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26 August 2025 | Story Precious Shamase | Photo Teboho Mositi
From the left: Dr Grey Magaiza, Deputy Director of CGAS; Prof Vasu Reddy, Deputy Vice-Chancellor: Research and Internationalisation; Prof Cias Tsotetsi, Campus Vice-Principal: Academic and Research; and Prof Jared McDonald, Assistant Dean of the Faculty of The Humanities.

The Centre for Gender and Africa Studies (CGAS) on the University of the Free State (UFS) Qwaqwa Campus recently hosted the Biennial Gendered Worlds Lecture. The series focuses on the meaning and interpretation of the social, cultural, and political environments where gender is constructed, experienced, and contested. The recent lecture featured a captivating address by Prof Vasu Reddy, the Deputy Vice-Chancellor: Research and Internationalisation. Titled The Taste(s) of Intimacies: Reflections on the Trifecta of Food, Sexuality and Love in Gendered Worlds, this lecture invited the audience to explore the complex, interconnected nature of these three domains.

Prof Reddy opened his talk by describing food, sexuality, and love as ‘grammars of intimacy’ – a powerful metaphor suggesting that these elements encode cultural scripts, regulate bodies, and create opportunities for resistance and transformation. He intentionally used the term ‘trifecta’, borrowed from horse racing, to highlight the synergistic yet sometimes incompatible relationship between these three elements. He explained that this trifecta provides a profound framework for understanding how intimacy is experienced, negotiated, and theorised within different cultural and gendered contexts.

The lecture was structured in several parts, beginning with a personal reflection on Prof Reddy’s upbringing. He shared an intimate image of himself and his grandmother, explaining how her kitchen was not just a domestic space for cooking and nurturing. He motivated that his grandmother’s kitchen was a site of ‘gendered and feminist pedagogy’. He described it as a space not just for nourishment, but also for learning. This is where he learned about nurturing and care through observation and storytelling. This personal anecdote set the stage for a broader discussion on the socio-political dimensions of food, which he described as a ‘mode of enquiry and practice’ and an ‘object of power’. He noted that food preparation is a form of gendered labour and highlighted how apartheid structured food along racial lines, turning dishes such as ‘chakalaka’ from symbols of struggle and survival into commodified examples for elite consumption.

Moving on to sexuality, Prof Reddy argued that, like food, it is a domain where intimacy meets regulation. He referenced the work of Zanele Muholi, a renowned visual activist, whose photography in projects such as Somnyama Ngonyama (‘Hail the dark lioness’) confronts histories of colonialism and gendered violence by asserting the visibility and dignity of black and queer bodies. This aspect of the lecture emphasised how sexuality is not merely personal but is deeply shaped by cultural and political scripts.

In another component of this lecture, Prof Reddy delved into the complex nature of love. He proposed that love, though often idealised as apolitical, is deeply structured by cultural norms and power relations. Drawing on the work of scholar Sara Ahmed, he described love as a ‘sticky emotion’ that adheres to certain bodies and relationships, shaping how people are nourished, touched, and recognised. He highlighted that love is often a struggle – a messy, unpredictable, and transformative process.

Prof Reddy also discussed the ‘affective dimension’ of these matters, explaining that emotions are not just personal feelings, but social forces that shape bodies, spaces, and politics. He linked this to the concept of ‘taste’, suggesting that it is not only a sensory experience, but also an affective one, laden with social context, pleasure, and sometimes shame.

Throughout the lecture, Prof Reddy emphasised the entanglement of the private and public realms, asserting that intimacy is not confined to the bedroom but is shaped by public politics and collective norms. He concluded by presenting resistance and liberation as central to the discussion, positing that food, sexuality, and love can be sites of radical acts. He cited bell hooks, who argued that intimacy can be a powerful force for healing and self-definition in the face of systemic oppression.

For Prof Reddy, gendered worlds are not just sites of oppression, but also spaces of possibility that prompt further questions to make sense of ourselves.

In his closing remarks, he invited the audience to consider the profound questions his lecture posed: What does intimacy taste like? Who gets to taste it? And how is that taste shaped by gender, power, and history? He encouraged everyone to critically engage with these questions – not just intellectually, but personally – to reimagine intimacy as a public, relational, and transformative practice for building a more equitable world.

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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