Siya Khumalo
Siya Khumalo writes and speaks on religion, politics and sex; his articles have appeared on platforms like News24, Daily Maverick, MambaOnline, BizNews and Rand Daily Mail. He authored You Have To Be Gay To Know God (Kwela Books, 2018), which won the Desmond Tutu-Gerrit Brand Prize. He was a 2022 Mandela-Washington Fellow as part of the United States’ Young African Leaders Initiative. He’s ex-military, a Mr. Gay South Africa 2015 runner-up and a Mr. Gay World top 10 finalist.
Book excerpt:
At about 5:20pm on 31 December 2012, a colleague picked up a steak knife from a cutlery tray. He yelled, ‘Angi-gay, mina!’ — I’m not gay! — and came at me with it. I froze, the takeaway package rustling in my trembling hands. The kitchen staff erupted like a banshee choir into shrieks that he not hurt me.
The bar-lady burst through the two-leaf swing doors to see why our chit-chat had turned to yelling. She saw; the colour drained from her face. A sound I thought was him moving made me jump — it was the chopsticks my elbow had knocked off the counter, bouncing like drumsticks on the floor.
I jumped again when I realised that jump could have startled him into stabbing me. My knees wobbled. I had the presence of mind not to reach for the counter for support.
‘I’m not gay! Don’t you ever think I’m gay. Do you hear me?’ he was yelling. My eyes searched the room’s woks, its fridges and its crackling bug-zappers for something I could grab. Nothing. ‘Yes,’ I said, swallowing the hot gravel in my throat. ‘You’re not gay.’
He calmed down enough for the others to take the knife from him and pull him away.
Bibliography
2018. You Have To Be Gay To Know God. Cape Town: Kwela Books
At about 5:20pm on 31 December 2012, a colleague picked up a steak knife from a cutlery tray. He yelled, ‘Angi-gay, mina!’ — I’m not gay! — and came at me with it. I froze, the takeaway package rustling in my trembling hands. The kitchen staff erupted like a banshee choir into shrieks that he not hurt me.
The bar-lady burst through the two-leaf swing doors to see why our chit-chat had turned to yelling. She saw; the colour drained from her face. A sound I thought was him moving made me jump — it was the chopsticks my elbow had knocked off the counter, bouncing like drumsticks on the floor.
I jumped again when I realised that jump could have startled him into stabbing me. My knees wobbled. I had the presence of mind not to reach for the counter for support.
‘I’m not gay! Don’t you ever think I’m gay. Do you hear me?’ he was yelling. My eyes searched the room’s woks, its fridges and its crackling bug-zappers for something I could grab. Nothing. ‘Yes,’ I said, swallowing the hot gravel in my throat. ‘You’re not gay.’
He calmed down enough for the others to take the knife from him and pull him away.
Bibliography
2018. You Have To Be Gay To Know God. Cape Town: Kwela Books