Ntsikelelo Meslani aka Lelowhatsgood

Writer / DJ / Cultural Curator

Pronouns: He / Him

I was born and raised in the East Rand, in Johannesburg. This city was always my home. I’ve also gotten the pleasure to also grow up in Durban for a few years, that’s where I finished my high schooling career before moving back up. 

You’ve spoken about how your family really accepted and embraced you: what are some of your earliest childhood memories and how did you express yourself as a child?

I was just always myself. I’ve never had to change or hide who I am, which is why I’m so comfortable with my own skin. I was more of a shy child growing up, but I outgrew that part of me as time went and became more confident and a people’s person. 

You’ve cited Missy Elliot and Aaliyah as early inspirations- what did those worlds and visuals they created mean to you when you were younger?

For me, I saw confident and beautiful Black women who just carried themselves in a beautiful way, unapologetically. Those were some of my first visual inspirations - alongside Beyonce and local artists such as Boom Shaka, Busi Mhlongo, etc. I gravitated towards Black women more and I’ve only now found the answers as to “why?”. Being Queer meant trying to tap into what femininity is and isn’t. And there’s no right  or wrong answer, but for me it meant finding relatability in what that energy was. Today, I can simply put that Black women have had a great deal in shaping who I am. 

Of course, your love for music resulted in your DJ career. A big step forward in that regard was attending an event and workshop aimed at femme and queer DJs- how did it feel to develop your skills in a space that embraced you immediately? 

It meant that I could grow myself quicker and also have the freedom to be who I am which automatically makes everything easier. Being in spaces with people who affirm you and don’t try to change you is amazing and that’s why I was able to get support, find myself in a growing community and also being able to contribute to the community somehow. 

Would you say that putting together playlists and creating live mixes is a form of queering narratives and spaces?

It absolutely is. It’s storytelling on different formats and that’s how you express how you feel or what you’re doing through that period in time. Which is why I find so much freedom in doing things like that. 

The DJ industry still seems like a (cis het) boys’ club- how do you navigate that?

It’s a shame that the industry operates like this, still. How I deal with it is making sure I stand out, never shy away from who I am and do my job so well that it exceeds people’s expectations. I also navigate it by creating my own platforms that affirm people who are just like me. 

You are also a prolific writer- a process that’s in stark contrast to DJing, I would imagine- is that a necessary respite for you?

The beginning of my career was always rooted in writing. My teenage years would involve writing for my own blog, researching, reading, getting as much knowledge and information as possible. I’ve been able to carry that through because I would like to believe that I'm quite diverse in my craft and multifaceted. At this moment, my writing is becoming more creative and also putting people who I look up to on my new website blog, while I still do freelance work for other publications. 

In your 2018 feature for the New York Times, Cape Town’s New Masculinity, you write, “It’s no coincidence that this rebellion against gender and Eurocentrism has been led by queer, trans and gender-nonconforming young people. Their protest is a means of self-preservation”. Can you elaborate on that?

When we look and dig deeper into history as we know it, queer and trans folk have put their bodies on the line to shift narratives or perceptions as well as fighting for equality. The rebellion that we see now is against norms set through colonisation and Western world views. A lot of the problems that we face now in Africa are the effects of that, and the more marginalised groups such as the queer community (other than the Black community) is on the receiving end. The protest that is put by this group of people, whether passive or not, ensures that the generation after us can live better and survive. It’s still a constant fight. 

You are also the founder of Vogue Nights Jozi, “an inclusive, intersectional event and cultural movement that has music, art, and dance at the core of its concept”. How necessary are these safe spaces for queer expression?

These spaces are quite important because we don’t have spaces that celebrate us enough. Something that’s for us and by us. It’s also about community building because what i’ve seen before spaces like these is just groups of people dispersing in different areas and we never get to be one. I’ve seen people build friendships and be in relationships because of spaces like this, and it’s important for me to keep doing it because it ensures that we’re all kept as one. My bigger dream is to expand and build in other remote areas as well. 

How do you ensure that activism and awareness remain a part of something that to an outside audience may seem as just a queer party? 

Social media plays a big part in the brand identity, and this is why the platform still speaks to injustices, uplifts and celebrates people in the community and also is a means to connect. 

With queer culture becoming more and more mainstream, there is large-scale appropriation of words and phrases, without the necessary credit. What do you think can be done to ensure there isn’t any erasure- particularly the erasure of Black queer people- in culture and media?

I think it’s just always making things known and setting those PSA’s on the internet of where things originally come from because erasure is a big thing and it’s not okay. It’s also just educating, having conversations and keeping the culture alive through the very same channels that may try to erase queer culture. 

Religious beliefs and colonisation are often cited as two primary reasons why queer culture will never be accepted and embraced on our continent- what do you say to anyone who says being queer is “unAfrican”?

Firstly, it’s quite an uneducated reasoning because queerness was and will always be African. For me, I always try to let someone who says that know that they’re contradicting themselves but the other party needs to be open to learning as well. 

 Despite all the work you do and being described as someone who is “bringing disruption in African media & entertainment spaces” (Afropunk), you reject the notion of being considered a spokesperson for the queer community, if I’m not mistaken?

I reject the notion of being labeled an “activist”. And not that it’s a bad thing, I think it bears so much responsibility when all I’m really trying to do is put out authentic work that is also related to the community and be a representation of that as well. 

And finally- what kind of legacy do you want to leave behind?

I just want people who come after me to see that it’s definitely possible. No matter who you are or where you come from, a little hard work and believing in yourself will take you somewhere. The legacy I want to leave behind is to make sure that the queer community keeps celebrating themselves and have a big platform as well.

Be sure to follow Lelowhatsgood on Instagram and Twitter.