even though the custom of circumcision became obsolete among the Zulus, the practice of grouping various youths of similar ages into amabutho continued until Shaka turned them into ‘real regiments’ (Bryant 1949: 494; also see Laband & Thompson 1982). The establishment of amabutho dates to the reign of Dingiswayo and was discontinued when Cetshwayo was deposed by the British colonialist. 12 Also see Turner (1999) as she also advances the argument that Zulu male praise names (izibongo) valorised self-regard. 16 descriptions of ceremonial wear during umkhosi. Additionally, visuals from explorer and painter, George French Angus’ folio, The Kafirs Illustrated (1849) make visual arguments for Zulu sartorial splendour. Moreover, secondary sources by Eileen Krige (1936), Max Gluckman (1934), Alfred. T. Bryant (1949 & 1965), and Ian Knight (2015), provide immense detail of the ornamentation of amabutho during such ceremonies. Nathaniel Isaacs as a trader and explorer made multiple trips to the Zulu King between 1826 and 1828 and was one of the first Europeans to write on the Zulu Kingdom and Shaka. During these trips he was captivated by Shaka’s dress, comprising of monkey skins, white cow tails suspended from his arms and their movement when he “began his manoeuvres” (Isaacs 1836: 61). On another occasion, Isaac describes a scene of many regiments with their black coloured shields (signalling their youthfulness) and crane feathers on their head-rings. These youthful regiments progressed to the king’s palace and saluted him, with the king himself decorated with green and yellow beads and after the praise-singers performance, “the whole of his comrades first shouted, and then commenced running over the kraal, trying to excel each other in feats of agility and gesture” (Isaacs 1836: 121). With such a description it is difficult not to imagine the glistening bodies of amabutho with the ornamentation giggling and shimmering, and the various plumes from; blue-crane feathers (Indwe), long-tailed Widowbird (iSakabuli) and ostrich feathers (Intshe) gracefully moving as amabutho tried to “excel each other in feats of agility and gestures” (Isaacs 1836: 121). Another descriptive account is by Nomleti Samuelson in her 1905 account of Zulu traditions and customs. It is based on her experience amongst Zulu people on her father’s mission station near Eshowe in Zululand. Describing the Zulu men during umkhosi, Samuelson writes that “they, of course, greased themselves well to make their dark bodies sleek and supple. All chiefs have black feathers of the Indwe bird stuck in the centre of their head-ring, just above the forehead. The younger chiefs wear black ostrich feathers in the same way” (Samuelson 1905: 34). She remarks on the graceful swaying of the plumes as the men “came dancing and bowing before the king” (Samuelson 1905: 35). A final detailed description of regimental ornamentation and their masculine aesthetics is provided by attorney and translator, Robert Samuelson. As Nomleti’s 17 brother, Robert also grew-up on their father’s mission station in Eshowe and later, served at the uMlazi mission near Durban, and at St. Paul’s mission in Zululand. In his book titled, Long, Long Ago (1929) Samuelson describes a scene of Zulu regiments in their regimental attires, and the great sense of pride they had about their regimented maneuverers. Samuelson describing the scene writes, “the movements having to be smart and active and free from slouching, and his attire having to be neat, clean and well kept, and worn in uniformity with others” (Samuelson 1929: 237). The lucid descriptions of the Zulu festive vestments by Samuelson bring the aesthetics of these attires to life. Samuelson writes that amabheqe (skin flaps which came down to the cheekbones) and umqhele (head-rings) were worn by all regiments but what differentiated them were the vibrant plumes attached to umqhele. Samuelson writes that plumes from iSakabuli (Long-tailed widowbird), Intshe (Ostrich) and Indwe (Blue crane) and the quantity each man could wear, was determined by the king. With the Isakabuli plumes being worn by, “unmarried regiments, the married regiments had to wear a plume of the Indwe ‘Blue crane’ instead of Isakabuli and the ostrich plumes they had to wear on the side of their heads pointing backward” (Samuelson 1929: 238). Additional plumes were also worn on the side of the head, such as plumes from iFefelihle bird (Lilac-breasted roller), with Samuelson commenting that these plumes were positioned in such a way that “the feathers could wave up and down, gracefully – they were tied together in such a manner as to leave feathers the opportunity to wave freely” (Samuelson 1929: 238). The regiments took great pride in their festive vestments and, “should a member of a regiment be found not properly attired he would be asked by his comrades, ‘where do you come from?’ and be set on and thrashed with light sticks and sent home in disgrace” (Samuelson 1929: 239). The resplendent lithographs in George French Angus’s folio The Kafirs Illustrated (1849) provide a visual bolster to the written accounts by Isaacs and the Samuelson siblings. In the description of the eighth plate which focuses on the lithograph titled, “Utimuni/Nephew of Chaka”, Angus writes, “perhaps few of the African races can boast a more wildly picturesque or striking costume than that of a Zulu in full dress” (Angus 1849: 63). With a racial undertone, Angus characterises Zulu sartorial dress as having a “savage carelessness with which they display their ornaments, combined with their noble and unrestrained deportment” (1849: 63). Sandra Klopper (1989 & 1994) makes 18 the argument that Angus’s tone is informed by the racist assumptions and imperialist aspiration of Victorian society and that, as a commercial venture, the folio needed to “record the exotic and the extraordinary in an attempt to both ensure the commercial success of his work and to highlight the ‘otherness’ of his subject” (Klopper 1989: 69). Figure 2: uTimuni, Nephew of Shaka, the last Zulu King. Plate 13 from George French Angus's 1849. The Kafirs Illustrated. 19 The lithograph of uTimuni (figure 2) captures the two archives that I argue hold both the “hard/tough” masculinities and masculinities that are underpinned by self-regard, linked to aesthetic forms. Literature on Zulu masculinities has largely focused on the martial practices represented by the figures in the background of the lithograph of Timuni and neglected the spectacle of men like Timuni in the foreground with his resplendent beads, multitextured plumes and the movement of the cow tails suspended on his arms and below his knees.13 These resplendent scenes of men in various ornamentations, glistening bodies with swaying plumes, and their sense of self-regard drawn from their vestment and ornamentation, has been neglected in the history of Zulu masculinities. Hlonipha Mokoena (2013a) makes a poignant observation that primary sources on Zulu history are replete with descriptions of Zulu ornamentation and their finery. Writing on the image of Shaka, Mokoena contends that, “what we are left with is the ‘finery’ from which we are meant to extrapolate ‘the man himself’” (Mokoena 2013a: 106). Yet what dominates scholarship on the history of Zulu masculinities are the military maneuverers (Knight 2015), the brutality of the Zulu army (Laband 2008), patriarchal hierarchies (Guy 2018) the regimental grudges and their stubbornness (Samuelson 1905) and the oppressive nature of the Zulu social system on women and other marginalised groupings (Gibson 1911). It is difficult not to draw on the importance of the aesthetics and self-regard when reading about and viewing the florescent colours of the iFefelihle bird’s feathers freely popping from the side of umqhele, the feathers of Intshe facing backwards, and the swaying of the Isakabuli plumes affixed to the men’s head-rings. Aside from the symbolic association of iFefelihle (Lilac-breasted roller) as a monogenous/loyal bird, the florescent colouring of their plumes also had aesthetic qualities which Zulu men took pride in. This I read as demonstrating the sense of self-regard invoked by ornamentations and the valorisation of aesthetic social practices in Zulu masculine practices. Moreover, this valorisation of the masculine aesthetic is also made visible through the coiffed hair styles by young African men living south of the Thukela River 13 Some of the lithographs, Klopper (1989 & 1994) argues were embellished in keeping with the visual balance that Angus wanted to depict and the balance of form he wanted to convey. Klopper contends that some of these embellishments “ignored ritual taboos, or alternatively, merely demonstrated his limited knowledge of concepts and customs fundamental to the Zulu by adopting compositional schemata” (Klopper 1989: 67). 20 (Klopper 2010 & 2016), around present-day Durban in the eighteenth-century. Sandra Klopper (2010) argues that the coiffed hair styles were mimicking the elaborate head- rings, skins and plumes worn by Zulu regiments. The coiffed hair of the Zulu dandies’ (as Klopper terms them) also aided their revolt against the introduction of wage labour as their hair made them unsuitable for public works projects (isibhalo) and instead, they became letter couriers who delivered mail between Pietermaritzburg and Durban. Their coiffed hair afforded them subversive power, against exploitative Zulu tributary systems and their disparaging attitudes against isibhalo labour. Klopper argues that the coiffed hair empowered these young men to affirm their dignity and respect and offered them a chance to develop increasingly layered, context specific and even hybrid notions of self (Klopper 2016). Klopper’s assertions are built on two arguments. Firstly, that at the time, the Zulu kingdom was not a cohesive unified polity, but an amalgamation of previously independent tributary chiefdoms who had their own identities (Hamilton & Wright 1990; Buthelezi 2008).14 Moreover, Jeff Guy (2013 & 2016) argues that the cartographic “tribing” of Natal Africans through the mapping and production of 94 histories of Natal tribes in 1863 by Secretary for Native Affairs, Theophilus Shepstone and Natal Lieutenant, John Scott contributed to the formation of Zulu identity through creating “Zulu tribes” where they had never existed. This exercise in mapping, Guy (2016) argues, created a visual argument by defining ethnic polities as tribes in bounded areas. Guy’s study offers a foundation to the argument advanced by Michael Mahoney (2012) that, it was only at the turn of the twentieth century that Zuluness, as a self- identifier, began to take root amongst Natal Africans and broadly, across the Thukela River. The articulation of Zuluness as a self-identifier is the second argument that Klopper uses in making a case for the subversive sartorial styles of Africans below the Thukela River. There is general agreement that a broad Zulu identity did not begin to 14 John Wright and Carolyn Hamilton (1990; 2009) offer histories of the Nguni people that lived on the coastlands from the Thukela southwards to the Mkhomazi River who were referred as amalala. In the late eighteenth century two paramountcies had been established in the regions, ruled separately by the Thuli and the Cele (Hamilton & Wright 1990). Both paramountcies remained loose agglomerations of chiefs that were less centralised than states that were emerging at the time, north of the Thukela (Hamilton & Wright 1990). These paramountcies were in a tributary relation with the Zulu Kingdom, north of the Thukela River. 21 exist until the turn of the twentieth century.15 South African scholars Carolyn Hamilton, John Wright, Nessa Leibhammer (1990, 2009, 2016), Jeff Guy (2016) and Sandra Klopper (2016) all argue that Zulu identity was reserved for a small “Zulu descent- group”. Moreover, the identifier “Zulu” was not available or applied to all those who were conquered, even though they were part of the kingdom and some subordinate chiefs violently opposed being referred to as Zulu. Yet, British colonialist referred all Africans north of the Thukela River as being “Zulu”, these were people over whom Cetshwayo ruled (1872 - 1884) and through colonial ethnographic and cartographic endeavours, African people below the Thukela were also “tribed” as “Zulu”. Because Africans living around the area of eThekwini were not considered as part of the “Zulu- descent-group”, their young men were not grouped into age cohorts, in service of the Zulu king. Therefore, they were not assigned plumes, or hides to differentiate themselves, but were required to hand these over as tributary offerings to the Zulu kingdom. I opened this chapter with an image of myself, facing the mirror, recalling feelings of anxiety, self-awareness, and validation rooted in the expectations of my adolescent body, and corporeal practices that met, and did not meet my own understanding of my self-identification as a young Zulu man. As indicated in this review of literature, the inventions of Zuluness as a self-identifier was a fraught process of self-making, personhood and a relation to others that plays out even in the diction of my language. But also, in how the terms I use to describe the rites of passage, the concepts of the person and their sartorial usage are implicated in multiple intentions, audiences, stylisations and intent. Implied in Mupotsa’s (2020) implicit, albeit unnamed or interrogated use of a psychoanalytic development of the individual subject, and desire’s formalism within most studies of South African social anthropology and social history. Is, when in regard to African subjects, attached to a fixation of identity that marks language, culture and nation that accrue an ‘as is’ logic, as it relates to ‘Zulu man’, and a dual sex gender system that informs the rationale of my argument. In, The 15 In crafting an argument for Zuluness as a broad self-identifier Michael Mahoney (2012) argues that young men who became migrant labourers, cultivated the broader conception of Zulu identity in the Witwatersrand, in order to foster social cohesion. These young men, from the then colony of Natal and the autonomous Zululand, performed and crafted this new identity, through replicating rural structures of authority in these urban centres, and were supported by these old structures that gave currency to the formation of Zuluness. 22 Invention of Women: Making African Sense of Western Gender Discourses, Oyěwùmí’ (1997) offers a note on orthography that may be a productive orientation, noting that Yoruba is a tonal language. She indicates in her use of diacritics to indicate a shift in meaning depending on intention, or address. Terms in isiZulu for stages of personhood, ritual processes within the histories of fixing Zulu masculinities, despite the multi-accented usage implied in my argument, were fixed within the processes of inventing, and codifying customary law, as well as the space between orality and literacy represented in orthography. Sol. Plaatje (1976), who offered various translations and orthographies of seTswana notes that orthography functions as an orthographic projection, particularly as the language is standardized for use, in most instance for an equivalence to an English translation. To put into print, a language, much like the lithograph puts into print a projected image operate within this process of mirroring. In print, standardized, a fluency can be developed as it is related to how it translates to a single and universal English in definition, yet there remains a dialogue in the speech acts, or communicative transfers of the performative, aesthetic and self-regard that is at the heart of my argument. For instance, Isabel Hofmeyr (1994) notes the manner by why oral traditions are marked not only with fixity and assumptive purity, but are relegated to an evolutionary development model, where the movement from the oral to the literate (much like standardization) indicates progression. However, instead, Hofmeyr (1994) notes that rather than the orthographic/lithographic singular developed in this model of literacy, or inventing ‘the Zulu man’, producers in use of language, language which can include that of ornamentation or dress, are bricoleurs, and develop a heteroglossia of terms indicated in intention or address: self-regard. As noted in Peterson (2021[2000]), shifts that lead to making people gendered as male also involved the spectatorship of observers of performative practices of culture. Oral traditions, and oral historical techniques mobilised by colonial functionaries to standardise the terms of persons and process in Zulu relied not only on the functional use of language and ossified notions of culture to negotiate indirect rule. This also was functional in negotiating major structural transformations. Oral memory, and the technique of history as well as the use of language, when not only tied to territory as nation/culture needed to be converted in such a manner due to shifting topographies that people were confronted with. Oral memory, as Hofmeyr 23 (1994) notes relies on a mneunomic relationship to place, and spatial order. More aggressive social engineering required a conjuring of the rural landscape I speak of as the locale of my upbringing, as “the state’s social engineering often took the form of forced removals which involved consolidating previously scattered cluster homesteads into grid-style villages” (Hofmeyr 1994: 33). This spatial division of space and labour is what produces the spatial and sexual division of space and labour Oyěwùmí (1997) defines as a dual sex gender system. This changed landscape in the context of this orthographic/lithographic practice within a context of racial capital and gendered economies, in making ‘men’ who labour, had the consequence of gendering the role of orality into the space of the traditional, the domestic and the feminine. It also took those gendered as men out of apprenticeships in historical storytelling, affecting historical narration, as well as the difficulties by and through which ‘becoming’ as it relates to gender, was coded within newly invented idioms, traditions, and techniques of the self. To the extent that what is productive in my use of these terms, it is that various techniques of the speech act as diacritically engaged in Oyěwùmí’s (1997) sensibility is still mediated in the use of the terms despite the reductive forces imposed in the process of standardization. For instance, the principle of etymological deduction, a “principle on which both historical and imaginary narration depends” (Hofmeyr 1994: 39). In my own reflection, the mirror reflected my self-image, but also that of my cousins and in that multiplied sense of mirroring, assembles validation and recognition. That is, that even while piecing a sense of order around Zuluness as an identifier or inventing the rural countryside as an originary status; the process of identification with both is validation-recognition of a genealogical imperative, a sense of continuity whose techniques and use of language is in excess of the normatively assumed and use of the evolutionary model that is nonetheless still a preoccupation with orthography/lithography/standardization. As Hofmeyr notes, these excesses take the forms of aesthetic, corporeal, sensuous, and improvisatory forms. This is echoed in Peterson’s (2021[2000]) examination of how Africans negotiated the gap between orality and literacy as related to the work at Mariannhill Mission in the early 20th Century. The textual status of the Bible was interpreted in performative and oral performance with didactic evangelistic intentions, and eventually, the intention to develop a Zulu orthography. While translating this textual 24 form became useful for colonial functionaries in sustaining the notion of a purity of Zuluness, caught in the space and time of a ‘new’, yet originary in status, topography of Zulu language and nation. And yet, Peterson’s (2021[2000]) view directs us the various publicly polemical debates concerning this process, with no single perspective even from some of the first African writers in English at the mission. Missionaries struggled with translation, because even with a scripted play, the communication transfer was always transmitted in performative forms that reordered the English meaning through repertoires of the body, tone, performance, dialogue, and aesthetic practice that refused fixity. Along with an attachment to continuity as self-regard, the customary also offers a site of sovereignty and queer agency. As Neville Hoad (2016) notes, while customary law institutionalises the kinds of fixity Mupotsa (2020) moves against, there remains the constitutive relation to the customary that engages practices of social recognition in this realm embedded in the archive of my own memory, even within the feelings of anxiety I had in my adolescence. This realm disorders a dual sex gender system, and makes visible, or legible to users of its language, recognition, and validation. In this manner, a dialogic contact zone of speech acts across epistemological and cosmological orientations and performative actions, and the action of the boy facing himself in the mirror, longing for the feeling of a commodity like face cream, and the feeling of being regarded as beautiful. This history of Zulu male aesthetic, self-regard and fashionability is foregrounded as a rationale for my foundational argument. Which is, that there is another archive to Zulu masculinities that has been neglected which supports the claim for more genteel and dandyist practices that can be drawn from, to fashion masculinities with self- regard, and which place value on aesthetic forms of self-fashioning. My thesis sets out to demonstrate that what the igeza lensizwa fashion inspired photographic section was engaging in, was not entirely new. Zulu men have a history of using clothing as a conduit through which to express “their changing conception of ‘being Zulu’” by utilizing self-fashioning techniques (Mokoena 2013a). The thesis uses this “aesthetic of the body” (Gunner 2014) archive to firmly locate and contextualise the practices that amageza ezinsizwa employed in the contemporary lifestyle supplement, thus, linking the shifting representations into a large history of transgressive masculinities. The thesis will argue that amageza ezinsizwa cannot be narrowly read as metrosexuals, with pursuits to be “collectors of fantasies about the male sold to him by advertising” 25 (Simpson 2013: n.p.). The valorisation of the aesthetic is not a modern value brought about by increased consumer culture. But self-regard and dressing to match that self- regard, has an established history, and these social practices have been borrowed by young urban Zulu men as they reacted to what it meant for them to be amageza ezinsizwa during the first decade of the twenty first century eThekwini. Structure and organisation of the thesis The thesis is made-up of six chapters. By way of introduction, this chapter titled, Locating igeza lensizwa, began with a personal account of a memory that dealt with practices and rituals of becoming. This allowed me to begin grappling with my positionality as a researcher. This memory offered me entry points to how, from an early age, I have viewed the making of masculinities and the journey towards manhood. Through this memory, I began to introduce Connell’s (1996 & 2005) theory on masculinities to unpack ubusoka and being igeza lensizwa as practices in the making of Zulu masculinities. In locating alternative archives in the making of Zulu masculinities, the chapter situated the contemporary figure of igeza lensizwa within Zulu cultural history and asserted that the dictionary definition of igeza lensizwa offers conceptual clues to the crafting of igeza lensizwa in ILanga le Theku. With the aims and research questioned introduced, the chapter concluded with a reflexive exploration of how African men have a history of using clothing to negotiate their changing realities. Overall, this study is anchored by two aims. Firstly, to explore and describe the fashioning of igeza lensizwa as represented on the back page of the isiZulu-language lifestyle supplement called ILanga le Theku. Secondly, to interpret igeza lensizwa in ILanga le Theku as a site of contestation and articulation where both external and internal masculine hegemonies where tested and challenged. These two aims are fuelled by my interest in the editorial decision-making processes and the crafting of desire. Chapter two, titled, Reading Igeza Lensizwa, is mapped in a manner that engages the selected literature so that if helps shapes the concepts that I will be 26 contributing to scholarship of masculine representation. These concepts being, thirst- trap as being made-up of ukuheha [to entice] and ukuchaza [to have an affect], and igeza lensizwa as being comprised of ukuzithemba [self-confidence] and ukuzizwa [self-regard]. I engage literature on gendered representation in the media, Critical Masculinities Studies, and identity as situated subjectivity. The chapter critically engages on the impact of biological determinism and sexuality being used as a technique of power to interlink, sex, sexuality, gender, and desire. I map out how I will utilize Connell’s discursive approach to understanding urban Zulu masculinities in the form of amageza ezinsizwa. Connell’s (1996) discursive approach to the concept of masculinities will be further evaluated as being crucial to my study as it contends that masculinities are comprised of practices (gender and social) and relations. Put simply, practices are the way men act, behave, dress, speak, and these are “creative and inventive, and contribute towards the configuration of gendered identities” (Connell 2005a: 72, also Kimmel 1994; & Bowstead 2018). Moreover, these practices, performed by men to constitute their masculinity, are also relational to historical gender patterns, this is because men are also able to borrow practices from a cultural repertoire of masculine behaviour (Connell 2005a). There are constraints to these practices though, as situations allow certain practices and not others, but situations are structured differently, as practices can also "constitute and re-constitute structures. They make the reality we live in” (Connell 2005a: 65). Chapter two further foregrounds the conceptual value of transgressive masculinities (Anderson 2009 & Hall 2015) in the shifting configuration of practices as exhibited by amageza ezinsizwa. Since the study is primarily on igeza lensizwa fashion inspired photographs, an entry point into media and gender representation is made, using Dina Ligaga’s (2020) framing of public scripts as transmitting gendered values and expectation. Works on gendered representation in men’s glossy magazines, particularly by Nixon (1996), Edwards (2016) and Viljoen (2012) will be foregrounded as crucial entry points into understanding how fashion photographs in print media operate as public scripts that transmit new visual masculine representations. This clustering of concepts allows the study to make nuanced readings of the igeza lensizwa image and the four sites where an image’s meaning 27 rests, which are: the site of production, the site of the image itself, the site of its circulation and, the site of its audiencing (Rose 2016). The chapter offers a theoretical discussion of Roland Barthes’ (1990) application of social semiotics in crafting a fashion system, which is then reviewed and evaluated. The chapter puts forward the argument for the application of Barthes (1990) triad understanding of fashion to unpack the different components of the amageza ezinsizwa photographs; their real garments, written garment (captions), and the visual garment (model and background). To facilitate nuanced readings of the photographic backgrounds, the chapter pairs Barthes (1990) conceptualisation of the visual garment with Henri Lefebvre’s (2011) understanding of social space, to better tease out the relationship between the figure of igeza lensizwa in the foreground and the contents of the photographic backgrounds. The selection and interpretive modes (critical visual methodology) used on these photographs, is influenced by what Tina Campt (2012) implores visual scholars to bear in mind, that modes of interpretation need to engage how photographs move us and consider the photographs semiotic capacity. Barthes (1990) aids in this regard. Moreover, the chapter unpacks how the nine (9) members of the ILanga le Theku editorial team were, identified and interviewed using a semi- structured questionnaire approach. Lastly, the chapter reviews and evaluates the concepts of situated subjectivity (Brubaker and Cooper 2000) and black dandyism (Miller 2009; Barthes 2013) and identifies them as being apt for reading the multiple choices made by the young men, as visually represented, foregrounding them as responses to the editorial decisions. This thinking is guided by Connell’s cautionary remark that, a purely normative or discursive approach to understanding masculinities, “gives no grip on masculinity at the level of personality” (Connell 2005a: 70). The study applies the concepts of situated subjectivity and black dandyism to further consider the formation of urban Zulu masculinities at the level of personality and intends to contribute new knowledge through crafting a conceptual argument for igeza lensizwa. The establishment, uniqueness, and innovative work that was done in ILanga le Theku is explored in chapter three, titled Iphepha Labantu Abasha. The chapter unpacks the significance of the launch of ILanga le Theku as the first isiZulu-language lifestyle supplement, in relation to competing for readers with Isolezwe and how the 28 inaugural editorial team conceptualised the lifestyle supplement. The chapter builds a strong argument for ILanga le Theku’s uniqueness, as South African newspapers have never been studied for their visual gender representation. As an isiZulu-language tabloid, ILanga le Theku drew from African indigenous newspapers tradition of finding new voices and writing styles to address their readers. Additionally, as a tabloid, it had creative freedom, unrestricted by mainstream journalistic conventions and orthographic language practices. This unique position made it possible for ILanga le Theku to take creative liberties and push the boundaries that printing presses had erected. The chapter further focuses on the editorial conception of igeza lensizwa as a pin-up boy/thirst trap and the accompanying captions which were written as a response to a thirst trap image. The chapter contends that this was inspired by the isiZulu practice of ukukhuzela [shouting of love vocatives]. The chapter also makes a conceptual argument that the thirst-trap captions were involved in crafting desire. This they did by lucidly articulating the type of lecherous gaze the female persona used to observe amageza ezinsizwa. Desire was also crafted by the explicit articulation of the type affections that female reader was meant to have when they read the salacious fictive scenes between amageza ezinsizwa and the female person. Through in-depth interviews and detailed analyses of the accompanying captions, the chapter explores how the amageza ezinsizwa photographic section went about targeting both young urban Zulu male and female readers from eThekwini. For female readers, amageza ezinsizwa were foregrounded as thirst traps and were guided to this conclusion by the voice of the female persona that was created to craft the captions. This voice borrowed its urban Zulu readers speaking mannerisms, colloquialisms and referenced popular culture and Zulu culture to chime in with its readers interests. The captions mixed isiZulu, English and other linguistic varieties such as tsotsitaal, which was starkly different from how ILanga (the mother paper) positioned itself as a custodian of isiZulu. ILanga le Theku positioned itself as the custodian of the urban Zulu reader who had an affinity for an “impure form of Zulu” (Ndlovu 2011) and proudly showcased the changing realities of their lives. Through adulations and titillating fictive scenes, the captions provided a space where female readers could enjoy amageza firstly vicariously as thirst traps. And secondly, offer a glimpse into the egalitarian lives of young Zulu women eThekwini who were unafraid 29 to break patriarchal convention and initiate courtship, instead of being coy and politely awaiting to be courted. For young urban Zulu men, the igeza lensizwa photographic section was initially conceived as a didactic masculine type. A type for young men to aspire towards, as the editorial team and the female persona foregrounded alternative masculinities which they wanted young men to emulate. Through the shifting photographic types (three in total), the voice of the female persona changed, as young men made it known that they too were changing and valued different prowess’s as they embraced changing forms of self-expression and articulated their urban identities without shame. These young, urban, Zulu men foregrounded changing social and gender practices that had a bearing on their masculinities. Moreover, the chapter demonstrates that the conceptualisation of igeza lensizwa as a thirst trap also worked for young men, both the modish and the unmodish, despite their differing gender and social practices. Both these loosely defined groups valued the prowess of being a charmer and being popular amongst young women (ukuba isoka). These prowess’s were heightened if one appeared on the igeza lensizwa photographic section and the voice of the female persona, through its adulations, made these young men the “it” guys for the week. Through my own queer lens deployed as a methodological tool, I inferred two queer looking relations to broaden the limits of homosocial desire. These looking-relations being, firstly, between the male photographer’s identifying good-looking young men to street-cast. And secondly, between young men at home being asked to confront masculine beauty and compare themselves against the weeks igeza lensizwa. These thematic analyses and looking relations were possible because the publication became a site where popular consensus was created and where expressions of desires for alternative futures were articulated (Newell & Okome 2014; Barber 2018). ILanga le Theku openly challenged dominant Zulu masculinities and validated young men with different configurations of social and gender practices, marked by the three shifts in the photographic representations. The chapter further makes the argument that young people in the newly formed eThekwini Metropolitan Municipality, were boldly showcasing their shifting urban lives which were altering eThekwini’s popular culture scene at the turn of the twenty-first century. The Chapter also makes the argument that the young editorial team were emersed in eThekwini’s vibrant popular culture scene and therefore, were perfectly positioned to be at the helm 30 of the ILanga le Theku lifestyle supplement, as they were the very kind of readers that they were targeting. In Chapter four, titled Igeza lensizwa eThekwini, the focus shifts to reading relationships between amageza ezinsizwa in the foreground and the contents of the photographic backgrounds. The chapter builds an argument for viewing the contents of the backgrounds behind the amageza ezinsizwa fashion inspired photographs as both stage-settings and social spaces. The chapter then goes about making two arguments. Firstly, that adopting these lenses allows for nuanced readings that gives us access to the Durban Point’s layered history. This layered history is accessed by inferring connections between non-dominant architectural buildings and the imaginative investment that is required to read ruins in photographs. The chapter links this layered history to amageza ezinsizwa in the foreground of the photographs. The chapter establishes this inferred connection by placing amageza ezinsizwa at the end of the historical continuum of the ruins and crafts innovative narratives that speak to shifting Zulu masculinities, drawn from Morrell’s (1998) arguments on waning African masculinities and burgeoning black masculinities. The second argument is that, once the backgrounds are read as social spaces and stage-settings, locating key buildings such as The Stevedore, allows me to unpack the relationship between this building and amageza. This is based on what the building holds as a conceived space, and how the buildings latent information can be put into conversation with amageza ezinsizwa in the foreground. The chapter unpacks this inferred connection between what The Stevedore represents as a social space and what amageza ezinsizwa represent in the foreground. By doing this, I demonstrate that amageza ezinsizwa in the foreground with their own shifting masculinities, changing prowess’s and social practices, were engaged in similar shifts that young men before them, in this very area had engaged in. I demonstrate that this inferred connection is only activated by the fact that the meaning of a space is determined by who is occupying it, and the experiences that the person brings to the space. The chapter further demonstrates the intricate balance that amageza ezinsizwa were being encouraged to strike. Engage modishness and popular culture, whilst being steadfast to the virtues that made him a young urban Zulu man. Virtues, which themselves were undergoing changes as these contemporary Zulu men were being asked to balance being urban, educated, and modish and react to shifting social 31 agents which underpinned their masculinities, in the same manner that their forebears had (who lived in the then native hostel now revamped and called The Stevedore). The chapter strongly argues that it was not possible for them to react in a similar fashion as their forebears, as their circumstances were drastically different. For young contemporary urban Zulu men, eThekwini was their home, and they were not in a sojourn relationship with eThekwini. They had no pressure to establish and head homesteads, where their Zulu patriarchal power would be drawn from. Amageza ezinsizwa unashamedly made themselves their prime priority. Chapter five titled, Kusayilo igeza lensizwa naleli? focuses on the editorial decisions of what made igeza lensizwa and the practice of reading the style narratives of the photographed young men. The chapter argues that amageza ezinsizwa should be read as operating in a similar manner as black dandyism. This is operationalised by applying Barthes (2013) two-prong definition of dandyism as being comprised of a young man’s ethos and techniques. The accompanying captions will be analysed to identify isiZulu descriptors, which will then be verified against the interviews with the editorial team, to determine their dispositional qualities. The chapter intricately contextualises Barthes ethos into a Zulu context and demonstrates that in the context of igeza lensizwa, ukuzithemba (self-confidence) and ukuzizwa (self-regard) are the dispositions that undergird the young men’s style narrative. These dispositional terms make it possible for these young, urban black men to configure transgressive masculinities which are made-up of social and gender practices that amageza were proud of enacting. These were transgressive because young men that embody dominant Zulu masculinities, and those that are complicit to these, fear stepping out of the standard configuration of gender and social practices, as masculinities are “demonstrated for other men’s approval” (Kimmel 1994: 214 & Connell 2005a). Chapter five demonstrates that amageza ezinsizwa did not reject dominant Zulu masculinities, as they still valorised being amasoka [young men popular amongst girls]. This meant having prowess’s to attract women, and the relished acclaim associated with out-going other young men by being showcased in ILanga le Theku. Through this, they were admired by male peers, a valued aspect that is prized by amasoka. Amageza ezinsizwa articulated their masculine gendered identity by configuring different social and gender practices, but these were not radically different from heteronormative Zulu masculinities. Using arguments on transgressive 32 masculinities as articulated by Anderson (2009) and Hall (2015), chapter five builds a steady argument that amageza ezinsizwa drew on some key characteristics/practices from heteronormative Zulu masculinities such as ukucupha isisoka. By honing different prowess’s to becoming a contemporary isoka, amageza ezinsizwa were then able to transgress on some masculine social practices such as the disdain against vanity and modishness (Anderson 2009 & Hall 2015).The chapter further demonstrates how the casting call invited young men to introspect and assess if they embodied these dispositions and moreover, if they considered themselves amasoka [popular amongst women]. Having introspected, they were further asked to assess themselves against the week’s igeza lensizwa in a sparring manner. How igeza lensizwa posed and stylised himself were the techniques that he employed to showcase his situated subjectivity, which was informed by his dispositions of ukuzithemba and ukuzizwa. The chapter argues that these techniques were also style narratives, as style denotes agency in the construction of the self. Carol Tulloch’s (2010 & 2016) argument that styling is a form of autobiography will be utilised to bolster my reading of the young men’s agency. Young, urban black men’s modishness and stylishness formed new prowess’s which were validated by the female persona and her adulating captions. The chapter argues that by acting as a validating platform, the igeza lensizwa photographic section invited young urban black men to re-configure their gender and social practices and proudly show what being urban and Zulu meant to them. By doing this, ILanga le Theku saw igeza lensizwa burgeon to be a young man who had an instinctive regard for himself as set by the two dispositions, moreover, a young man that understood that clothing and style could be utilised to make statements about his own masculinity. The final chapter (six) titled, Concluding implications of amageza ezinsizwa kwi’Langa le Theku, brings the study to a close and elucidates on the research findings as derived from the interview insights and analyses of the fashion inspired photographs that were sourced from the ILanga library in Durban and the Bessie Head library in Pietermaritzburg. The chapter offers a comprehensive overview of this thesis’s main arguments as pursued in each chapter, and their implications and contributions to existing bodies of knowledge. 33 Chapter Two Reading igeza lensizwa Introduction Photographs and the contexts within which we read them represent a medley of choices. This chapter is interested in exploring and unpacking how to read these choices, made by the editorial team of ILanga le Theku, the photographers and the choices made by the young men that were photographed for the igeza lensizwa section. As fashion inspired photographs, the amageza ezinsizwa images require a multitude of lens to activate them and rationalise specific readings of them. Photographs are activated when “they are read with a certain active attention and when they are allowed to unsettle the world and its many visual iterations” (Thomas & Green 2015: 439). The chapter is mapped out in a manner that foregrounds the concepts that I have crafted through my analysis of the archival materials, interviews with the inaugural editorial team and my own affective reflections. The concepts that the thesis will be contributing to scholarships on reading masculine representations are, firstly; a thirst- trap as being made-up of ukuheha [to entice] and ukuchaza [to affect]. Secondly, igeza lensizwa as being comprised of ukuzithemba [self-confidence] and ukuzizwa [self- regard]. The architecture of each section sees me engaging with select literature on gender representations in the media, Critical Masculinities Studies and identify as situated subjectivity, in a critical fashion, that helps fine-tune the concepts I am developing. I locate my study within literature on African print cultures and African popular culture, by engaging works by Stephanie Newell and Onookome Okome (2014), George Ogola (2017) Emma Hunter, and Stephanie Newell (2018), Tsitsi Jaji (2018), and Dina Ligaga (2020). Moreover, select Western print media, by Sean Nixon (1996) and Tim Edwards (1997 & 2016) to understand photographic representations of men as emitting public scripts about contextual masculinities. Moreover, this set of literature 34 helps me articulate different looking relations that were at play between the different interlocutors that were involved in the making of igeza lensizwa. Insights from Kopano Ratele (2016) will guide me on the importance of the psyche in examining masculinities and the decisions informed by it, guided by individual psychological reality. These insights by Ratele (2016) offer buildings blocks and lenses that link this section, to the one that follows on Critical Masculinities Studies. In this section I engage Oyèrónké Oyěwùmí (1997 & 2005), Raewyn Connell (Connell 1996 & 2005) and Ratele (2016) to critically engage on how contextual, historical, and self-making masculinities can shape the understanding of igeza lensizwa as representing shifting Zulu urban masculinities. The final thematic section engages dandyism and how Roland Barthes (2013) and Iké Udé (1995) writing on (black) dandyism can hone my lens on igeza lensizwa’s self-confidence and self-regard. The final two sections foreground my theoretical lenses on alternative and transgressive masculinities (Anderson 2009 & Hall 2015), and Barthes’ (1990 & 2013) concept of the fashion system as underpinned by social semiotics. The last section unpacks, firstly, how I identified and interviewed the ILanga le Theku editorial team. Secondly, it unpacks my studies interpretive modes located within critical visual methodologies (Mirzoeff 1999 & Rose 2016), and Campt (2012) notions of photographs needing their affective and semiotic capacity engaged with. Gender representation in print media and spectatorship re-organised My reading of ILanga le Theku begins with positioning th