If a kid in SA is reading this, they don't need a lecture on "rebellion" they need to see someone actually standing in their own truth without asking for permission.

This is my total crashout. It is the sound of a high speed burnout between a wizard ego and a soul deep collapse.

I move in the spirit of Las Malas. We are the bad girls. We exist entirely outside the performance of suffering, outside the trends, and outside the modern gaze. We aren't a movement or a statement piece. We have been here for centuries, from the deep roots of South Africa to the thousand year history of the Hijra in South Asia. We aren't here to educate you. We just happen to be goth too.

Then there is the "Pharrelway". That is the side of me that doesn't blink. It is the magic ego and the swagger that says you can’t walk like this. It is the high gloss shield I use to fight off a massive imposter syndrome. One minute I am a rich bitch stuck in Cape Town, haunted by the politics that control us. The next, I am screaming into my shirt for Lila, terrified that I am faking it all.

This is my last push. It is a supernova. Brilliant, destructive, and inevitable. I am gambling everything on this timeline because I need a revival. I am dodging the ten count on the mat of love and putting it all on the Bible.

It is raw, it is ruthless, and it is the only magic I have left. Can’t you tell?