Carbon is a trans rights activist and multimedia journalist whose journey to selfhood has meant breaking down gender barriers and institutional norms. But there’s a twist. They do so through art.
Carbon is a multidisciplinary journalist and activist. They are navigating what it means to be trans, queer and black in post-apartheid South Africa through artistic forms of self-expression. PHOTO: Instagram/@carbonatedart
The year is 2015. In the midst of an impassioned crowd of Rhodes Must Fall demonstrators on the University of Cape Town’s (UCT) then Jammie (Jameson) steps, stands a young Carbon, whose journey to selfhood is on the brink of succession.
“To be myself in this world is not intrinsically political, but it becomes political in a framework,” says Carbon.
They were once grasped firmly by the fists of traditional Catholicism, but have used artistic and creative power as liberatory tools, says Carbon. They smile almost nervously.
Carbon spent their formative years in Johannesburg with their mother and siblings before attending a single-sex Catholic school.
At the time, they could not have foreseen that their poetry on gender pronouns would be exhibited at the first Queer Feminist Film Festival in Khayelitsha in 2018, or read by hundreds of eyes in the Sol Plaatje European Awards anthology.
The “antiquated idea of traditional fanaticism” bestowed on them stifling performative gender roles, says Carbon, who, at the age of 18 moved across the country to pursue their academic career at UCT.
That moment of realising that how you are being told to act contravenes what you are feeling inside, is one that instils in you the power of resilience, they say.
Poetry that featured as part of multimedia journalist and trans visibility activist Carbon’s exhibition, Not Yet Dead, at Gallery University Stellenbosch between 11 February and 11 March was largely a collaborative effort, says the artist. PHOTO: Talia Kincaid
Uncovering falsehood
Carbon first qualified as a multimedia journalist at UCT, and then completed an honours degree in gender studies at the same institution in 2022.
Art was never something that they had envisioned themselves pursuing.
“I actually chose art via process of elimination,” Carbon says. It happened in 2011, when a 15-year-old Carbon was faced with the life-altering decision to choose between sciences or art.
“[My school] put the subject choices into categories, and […] I looked at the art students and realised that they put an incredible amount of time into it. I was willing to dedicate that time [to the craft],” they recall.
Carbon attributes their successes to the Trans Collective – an organisation born at UCT in collaboration with the African Gender Institute during the Rhodes Must Fall movement – a protest movement they say was aimed at decolonising the South African education system.
The initiative sought to bring down the statue of John Cecil Rhodes that stood at the forefront of the Jameson stairs.
Carbon explains that they would spend hours in the art class after school and on weekends creating content during their high school years in Johannesburg. PHOTO: Talia Kincaid
The Trans Collective
“The collective really doesn’t have much of an internet presence, surprisingly, […] but we’ll change that,” says Carbon. “It was born from Rhodes Must Fall […] with a very clear understanding that from the inception, [the movement] was never going to cater for trans [people].”
“Our liberation wasn’t going to necessarily be found in the Rhodes Must Fall space despite trans people being on the front lines. […] I think that everything is political, even things we relegate to the personal,” they say.
“One of the most significant things we’ve done as the collective, is what has been called the trans capture of the Rhodes Must Fall Exhibition,” they say. “I believe [trans people] were featured in two or three photos out of hundreds […] The exhibition wrongly framed black cisgender men as the saviours, the heroes, even though [the movement] had a leaderless structure.”
The collective reclaimed their power after holding their own exhibition at the same gallery, says Carbon.
It was during this time that Carbon’s battle with bipolar disorder reached its lowest point. “It gets very dark, very quickly with this kind of disorder. [I] genuinely don’t understand how I was able to finish my degree, but I did,” they say.
Navigating this invisible disability as queer and black in a system pitted against them, has inspired their present and past works, according to Carbon. But, they are quick to move on.
Their honours dissertation took place in an “atypical form”. “It [was] actually a photography and art writing zine […] centred on trans visibility,” Carbon explains. Dedication to the self can only be construed by refining their craft, they say.
“I create for myself, but I also create for the hypothetical version of me that exists out there.”
Their dissertation shares its similarities with their latest exhibition, Not Yet Dead, which debuted at Gallery University Stellenbosch (GUS) throughout February and March.
“We knew each other from when Carbon was involved with Rhodes Must Fall,” says Rabia Abba Omar, curatorial intern at GUS. Carbon’s most recent project reconnected the two, but changed Omar’s perception of them.
“I’d known [them] in more of an activist context, but transitioning into an artistic context for both of us [was a great experience]”, she says. “They pushed us to consider how a gallery space is inclusive […] So, it’s something we [as GUS] want to challenge ourselves with.”
The Gallery University Stellenbosch (GUS) is planning on incorporating more disability-friendly exhibits, challenging the gallery as an institution to be more inclusive, says Rabia Abba Omar, curatorial intern at GUS. PHOTO: Talia Kincaid
Living but ‘Not Yet Dead’
Not Yet Dead travelled from Stellenbosch to the Live Art Arcade in Makhanda for a secondary showing on 24 March.
“We did a multimedia performance art piece led thematically by my poetry. It features poetry posters, collage elements, as well as a spoken word poetry album,” they explain. “All of it was extremely collaborative with various queer artists.”
The exhibition toys with the art of storytelling by using South Africa’s troubled history as a framework within which to speak with those relegated to the margins of society, Carbon says.
“[Carbon brings] a deep intensity to their work which reflects their own inner emotional world,” says Khumbulani Jali, one of the artists who worked alongside Carbon throughout the production process.
“[Their dedication] helped me grow more confident in my own practice as an artist,” Jali says.
Art became the expressionistic tool that Carbon used to grapple with their identity, an outlet to “process the complexities of [their] emotions, discovering false[hood], gender, and sexuality” while also remaining an important political tool to advocate for transgender visibility, says the artist.
“Hosting this exhibition in Stellenbosch was a fascinating experience,” Carbon explains.
“Stellenbosch […] as this kind of bastion of whiteness […], to get your power back when you see how a place like that reacts to something as unapologetically queer and black and trans, is exhilarating,” says Carbon, with reference to the Not Yet Dead exhibition.
As part of Carbon’s exhibition at Gallery University Stellenbosch (GUS), spectators were encouraged to share their burdens, desires and thoughts by solidifying them in writing on rocks. These rocks were placed into a wheelbarrow, which the artist then carried around the exhibition until physical exhaustion. This was symbolic of enduring the weight of systemic burdens, according to the GUS’ exhibition flyer. PHOTO: Talia Kincaid
Pride politics
Carbon is most proud of their progression in their battles with bipolar disorder. “I am proud to be alive, but not just […] alive and surviving. But […] alive and thriving,” Carbon says.
This pride seeps its way into Carbon’s artistic works. It is a kind of political pride that underpins an inherently stunted historical past that ebbs and flows within and beyond societal margins, they explain.
“I create for myself, but I also create for the hypothetical version of me that exists out there who needs to see themselves. I think there’s an incredible amount of power, as a young trans person, to create art that reflects our inner world that will then reflect other peoples.”
“The history of tomorrow is made today. What journalists choose to write about and not write about – that informs what gets remembered tomorrow,” says artist Carbon. Not Yet Dead, the artist’s exhibition, features a host of poetry that deals with themes on disability, gender and race. PHOTO: Talia Kincaid