Remember when you were an awkward, pimply 18-year-old in high school and you had no idea what you were actually supposed to do with the rest of your life (shout out to Life Orientation for absolutely nothing)?
Yahto Kraft, the sassiest, most refreshingly confident 18-year-old I’ve ever met, doesn’t seem to relate because, from a very young age, the stage was his calling, and his answer especially harmonic.
You might have seen him perform at the Teatro at Monte Casino, maybe you’ve come across his debut single “Ugly”, or maybe you saw him strutting his stuff up and down your television screen as a contestant on Season 3 of The Voice SA.
The kid’s got mad pipes and a presence that you cannot ignore.
I’m convinced that a name like Yahto Kraft comes with a good backstory, and he laughs as he starts, “It means “blue” in Native American. My parents were a little bit hippy dippy. My mom says, ‘The highest of the highs [blue sky] and the lowest of the lows [blue ocean] that’s how far [she believes] I can go.”
At 18, Kraft is the brightest colour of the Queer flag and openly so, so I ask about his coming out, “I came out to my friends first. Because I wasn’t the best kid, let’s just say that I’d get to know bartenders very easily so at 15, 16, I was shaking my ass up in Melville.”
He tells me that he and his mother have a very close relationship so naturally, she was next to know, “I wanted to tell her so badly about the guy who “Ugly” [his debut single] is about, so I was like, ‘Fuck, mom, I like boys and girls,’ and she was like, ‘My baby, we know,’ we been knew! ‘You’ve been wearing my heels — the one pair of heels that she had — and a tablecloth since you were 6,” he shares proudly.
With a background in classical singing, Kraft went on to attend Stageworx School of Performing Arts in Randburg, and he shares his experience, “It was absolutely incredible to be in a space where I could be myself but it was incredibly daunting. I had that internalized fear of being ‘the other’ and being made fun of for being bigger, but they quickly let me know that it was gonna be okay. It was very freeing.”
Wanting to expose the rest of the world to his incredible vocal talent, Kraft’s vocal coach entered him for Season 3 of The Voice, and before he knew it, it was time for his Blind Audition. “The only person who didn’t turn for me was Riana Nel,” he says matter-of-factly.
With Riky Rick, Lira, and Francois van Coke as options, I ask what made him choose Team Lira. “Pure gut instinct,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “I was going in thinking I’d probably go with Francois ‘cause rock vibes, we’ll probably get along, we’re both Afrikaans, the rock star aesthetic is totally my vibe, but then they turned around, and then I went with the jazziest musician of them all.”
I’m curious about his experience working with the sultry songstress, and he’s studiously sassy when he says, “Lira taught me how to be a diva and get what I want.” His heart melts when he adds, “She was the sweetest person you’ve ever met. My first week at [live rounds] I was panic-central, and she just stopped everything, came back stage, gave me the biggest hug and said, ‘We both know you can do this, so do this.’”
He was voted off just before the finals, and his thank you post on Instagram is as much a letter to his fans as it is a couple of words of encouragement for the queer world: “…We did it guys! We got through to them and showed some people how we do it, and we aren’t done yet. We’ve got a long way to go but hopefully I’ve opened some doors for y’all.”
We talk about his debut single “Ugly” and I mention that it’s a striking title that makes me feel uncomfortable, and he elaborates, “I wrote this song four years ago about this little asshole who broke my heart. But the meaning has completely changed which is why I wanted to release it now. It’s matured with me. It’s grown with me. It’s not about my own singular experience anymore. It’s about being different in a world that might not be so ready for different, it’s about being seen as ugly in a world that’s obsessed with perfect.”
I ask him if he feels a responsibility to represent for the queers and, like the orator he was born to be, he concludes, “That’s exactly why I do what I do, for the people who don’t have a voice, for those queer kids who can’t come out because the families aren’t accepting, or they’re afraid, and they’re just not ready. To have your family not love who you are, I can’t imagine how terrifying that must be, but to not love yourself is something far more terrifying.”
Kraft is becoming the (incredibly talented and powerful) voice for the younger generation of misfits queer or not, and his journey is one I’ll be keeping a close eye on.
