Yes, it’s been a while since I wrote something on this platform but something happened recently that really broke my heart.
My daughter is signed to an agency for adverts and the like and we recently attended a casting call for her to do an audition for an ad; she was so positive and excited on our way to the venue.
When we arrived, there were already a long line of young girls preparing for the audition. We signed the forms and sat down in the waiting room.
Then I noticed another young girl come in the waiting room; she had done her audition and she left with her mom. She was a beautiful girl, with long black curls and neatly dressed. I immediately saw my daughter’s face change. And then all of a sudden, she said to me “I don’t want to do the audition anymore” I asked her why and she just shook her head. Gently I insisted she tell me why she didn’t want to do it anymore and her words broke my heart.
“I don’t feel pretty”
Taking a step back and holding back my tears, I knew she had compared herself to the girl we saw a few minutes ago. I leaned forward and tried to encourage her; telling her she’s beautiful and she should do the audition and go in there with a positive attitude.
I’m not sure if it worked but she did the audition. When we were done; she told she didn’t want the role and then as we walked out; she told me how some of the other girls were not talking to her as they sat and waited and how she felt like an outsider being ignored. My child cried and I had to work really hard not to cry too and be her mother.
My heart was so hurt though; not only because she felt ignored by the other girls but because she is only 11 years old and already, she is struggling with self-esteem issues; feeling insecure and comparing herself to other girls.
She’s going through things that I don’t think little girls should be experiencing.
I spoke to her afterwards and tried my best to encourage her not to compare herself to others, that each girl is different and that we all come from different backgrounds. I wanted her to know that she is a beautiful, beautiful girl, inside and out.
Then I took a moment and realised; she must have picked up that insecurity from me. I am that person that compares myself and I struggle with insecurity; as I think most of us do; man or woman. She must have heard me a few times speak ill of myself or say something that indicated that I am not good enough for something and my mama heart is sore that she’s adopted that same thinking.
There’s nothing I want more for my children than being the best version of themselves. I want them to believe in who God created them to be; I want them to experience all the best in life and I want them to love who they are.
I’ve learned and I keep learning that our children do not do what we say. They do what we do. They may even start speaking the same as we do. The culture we create in our homes as parents has a direct impact on who our children become.
But I want to speak to moms especially; we are women before we are mothers and I’d like to gently encourage us to be kinder to ourselves as women. Our kids are watching us; whether they’re boys or girls; they are watching how we speak about ourselves, how we carry ourselves; how we deal with difficult situations and they learn from us through it all.
In every profession, there are women who possess remarkable skill, intelligence, and ambition, yet find the gates to success bolted shut. Despite being competent and capable, they encounter invisible barriers that hold them back. For women of colour, these gates can be even heavier, guarded not only by systemic bias but, painfully, sometimes by those who look just like them. Across sectors, from research and development to academia, from law to business development and commercialisation, the pattern persists. The ideology of being “the only one” or “the first one” has too often confined women to solitary pedestals, rather than empowering them to illuminate the path for others. The notion that there can only be one woman at the top, that success must remain exclusive, has bred a culture of quiet competition. It has sown the seeds of the so-called queen bee syndrome, the belief that to be exceptional, one must ensure no one else rises alongside them. This mindset is more than harmful, it is corrosive. It pits women against each other, feeding a false narrative that the “cake” of opportunity is too small to share. Yet, talent and brilliance are not finite resources. Every time a capable woman is excluded, an entire profession loses potential innovation, creativity, and progress.
For women of colour with a rich tapestry of skills spanning multiple disciplines, the experience of being locked out by those who once faced the same obstacles is especially disheartening. Too many, have reached for the ladder of opportunity only to see it pulled away just as their first foot step finds its place. The message is often silent but clear: there is room for only one of us here. But that message must change. Because one day, the person standing outside that locked gate could be someone’s daughter, sister, or mentee, someone who deserves not just a fair chance, but an open door. The feeling of exclusion may differ in circumstance, but its pain is universal. And to those who choose to hold the gate closed, let it be known, if you do not open it, we will climb over it. In this day and age, there is no room for gatekeeping. Recognition should not depend on who you know, but on what you contribute. Let the quality of work, the strength of ideas, and the integrity of one’s efforts speak louder than connections or others likes or dislikes, at first sight. To those who have had the ladder pulled up before they could take their first step, know this: there are others watching your perseverance and resilience. They see you rise despite the odds, transforming hardship into strength. Among your colleagues and communities, there are women and men who recognise your potential and will stand beside you as you redefine success. They may not always announce themselves, but they exist, and they are allies in your journey.
To the women of colour who have faced systemic bias, remember that your resilience lights the way for those who follow. To the academics who battle jealousy and isolation, rise above individualism, your role is to shape minds and inspire futures. To those in business development and commercialisation, understand that the storm of exclusion is rooted in fear, but authenticity, confidence, and curiosity can never be suppressed.
And to those within the legal profession, open the gates wide. The law should be a pillar of justice and fairness, not a fortress of exclusion. When we make room for diverse voices at the table, we strengthen the very foundation upon which justice stands. Impact is not always loud or grand, sometimes it begins in the quiet act of inclusion, in the moment one woman holds the door open for another. To every professional in a gated field, your duty is not to preserve exclusivity, but to extend access. The bar is not meant to be raised beyond reach, but to encourage others to climb higher. So, unlock the gates. And if you refuse to, know this, the next generation will not wait for your permission. They will jump over.
Have you ever thought about how important your feet are? Strange introduction but stay with me. I feel very vulnerable putting my poor feet on the internet like this but anyway, here we go. I’ve had five weeks to ponder this thought, about how important our feet are. I broke my foot and ended up being in a cast for 4 weeks and then I’ll be stuck in a moon boot for another 6 weeks. I had surgery to repair the broken bone – I had what you call alisfranc injury and I now have two screws in my right foot to get it all better. I’ll have to have another surgery next year sometime to remove the screws so recovery to get back to my usual busy, up and down self, is going to take some time.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things since the injury; I was booked off from work so I’ve been at home in my cast and using crutches to get around – it’s been one of the most inconvenient experiences of my life. I never realised before how important my feet are and the use of my feet. It’s one of those things that we take for granted when we’re blessed to have both feet or legs working fully. Now, I’m not going to compare my experience with people who have had amputations or who were born without the use of their limbs or anything of that sort – I’m simply telling my story. The last time I broke a part of my body I was probably 7 years old I think; I broke my arm when I was running around in our yard with our two big dogs, Jack and Jill. They were Boerboels and as I fell one of them accidently stepped on my arm; at least that’s how I remember it. I also remember my bone sticking out of my arm and being in hospital and going into theatre and seeing the bright theatre light above my head just before I went under. As a child, that experience wasn’t inconvenient because I was spoiled and looked after and I got toys and all the snacks and sweets I wanted. As an adult, breaking my foot, was not so great. I am a mom of two and a wife and business owner and I also have a full time job so usually I am always on my feet, doing things. The kids need to go to dance class; the house needs to be cleaned, food needs to be made, admin needs to be completed. But with my foot being broken, most days and especially the first few weeks of recovery; I was stuck in bed or the couch with my foot propped up on pillows. I was also in a lot of pain and the pain meds were my saving grace but the effect of that was that It made me drowsy and I would end up sleeping most of the day.
This has been my life for the last few weeks.
Fast forward 5 weeks later and I am super restless; I am ready to go back to work and ready to get this cast of my leg but I am also ready to have a few honest conversations with myself. Nothing like being stuck at home, unable to move around as usual to get you to come face to face with yourself. So the initial idea was that while I am stuck at home, unable to be up and down; I would write and finish another book or work on some new ideas or be productive because I’m a writer and its not like I need my foot to write, right? Well, none of that happened. In fact, this is the first substantial piece of writing I’ve released in weeks. My mind and my brain were sucked dry of its creative coffers. What I have been doing is eating, sleeping, binge-watching and falling asleep after taking a cocktail of prescribed pain medications. I’m not proud of it but I am okay with it. Sometimes we do pressure ourselves to perform while our minds and our bodies are not in the right place. Many people have told me that maybe this injury was God’s way of telling me to slow down and slow down I did indeed. But I finally came back to myself. I can feel it as I’m writing this. What I do pay attention to now however is feet – I’ve been watching how people walk; how some move their hips from left to right and use their arms while others don’t. I’ve noticed how people walk with confidence or with a shy demeanour; hoping no one else sees them. Are some people rushing or taking their time? Do they take small steps or large ones? What shoes are they wearing? Have they had surgery which affected their gait? I think about that. I wonder if I will walk ‘normally’ after I am fully recovered or if I will always be slightly anxious now moving forward? Will I be more appreciative of my body in its entirety? Most certainly. Something else that I have been pondering on is how fragile the human body is. Every single day, we leave our homes not knowing how our day will end up.
In fact, let me tell you how I broke my foot in the first place.
A FALL
I was sitting peacefully in my house watching Teen Wolf. I was expecting a visit from my brother and I remembered our car garage was open. I wanted to close it because its untidy and I didn’t want him to see the mess ( hides face) So I walk out my house, I don’t end up closing the garage because I couldn’t reach the handle ( I’m pretty short ) – I give up and decide to leave it and as I am walking back into the small gate into my yard; I miss a step and fall. The pain was excruciating; at some point after my brother arrived and found me on the ground; I passed out because the pain was so bad. I didn’t even know I broke my foot until a week later when I was sent for an MRI and the surgeon told me it was broken. That was on the 15th of September. I had surgery the very next day. Anyway, that was five weeks ago – I’m much better now.
Where was I? Oh yes! We don’t know how our day is going to end up when we wake up in the morning; we don’t know if we’re going to make it home by the end of the day. We don’t know if we’re going to break a leg or an arm or if we’re going to lose someone we dearly love. This is something that has also been running around in my head. Appreciate your loved ones and take care of yourself. Physically and mentally. So its not like I have been sitting here at home not doing anything; I’ve been thinking. All the thoughts just decided to come out today. Life continued as normal for other people while I was indisposed and that also made me think. As much as work and responsibilities are important and necessary; you shouldn’t let it consume you and take over your life. We’ve all heard the saying that you can be replaced at your workplace in an instant if you’re no longer there and its true. Not that I’ve been replaced but I have been able to spend a lot of time with my kids over these last few weeks and it’s been such a blessed time for me, even though I haven’t been able to cook or clean for them but I have been able to be there for them. To be present. And like I mentioned earlier; I’ve also had to come face to face with myself – I’ve had to take note of the things I don’t like about myself; the things I can fix with simple lifestyle changes. The things I can only leave in God’s hands and also the things I need to let go off. Something that I’ve had to admit to myself as well as is that I may also have become slightly lazy. I’m cringing just writing that out but its true. As much as I’ve been unable to walk and be my usual busy self; I think the laziness started creeping in before I hurt myself and the injury sort of solidified it and gave me a reason to give in to it.
Here you can see the x-ray which shows the screws in my foot
A MIRACLE
I did experience a miracle during this time of being stuck at home. On one of the rare occasions of me leaving the house; I attended a church service with my husband and two friends. It was a great service with a prophet from the United States giving us the word. After he was done; many people went to him so that he may speak or prophesy over them. While I was sitting on the steps watching this; the pastor whose church we were visiting came and laid hands on my injured foot and let me tell you, I felt the power of God. I had been struggling with pain that whole night because usually the pain gets worse at night, I think it has something to do with the cold but when he laid hands on me; it was like a soft breeze overcame me and the pain just vanished, just like that. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. Not even the pain meds I am on can do that. I was able to walk on the foot right after that and even though I continued to wear the cast after that and not immediately remove it, what I felt God was saying to me that night was ‘I AM’ God is able to do exceedingly and abundantly more than what we can even think to ask of Him and I believe He was reminding me to trust Him and just showing off His power a bit. I want to be better. I want to be stronger and healthier. I want to spend more time in God’s presence because if I’m honest; during this time since breaking my foot, I have been neglecting my prayer life and I think its because I’ve been so consumed by the problems that I forgot to look to the person who holds all the solutions. What I do know is this; once I am recovered and even throughout the next few months of recovery; I want to take in everything. I want to feel the sun; I want to read more and write more. I want to achieve more. I want to walk more. Besides, these feet were made for walking.
Our son Jared’s journey through illness, music and meaning.
When our son Jared was born, we never imagined the first sound we would associate with him would be that of a ventilator. He was just one day old when he spiraled into severe respiratory distress.
The paediatrician – a stoic professional who had seen it all – told us, “I don’t think the baby will survive”.
It was as if the floor vanished beneath us. For nine days, we lived minute by minute in the paediatric intensive care unit, holding onto hope. Machines breathed for him. We watched the monitor rise and fall, as if it were our own heartbeat. We celebrated the small victories—like the rare moments when Jared could breathe unaided—only to be shattered when he would relapse. Then, on the tenth day, a change occurred. He was moved out of the ICU. Four days later, we took him home—a brave little fighter wrapped in blankets, reminding us every second that life is a gift.
But our relief was short-lived.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
At 15 months old, Jared was diagnosed withhypopituitarism. The damage from his neonatal respiratory distress had harmed his pituitary gland, which is the small gland in the brain that controls the body’s hormonal system. As a result, his body was unable to produce the essential hormones needed for growth, energy, metabolism, and even survival. The doctors made it clear: Jared would require daily hormone replacement therapy, including growth hormones, and others to manage cortisol and thyroid function. Without this treatment, his health and development would be at risk.
If you’ve ever received news like this about your child, you understand how the world goes silent for a moment. We were terrified, but we knew we had to take action.
Jared as a child
The Cost of Hope
The treatments were expensive – far beyond what our modest family income could cover. To pay for the hormone injections and medication, friends, family, and even our community came together to assist us as much as they could. We tightened our belts, cut corners, and sacrificed comfort for necessity.
Jared never once complained. From the age of eight, he gave himself hormone injections nearly every day. He never asked, “Why me?” – he just focused on doing what needed to be done, even when it was hard.
At 18, we celebrated a quiet and joyful milestone. Jared’s endocrinologist announced he had reached his expected height. The daily growth hormone injections could finally stop, marking the end of one of the hardest chapters of his life.
However, during this time, he had also been fighting another battle.
Another Battle: Hearing Loss
From age 5, Jared battled chronic ear infections. By the time he turned twelve, specialists recommended surgery to resolve the issue. While the surgery was successful, it revealed that the damage had already occurred; Jared had only 30% hearing in his left ear. Suddenly, everything made sense: his seeming withdrawal at birthday parties, difficulty in noisy classrooms, and avoidance of group activities.
We invested in a digital hearing aid, which was expensive but a needed solution. The emotional impact of those quiet years stayed with him. Throughout high school, Jared was quiet and preferred to be alone rather than risk being misunderstood. It broke our hearts to see him pull away from the world. He was physically there but emotionally hidden.
And Then, Music
For Jared’s 19th birthday, we took a leap and gifted him a bright purple acoustic guitar, hoping it would serve as both a creative outlet and a gateway back into the world. We could not have predicted what happened next.
Jared at age 19 with the purple guitar
He started with awkward strumming. Over time, rhythm emerged, then melodies—until music became his language. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t always hear the world clearly – through music, he found a way to speak to it, and slowly, it began to talk back.
He enrolled in a diploma program for contemporary music at a music and art college, where he connected with peers, young individuals who were passionate about chords and harmonies. We were both emotionally overwhelmed a month later, during his first concert, as the boy who once hid from noise stood confidently under the stage lights, guitar in hand, and his heart wide open.
Growth as a Musician
To our surprise, Jared quickly entered the music industry as a session musician, collaborating with several notable South African artists. His guitar work can be heard on some South African movie soundtracks, including the “Lockdown” TV series and more recently the movie “Mr Easy Loo” on Netflix . He effortlessly transitions between various musical genres, including jazz, blues, R&B, Pop, African rhythms, and even the popular South African genre, AmaPiano—all played on the guitar.
Jared’s musical growth took a significant leap forward when he met the seasoned musician Jamela Vuma, who took him under his wing. They have collaborated on each other’s albums, with Jamela producing Jared’s album, “Rhythmic Resonance,” which features 12 tracks and serves as a tribute to his journey through struggle and triumph. Jared and Jamela share a deep friendship, but their bond has developed into a brotherly connection that is unlikely to be broken.
Today: Giving Back Through the Fray Music Academy
One evening, Jared told us, “I think she likes me.” This simple statement, thanks to Kimberly, marked the beginning of an exciting new chapter in his life. Her presence brought him happiness, and it was evident in his actions.
Today, Jared is not only a professional session musician and recording artist, but also a husband and father to two wonderful children. Together with his wife, Kimberly, they founded the Fray Music Academy for young musicians aged 4 to 18, where over 100 students come weekly to discover the joy of music. With seven dedicated tutors (including Jared himself), the academy pulses with creativity, especially after school hours and on weekends.
Some students and tutors at Fray Music Academy
It’s not just that Jared survived—he found meaning in the very things that once made life hardest. What once made him feel different now helps him reach others. His struggles became the reason he could listen deeply and with empathy and play with heart.
To Every Young Dreamer (and Their Parents)
If you’re a young person facing tough challenges, remember—where you start doesn’t have to define where you end up. Jared faced more than his share of struggles but didn’t let them hold him back. Keep going. Trust that you can grow beyond the hard beginnings.
To parents on a similar journey, remember that there is hope. Every sacrifice you make, big or small, matters. Every sleepless night and difficult choice you face helps build strength. The most vulnerable child can grow into the strongest person in the room. Your support can bring about amazing changes.
Final Thoughts
From ICU alarms to studio melodies, from hormone injections to guitar solos. From hushed hospital prayers to roaring applause. Jared’s story is a testament to the power of resilience, unconditional love, and never giving up.
And to the child out there, just starting to strum their first chord—don’t stop.
Your melody is already inside you – keep playing until the world hears it.
I miss my mother and I think I’ve missed her the most this year, this is excluding the year she died. I think it’s because so many big things have happened to me and our family during the last 3 years since her death and there is just something about the number threethat brings things together or bringing everything into completion and maybe that’s why I miss her so much this year. More so now that the year is coming to an end. It’s like I’ve experienced a trinity of grief and joy and success and exhaustion to the point where I just want my mother’s embrace but I can’t have it. I can’t go to my mother and release my tension. I can’t have her stroke my head or lay on her lapor hear her voice. These are all things I’ve desperately needed over the last few years and I’ve been deprived and it hurts. It will probably always ache as I continue to grow and evolve as a person.
In the last three years I got married, started a business with my husband, got promoted, performed on two big stages, acted in a short movie, did an interview on radio, performed a poem on live television, cut my hair, gained weight, moved homes three times, started a podcast, joined ministries at church, discussed one of my poems with a group of strangers, opened up about sexual abuse, cried, laughed, screamed, hurt, felt incredible joy and debilitating exhaustion…so much has happened and yet it feels not enough has happened…and all I’ve mostly wanted during all of this was my mother and to be achildagain.
We don’t always realise that we still live with the grief long after we have experienced the loss. It hits us at the most inopportune times and its not something that ever disappears. No one person’s grief experience is the same and its unfair to compare it. The only thing to do is to remember we are all hurting, we are all mourning a loss; whether its a person or an opportunity or a missed conversation. We are all in mourning. I have experienced a labyrinth of emotions. I can’t even describe it as a rollercoaster of emotions because a rollercoaster has a beginning and an end; it has a pattern, despite the highs and lows, you know it will come to a head but what I’ve experienced or what I am experiencing is an endless sea…a never ending melting pot of everything. Don’t get me wrong; I am at peace. It’s just sprinkled with a little grief.
Whether its PTSD, burn out or emotional exhaustion, its been a lot to say the least. I have had to learn how to swim, to keep peddling and pushing against the current and the one thing that has become abundantly clear to me, the whole point of this post, is that I survived. I look back and I see all I achieved through the grace of God and I am grateful. Sometimes we tend to be so hard on ourselves; we put so much pressure on what we must achieve and what we need to do to be successful and we forget to count the small things and as the saying goes; the small things are usually the big things.
I looked back on the last three years and I can genuinely smile, knowing I’ve achieved and done things that I didn’t think I could. It’s been turbulent and chaotic and frustrating and agonizing. It’s been confusing and at times I’ve been left with more questions than answers. I’ve been down on my knees in prayer, I’ve felt the spirit of Godin my most vulnerable state and I’ve cried with the rain and it has all shown me that I’ve lived and that I continue to live
I hope you are able to look back on this year or the last few years of your life and be filled with gratitude and the knowledge that you too have lived.
This woman was me in many ways, except for the reasons she wasn’t.
She was a woman who had to survive many painful obstacles; prostitution, abandonment, unemployment, living on the streets, and many other social ills.
Our struggles differ, but our desire to overcome them is the same.
I saw something in her: a stranger I have never met before and will probably never meet again.
I saw a fighting spirit.
Things I thought I had lost in myself, but her yellow-stained eyes reflected it when I looked at her.
This woman stood before me with joy, a smile, and hope in her heart.
Like many others, she had to sacrifice a part of herself to get through life and reach this point, where she stood in front of me with a smile so broad I couldn’t help but smile too.
She speaks about the life she used to live without shame and her life now with pride. She embraces every challenge she has endured to get to where she is today.
We don’t share the same skin colour or the same mother tongue.
We don’t have the same economic standing or have the same employment status.
We don’t enjoy the same opportunities or possibilities nor are we the same age or grew up the same way.
But it is precisely those differences that make us the same.
The spirit of a warrior woman, one who doesn’t give up.
One who doesn’t have much but still gives.
Someone who doesn’t know it all but continues to learn.
Sometimes you get to climb the top really quickly and other times, you get eaten by snakes.
This is a lesson I was trying to teach my daughter one night. I invited her to play a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. It was her very first time. She was five years old at the time and extremely intelligent for her age and also emotionally sensitive. When she started realising that the game wasn’t as easy as it looks, she didn’t enjoy it at first. She didn’t like losing. In fact, she took it so hard, that she started crying the moment she realised that I was winning the game. I explained to her that the point of the game is to go through challenges and I told her that, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. I tried to make her understand that its okay to lose sometimes.
She wanted to stop playing and told me that she is the worst player ever and that I am better than her. Then she started listing a whole bunch of other things that she believed she was bad at.
What I told her is that the game is all about learning, much like the life we live. You have to keep playing the game and should never give up. That’s how you see if you’re good at the game. That’s how you see if you can win.
I explained to her that she should at least try to make it to the top and see if she can do it. It took some time and some convincing but eventually it worked. We continued to play the game and she kept asking me, “Mommy am I almost at the top?” and I told her not to worry about what’s at the top but to instead focus on where she is. I told her something many of us have heard a million times; focus on the journey and not the destination.
She felt better, even on the turns when she got swallowed up by snakes. I kept on reminding her that it is okay; just keep playing the game. I hoped that she would remember what I was telling her.
At the end of the game, she won and in a way, so did I because I taught my daughter and myself a valuable lesson;
Tears My tears are not hot and dry they are not hidden behind my eyes or stuck in my throat They are an overwhelming ocean a riptide of emotion My tears are powerful and visible for all to see They dare not hide My tears are ever present Always available I am never without My tears are worthy of accolades and applause My tears are not forced or fake They are real and organic Constantly flowing ravaging whatever stands in its way My tears have a life of its own Ever present and commanding Causing you to turn your head when they make their presence known
