I recently had the opportunity to speak with Magogodi oaMphela Makhene, founder of Love As A Kind of Cure. Love As A Kind of Cure envisions a world where centuries-old inequalities are eliminated through kinship. A world where radical love is alive in public life and policy. They make everyday acts of courage dismantling inequality accessible and joyful for all.
Magogodi was born in Soweto, South Africa and came of age during the turbulent years marking the fall of apartheid. She was raised in Johannesburg, eventually making her way to New York, which she now also calls home.
Magogodi is currently completing a collection of inter-woven short stories exploring the inner lives and loves of ordinary South Africans making a life in a time and place most often inhospitable to their journeys.
In addition to fiction, Magogodi writes non-fiction and speaks widely. She holds graduate degrees from NYU, where she was a Reynolds Fellow for Social Entrepreneurship with me, and the Iowa Writers' Workshop, where she was a Truman Capote Fellow and taught Creative Writing. Her work was awarded First Prize for the Elie Wiesel Prize in Ethics. In 2016, she won the David Relin Prize for Fiction.
I have known and watched Magogodi blossom into the compassionate being that she is. What strikes me most is her ability to be more curious and fundamentally see, hear, and feel things from the perspective of those who are othered. She models this way of being through her festival Love Is A Kind Of A Cure that has celebrated humanities of people seemingly different from her -- Indigenous people, Asian Americans, Native Hawaiians, Trans women -- yet inexorably connected to her journey to heal humanity.
I recently caught up with Magogodi to learn about how she got interested in this subject, and get her perspective on what needs to happen to break bias in our culture. Below are some highlights from our conversation.
~Anu
Magogodi, you started Love As A Kind of Cure in response to the isolation, inequality and loss of Covid-19, and inspired by Toni Morrison’s example of art for social justice. Tell us about the story of you and your work leading up to Love As A Kind of Cure.
There’s a beautiful spoken word poem, Africa My Beginning by Ingoapele Madingoane. The poem was recorded in Soweto at the height of apartheid. That’s my beginning--growing up in a country that considered people like me subhuman. That’s where the seed of social justice was planted in me. It’s also the place where I learned firsthand the power of joy and art in everyday people’s lives; how humans make joy and craft art as a form of resistance, validating their humanity. Apartheid was a cocktail of genocide mixed with neo-Nazi ambitions and Jim Crow levels of absurdity. And yet still, the people who raised me chose love. That’s where my deep conviction in love as as kind of cure to this mess of white supremacy comes from. You could also say I picked up some things along the way, but that is my beginning.
Love As A Kind of Cure is medicine for a world that needs mending. You believe only a joyful, love-rooted revolution will win the battle against white supremacy and intersectional oppression. Your virtual festivals, like the upcoming July Freedom Festival build community, inspire resilience and activate participants toward impactful action.
Tell us how Love As A Kind of Cure is creating a love-rooted revolution as a way of breaking bias? What can people expect to learn at the July Freedom Festival 2021?
The sharpest tool we have against white supremacy isn’t rhetoric or logic or even public policy, it’s the most ancient technology all humans know: storytelling. White supremacy is a story. A bad story with lousy plot twists but plenty of curious characters. The story started somewhere in the neighborhood of 1400s Portugal, when some dude named Henry (the Navigator) convinced a bunch of Catholic clerics that blackness meant fair game for exploitation because Africans weren’t Christian. That story is 500+ years old. But it’s only a story. And it’s a story that can change, if we apply our wildest imagination in what we dream forward.
At Love As A Kind of Cure, we use experiential storytelling to subvert the tired old story of white supremacy. What does that mean? It means we immerse people in experiences that expand their appreciation of “The Other.”
As part of this year’s Freedom Festival, we’re hosting a Whiskey Tasting on July 8 with actor and comedian Michelle Buteau and Victoria Butler of Uncle Nearest. Victoria is a descendant of Nathan Green, America’s first master distiller. Mr. Green was born enslaved but still figured out a way to invent this hot new thing America had never tasted. He shared his recipe with Jack Daniels and taught Jack everything Jack knew. So you can pause right there--what does it mean that America’s first master distiller was a black man who was born enslaved? When you come to our Whiskey Tasting and learn this story and taste Uncle Nearest whiskey, your understanding of blackness expands, regardless what your skin looks like.
There’s a July 11 Cook-Along celebrating African & Native food. There’s a juicy July 15 conversation on Reparations with former presidential candidate and Oprah’s fav spiritual leader Marianne Williamson. And the chef the Obama’s invited to cook their first state dinner, Marcus Samuelsson of Red Rooster Harlem, is our keynote speaker on 7/29.
For festival assets, please see this link.
How do you define race? How do we become more conscious in how we define race?
Defining race is trying to explain water to a fish. It’s everywhere we swim, and yet, it’s as ephemeral as air. Biologically, there is no such thing as race, right? But what do you name the fecal matter we’ve been swimming in for the last 500 years? And how do you have a fresh conversation around that 500 year shit-stream without falling into the trap of regurgitating racist ideas (again, there are no races people!)? What interests me is beginning with healing ourselves--inside out--from the sickness that is white supremacy. How do you show up in the world and take up space, as a black and brown body especially? How do you carve a life that is wholly anti-racist and that refuses to define your humanity through the lens of (fake) race?
What do you see as the top priorit(ies) in creating equity and a sense of belonging?
I love the theme of belonging. To belong, you have to be seen. But being seen on its own, is not enough. A springbok is seen by a lion. Does that hunted springbok now belong? You also have to be accepted as is. And you know what that is? Agape Love. Radical Love. Or Love As A Kind of Cure.
Thank you, Magogodi!
Please learn more about Love As A Kind Of Cure.
You can follow them on Instagram @lovekindcure. And follow Magogodi @magogogimakhene