In 1960, after testifying against the contraventions of South Africa’s apartheid government at the United Nations, Miriam Makeba’s passport was revoked and she was effectively exiled from her country.
Her status as an activist only grew stronger after this. She became a global figure, a symbol of the struggle for justice and for human rights. It was only in 1990 that she was allowed to return home, already a cultural ambassador for the music of her people.
She was one of the first women to pioneer the genre now called Afro pop. Blending sounds of traditional Marabi with the specifics of Western folk, jazz and ’60s pop, Miriam Makeba’s global recognition was a huge milestone in the musical legacy of South Africa.
The world knew her for “The Click Song”. To foreign ears, this unheard style of vocalisation was thrilling. But, of course, her success was not without blatant appropriation by the West. A well-disguised capitalist endeavour that grossly exoticised African music and fetishised black women. Still she took this in her stride, much like her political expulsion.
Back home, she was an inspiration to all. She left behind a community that had the exact same music ingrained within them; a community of black women who rightly share in her legacy.
Strike Vilakazi’s resistance song of 1956 – “Meadowlands” – was most notably circulated by Makeba, but before her popular rendition it was originally sung by Nancy Jacobs and Her Sisters. Instilled with the soul and spirit of South African jive, Nancy Jacobs and her beloved ensemble had long been a celebratory voice for those expelled to the homelands, and those living in townships.
During this time, a wave of all-female, all-black vocal ensembles had begun to gain widespread appeal. They sung a style of music called mbube, which later evolved into what became known as isicathamiya. A genre characterised by its a cappella harmonies, popularised by Ladysmith Black Mambazo and more recently on a global scale, by The Joy. A genre for which Nancy Jacobs certainly laid the groundwork.
Dorothy Masuku also released a cover of “Meadowlands” shortly after Jacobs. Masuku’s rise to fame coincided with the golden age of Sophiatown, a multicultural neighbourhood in Johannesburg that became a hub for artists, musicians and intellectuals, where she quickly became an icon.
Pairing the rhythmic foundations of African drum music with ragtime and blues, Dorothy Masuku’s role in the development of African jazz was undeniably pivotal. Years later, we’d look back on her music and call it Sophiatown Jazz.
Popular songs like “Magumede” and “Dr. Malan” were also bold political statements, which led to her being targeted by the apartheid government and eventually being forced into exile in the 1960s.
Dolly Rathebe played an equally crucial part in the birth of South Africa’s now vibrant and innovative jazz scene. She was referred to as an ‘entertainer’ during the ’50s, not a musician, such that her unique and significant contributions to the legacy of jazz have often gone overlooked.
In fact, she was breaking barriers in an industry widely dominated by men, being held to the harsh and sexist scrutiny of an industry that demanded to be entertained. Despite such resistance, her success is remembered as a symbol of black female empowerment.
Letta Mbulu was yet another, spinning her unique interpretation of Afro-jazz and roots music. She collaborated with legends such as Cannonball Adderley, David Axelrod, Harry Belafonte and Michael Jackson, bringing modern mbaqanga to the world.
Much like her contemporaries, her music was deeply intertwined with the anti-apartheid movement. But tracks like “Nomalizo” and “What’s Wrong with Groovin'” are more than just political statements. At their softest, they are intimately sympathetic. At their strongest, they portray a woman fighting for her place in the world.
Today we celebrate the likes of Zoë Modiga, Kujenga and Mandisi Dyantyis for their innovation, but the truth is that none of them would be anywhere without the fierce and passionate spirit of women like Masuku, Rathebe and Mbulu.
And then there was the so-called “Queen of African Pop”, the “Madonna of the Townships”. I’m talking about Brenda Fassie, one of South Africa’s most beloved and influential voices in music. Fassie wrote about love, she wrote about joy and wanting to have fun. Plainly put, she wrote about things that black people were supposedly not worthy of.
Hit tracks like “Weekend Special” and “Vul’indlela” are simple expressions of the most basic human feelings. Fassie did not allow her desires to be used as weapons against her, and for this her music was joyfully defiant. It was revolutionary.
She popularised the term bubblegum music, a genre that later became a proponent of kwaito and even amapiano. With dance music now one of our country’s biggest and most successful exports, it’s hard to imagine what the musical landscape of South Africa, and even the world, might look like without Brenda Fassie.
But we need look no further than an artist like Tyla to realise just how far South African music has come, and it’s thanks to all the women who, for decades, have silently led the cause. Simphiwe Dana, Thandiswa, Lira, Zolani, Msaki, the list goes on. Black South African women are taking centre stage, but the reality is that they always have been. And there’s one thing they all have in common.
Resilience.
