Quaintrelle

quaintrelle Issue 01 | May 2017

R50.00

PHENOMENAL WOMAN strong south african woman of the month

EMMA WATSON

feminism is about giving women choice

ADELE

RAW,FUNNY,REAL

CONT the july edition feature

09. LIZA GOLDEN-BHOJWANI

46. EMMA WATSON

13. CHRISSY TEIGAN

61. THANDIE NEWTON

34. MEGHAN MARKLE

66. ADELE

fashion journal

agenda

19. AMBER VALLETTA

102. TRIP TO A MARKET

sex & sexualities

beauty

30. TIME TO ADDRESS SLUT SHAMING

24. USING CLAY TO TREAT ACNE

31. GENERATION Y’S SEXUALITY TALK

25. COCONUT OIL ON SKIN & HAIR

40. WHAT YOUR SEXUAL FANTASIES SAY ABOUT YOU

27. SWITCH TO MINERAL FOUNDATION

women in politics

the arts

51. FOUR FEARLESS FEMALE POLITICIANS FROM AROUND THE WORLD THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT.

83. FILM REVIEW

114. CELEBRATING BRENDA FASSIE & WINNIE MANDELA

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76. BOOK REVIEW 92. MUSIC REVIEW

TENTS 5

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editorial

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LIZA GOLDEN-BHOJWANI THIS FORMER MODEL GAVE UP EATING 500 CALORIES A DAY, AND LEARNED TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH WEIGHT GAIN 9

feature

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or all the cultural conversation around body positivity, the world of high fashion hasn’t been quick enough to catch up. Liza Golden-Bhojwani, a former runway model and current blogger, knows that lesson better than most. On the catwalk, this is the norm, to the extent that France had to establish a new law preventing too-thin models from walking in 2015.

While Golden-Bhojwani may have left the industry, becoming all the happier for that choice, she explains that listening to what her body needed and getting over the pressure to be incredibly thin wasn’t so easy.

Golden-Bhojwani documented the journey she went on, from a runway model subsisting on 500 calories a day to someone who’s gained weight but still takes care of her health. Writing alongside side-by-side photos of herself at the most successful point in her modelling career and herself now, Golden-Bhojwani makes clear that the transition didn’t happen overnight.

Referring to her thinner self in 2012, she explains, “The left side was me at the start of the peak of my career. My first proper fashion week where I was actually the size I needed to be.

I was booking amazing shows that one never thinks they actually could, walking with girls who I once looked up to, it was a serious adrenaline rush...but after fainting one night in my apartment whilst preparing one of my very low cal meals (I think it was 20 pieces of steamed edamame if I remember correctly), I called it quits with the diet and workout regimen I was put on and decided I could do it on

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my own.”

Going off a restricted diet wasn’t so simple though, Golden-Bhojwani says, because she began craving the full meals and food variety she’d denied herself for so long. “I thought to myself, I can still be this thin, but I’ll just eat a little more so I don’t feel so horrible.

Well, eating a little more turned into eating nearly a bag full of almonds, which then turned into eating fullsize meals, which then turned into a full-blown binge. I was craving every single food you could imagine and I was giving in to every craving even though I knew this was such an important time in my career,” she explained.

Ultimately, the changes made Golden-Bhojwani become “a 35.5-inch hip rather than the 34.5-inch hip I started with,” a difference that resulted in “online criticism about my thighs looking fat.”

Soon after, Golden-Bhojwani says the weight gain began costing her jobs, and next, she stopped going after modelling gigs altogether, unwilling to subject her body to what it had been through before.

“I had seriously just given up on my short-lived high fashion career, because I just simply could not hack it,” she said.

It took two more years before Golden-Bhojwani discovered a healthy fitness regimen. She explained, “In 2014 I got a kick, a rev of my engine, I wanted to get in shape again, I was over giving up. I wanted in again, but in a much healthier way...And I did just that, I worked my a** off day in and day out in the gym.

I was strict about my diet, but I wasn’t fully starving myself like I had two years ago.” Yet her changes didn’t

fully satisfy either herself or the industry she was trying to break back into: “In 2012 I was having about 500 calories a day, whereas in 2014 I was having about 800–1,200 depending on my mood and hunger patterns.

I was the fittest I ever was in my entire career at this point, I had six-pack abs, but still I wasn’t fit enough for the likes of Victoria’s Secret or other brands.”

Last year, however, GoldenBhojwani says she began to embrace her body. “I was struggling to lose weight again, and one day I just thought ... why am I fighting against my body?” she writes.

“Why don’t I just go in the same direction? Stop forcing my own agenda and just listen to my body.” KAREN BRILL

Top left: Golden-Bhojwani at height of her modelling career compared to her natural figure now (right).

Bottom right: Golden-Bhojwani embracing her curves during a photo shoot with Vijit Gupta.

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CHRISSY TEIGEN OPENS UP FOR THE FIRST TIME ABOUT HER POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION IN A MOVING SELF WRITTEN ESSAY 13

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hrissy Teigen, 31, is many things: a Sports Illustrated cover girl, a New York Times best-selling cookbook author, a host of the Emmy-nominated TV series Lip Sync Battle and the soon-to-be designer of a fashion line with Revolve. But she’s best known for what her husband, John Legend, calls her: “smart mouth.” She opines on everything from politics to stretch marks, 140 characters a time on Twitter. And her commentary is often so “you took the words out of my mouth!” that all you have to do is hit RT and add the word “PREACH.” What women love about Teigen is that she is, as she admits, “an open book.” She will show off a perfect seared duck breast—and tell you she accidentally sliced off her fingertip on a mandoline. Ask her about the wildest place she’s had sex? She’ll answer.

(An airplane.)

But there’s one thing she hasn’t shared yet: After giving birth to her daughter, Luna, last April, Teigen developed postpartum depression, a condition affecting one in nine women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. She talks about her experience, why she kept it private, and how she’s doing now. And she is as raw and real as ever. Over to you, Chrissy.

When Quaintrelle first told me I was going to be on the cover, I was freaking thrilled.

Seriously. As a longtime reader, I couldn’t believe it. I’d always assumed that wearing swimsuits (or half a swimsuit) or having the occasional nip slip (or bit slip) wouldn’t make me the go-to choice for a women’s magazine I not only love but respect.

Yet here I am! Next they asked me to write an essay.

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I was super into it, but then cringed every time I opened my laptop. Topics? I quickly realized I have truly talked about everything possible.

I guess that’s the dilemma one faces when they…well… can’t shut up. I’ve been a chronic oversharer since birth.

So I decided I’d talk about something no one really knows about me, mainly because I just learned about it myself. What is it? I’ll get there.

Let me start here: To a lot of you, I think, I seem like the happiest person on the planet. I have an incredible husband—John and I have been together for over 10 years. He has seen my successes and failures; I’ve seen his. He has seen me at my worst, but I will say I don’t think I have ever seen him at his. He’s exactly as compassionate, patient, loving, and understanding as he seems. And I hate it. OK, I don’t hate it.

But it can certainly drive you nuts sometimes when you’re as cynical as I am. If I weren’t me, I would politely excuse myself to make the most epic eye roll of all time if a woman talked to me about her significant other the way I just did to you.

When John and I got together, I found my love for cooking. On one of our earliest dates, I took him to Daniel (four dollar signs on Yelp, ahhh!). I drank a $40 margarita, ate salmon rillettes (fancy salmon spread), and prayed my card wouldn’t be declined. I couldn’t afford to take him out to more dinners like that, so I started cooking more and more at home for us. I started with my own version of that salmon spread, then roasted whole branzino, osso buco, chipotle BBQ chicken.

When my first cookbook came out, I finally felt proud of my work. I feel that same pride in Lip Sync Battle, where I get to work with LL Cool J and watch Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan go head-tohead as Beyoncé and motherfcking Paula Abdul. My job, essentially, is to have the best time humanly possible.

And a year ago, in April, John and I started our family together. We had our daughter, Luna, who is perfect.

She is somehow exactly me, exactly John, and exactly herself. I adore her.

I had everything I needed to be happy. And yet, for much of the last year, I felt unhappy. What basically everyone around me—but me—knew up until December was this: I have postpartum depression. How can I feel this way when everything is so great? I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with that, and I hesitated to even talk about this, as everything becomes such a “thing.”

During pregnancy, what I thought were casual comments about IVF turned into headlines about me choosing the sex of my daughter. And I can already envision what will be said about me after this admission. But it’s such a major part of my life and so, so many other women’s lives.

It would feel wrong to write anything else. So here goes.

I had such a wonderful, energetic pregnancy. Luna sat inside me like a little crosslegged Buddha facing toward my back for nine months.

I never saw her face in a sonogram, just her butt or the back of her feet. Every time we kinnnnd of saw a nose, she would quickly dodge, and I was left guessing again.

John, my mom, and my sister were all in the delivery

room. John was DJ-ing. Luna, fittingly, popped out to the song “Superfly.” The first lyric is “Darkest of night. With the moon shining bright.” I immediately put her on my chest. And she had a face! I was so happy. And exhausted.

After I had Luna, our home was under construction, so we lived in a rental home, then a hotel, and I blamed whatever stress or detachment or sadness I was feeling at that time on the fact that there were so many odd circumstances. I remember thinking: “Maybe I’ll feel better when we have a home.”

I went back to work on Lip Sync Battle in August, when Luna was four months. The show treated me incredibly well—they put a nursery in my dressing room and blew up photos of Luna and John and my family for my wall. When Luna was on set, they lowered the noise levels. They turned down the air so she wouldn’t be cold. Only the most gentle knocking on the door. Pump breaks. I mean, there was no better place to get to go back to work to.

But I was different than before. Getting out of bed to get to set on time was painful.

My lower back throbbed; my ­shoulders—even my wrists— hurt. I didn’t have an appetite.

I would go two days without a bite of food, and you know how big of a deal food is for me. One thing that really got me was just how short I was with people.

I would be in my dressing room, sitting in a robe, getting hair and makeup done, and a crew member would knock on the door and ask: “Chrissy, do you know the lyrics to this song?” And I would lose it. Or “Chrissy, do you like these cat ears, or these panda hands?”

And I’d be like: “Whatever

you want. I don’t care.” They would leave. My eyes would well up and I would burst into tears. My makeup artist would pat them dry and give me a few minutes.

I couldn’t figure out why I was so unhappy. I blamed it on being tired and possibly growing out of the role: “Maybe I’m just not a goofy person anymore. Maybe I’m just supposed to be a mom.”

When I wasn’t in the studio, I never left the house.

I mean, never. Not even a tiptoe outside. I’d ask people who came inside why they were wet. Was it raining? How would I know—I had every shade closed. Most days were spent on the exact same spot on the couch and rarely would I muster up the energy to make it upstairs for bed. John would sleep on the couch with me, sometimes four nights in a row.

I started keeping robes and comfy clothes in the pantry so I wouldn’t have to go upstairs when John went to work. There was a lot of spontaneous crying.

Anytime I was seen out, it was because I had already had work or a work event that day.

Meaning I wouldn’t have to muster up the energy to take a shower, because it was already done. It became the same story every day: Unless I had work, John knew there was not a chance in hell we were going on a date, going to the store, going anywhere. I didn’t have the energy.

Before, when I entered a room I had a presence: head high, shoulders back, big smile. Suddenly I had become this person whose shoulders would cower underneath her chin. I would keep my hands on my belly and try to make myself as small as possible.

During that time my bones

hurt to the core. I had to go to the hospital; the back pain was so overwhelming. I felt like I was in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy: These kids were around me, asking questions. Maybe it was a kidney infection? No one could figure it out. I saw rheumatoid doctors for the wrist pain; we thought it might be rheumatoid arthritis. I felt nauseated all the time, so I saw a GI doctor. I wondered: Am I making this all up? Is this pain even real anymore?

By December I had started

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my second cookbook. With the first, I was in the kitchen the whole time. I stirred every pot, tasted everything. Had genuine excitement for Every.

Single. Recipe. This one came at the height of my losing my appetite, and the idea of having to test and taste recipes actually made me vomit. I was still on the couch a lot.

Before the holidays I went to my GP for a physical. John sat next to me. I looked at my doctor, and my eyes welled up because I was so tired of being in pain. Of sleeping on the couch. Of waking up throughout the night. Of throwing up. Of taking things out on the wrong people.

Of not enjoying life. Of not seeing my friends. Of not having the energy to take my baby for a stroll. My doctor pulled out a book and started listing symptoms. And I was like, “Yep, yep, yep.” I got my diagnosis: postpartum

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depression and anxiety. (The anxiety explains some of my physical symptoms.)

I remember being so exhausted but happy to know that we could finally get on the path of getting better. John had that same excitement. I started taking an antidepressant, which helped.

And I started sharing the news with friends and family—I felt like everyone deserved an explanation, and I didn’t know how else to say it other than the only way I know: just saying it.

It got easier and easier to say it aloud every time.

(I still don’t really like to say, “I have postpartum depression,” because the word depressionscares a lot of people. I often just call it “postpartum.” Maybe I should say it, though. Maybe it will lessen the stigma a bit.)

I wanted to write an open letter to friends and employers

to explain why I had been so unhappy. The mental pain of knowing I let so many people down at once was worse than the physical pain. To have people that you respect, who are the best in the business, witness you at your worst is tough. Even though this was something I shouldn’t have to apologize for, I did want to apologize. Because on a set, people depend on you.

A lot of people are coming together and all you have to do, Christine, is put on a unicorn head and shoot a money gun. Editors are wondering what the f-ck happened to the girl they gave a book deal to. This shit was flying through my head and I felt horrible.

I actually did write my executive producer on Lip Sync Battle, Casey Patterson.

She is one of the most amazing women in this universe and I never doubted she would understand. She told me she had noticed and was always here for me. I had to postpone my second cookbook, but my editor, Francis Lam, and publisher couldn’t have been more understanding. To go from discussing layouts and recipes and shoot days to a complete “off” switch was, I’m sure, not a great thing to hear.

But, again, I cannot overstate how lucky I am to work with these people.

Before this, I had never, ever—in my whole entire life—had one person say to me: “I have postpartum depression.” Growing up in the nineties, I associated postpartum depression with Susan Smith [a woman now serving life in prison for killing her two sons; her lawyer argued that she suffered from a long history of depression], with people who didn’t like their babies or felt like they

had to harm their children. I didn’t have anything remotely close to those feelings. I looked at Luna every day, amazed by her. So I didn’t think I had it.

I also just didn’t think it could happen to me. I have a great life. I have all the help I could need: John, my mother (who lives with us), a nanny.

But postpartum does not discriminate. I couldn’t control it. And that’s part of the reason it took me so long to speak up: I felt selfish, icky, and weird saying aloud that I’m struggling. Sometimes I still do.

I know I might sound like a whiny, entitled girl. Plenty of people around the world in my situation have no help, no family, no access to medical care. I can’t imagine not being able to go to the doctors that I need. It’s hurtful to me to know that we have a president who wants to rip health care away from women. I look around every day and I don’t know how people do it. I’ve never had more respect for mothers, especially mothers with postpartum depression.

I’m speaking up now because I want people to know it can happen to anybody and I don’t want people who have it to feel embarrassed or to feel alone.

I also don’t want to pretend like I know everything about postpartum depression, because it can be different for everybody. But one thing I do know is that—for me—just merely being open about it helps. This has become my open letter.

As I’m writing this, I am a much different human than I was even just in December.

I’m over a month into taking my antidepressant, and I just got the name of a therapist who I am planning to start seeing. Let’s be honest

though—I probably needed therapy way before Luna!

Like anyone, with PPD or without, I have really good days and bad days. I will say, though, right now, all of the really bad days—the days that used to be all my days— are gone.

There are weeks when I still don’t leave the house for days; then I’m randomly at the Super Bowl or Grammys. (This is cringeworthily unrelatable, and I am very aware of that—it’s giving me anxiety.)

Physically, I still don’t have energy for a lot of things, but a lot of new moms deal with this. Just crawling around with Luna can be hard. My back pain has gotten better, but my hands and wrists still hurt. And it can still be tough for me to stomach food some days. But I’m dealing.

I’m grateful for the people around me. John has been incredible over the last nine months, bringing me my medicine and watching horrible reality TV with me.

He is not the goofiest guy, but he has gone out of his way to indulge my sense of humor.

When I was having a good day, he would go to Medieval Times with me and put on the crazy period hat! He sees how much my eyes light up when he does that stuff, and he knows that’s what I need.

I know he must look over at times and think: My God, get it together. But he has never made me feel that way. He wants me to be happy, silly, and energetic again, but he’s not making me feel bad when I’m not in that place. I love John and Luna more than I can imagine loving anything, and John and I still hope to give Luna a few siblings.

Postpartum hasn’t changed that.

More than anything, I

always want to have enough energy for Luna—to run up the stairs with her, to have tea parties with her. As she gets older, she’s becoming more and more fun. Her eyes are getting so wide, and I want to be there for those wide eyes.

And I will be.

Phew! I’ve hated hiding this from you. XX, CHRISSY

Top left (pg 16): Teigan and baby Luna playing on a bed.

Top right (pg 17): Teigan, Luna and Legend celebrating the release of Legends new single.

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FASHION PHOTOGRAPHY: LACHLAN BAILEY. STYLED BY: CLARE RICHARDSON. HAIR: DIDIER MALIGE. MAKEUP: PETROS PETROHILOS.

JOURNAL

AMBER VALLETTA

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beauty

SHOULD I BE USING CLAY TO TREAT ACNE? THE KEY TO CLEAR SKIN MIGHT JUST BE A LITTLE DIRT

I have cranky skin (sensitive, prone to tantrums), and over the years, I've tried all manner of soaps and tonics and leaveons aimed at calming it down and clearing it up, always favoring the more extreme formulas strong enough, so I thought, to snuff out all the oil and dirt clogging it up.

Until two months ago, when I spoke to Manhattanbased dermatologist Joshua Zeichner, MD, and my skincare worldview was shattered.

"Acne doesn't mean you're dirty," Zeichner told me.

"People who wash their skin regularly may break out, and people who don't may have clear skin." And then the kicker: "Overwashing may disrupt the skin barrier."

In other words, not only had I not been solving the problem, I may have been causing it.

And dirt, long considered my foe, might actually be my greatest ally. Specifically, dirt's electrically charged component—clay—which, as

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Zeichner explained, combats excess oil and draws out impurities (e.g., inflammationcausing excess sebum) without stripping the skin of moisture completely.

Clay as cleanser isn't anything new—Cleopatra is said to have maintained her poreless complexion with the help of white-clay masks— but it's new to me: The first standouts in my experiment are Fresh's Umbrian Clay, a no-nonsense gunk-extractor mask, and Borghese Fango Delicato Active Mud for Delicate Skin, a silky, seafoamcolored concoction fit for a mermaid.

While slathering the former on my oily T-zone and the latter on my more delicate décolletage, I'm struck by how natural—and almost spiritual— it feels to cover myself in mud.

Perhaps it's no coincidence that ancient civilizations, from the Incans to the Greeks, theorized that a creator deity fashioned human beings out of glorified dirt. (It's a claim that

a group of scientists at Cornell all but backed up in 2013, when they found that clay can act as an incubator for DNA and the other building blocks of life.)

Better yet, the stuff actually worked: My windburned skin was less ruddy and softer to the touch.

Now hooked, I consult Yael Alkalay, founder of skin-care brand Red Flower. A decade ago, Alkalay launched her hammam set, a clay-centric line partially inspired by visits to Turkish and Moroccan bathhouses that left her with a "feeling of lightness and renewal."

I have a similar reaction the first time I sluice myself down with her Moroccan Mint Tea Silt Purifier body wash; paint myself from hairline to pinkie toe in a thin layer of Jasmine Rose Rhassoul Clay combined with a capful of apple cider vinegar (to balance out the clay's alkaline base); dollop L'Oréal Paris Hair Expert Extraordinary Clay Pre-

Shampoo Mask on my scalp; and then soak in the bath for an hour.

The next morning, the Rhassoul Clay has significantly reduced a painful cystic breakout on my jawline (brought on, I think, from forgetting to heed Zeichner's warning about overcleansing), and by the next evening, my oil-prone roots still look as if they've been freshly shampooed. As my new favorite saying goes, a little dirt don't hurt.

Mud honeys 1 The Dirt Natural Toothpaste 2 Fresh Umbrian Clay Purifying Mask 3 Skinceuticals Clarifying Clay Masque 4 L'Oréal Paris Red Algae Exfoliate and Refine Mask

HOW TO USE COCONUT OIL ON YOUR SKIN AND HAIR AND WHY IT WORKS

Is coconut oil good for your skin?

Is coconut oil comedogenic?

Dr Frances Prenna Jones, one of Mayfair’s top dermatologists, says: ‘Coconut oil is a great emollient if the barrier function of your skin is disturbed . It’s great at repairing and restoring this quickly as it is rapidly absorbed into the epidermis.

Coconut oil contains Vitamin E, essential amino acids, and lauric and caprylic acid which form part of the barrier function of your skin and help maintain your skin’s natural flora aka the good bugs!’

Super facialist and laser expert Debbie Thomas agrees: ‘Coconut oil is mainly composed of saturated fats, which are amazing at repairing your skins natural barrier function and can also keep moisture in the skin by slowing down the evaporation.

It’s quite light as an oil so soaks in well without feeling greasy.’

‘Yes, all oils if used excessively can be comodogenic’, says Dr Frances Prenna Jones, ‘so people with acne prone skin should avoid using it.’

‘Coconut oil is very comedogenic’, says Debbie Thomas, ‘On a scale of 1-5 (5 being the worst) coconut oil is a 4. This means it’s likely to cause blockages and blackheads. Not everyone will get congestion but if you are prone to blemishes and congestion I would avoid regular use on the face.’

What coconut oil should I use?

Always check the packaging; you don’t want coconut oil with any additives in. Saying that, you can use the stuff they sell in supermarkets, just check what you’re getting!

Celeb hair stylist (VB’s a big

fan) Jason Collier recommends using ‘pure, extra virgin raw coconut oil as it’s totally natural and more gentle on your hair and scalp.’

Is coconut oil good for your hair?

Yes and no...Consultant trichologist Sally-Ann Tarver says, ‘Coconut oil is an excellent hair moisturiser but can be a little difficult to wash out in its raw form. Liquid coconut is easier to work with and better as a deep scalp moisturiser, rather than a hair moisturiser.

Coconut oil is intensely moisturising and is particularly good on naturally curly or naturally dry hair rather than chemically damaged hair.’

VB and Sienna Miller’s go-to hair stylist Jason Collier is feeling the coconut oil love as well: ‘It’s one of the most nourishing deep conditioners you can get your hands on, and best of all, it’s all natural

and fairly inexpensive.

Coconut oil works to hydrate and nurture dry or tired hair, transforming dull locks into thick, swishy, shiny hair to be proud of! It’s suitable for all hair types and skin types too as it’s so gentle.

How much coconut oil should you use?

‘Coconut oil is quite a heavy product and you only want to use enough to condition the hair.

‘Long, thick or coarse hair can withstand up to three tablespoons of oil, but finer or shorter hair should only use around a tablespoon. Using too much will weigh down the hair and can make it look greasy.

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SIX REASONS TO MAKE THE SWITCH TO MINERAL FOUNDATION

Mineral foundation, which is comprised of 100% natural minerals and taps into your body’s chemistry. But let us elaborate:

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They have less preservatives. The most common ingredients in mineral makeup include iron oxides, zinc oxide, mica, and titanium dioxide. They're free of dyes, preservatives, and fragrance. And thus…

which ultimately leads to whiteheads, blackheads, and other flare-ups.

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They're gentler for sensitive/acne-prone skin.

For women with sensitive skin, or conditions like rosacea or eczema, mineral makeup is a game changer.

Not only is it free of the inflammation-causing stuff, like parabens and chemical dyes, but ingredients like zinc oxide are naturally soothing and naturally antiinflammatory. Furthermore, dermatologists recommend non-comedogenic formulas for those that have oily or acne prone skin as they're free of ingredients that cause pore blockage,

They've got added SPF. In many powder blends, you'll find zinc oxide and titanium oxide, which are physical sun blocks.

However, you should think of it as en extra layer of protection in addition to regular sunscreen, as with powder, it's tricky to tell how much you need to apply for full protection.

This said, they can be great for reapplication in a pinch.

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They’re more breathable.

A common ingredient in comedogenic products is talc, which is a bulkier agent that tends to be less pigmented—which means you’re applying more of it to compensate. Mineral formulas are much lighter and leave you with a radiant glow to finish.

You can really nail that “airbrushed” effect. The right mineral foundation

will give you a natural glow—kind of like a soft focus Instagram filter. As far as texture, we recommend looking to ultra-light, super-fine powder that won’t cling to dry patches, as well as liquid foundation that is sheer, hydrating, and blends with ease.

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They have a longer shelf life. In many non-mineral products, you’ll find fillers, additives, and fragrances that actually make it go bad faster. By nature of their composition, many ingredients in mineral makeup have a longer life

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Try these: 1 bareMinerals Original Foundation Broad Spectrum SPF 15 2 Koh Gen Do Aqua Foundation 3 Complexion Rescue tinted hydrating gel cream

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sex and sexualities

LET’S TALK ABOUT SLUT-SHAMING

I was driving along merrily in last week singing at high pitch to the tunes of Sam Smith when a mini-bus taxi decided to stop in the middle of the road. I waited for a bit and then with rising irritation, honked my horn to signal to him to please move to the side of the road so that I could pass.

At this point a parking attendant decided, in his great wisdom, to yell at me that I could squeeze past. Ever the optimist, I decided to engage with this logic but then on reflection, realised that there was a concrete island on my right and the chances of scraping my tyres were high.

Not needing any more tyre scrapes than I already have, I politely told him that I was disinclined to follow his advice and continued to indicate that the taxi should move to the left of the road. What followed is so x-rated that it does not abide by the standards of decorum for a civilised platform such as this.

Needless to say, the parking attendant in very choice words, with violent gesticulations, commented on my perceived stupidity.

In ways that were very sexualised, he proceeded to tell me that he would come to my home to ‘teach me to drive.’ Not wanting to allow

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him to claim this type of gendered power, I decided to take him on and things rapidly deteriorated from there. In the end, feeling afraid, I backed my car away and escaped the verbal onslaught.

Once I had left this manmonster behind, I had to pull my car over to process the emotions that he had elicited.

The ways in which I had been sexualised, called gendered names and the underlying violence in his intonation, both enraged me and dislodged my sense of equilibrium.

In the week that followed, I started thinking about the concept of slut-shaming, a term that quite frankly, gives me the heebi jeebies. I cannot make my peace with it, because the word ‘slut’ always elicits such as guttural, jarring response for me.

Yet, the term itself has become renowned as a way of understanding what happens to women when they are socially stigmatised because they defy conventional expectations of what it means to be a woman. It reputedly emanates in Toronto when a police officer told a group of women students that they could avoid sexual assault by not dressing like ‘sluts.’

In South Africa, we have very many of our own shameful local examples.

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LET’S TAKE ON THIS PATRIARCHAL NONSENSE

Take, for example, what happened to Bonang Matheba and the vicious way in which she was attacked for her perceived sexual promiscuity.

Social media went ablaze with misogynist, judgemental commentary on her sexual history. And while women too can participate in this type of harassment, let us be very, very clear about this – we are mainly the victims of it. In no society in the world do we see the equivalent directed at men on a similar scale.

We need to stand tall in the conviction that our bodies belong to us and what we choose to do with them is our choice alone. Our decisions regarding our sexual behaviour, how we dress and how we engage, are ours to make.

No-one has the right to prototype us when they feel that we cannot drive, or that we have too much sex or that we simply just take up space.

The proclivity for sexualising all of this must stop.

We all know it has the potential to turn violent and that gendered violence is the end of the spectrum of a social order that tolerates slut-shaming. Let’s take on this patriarchal nonsense and call it out for what it is. JOY WATSON

IT’S NOT JUST BLACK AND WHITE: GEN-Y NEEDS TO BREAK SOCIETAL STANDARDS OF SEXUALITY

Our society loves to categorize, compartmentalize and label absolutely everything.

You either have beauty, or you have brains. You're personality type A, or you're personality type B. You're liberal, or you're conservative.

It's all black or white, and we are placed under the impression we need to force ourselves into one of the two dominant categories, never mind any other options.

Our creation of dominant labels makes us uncomfortable with the more ambiguous “grey zones,” as we can't understand why everything doesn't fit into the narrowly defined categories we create.

Sexual orientation is no exception to this trend. You're either straight, or you're gay — at least that's what our compartmental brains have always seemed to think.

Yet, in a time when LGBT rights are more hotly contested than ever, it's important to understand that there's more than just straight and gay.

The concept of sexual fluidity is becoming an increasingly popular way to determine and understand the nature of sexual preference, and it's another gray zone we need to familiarize ourselves with instead of avoiding.

Sexual fluidity is the idea that your sexual

orientation can be fluid, or malleable. Depending on your surroundings, your state of mind, the people with whom you interact, your interests at the time and other circumstantial factors, you're sexual preference has the potential to change, according to this concept.

Sexual fluidity promotes the idea that when we are born, we may not be permanently programmed to have one sexual preference or the other.

Our sexual experiences instead operate on a continuous linear model, where we are free to move closer to one end or the other as much and as often as we'd like. Each person has a different level of fluidity based on his or her own experiences.

People with very low sexual fluidity may identify themselves as absolutely, 100 percent heterosexual or homosexual.

Someone with high sexual fluidity, however, probably doesn't feel as though he or she can fit into our traditionally defined categories.

Sexual fluidity shows that we cannot clearly label everything. It shows us that we can freely move from, and in between, these often inaccurate labels, instead of feeling pressured to characterize ourselves in a

certain way forever.

It's possible to waver, change and realize that time and circumstances can play roles in how we identify ourselves.

We don't always have to remain completely rigid in our preferences, and sexual fluidity recognizes this ability to move along a spectrum, instead of only categorizing people as one extreme or the other.

Ultimately, we as a society must allow one another to identify ourselves as we all feel most comfortable.

Whether it's sexual preference, or any other characterizations, it's our personal choice to decide whether we identify with the black, the white or something a bit grayer.

If anyone should promote the acceptance and understanding of these gray zones beyond the traditional cookie-cutter options, it's Millennials. Labels are overrated, anyway. KAYLA WILKINSON

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MEGHAN MARKLE HOW PERIODS AFFECT POTENTIAL 34

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magine a world where the female leaders we revere never achieved their full potential because they dropped out of school at the age of thirteen.

In the Western world this is challenging to fathom, but for millions of young women globally, this remains their harsh reality for a staggering reason. From sub-Saharan Africa to India, Iran, and several other countries, the stigma surrounding menstruation and lack of access to proper sanitation directly inhibit young women from pursuing an education.

Based on societal ignominy in the developing world, shame surrounding menstruation and its direct barrier to girls education remains a hushed conversation. As a result, both household dialogue and policy making discussions often leave Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) off the table.

Former First Lady Michelle Obama spoke directly about this subject at the World Bank in April 2016, and various NGOs actively seek out policy reform and programming to address this concern, yet the topic remains neglected.

I travelled to Delhi and Mumbai this January with World Vision to meet girls and women directly impacted by the stigmatization of menstrual health and to learn how it hinders girls’ education.

One hundred and thirteen million adolescent girls between the ages of 12-14 in India alone are at risk of dropping out of school because of the stigma surrounding menstrual health.

During my time in the field, many girls shared that they feel embarrassed to go to school during their periods,

ill equipped with rags instead of pads, unable to participate in sports, and without bathrooms available to care for themselves, they often opt to drop out of school entirely.

Furthermore, with minimal dialogue about menstrual health hygiene either at school or home due to the taboo nature of the subject, many girls believe their bodies are purging evil spirits, or that they are injured once a month; this is a shame-filled reality they quietly endure.

All of these factors perpetuate the cycle of poverty and stunt a young girl’s dream for a more prolific future. The Indian government initiated a campaign in 2014 called “Save the Girl Child, Educate the Girl Child,” reinforcing the value of a girl’s life and her education. And while this initiative steers India closer to the Sustainable Development Goals, (specifically universal education & gender equality), the fact remains that only fifty

percent of secondary schools in India have toilets, leaving roughly fifty percent of the population deterred from attending. If MHM were part of the conversation surrounding policy change, just as access to clean water and sanitation, it would push the conversation (and actualization of it) significantly further.

When a girl misses school because of her period, cumulatively that puts her behind her male classmates by 145 days. And that’s the mitigated setback if she opts to stay in school, which most do not.

The latter elect to return home, increasing their subjection to dangerous work, susceptibility to being victims of violence, and most commonly, being conditioned for early childhood marriage.

As a female in India, the challenge of survival begins at birth, first overcoming female feticide, then being victim to malnourishment,

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potentially abuse, and lack of access to proper sanitation facilities. Why, if she is able to overcome all of these challenges and finally get to school, should her education and potential to succeed, be sacrificed because of shame surrounding her period?

To remedy this problem, young girls need MHM, access to toilets, and at a most basic level, sanitary pads.

Twenty-three percent of girls in India drop out of school because these factors are not at play. During my time in the slum communities outside of Mumbai, I shadowed women who are part of a microfinance system where they manufacture sanitary napkins and sell them within the community.

The namesake of the organization, Myna Mahila Foundation, refers to a chatty bird (“myna”) and “mahila” meaning woman. The name echoes the undercurrent of this

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issue: we need to speak about it, to be “chatty” about it.

Ninety-seven percent of the employees of Myna Mahila live and work within the slums, creating a system which as, Nobel Peace prize nominee Dr. Jockin Arputham shared with me, is the key to breaking the cycle of poverty and allowing access to education.

In addition, the women’s work opens the dialogue of menstrual hygiene in their homes, liberating them from silent suffering, and equipping their daughters to attend school.

Beyond India, in communities all over the globe, young girls’ potential is being squandered because we are too shy to talk about the most natural thing in the world.

To that I say: we need to push the conversation, mobilize policy making surrounding menstrual health initiatives, support

organizations who foster girls’ education from the ground up, and within our own homes, we need to rise above our puritanical bashfulness when it comes to talking about menstruation.

Wasted opportunity is unacceptable with stakes this high. To break the cycle of poverty, and to achieve economic growth, young women need access to education.

When we empower girls hungry for education, we cultivate women who are emboldened to effect change within their communities and globally. If that is our dream for them, then the promise of it must begin with us. Period.

Top right (pg 35): Markle helping ladies of the Myna Mahila Foundation to achieve equality for women worldwide.

Above left: Suhani Jalota of Duke University, who has been working to reform public health in India’s slums since she was 15.

WHAT CAN YOU DO? HELP RETAIN A GIRL IN SCHOOL myna mahila foundation MYNA RUNS A FACTORY IN A SLUM REDEVELOPED COLONY TO PROVIDE EMPLOYMENT TO LOCAL WOMEN TO MAKE LOW COST HIGH QUALITY PRODUCTS THAT CAN BE USED LOCALLY.

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SO THAT SHE CAN WALK WITH DIGNITY WITHOUT MISSING SCHOOL. IT COSTS R15.57 TO SPONSOR PADS FOR A GIRL FOR A MONTH AND R186.90 FOR A YEAR.

CONTACT US AND LET’S GET OVER THE PERIOD OF SHAME http://mynafoundation.com/ mynafoundation@gmail.com +91 98-70-504589 / +91 98-70-661620 +639178340392

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WHAT DO YOUR SEXUAL FANTASIES SAY ABOUT YOU ?

When faced with the question “What turns you on?” almost all of us have the same answer: I’m turned on by someone who’s smart, funny, well dressed, creative, successful, blah blah blah. And sure, all of those things are stimulating, but that’s only half the story—frankly, the really boring half.

But I stick with the stock answer, because saying some version of “I’m turned on by intelligence” sounds way less scary than the reality, which is that I’m mostly turned on by a weird genre of faux surveillance porn where teen girls are caught shoplifting and then blackmailed into giving security guards awkward blow jobs. Is that bad? For some reason, what I admire in someone and what actually turns me on often bear no relation. I’m sorry, but I just don’t believe that anyone’s ever come thinking about how their boyfriend is a good listener.

A century ago, Sigmund Freud famously threw up his hands when confronted with female desire. “The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my 30 years of research into the feminine soul,” Freud wrote, “is ‘What does a woman want?’” Bro seemed to be confused about a lot of things lady-related, but I’m with him on this one. It’s roundly acknowledged by now that female sexual arousal is more complex than that of our male counterparts: Basically, guys are just happy to see body parts, whereas female

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sexuality is a messy tug-ofwar between the body and the mind. We want romance, and yet we fall for guys who ignore us. We identify as straight, but we’re turned on by lesbian porn. Have our vaginas gone rogue?

On a daily basis, I’m more often turned on by random stimuli than by actual human beings. The vibration of the subway. A whiff of trashy Axe body spray, which always reminds me of high school hand jobs. I recently saw an advertisement for breast implants, and while attempting to be offended by it, I accidentally got horny—I guess because it reminded me that boobs exist? Lingerie billboards always get me.

Evolutionary biology tells us that what we find “sexy” is ultimately indicative of what’s best for the survival of the species—meaning that being fit, having clear skin, and sending well-crafted emails are all qualities that evoke health and competence, which in turn make someone more fuckable.

But can evolutionary biology explain my gang-bang fantasy?

I guess the Darwinians would argue that sleeping with 10 guys at once makes you 10 times more likely to get pregnant (survival of the fittest genetic material?), which is all part of my inherent desire to procreate. But I kind of don’t buy that. All I know is that in order to come during sex, I usually have to close my eyes and focus extremely hard on the idea of being violated by a gang of meathead bros. And I also know that I’m not the only one.

In 1972, Nora Ephron published “Fantasies,” an essay detailing the sexual fantasy she’s had since the age of 11, in which she’s “dominated by faceless males who rip my clothes off,” adding, “It’s terrific. In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind.” (You may remember that in Ephron’s film When Harry Met Sally, Sally has the same fantasy; though to underline the character’s neuroses, there’s no big sexual release—it ends after she’s been stripped.) The essay provoked some outrage, particularly by certain people within the women’s movement who thought the fantasy was not-so-feminist. Come on—talk about perv shaming!

Surely, our fantasies—and our bedrooms, ideally—are places where we should feel free to explore the darkest and most deviant corners of our mind. And on that note, I don’t think we need to file all of our actions under “feminist” or “not feminist”—especially since consensual sex kind of exists in a political vacuum: It’s pretty much the one place that we can just do things and move on, no angry think-piece needed.

In my mind, there are two types of guys: There are the guys who will only go down on you immediately after you shower, and then there are the guys who will literally lick your butt after you get home from the gym. I try to avoid the former. Over the years, I’ve learned that people who aren’t squeamish about bodies are so much hotter in bed. Being with someone who really

wants to consume you—all of you—makes you so much more prime to reciprocate. I once had a guy tell me that he doesn’t go down on women because he’s a germaphobe.

Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to relax and feel good about myself after you basically called my vagina dirty? It’s so much more of a turn-on to be with someone who’s kind of gross—someone who wants to smell my dirty underwear and lick my teeth and spit in my mouth. Like, I’m in my 30s now—I’m too old to date a guy who won’t kiss me after I give him a blow job. Once you date a guy who will go down on you while you’re on your period, you’ll never go back.

As women, we’re told that being objectified is bad. OK, fine. But there’s a time and a place for everything. And I personally can be very turned on by a skilled objectifier.

It’s no secret that women are often turned on by being wanted—not as in “I want to take care of you,” but more as in “I want to bend you over my desk.” Of course, when I’m dating someone, I want them to value me for my ideas and accomplishments and humor or whatever. But when I’m fucking someone, I want them to value my lack of a gag reflex. Within the context of a relationship or a hook-up with someone who respects you, being treated like a sex toy can be really hot. Like, I don’t always want to be a whole person. That’s exhausting.

Sometimes I just want to be my boobs.

There’s a quote that I love

from the British philosopher Alain de Botton’s book How to Think More About Sex. De Botton writes, “Tame it though we may try, sex has a recurring tendency to wreak havoc across our lives: It leads us to destroy our relationships, threatens our productivity, and compels us to stay up too late in nightclubs talking to people whom we don’t like but whose exposed midriffs we nevertheless strongly wish to touch. Sex remains in absurd, and perhaps irreconcilable, conflict with some of our highest commitments and values. [...] Perhaps we should accept that sex is inherently rather odd instead of blaming ourselves for not responding in more normal ways to its confusing impulses.”

In other words, we should give ourselves a break for being idiots about who we want to fuck and why and how. The more we get to the heart of what turns us on, the more evident it becomes that sexual arousal is not often logical, politically correct, or “clean.” Maybe the fact that I’m even thinking about these things is a testament to my Catholic upbringing, which has added a healthy dose of shame to most of my sexual impulses.

But sex and shame can—and do—make quite interesting bedfellows. In the words of the legendary John Waters: “I thank God I was raised Catholic, so sex will always be dirty.” KARLEY SCIORTINO Photo: “I try to capture the deep feeling of love and share hope with the generation who thinks love is lost”-Maud Chalard.

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EMMA WATSON FEMINIST TO THE CORE OR A CAREFULLY POLISHED BRAND? 46

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don’t know what my tits have to do with it,” said the actress Emma Watson last week – the “it” being feminism. She was responding to a mild public furore over a photograph published to accompany an interview in Vanity Fair magazine to support her role as Belle in Beauty and the Beast. In the photo, she’s sporting a Burberry cape that exposes most of her breasts.

With feminism central to her personal “brand” as an adult actress, in particular, since her appointment in 2014 as UN women’s goodwill ambassador, it’s not surprising that the photo raised some questions about the nature of her feminism. It’s also not surprising that Watson snapped back.

Born Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson in Paris in 1990, Watson’s British parents were lawyers who divorced when she and her brother were young; the family returned to England, where Watson grew up between Oxfordshire and London.

Prior to her casting in Harry Potter, Watson’s acting experience was sorely limited: she had played three small roles in childhood productions, including a turn as “an angry cook” in a production of Alice in Wonderland. But after the recommendation of a theatre teacher and eight auditions, Watson was cast as Hermione alongside Daniel Radcliffe’s Harry Potter and Rupert Grint’s Ron Weasley.

From the debut of the first film, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in the UK), in 2001, the three unknown child actors became some of the best-known performers in the world. By 2009, with the release of Harry

Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Watson’s earnings in the series made her the industry’s most highly paid actress.

With her education split between the independent Headington School in Oxford and time spent with on-set tutors, life seemed to imitate art when Watson proved to be a star pupil who could rival her top-of-the-wizard-class alter ego, Hermione. Watson’s impeccable GCSE and A-level results were much reported in the press, concurrent with uncomfortable coverage of her body. She has recounted how photographers lay down on the pavement outside her 18th birthday party in order to take pictures up her skirt. “If they published the photographs 24 hours earlier they would have been illegal,” she said in a speech given to mark International Women’s Day in 2016, “but because I had just turned 18 they were legal.”

Watson has cited this kind of sexism and sexualisation, experienced growing up in the film industry, as lying at the heart of her interest in feminism.

In 2010, Watson enrolled at Brown University in Rhode Island, a decision she took in part to help her avoid the British tabloid press. During her time at Brown, American media reported that “bullying” from her peers led to her decision to take a leave of absence from the university in 2011 – indeed, her attendance at at least one football game was live-tweeted by student journalists.

But Watson explained that her decision to withdraw came from “a desire seek out normality… I kind of have to accept who I am, the position I’m in and what happened.”

She was, in other words,

extremely famous.

Watson continued acting intermittently through her time at university – she did make an eventual return to Brown after a period as a visiting student at Oxford. Though she’d expressed a desire to pursue work other than acting on numerous occasions, it continued to be the focus of her career. Following the release of the final Potter film in 2011, Watson was seen in a number of new films, including The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012), Sofia Coppola’s The Bling Ring (2013) and Darren Aronofsky’s 2014 epic, Noah.

Post-Potter, Watson has been widely regarded as a competent actress, somewhat safe in her choices, occasionally overrated or miscast because of the power of her fame. Publicity around The Bling Ring, for example, was heavily focused on Watson, giving short shrift to the rest of the cast.

In the Guardian, Catherine Shoard described Watson’s performance as “well-toned” but also “afforded excess airtime” in comparison to the other performers.

Since her UN appointment in 2014, the best way to describe Watson’s relationship with feminism is to say that she has made it an intrinsic building block of her public identity; the interview in Vanity Fair is just one of many in which she’s held forth on women’s rights while demurring on questions about her personal life.

But perhaps her insistence on privacy is part of what has ruffled the feathers of those who find Watson an insincere feminist spokeswoman, provoking questions about the degree to which it is part of a calculated brand.

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In addition, there is Watson’s inescapable privilege – even setting aside the great wealth she has acquired in her acting career. Then there’s the nature of the “He For She” campaign she spearheaded on behalf of the UN – appealing to men to support women’s rights, arguably undermining the work of many feminists by implying that their efforts are inadequate without masculine endorsement.

It’s hardly Watson’s fault that she is who she is and she frequently notes her privilege.

But it’s hard not to consider that Watson’s qualifications for her role as a bridge-builder between men and feminism included the fact that she’s a young and beautiful, incredibly famous white woman with a cut-glass accent. A telegenic British girl next door – if you lived in a really good catchment area.

Watson has defended herself against accusations that she is a so-called “white feminist”. When she received blowback for a 2014 interview with the writer and actress

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Tavi Gevinson, in which Watson described feeling “conflicted” about the sexuality portrayed in Beyoncé’s work – she went on to conclude that the singer was “making her sexuality empowering because it was her choice” – Watson argued that she was working to use her platform to shine a light on the less privileged.

In many respects, playing Belle in Beauty and the Beast itself seems a choice that’s incongruous with Watson’s philosophies. It is, after all, a tale about a young woman who is entrapped by a wealthy but antisocial male creature with whom, in time, she falls in love. When questioned, Watson has insisted it’s a feminist film – Belle is good at inventing things and in the early stages of the film she objects volubly to the Beast’s cruel behaviour.

But ultimately, it’s a stretch to embrace a Stockholm Syndrome narrative as a romantic one.

One would have to conclude that Watson is no radical: her feminism is

essentially a conservative one, compatible with the bureaucracy of the UN and the requirements of a Hollywood career. Her “tits” are then not irrelevant to conversations about feminism because she had gone to great lengths to represent herself as a feminist leader. She could have cited the photograph as a case of feminism in action, of a woman taking agency over her own sexuality, but her dismissal of it being part of the conversation doesn’t sit that easily with her progressive credentials.

Most people have the good fortune not to have the thing they did when they were nine become so all-defining.

Like her Harry Potter co-stars, Emma Watson’s youthful fame locked her on a path that it has proved hard to deviate from. To so many filmgoers, her face will forever be that of Hermione Granger and perhaps for this reason and for the reason that she became the character when she was so young, Watson may be forgiven for so often

embodying Hermione’s attributes – a tremendous intellect that can sometimes be a bit know-all; a bravery that can sometimes move so quickly that it doesn’t quite account for other people.

If you watch Watson closely in some scenes from the first Potter film, you can see that she is mouthing the lines of her co-stars: “I really wanted to do my job well,” she explained in a recent interview with Jimmy Kimmel, “and I kind of overdid it.”

The public face of Emma Watson has always been one that aims to please, if not over achieve, and her surprise at the negative reaction to her Vanity Fair photo may suggest that she has not yet worked out how to deal with anything short of approval. But though she may have been in the public eye for nearly two decades – she is, after all, just 26 – she has some growing up to do. Then again, don’t we all?

JEAN HANNAH EDELSTEIN

Photo (Left): Presenting her speech for the HeForShe campaign at the United Nations headquarters in New York, Sept. 20, 2014.

Photo (Right): Critics say Watson posing semi-shirtless undermines the feminist cause by sexualizing her image, but her defenders say taking sexy photos doesn’t make her any less feminist. Can you take topless photos and support women’s rights at the same time? Tim Walker

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4 FEARLESS FEMALE POLITICIANS FROM AROUND THE WORLD THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT I

N GERMANY, CHANCELLOR ANGELA MERKEL HAS BEEN SERVING SINCE 2005 AND PRESIDED OVER THE COUNTRY’S ECONOMIC DOMINANCE IN EUROPE. SHE’S ALSO A LEADING VOICE IN THE CALL TO ACCEPT REFUGEES FROM THE SYRIAN CIVIL WAR CRISIS. IN THE AFRICAN COUNTRY OF RWANDA, AROUND 60% OF PARLIAMENT IS REPRESENTED BY WOMEN, AND SEVEN OTHER COUNTRIES IN THE CONTINENT HAVE HAD FEMALE PRESIDENTS OR PRIME MINISTERS. FOR COMPARISON, ONLY ABOUT 20% OF CONGRESS IN THE U.S. IS REPRESENTED BY WOMEN. SO WHO ARE THESE FOREIGN FEMALE LEADERS KICKING ASS AND TAKING NAMES? WELL, THERE ARE MANY, BUT HERE ARE FOUR FEARLESS PLAYERS FROM AROUND THE WORLD IN CASE YOU EVER NEED SOME INSPIRATION NEXT TIME YOU’RE DEBATING WHETHER OR NOT YOU SHOULD STEP UP. AMANDA RANDONE

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TSAI ING-WEN

The first female president of The Republic of China (also known as Taiwan) is Taiwanese politician Tsai Ing-wen, who won with a landslide majority in January.

The 59-year-old former law professor is from the Democratic Progressive party, and her win is even more impressive being that she doesn’t come from a dynasty.

Tsai has been firm in standing up to neighboring China and resisting suppression, while also showing her support for progressive issues like samesex marriage.

Her journey to political power is marked by several bumps along the way — In 2010, she lost the election for mayor of New Taipei, and in 2012, she lost the presidency.

Ever failed a class? Don’t think that means you can’t be president one day. Tsai reportedly failed a criminal law class in her earlier academic years. But she is a relentless, professional, and determined leader with a Masters from Cornell University and a PhD from the London School of Economics, who is successfully self-made.

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AUNG SAN SUU KYI

The Nobel Peace Prizewinning leader of Myanmar’s National League for Democracy party claimed a landslide and historic victory at the end of 2015 when her party won the majority of parliament seats.

Although she is the head of the party that won the vote, according to the country’s constitution, she cannot serve as president because her children are citizens of another country (both of Suu Kyi's adult sons are British citizens).

However, at the age of 70 Suu Kyi is now state counselor, which reportedly gives her wide-reaching powers.

It wasn't an easy path to this point. In 1989, Suu Kyi was placed under house arrest by the ruling military government of the country, which was then known as Burma.

She won the Nobel Peace Prize for her efforts to democratize Myanmar in 1991 but spent 15 years between 1989 and 2010 under house arrest.

Through it all, she never gave up on her fight for democracy in her home country

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This tough politician is topping charts and getting herself into dictionaries. Last year was a big one for 61-year-old Angela Merkel.

Not only did it mark her 10th year as Chancellor of Germany, it was also the year Merkel announced that Germany would welcome refugees fleeing Syria’s civil war, launching the country into a leading role in Europe’s reaction to the migrant crisis.

A position that has come under attack by her own people, but one she remains determined to stand by.

Also in 2015, Merkel [ranked second] on Forbes’s list of most powerful people (check out her profile) — the highest ranking ever achieved by a woman — and took the top spot as Time magazine’s Person of the Year.

The former research scientist is also the Leader of the Christian Democratic Union political party.

She has made such an impact in the political world, her name has even been turned into a verb, Merkeling, which describes her signature approach of letting politics run their course.

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ANGELA MERKEL

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AMINA J. MOHAMMED

Are you all about going green?

This woman’s politics have changed the way the world thinks about the future of our increasingly threatened climate.

Amina J. Mohammed is one of six women to hold a minister position under the current presidential administration in Nigeria.

She was appointed as the Minister of the Environment and recently played a [key role] in defining the agenda of the United Nations Global Sustainability Panel for the next 15 years.

She comes from an [impressive background] as a committed civil servant.

Mohammed is the CEO and founder of the think tank Center for Development Policy Solutions and previously coordinated the Task Force on Gender and Education for the UN Millennium Project.

Mohammed also received the National Honors Award of the Order of the Federal Republic in 2006 and was inducted into the Nigerian Women’s Hall of Fame in 2007.

Go and research this lady if you want to keep up to date!

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THANDIE NEWTON WE DON’T JUST NEED MORE BLACK WOMEN IN MOVIES. WE NEED INTERSECTIONALITY,NOW. 61

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have been an actor for more than 20 years now, and throughout that time there has been an ongoing discussion of diversity. Is there enough diversity in Hollywood? How many people of colour and women are enough? Does diversity sell? First it was: why are there no black films at the Oscars? Then, at the 2017 Oscars: wow, there are so many black movies at the Oscars; I guess the diversity issue is fixed?

As important as diversity in storytelling is, there is a deeper concern than representation.

There are stories that must be told but that are all too often erased, even within narratives about race, or about gender.

A group I work with, the African American Policy Forum (AAPF) and its co-founder, law professor Kimberlé Crenshaw, have been raising this issue for more than 20 years. Because narrative erasures happen not only on the screen, but in public discourse as well. And the consequences have been devastating, as racial justice, feminism and other social justice discourses have been needlessly divided and set at odds with each other.

In 1991, when Anita Hill came forward to accuse her former boss, US supreme court nominee Clarence Thomas, of sexual harassment, too many people saw the issue as “race v gender”. Sexual harassment was actually a claim originated by black women, but the failure to understand black women’s intersectional experience meant communities could be corralled into Thomas’s camp by his claim to be the victim of a “high-tech lynching,” while Hill was left unrecognised as a victim of discrimination. Thomas alone was seen as being in need of defence; and women and

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people of colour suffered as a result.

Crenshaw and Luke Charles Harris, co-founders of AAPF, have been fighting against that kind of intersectional erasure and structural inequality ever since Hill’s testimony. Their recent work has been to highlight the consequences of police violence against black bodies as another example of a frame that excludes women and girls of colour.

Their work shows how typical media representations of police violence foreground men, and so do efforts to seek accountability for that violence. Erasures in the media send messages that certain lives matter less. It is a message that some of us will not accept.

Last year I partnered with Crenshaw and AAPF to host a Say Her Name event in Hollywood. The Say Her Name movement is part of AAPF’s campaign to raise awareness about black women killed by police who suffer from other forms of state violence. As their work points out, most of us know the names and stories of Michael Brown, Eric Garner and other black men killed by police – and we should.

But we don’t know the names Meagan Hockaday or Natasha McKenna, Tanisha Anderson or Shelley Frey. Black women die at the hands of police, too, and their killers just as often go free. Unfortunately, because we don’t know the names of these women or their stories, we don’t show up for them.

The US isn’t alone. Around the world violence against women is trivialised, erased and forgotten, and it seems that those in power with the means to protect and save vulnerable women and raise awareness for their suffering are too often silent. Imagine,

though, if that silence were broken. How powerful would it be for Hollywood to tell the stories of one of the many black women killed by police? Imagine how much momentum could be generated to effect change and save the lives of other vulnerable black women.

Taking intersectionality seriously means breaking through the frame that says “all black people are men, and all women are white”. It means highlighting black women’s anomalous role in US politics – as a group that, despite suffering extremely high rates of poverty and violence, both intimately and at the hands of the state, still participates in the political process at higher rates than virtually any other group. Moreover, they steadfastly embrace policies that eschew the scapegoat politics now flourishing in the US, and stand against the divisions some now seek to reinforce, including by violence.

What then do black women need from media? It isn’t simply greater numbers of black people or women in the movies. Black women and girls need the media to uncover how they are often subject to multiple forms of discrimination, even as they manage to embrace a vision of the future that includes more than just themselves.

AAPF recently celebrated 20 years of being champions for black women and intersectional feminism. I believe that it is time for the rest of us, from policymakers to Hollywood actors, directors and producers, to follow their lead and focus on the voices and stories of women of colour. Now more than ever they deserve to have their stories told.

“NOT ALL BLACK PEOPLE ARE MEN; NOT ALL WOMEN ARE WHITE. TOO OFTEN THE DISTINCT AND DIFFERENT STORIES OF WOMEN OF COLOUR ARE OVERLOOKED OR ERASED.”

THE FAMILY OF TANISHA ANDERSON, WHO WAS KILLED BY POLICE IN CLEVELAND, OHIO. Ricky Rhodes

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ADELE QUEEN OF HEARTS: MOTHERHOOD, MELANCHOLY, AND MEGA-STARDOM. 66

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hen Adele sings you can hear that it’s coming from an unfiltered honesty and purity. She creates songs that go deep and expose pain and vulnerability with her soulful voice. She takes you places other artists don’t go to anymore—the way they did in the ‘70s. —BEYONCÉ The black Porsche Cayenne S.U.V. pulls up to the driveway of my hotel. Adele is behind the wheel and alone in the car.

When I get in, she tells me she loves to drive on her own— although there is a discreet security detail in the vehicle in front of us. We’re on our way to Staples Centre for the second of eight sold-out L.A. concerts on her current, 43-city world tour.

She’s wearing a flouncy white cotton top over black leggings and beige flats. A Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet with coloured round jewels is on her right arm. Her hair is pulled up off her face in a loose bun, her huge green eyes are covered by sunglasses, and, makeup-free, she is naturally gorgeous. She is gregarious and totally at ease, and we immediately start to talk about L.A. She recently purchased a house in Beverly Hills, because she spends so much time recording here and got tired of renting houses that weren’t properly babyproofed, or private enough, or the pool was broken, and it was a waste of money. At the previous night’s concert she gave a shout-out to her new favourite L.A. supermarket— Bristol Farms. She raves about their balsamic cheese (“I ate the whole thing”), and we somehow segue into grooming.

She shows me her long fake nails, which she says are coming off straight after

the tour. She says she waited weeks to get her eyebrows shaped because the only woman she’ll let touch them lives in L.A. And how, after a month, she shaved her legs because she thought people in the front row at her concerts might notice them when she runs up the stairs to the stage. I ask if Simon Konecki (her boyfriend of five years and the father of their four-year-old son, Angelo) minded her unshaven legs. “He has no choice,” she says. “I’ll have no man telling me to shave my fuckin’ legs.

Shave yours.”

We’re in the car for about 10 minutes when she starts talking about the joys and conflicts of motherhood. I say it was brave of her to have a child in the midst of such a big, successful career.

“Actually,” she says, “I think it’s the bravest thing not to have a child; all my friends and I felt pressurized into having kids, because that’s what adults do. I love my son more than anything, but on a daily basis, if I have a minute or two, I wish I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, whenever I want. Every single day I feel like that.”

I ask if she wants more children. She says she doesn’t think so. I say women often want to give their child a sibling, but since Simon has a daughter from a former marriage who is very much a part of their lives, Angelo already has a sister. “Exactly,” she says, “so that’s my get-outof-jail-free card. I’m too scared.

I had really bad postpartum depression after I had my son, and it frightened me.” Did she take antidepressants? “No, no, no, no. But also, I didn’t talk to anyone about it. I was very reluctant . . . . My boyfriend said I should talk to other

women who were pregnant, and I said, ‘Fuck that, I ain’t hanging around with a fuckin’ bunch of mothers.’ Then, without realizing it, I was gravitating towards pregnant women and other women with children, because I found they’re a bit more patient.

You’ll be talking to someone, but you’re not really listening, because you’re so fuckin’ tired.

“My friends who didn’t have kids would get annoyed with me,” she continues, “whereas I knew I could just sit there and chat absolute mush with my friends who had children, and we wouldn’t judge each other.

One day I said to a friend, ‘I fuckin’ hate this,’ and she just burst into tears and said, ‘I fuckin’ hate this, too.’ And it was done. It lifted.

My knowledge of postpartum—or post-natal, as we call it in England—is that you don’t want to be with your child; you’re worried you might hurt your child; you’re worried you weren’t doing a good job. But I was obsessed with my child. I felt very inadequate; I felt like I’d made the worst decision of my life . . . . It can come in many different forms. Eventually I just said, I’m going to give myself an afternoon a week, just to do whatever the fuck I want without my baby. A friend of mine said, ‘Really?

Don’t you feel bad?’ I said, I do, but not as bad as I’d feel if I didn’t do it.

Four of my friends felt the same way I did, and everyone was too embarrassed to talk about it; they thought everyone would think they were a bad mom, and it’s not the case. It makes you a better mom if you give yourself a better time. I’m enjoying touring, but at times I feel guilty because I’m doing this massive tour, and even though

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cover story

my son is with me all the time, on certain nights I can’t put him to bed. I never feel guilty when I’m not working.

You’re constantly trying to make up for stuff when you’re a mom. I don’t mind, because of the love I feel for him . . . . I don’t care if I don’t ever get to do anything for myself again.” And while she does, of course, have a nanny, she is adamantly not one of those celebrity mothers who hands the kid off to a caretaker after a photo op in a fake playground.

She tells me how, when she couldn’t speak for seven weeks following vocal surgery in 2011, “I wrote everything down. Which is nice, because it was the beginning of my relationship with my boyfriend, and now we have a record of all that for our kids.”

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She adds that she and Simon are not married, and she doesn’t need it; she thinks having a child together is the bigger commitment.

And in her “real,” non-work life, she is fiercely private and so protective of her son that, she says, “I’d sue the fuckin’ ass off anyone that comes anywhere near my child.”

As we pull into the backstage area of Staples Centre, she—a 10-time Grammy winner—says she’s “nostalgic” about this arena because the award show is held here. We walk into her large, private dressing room, and I note that she’s taller than I imagined—she tells me she’s five feet nine. She takes off her shoes and walks barefoot

on the carpet. The room has white flowing curtains, large sofas, and a TV screen on a wall. In one part of the room a child’s play area is set up with a toy motorcycle, a toy kitchen with little pots and pans and cups and saucers, games, a Crayola box, and books. Roseand Baies-scented candles are lit, and there’s a full makeup table in another corner. She says we have 20 more minutes to talk, then she has to do her sound check for 10 minutes,

then vocal warm-ups for another 10, then we can talk again while she’s having her makeup done.

I ask if she’s always this organized. She admits she’s always been in full control and comfortable in her skin. “It’s probably from my upbringing.

I come from a very big family of a lot of women who did everything on their own.”

(Later, her manager, Jonathan Dickins—the only person she says she completely trusts

besides her boyfriend—tells me, “I met her when she lived [in London’s Brixton] above a convenience store, next to a gas station, and she would walk into a room and not give a fuck if she was speaking to the janitor or the head of the record label. That was her at 18 and that’s her at 28: completely unflappable, completely her own woman.”)

Adele says, “My entire life revolves around my child, so everything is timed, because he’s on a routine.”

We sit on the sofa, and I ask her if she still has her previously well-documented stage fright. “In a different way,” she says. “I get nervous, as opposed to the projectile vomiting and trying to avoid the stage.” She says she didn’t have to tour, and she doesn’t understand why people are addicted to touring.

“I’d still like to make records, but I’d be fine if I never heard [the applause] again. I’m on tour simply to see everyone who’s been so supportive. I don’t care about money. I’m British, and we don’t have that . . . thing of having to earn more money all the time. I don’t come from money; it’s not that important a part of my life. Obviously I have nice things, and I live in a nicer area than I grew up in. That was my goal from the age of seven: it was ‘I ain’t living here.’ I didn’t care how I was getting out, I didn’t care where I’d be living, but I knew I wasn’t living there.

I love being famous for my songs, but I don’t enjoy being in the public eye. I love to make music, and I love doing shows, and I needed to go back to work—not for money but because something was missing. I wasn’t creating music.

But there is such a massive

difference between what I do for my work and what I do in my real life. I don’t think anyone should be famous for going to a grocery store or a playground.” She tells me that, when she first got famous, people in her family sold stories about her, and friends from childhood sold photos. “I appreciate when there’s money [involved],” she says, “but you could go get a job. The problem is you can’t talk about the downside of fame, because people have hope, and they cling to the hope of what it would be like to be famous, to be adored, to be able to create and do nice things.”

Also, she adds, “money makes everyone act so bizarrely. It’s like they become intimidated by it, like I’m wearing my fuckin’ money.”

A note here about her laugh, which comes often and has been described as a “cackle,” but is really more a raucous burst of appreciation at something either she or someone else has said.

According to Beyoncé, “It is so easy to talk to her and be around her. She’s funny as hell and her comebacks are legendary. The most beautiful thing about Adele is that she has her priorities straight. She is a gracious woman and the most humble human being I’ve ever met.”

Adele Laurie Blue Adkins was born 28 years ago in Tottenham, London, and was raised mostly by her single mother, Penny, with help from her paternal grandparents. At the age of seven she knew she could carry a tune and spent years in her room impersonating the British singer Gabrielle and the Spice Girls. She graduated from the BRIT School for Performing Arts and Technology in 2006 and was quickly “discovered”

from a demo on MySpace and signed at the age of 18 to the British alternative label XL. At that same time, she made her management deal with Dickins—who comes from a British music-business family—and they’ve been a team ever since. In 2008 she released her debut album, 19, with its smash hit “Chasing Pavements,” and an October 2008 appearance on Saturday Night Live (the night Sarah Palin was on) kickstarted her career in the U.S.—where her album has since gone triple platinum. Prior to the release of 19, when she wanted to make a North American record deal, she went to Columbia Records, whose chairman and C.E.O., Rob Stringer, says, “She walked down our corridor, a cigarette in her mouth, and she saw the photos of Barbra Streisand, Bob Dylan, and Beyoncé on the wall, and she was like, literally, ‘Yeah, I’ll be all right here.’ ” She won two Grammys in 2009, and the rest is a steady, extraordinary decade-long rise for a singer who doesn’t dance, doesn’t do big production numbers, doesn’t dress like a fairground stripper, doesn’t lip-synch, doesn’t endorse any commercial products, and refreshingly doesn’t use the words “my brand.” Rob Stringer says, “She has time to really think about her music, because she’s not spending all that time doing private gigs or Coke commercials.”

All this led to huge record sales at a time when people stopped buying records. In January 2011 she released her sophomore album, 21—with the smash singles “Rolling in the Deep” and “Someone Like You.” It held the No. 1 spot on the Billboardcharts for 24 weeks and was in the Top Five of the charts for 39

All photographs (pg 66-73): The Quaintrelle Cover Shoot: Adele, the Queen of Hearts. TOM MUNRO

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cover story consecutive weeks—the most in *Billboard’*s history. In 2011 and 2012, 21 sold more albums worldwide in a two-year period than any since Michael Jackson’s Thriller, in 1983 and 1984.

And 21 has sold 35 million to date. She swept the 2012 Grammys with six awards, including Record, Song, and Album of the Year. Producer Rick Rubin, who worked with her on 21, says, “Besides her once-in-a-lifetime voice, Adele has a pure songwriting gift.

We always discussed how

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to get the most out of the songs, never to settle. All the songs always started with her; sometimes she liked having a collaborator to help get it over the finish line, but all of her best work comes directly from her.”

In December 2013, Prince Charles presented Adele with Britain’s M.B.E. for Services to Music. Her third album, 2015’s 25, spent 10 weeks at the top of the U.S. charts; the video for the first single (“Hello”) was viewed 1.6 million times per hour the first

two days of its release. And recently, unconfirmed rumours had it that she renegotiated her Columbia deal for an unprecedented sum of $130 million. According to Stringer, “This year, 25 has sold 10 million physical and digital albums—easily twice that of any other artist.” Adele also won an Oscar for her James Bond theme, “Skyfall,” in 2013, her television special, Adele Live in New York City, was nominated for four Emmys, and she is expected to receive multiple Grammy nominations

this year for 25. According to her friend the late-night TV host James Corden, whose “Carpool Karaoke” segment with Adele has had more than 130 million online views, “She is the biggest star on the planet, and yet she’s still in the world with us. As a performer, she represents us; so many of the feelings she expresses in her songs are feelings that we all have. She is true to herself and completely authentic.”

The day after Adele’s second L.A. concert, on her day off, we meet in a private room at the Soho House for lunch. She arrives exactly on time, wearing a black tunic and gladiator sandals. Her hair is up and, once again, she’s makeup-free. She says she can’t drink caffeine anymore, orders a decaf latte and some avocado-on-toast sandwich situation, and shares my French fries.

She checks her phone only once—to make sure her son is napping—and we talk for over two hours. We discuss her show and how she manages to make an arena seem intimate.

She brings people up from the audience onto the stage for a hug or, in the case of the night before, a plug—when she brought up a drag-queen Adele impersonator named Delta Work, who shamelessly announced her own upcoming appearances to the audience.

The real Adele alternates four identical sequined Burberry gowns for her concerts, and after the show she makes a quick change to get in the car and drive home with Simon.

“It’s like America’s Got Talent,” she says. “I climb out of my Spanx.” She gets “pissed off,” she says, when she sees people in her audience checking their phones (to say nothing of her calling out an audience member in Verona,

Italy, who was filming her with a professional camera on a tripod).

“People would rather have a photo to show to people than actually enjoy a moment,” she says. “It’s weird—when I first started out, nearly 10 years ago, no one had their phones out. I’d go onstage to people.

Now I go onstage to 18,000 phones. It’s pretty because of the lights . . . but no one is actually looking at the world— they’re on their phones all the time. Also, this Wi-Fi, you watch, it’s going to fuckin’ kill our insides . . . it’s just floating around. I’m telling you, we’ll find out in 25 years.”

We order no alcoholic beverages. She says she used to be a “massive drinker,” but since her vocal surgery and the birth of her son, she stopped smoking and now might have two glasses of wine a week.

“Having a hangover with a child is torture,” she says.

“Just imagine an annoying three-year-old who knows something’s wrong; it’s hell.”

She says she’s never had any interest in drugs, because when she was younger someone her family knew died of a heroin overdose and it “freaked the fuckin’ life out of me. I’m too scared to ever take drugs. I used to love to be drunk, but as I got more famous I would wake up the next morning and think, What the fuck did I say and who the fuck did I say it to? I never had blackouts, but when you’re drunk and you go to a party, you’ll talk to anyone. I can see from an outsider’s perspective that I will never write songs as good as the ones that are on 21, but I’m not as indulgent as I was then, and I don’t have time to fall apart like I did then. I was completely off my face writing that album, and a drunk tongue is an

honest one. I would drink two bottles of wine, and I would chain-smoke. Then I’d write the lyrics down and the next morning think, Fuck, that’s quite good. Then I’d find the melody. But since I’ve had my baby, I’m not as carefree as I used to be. I’m scared of a lot of things now because I don’t want to die; I want to be around for my kid. I’m very cautious, whereas I was never cautious before. I would never have done anything before that would make me die, but now I go out of my way to avoid anything that is remotely dangerous—like walking along a sidewalk.

I’d rather walk on the grass or a lawn, rather than the pavement, in case a car crashes into me. Also, I don’t go out as much as I used to.

I go to very civilized dinners, and I’ll go to work things when I have to, but you have to literally drag me onto a fuckin’ red carpet.”

She tells me she considers herself a “wailer” more than a singer, and that the singers she likes are “incredible— they’re on the next level,” like her early influences Etta James and Ella Fitzgerald.

She adores Beyoncé, who she says has been a constant in her life since she was 11 and heard “No, No, No” from Destiny’s Child. “She’s my Michael Jackson,” Adele says. The other two women she says she reveres are Stevie Nicks—”I can’t find the words to describe how much I love her”—and Bette Midler. About Bette, she says, “I’ve obviously loved her for years. I like her humor, but she’s a fucking great singer, a really amazing singer. When I watched her show, I felt like I was really watching the last legend. No one’s made like that anymore.” Both women

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cover story return the admiration: “Adele is major,” says Stevie Nicks.

“It’s very satisfying to see her success. [Her song] ‘When We Were Young’ makes me sob.

I think she can do anything.

And I think she will do everything.” And Bette, who had been at Adele’s show at Staples the previous night, told me, “Adele’s voice is so beautiful, so flexible, and she can do anything with it. The main thing is she hits you where you live. She is utterly hilarious and her shows are a riot—not just because of the great music and musicianship but her complete connection with her audience and her ability to make them laugh and then turn around and reduce them to tears.”

Adele says, “Every day as I get older, I appreciate women more and more. When you’re between the ages of 15 and 19, maybe you see women as competition, as opposed to lifesavers and people that hold your hand and have experienced pretty much everything that you have. So the more women in my life the better.” As for her relationship with Simon (who runs the nonprofit Drop4Drop), Adele attributes their age gap (he’s 14 years older than she is) as the reason he is so comfortable with her success.

“I have no desire to be with anyone in show business, because we all have egos. He’s not threatened by any stage of my life that I’m going for, and that’s an amazing thing. It’s the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in; we’ve got a child together and we live together.

After releasing my first album, all the other people I ever was with were so insecure about themselves—they couldn’t handle it at all. When I try to describe this to my friends they don’t always get

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it, because they go out with people that are our age, but Simon is already who he is, and I’m still becoming who I’m going to be. He’s confident.

He’s perfect.” ask why, during her onstage “chat” (her word), she refers to her songs as “miserable” when they actually are more reflective. She says, “The music I’ve always been drawn to is sad. I’ve always been pretty melancholy.

Obviously not as much in my real life as the songs are, but I have a very dark side. I’m very available to depression. I can slip in and out of it quite easily. It started when my granddad died, when I was about 10, and while I never had a suicidal thought, I have been in therapy, lots. But,” she emphasizes, “I haven’t had that feeling since I had my son and snapped out of my postpartum depression.” What about all the old boyfriends who were the subjects of her earlier heartbreak songs?

“There’s a reason I loved them once,” she says, “and for a while hate got in the way.

But I’m an adult now, I’m a mother, and I’m a lot less bitchy. They were interesting people, and while we’re not friends and I don’t see them regularly, I have seen them and it’s all fine.”

I ask why she was a reluctant latecomer to musicstreaming services, and she says, “I wanted to prove a point. Everyone said streaming is the future. Well, if it is in the future, we’re not in the fuckin’ future yet. I wanted to prove the point that, if people like a record enough, they will go out and buy it. And they did.” She says she’s in this for “the long haul,” and while she might never do a long tour like this again, perhaps, one day, she would do 20 shows

in one place, like Las Vegas.

And that she would love to be on Broadway, specifically playing the part of Mama Rose in Gypsy. But, she says, “like when I’m 50.”

As we wind down and she prepares to go back home to Simon and their son, she says, “I want to sing these songs when I’m 70 fuckin’ years old.

To have a song, any song—let alone I’ve had four or five that have resonated with people that much—that’s why I make music.” But, she adds, “all of my relationships are more important to me than any tour I’ll ever do. If my relationship with Simon or my relationship with Angelo started to flounder a bit now, I would pull out of my tour.

My life is more important to me than anything I’m doing because how the fuck am I supposed to write a record if I don’t have a life? If I don’t have a real life, then it’s game over anyway.” LISA ROBINSON

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book review

THIS MONTH IN BOOKS FROM MASTERS OF SHORT FICTION TO EXUBERANT MEMOIRS CAPTURING THE OFTEN UNWIELDY INTERSECTION OF LIFE AND LETTERS,THESE BOOKS ARE ALL ABOUT THE STORIES WE TELL OURSELVES IN ORDER TO LIVE.

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A Thousand Tales of Johannesburg by Harry Kalmer is an ode to Johannesburg and its people. The book tells the story of Sara and her four children at the Turffontein concentration camp in 1901, and of Abraham, who paints the street names on Johannesburg’s sidewalks. Their grandson Zweig, a young architect, has to leave the city after falling in love with the wrong person. Marceline, a Congolese mother, flees to the city only to be caught up in a wave of xenophobic violence.

Spanning more than a hundred years, the novel documents the lives of the inhabitants of this African city.

The life of the single woman is a contested subject: nominally her own, but unendingly claimed for scrutiny and critique by family, friends, and society at large. All Grown Up's Andrea Bern slogs through a job she disdains, disdains the art that she loves, and loves the family she ignores. But avoidance is the key when others' ideas of you are totally fixed and persistent.

"Why is being single the only thing people think of when they think of me?" she asks, but defining herself otherwise—given those peskily intrusive social norms and her own conflicting desires— really isn't all that easy.

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book review

“Women of my generation were given the lavish gift of our own agency by feminism—a belief that we could decide for ourselves how we would live, what would become of us,” writes Ariel Levy in her fierce and beautiful memoir, The Rules Do Not Apply (Random House).

It illuminates a life in revision, expanding on her unforgettable National Book Award–winning essay written for The New Yorker about the birth and death of her son.

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For anyone who went to college in the ’90s, or who let an email flirtation get out of hand, or who loves Elif Batuman as much as we do, The Idiot (Penguin Press) will resonate deeply.

It finds hilarity and pain in equal measure in the story of a bright, idealistic Harvard freshman who tilts at windmills, falling out of her own story—and bumping up against everyone else’s.

If you need something to curl up with while sipping on a warm beverage, this is the book for you.

And New York Times Book Review editor Pamela Paul recalls the stories that have given shape to her own narrative in her appealingly roving memoir, My Life with Bob: Flawed Heroine Keeps Book of Books, Plot Ensues (Henry Holt), which includes the likes of Thalia Zepatos’s A Journey of One’s Own and Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face: undersung marvels that boldly take measure of the world—and challenge us to write our own story.

“Everyone, real or invented, deserves the open destiny of life,” wrote Grace Paley in her classic short story, “A Conversation With My Father.”

Now, nearly 10 years after her death, her wayward husbands, backtalking daughters, and kvetching neighbors have been collected in A Grace Paley Reader: Stories, Essays, and Poetry (FSG), the kind of retrospective that, in an era in which plot has given way to character, reveals the vital scope of her influence.

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book review

In Elizabeth Strout’s Anything Is Possible (Random House), her stunning follow-up to My Name Is Lucy Barton.

A famous author returns to the Midwestern hometown of her childhood, touching off a daisy-chain of stories narrated by those who knew her—memories of trauma and goodwill, resentments small and large, and the ever-widening gulf between haves and have-nots.

Strout, always good, just keeps getting better.

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A new Tessa Hadley collection is always a cause for celebration.

Her latest, Bad Dreams and Other Stories (HarperCollins), is no different from her past top seller.

This piece takes a mordant long view on initiations into sex, art, and transgression—a young girl harnessing the dark art of writing; an awkward teen on a debauched summer night—gleaming moments of awareness in otherwise quiet lives.

Don’t miss out on this read.

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THIS MONTH IN FILMS

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film review

B

ong Joon Ho's Okja is many things at once: a rollicking kid's fable about the bond between a young South Korean girl (Byun Hee-bong) and her genetically enhanced superpig (named Okja); a satiric critique of the corporate food industry; a wacko comedy about transcending cultural boundaries; and a fantastical adventure full of kidnappings and chases, buoyed by over-the-top performances from Tilda Swinton and Jake Gyllenhaal, and culminating with a Times Square spectacular and a Holocaust-esque trip to the slaughterhouse.

Most of all, however, it's the year's most exhilaratingly idiosyncratic work, indebted to the spirit of both Steven Spielberg and Hayao Miyazaki, and energized by the distinctive signature of its director. Vacillating between mirthful, madcap and morose on a dime, Bong's latest— about Byun's heroine trying to reunite with Okja after the animal is reclaimed by the conglomerate that created her—is both all over the place and yet assuredly coherent.

Whether viewed on a big screen or via Netflix (its exclusive distributor), it's a wondrous whatsit unlike anything you've quite seen before.

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ll we initially knew about this movie was that Anne Hathaway plays a woman who has somehow mind-melded with a monster that is attacking South Korea. Which sounded fun enough.

But Nacho Vigalondo’s arch, biting film has a lot more on its mind than mere wacky sci-fi. As it crescendos to its rather stirring grand finale, Colossal becomes a pushback against the culture of toxic, entitled masculinity, a furious fantasy pitched with a stinging righteousness.

It’s dark, odd entertainment, and Hathaway gives her most engaging performance in years. Anne Hathaway plays Gloria, an online journalist who has blotted her virtual copybook and now drinks to fill the hole where work should be.

After a break up, Gloria finds herself back in her home town. One morning, as Gloria shambles home through a playground, a gigantic “kaiju” materialises in Seoul, wreaking havoc.

After much nervous head-scratching, Gloria concludes that she is somehow controlling this beast. Is she a delusional paranoiac? Or are her personal problems being played out in supersize fashion, with catastrophic results?

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film review

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livier Assayas’s bewitching (beghosting?) film is hard to classify as any one thing. It’s a grief drama, a paranoid techno-horror, a metaphysical inquiry into the supernatural, a tour of the banalities of the fashion world. In jumbling its tropes and styles, Personal Shopper captures something both mysterious and piercingly relatable.

Assayas and his wise and marvelous star Kristen Stewart say something chilling, comforting, hopeful, and mysterious about what it is to be alive in the world—and, just maybe, what it is to not be.

Stewart plays, well, a personal shopper for a celebrity living in Paris, and there’s a ghost involved. So, expectations were high, but nothing in the plot description could have prepared me for Personal Shopper, which is strange, frightening, and possessed of a dark ribbon of sadness.

Although the film has received an array of mixed receptions, especially in France, Personal Shopper is the most arresting festival entry I’ve seen this year.

Pair this film with your favourite warm beverage (read: wine) as well as all the comfort food you could desire.

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his dreamy, gentle film does something cathartically cruel. It draws you in, lulls you with its soft tone and understated, mellow performances. And then it utterly guts you.

Director Miguel Arteta and writer Mike White set up a kicky social comedy.

Salma Hayek plays the titular Beatriz, a masseuse and healer who uses many Eastern techniques to treat patients at a tony cancer clinic, as well as wealthy private clients. Beatriz has a stillness about her, a soothing calm that no doubt helps her in her work.

Hayek’s character squares off against a Trumpian billionaire (played by John Lithgow) when her client invites her to a dinner party.

But the story they’re telling ultimately proves far more serious, far more despondent than any awkward fish-outwater tale.

An almost unbearably timely movie, Beatriz at Dinner is a brilliantly acted (especially

by Hayek), gorgeously shot and scored movie that, in the end, says, Yup, everything’s terrible, and then walks off tantalizingly into the night.

Hopeless, but mesmerizingly so.

It’s quite something to watch, and watch it you should. Be warned, the film is a little bit of a bummer, but I will definitely re watch it !

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music review

THIS MONTH IN MUSIC

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HALSEY shows off all her wild musical ambitions on Hopeless Fountain Kingdom, a bold second album that consolidates all the strengths of her 2015 debut Badlands.

It's her sprawling science-fiction breakup tale, indulging her taste for wide-screen melodrama – she begins the album by reciting the prologue from Romeo and Juliet, introducing a tale of star-crossed lovers trying to break free from the fatal loins of their families. (Halsey even has a line from Romeo and Juliet inked on her arm: "These violent delights have violent ends.")

But of course, in her hands, it turns into the story of a restless young pop star who jets around the world, leaving shattered hearts in her wake, yet still can't find true love, admitting, "I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors."

THE first major-label full-length from Top Dog Entertainment's SZA (you may remember her from Rihanna's "Consideration" and collaborations with Schoolboy Q and Jay Rock) is full of hiccuping beats and glitched-out synths. The presence at its center projects immense strength even (and perhaps especially) when she's expressing self-doubt, as on the sun-dappled "Drew Barrymore."

SZA has a strong, clear alto that fuels the fire of songs like the stuttering move-along command "Broken Clocks," the filthy and feisty lady-power manifesto "Doves in the Wind" and the vitriolic kiss-off "Supermodel." It's no surprise that she more than holds her own amidst big-name guests like Kendrick Lamar and Travis Scott. Power can come from radical honesty, too.

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music review

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ON his superb solo debut, the One Direction heartthrob claims

WHAT "pop" can be in 2017 is open to question, and on After

his turf as a true rock & roll prince, a sunshine superman, a cosmic dancer in touch with his introspective acoustic side as well as his glam flash. He avoids the celebrity-guest debutante ball he could have thrown himself – instead, he goes for a intimately emotional Seventies soft-rock vibe.

No club-hopping or bottles popping – it's the after-hours balladry of a 23-year-old star wondering why he spends so much time in lonely hotel rooms staring at his phone.

Harry digs so deep into classic California mellow gold, you might suspect his enigmatic new tattoos that say "Jackson" and "Arlo" refer to Browne and Guthrie.

Laughter Paramore thankfully decides to junk large chunks of the concept as it's currently practiced. ("I can't imagine getting up there and playing a Max Martin song – at that point we might as well just stop," guitarist Taylor York told The New York Times in April, shortly after the album was announced.)

Instead, they embrace "pop" as a musical vibe, with a record that's so sunshine-bright it gives off a glare at times, rooted in fleet basslines and beats made for open-road drives and solo bedroom dance parties. ... But while the surfaces of After Laughter might glint, Hayley Williams' lyrics evince a weariness that makes that brightness seem garishly empty.

THE sound of the world opening up wide, one Uber ride

PLEASURE, her first LP in six years, trades the sweater-wearing

and lovelorn text at a time. "I don’t want to fall in love off of subtweets," Khalid sings in his breakthrough, "Location," before begging for a personal connection to make the digital flesh.

At 19, Khalid is one of the the most original voices in both R&B and pop, creating a late-night music full of warmth and flickering light. In songs like "Young Dumb and Broke" and "8Teen," he skips trap fantasies to talk about living with your parents and the ups and downs of millennial romance, where every love and loss is stored on a phone for future reference.

kitchen-jam vibe of her breakthrough The Reminder for a stark intimacy that can suggest Kate & Anna McGarrigle if they'd been big fans of the Young Marble Giants' post-punk bedroom mumblings or PJ Harvey's blues-wrath epistle To Bring You My Love.

"It's my pleasure and your pleasure," Feist sings, her voice low, raw-nerved and right in your ear against dank, stressed-out guitar roil.

This album is transporting and recommended for Sundays.

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music review

NOW 20, Lorde signals a new order straightaway, with lonely piano chords where Pure Heroine's pure electronic palette was.

They open the single "Green Light," a barbed message to an ex who the singer can't quite shake.

The song grows into a stomping electro-acoustic thrill ride, its swarming, processed vocal chant "I want it!" recalling another precocious, hyperliterate, synth-loving auteur singer-songwriter – Kate Bush, who insisted "I want it all!" back in 1982 on "Suspended in Gaffa."

Give Lorde credit for wanting it all too – the massive vistas of electronic music alongside the human-scaled and handmade.

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ON SweetSexySavage, 22-year-old Kehlani leads the charge for gritty, brazen young women in pop.

Much too fierce a personality to share the limelight – especially with her exes – she harnesses the range of a whole Nineties girl group in one voice.

In "Crzy" she’s the worldly, smoky-voiced teen who runs the school; in "Not Used to It" she's the embattled Madonna Ciccone of Oakland, awaiting a love that's worth a sacrifice.

This album is something you need to hear, it may not be your cup of tea but this album will surprise you in more ways than one. You’ll feel empowered and ready to tackle Monday with it.

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agenda

THIS MONTH’S TRIP TO THE MARKET

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In Durban ...

SHONGWENI FARMERS & CRAFT MARKET 457 MR551 RD, SHONGWENI RESOURCE RESERVE, SHONGWENI, 3650 FOR FAMILIES, FOODIES, DOG-LOVERS AND CRAFTERS… It’s got that stereotypical country charm. You know, the one that makes you feel like you’re at home, miles away from home? The kind that makes you set an alarm on the weekend, so that you can arrive early (and hungry).

Picture this: after a scrumptious breakfast gobbled up on a hay bale, you grab your sturdy basket and plan your method of attack.

Some choose to peruse our stalls at a leisurely pace, whilst others take a more tactical approach in their quest. Either way, the handson producers of eats, drinks and trinkets will passionately talk you through their wares as you move through the Market.

It’s been said that a trip to the Market is a voyage around the world! (But you can keep the passport at home…) We’ve got traditional English sausages, handcrafted organic cheeses, authentic baked goods, fresh breads and other rustic European staples. There’s also a taste of the Mediterranean and Middle East to be had, offering specialties like baklava and falafel. For shoppers with a conscience or embarking on a health-kick, you’ll find a lush spread of organic veg and home solutions for growing your own!

At Shongweni Farmers & Craft Market, you’ll find something to suit every taste or curiosity. Pay us a visit every Saturday from 06h30 -11h30; and make yourself at home!

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agenda

in joburg...

NEIGHBOURGOODS MARKET 73 JUTA ST, BRAAMFONTEIN, JOHANNESBURG The Neighbourgoods Market embraces all that characterises good food and a fun vibe within a contemporary setting. It was launched in 2011 and has, since then, lured visitors from all over Johannesburg and the greater Gauteng area to visit the many stalls and indulge in the tasty treats on display.

Thanks to the support of local foodies and cuisine pros, the market is full of dozens of different food stalls, and the cuisine style ranges from country-style homemade dishes to exotic Mexican, Thai and Italian options. Some of the goods that can be enjoyed include fresh paella, craft beers, oysters, champagne, gourmet pies, pâtÊs, vegetarian options, cold meat, biltong, and loads of decadent sweets and desserts.

The Neighbourgoods Market occupies the first two storeys of a massive landmark building, which is known for the acclaimed artwork (a concrete facade by the world-renowned Edoardo Villa). The basement parking lot accommodates one full level of the market, while the second is on a beautiful rooftop level with awesome views of the City of Gold.

It is on this rooftop that clothing, jewellery and vintage stalls can be enjoyed. There is also a Chill Out Zone for those that want to relax and enjoy the ambience.

Meet with the locals that are such an integral part of the success and atmosphere of the Braamfontein Neighbourgoods Market The Neighbourgoods Market in Braamfontein is open every Saturday from 09h00 to 15h00.

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In cape town ...

MADE IN THE CAPE MARKET CAVENDISH SQUARE CLAREMONT, WESTERN CAPE, SOUTH AFRICA LOVE LOCAL. BUY LOCAL. SUPPORT SMALL ENTERPRISE. The ‘Made in the Cape Market‘ is a ‘high end’ market showcasing the creativity of the Cape.

Exhibitors include silversmiths, carpenters, ceramic artists, interior decorators, textile artists, creators and designers of varied genres, carefully chosen for the quality and creativity of their work.

This is a great opportunity to meet the maker – hear the story behind each product, and purchase directly from the designer / producer. Building local economy from the ground up – each designer / artisan directly and indirectly employs previously disadvantaged individuals and groups.

The market is held approximately once a month, for a full weekend (Thursday through to Sunday), with a bumper Christmas edition in November / December. Market stands are located on street level, around the escalator circle and in corridors towards C N A and Woolworths.

If you’re looking for a morning of equisite beauty and good quality goods, this is the place to be. All products are sold by passionate traders and you really get a feel of what goes on behind the scenes.

Please note: dates and times may be subject to change.

Check market website or social media pages for latest.

Weekdays and Saturdays: 9am-7pm Sundays: 10am-5pm

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In stellenbosch ...

SLOW FOOD MARKET OUDE LIBERTAS ESTATE ON THE CORNER OF ADAM TAS AND OUDE LIBERTAS STREET STELLENBOSCH, WESTERN CAPE This market takes its inspiration from the Slow Food movement and aims to bring all food sourced, grown, raised, harvested, caught, preserved or transformed by the producers themselves.

The popular Stellenbosch Slow Market at the historical Oude Libertas is the leading gourmet food market in the Cape.

In the surrounds of the Cape Winelands, you will be greeted with fresh country air, a spacious oak-lined piazza and vineyards, the perfect setting to showcase this authentic Slow Food market.

This community hotspot also offers regular workshops, food and wine pairings, artisan courses and themed food events backdropped to the sounds of leading performing arts at the Oude Libertas Amphitheatre.

Added value is the monthly The Treasury Market which will be selling a gorgeous selection of hand picked goods, handmade with care and passion. This collective is drawn from the Cape’s top emerging fashion and accessory designers as well as members from local community-based projects.

The focus is on people from diverse social, economic, and cultural backgrounds to the independent entrepreneur and all other individuals that believes in the equality of creativeness and the importance and pleasure of work.

The perfect way to spend your lazy Saturday, guilt-free.

Open every Saturday 9:00-14:00

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In sedgefield ...

THE WILD OATS MARKET WESTERN OUTSKIRTS OF SEDGEFIELD, TURN SOUTH OFF N2, SEDGEFIELD, WESTERN CAPE, SOUTH AFRICA An exciting and significant landmark in the heart of South Africa’s garden route, this multiple award-winning WILD OATS Community Farmers’ Market is located on the outskirts of the tiny coastal town of Sedgefield, adjacent to the beautiful Swartvlei lake-lagoon.

Now in it’s 15th year, this small, rustic but internationally famous farmers’ market continues to attract the enthusiastic attention of proud locals and discernng travellers who consistently return for more of its festive fare.

What this initiative has achieved is the blending of people from diverse backgrounds, uniting urban and rural in a mix where important educational experiences about local food sources, nutrition, environmental awareness and agricultual issues all blend into an unusual festive spirit of community.

This authentic producers market is brimming with the choicest locally-produced foods, both the take-home and breakfast variety.

Including free-range meats, chicken, lamb, dairy and cheese, the market also specializes in fresh-from-the-field veg, freshly baked and bottled goods, as well as a wide variety of fresh-off-the-coals breakfasts.

The market also proudly offers the many plants and flowers of the unique Southern Cape Floral Kingdom, propogated by local plant specialists.

Every Saturday Morning throughout the year.

7:30-12 noon summer; 8:00-12 noon winter COME RAIN OR SHINE.

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phenomenal women

THIS MONTH’S PHENOMENAL WOMEN AT Quaintrelle we celebrate powerful women past and present – not only for what they represent, but also for how they influence and shape our societies for the better. In a recent photo series released on 10and5, a group of talented creatives celebrated powerful South African female icons.

These creatives drew on their admiration for Brenda Fassie and Winnie Mandela to produce a captivating and beautiful series of images. I spoke to the stylist of the shoot, Lethabo ‘Boogy’ Maboi about these icons and how the shoot was put together with photographer Chisanga Mubanga and their model, rapper Nomuzi ‘Moozlie’ Mabena.

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BRENDA AND WINNE:

SOUTH AFRICA’S ICONIC WOMEN INSPIRE A NEW PHOTO SERIES BRENDA OFTEN SPOKE ABOUT HER POOR UPBRINGING AND HOW SHE HERSELF SAW HER CAREER AS A RAGS TO RICHES STORY – AND HOW SHE WAS THE BREADWINNER FOR HER LARGE FAMILY – HOW DO YOU TRANSLATE SUCH A POWERFUL AND STRONG WOMEN WHEN STYLING A SHOOT? Our responsibility was to show our subject in the best light and we made use of her admiration for Brenda as a source for the energy of the images. We could’ve asked Nomuzi in a 1 000 word essay to tell us what Brenda – and similar prominent female icons – meant to her but as you know images do a much better job.

DO YOU THINK POWERFUL WOMEN FROM THE PAST ARE STILL RELEVANT TO THE YOUTH TODAY? IF SO, WHY WOULD YOU SAY SO? Yes, powerful women like the late Brenda Fassie, Miriam Makeba and living icons like Winnie Mandela or Yvonne Chaka Chaka for instance still have relevance today. If you look at the entertainment industry carefully with the understanding that nothing under the sun is new, you’ll see that a lot of female leaders have in some way or another been influenced by these iconic women. Even those that don’t know it, are being influenced as we speak.

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agenda BRENDA FASSIE WAS AS MUCH A MUSIC LEGEND AS SHE WAS A STYLE ICON. WHAT ABOUT HER PERSONAL STYLE SPEAKS MOST TO YOU? Without concentrating on a single outfit she wore, what resonated with us was Brenda’s vibrance and unapologetic nature in her craft and in her appearance. It’s something which our subject Nomuzi also identifies with so this made the perfect combination.

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