Makhadzi’s Shutdown Comments Reveal a Bigger South African Language Anxiety

By Viranova Culture Desk03 Jun 2026Culture

Public relations managers will always tell their clients to stay away from politics.

It is the golden rule of celebrity survival.

But when you are a South African artist, existing in a country where politics is often impossible to avoid, silence can sometimes feel just as risky as speaking.

This week, Makhadzi stepped directly into that tension.

Amid conversations around a planned 30 June 2026 shutdown linked to anti-illegal-immigration activism, the award-winning singer raised concerns about the safety of Tshivenda and Xitsonga-speaking South Africans in Gauteng. Her concern came after videos circulated online, including one involving a Zulu-speaking man questioning the citizenship of a Venda-speaking man.

For Makhadzi, whose public identity and music are closely tied to Tshivenda pride, the fear was specific. She worried that Tshivenda and Xitsonga-speaking South Africans could be harassed, questioned or mistaken for undocumented foreign nationals because their languages are unfamiliar to some people in Gauteng.

The internet reacted quickly.

She was accused of fanning tribalism. Her wording was criticised. She later apologised, explaining that her English may not have fully carried her intention and that she was not trying to offend.

But the bigger issue should not disappear because the phrasing became messy.

Makhadzi had stepped into a conversation many South Africans are uncomfortable having out loud: the relationship between xenophobia, language, belonging and internal othering.

We loudly celebrate the “Rainbow Nation” ideal, especially on Heritage Day. But everyday life in a province like Gauteng can be more complicated. Language often shapes who is immediately read as belonging and who is forced to explain themselves.

If you speak isiZulu, Sesotho or English, you may move through many Gauteng spaces with an easier sense of recognition. But for speakers of Tshivenda and Xitsonga, the experience can be different. Venda and Tsonga-speaking communities have often been subjected to ugly tribal jokes, lazy stereotypes and forms of othering that many people dismiss as harmless until they become dangerous.

That danger becomes sharper against a backdrop of rising anti-immigration tensions and identity-check incidents.

When language becomes a reason for suspicion, the problem is no longer just about borders. It becomes about how South Africans recognise one another inside the country itself.

Makhadzi was not speaking like a politician. She was speaking as a Venda artist watching a fear that many minority-language South Africans understand too well.

That does not mean every word landed perfectly. But the public response revealed how quickly South Africa can shift from discussing a real anxiety to policing the grammar and tone of the person who raised it.

We have a bad habit of focusing on the phrasing of marginalised people while avoiding the substance of their fear.

Makhadzi’s music unites crowds across language lines. She is one of South Africa’s most recognisable cultural exports. But the reaction to her comments was a reminder that fame does not erase the anxiety of being misunderstood in your own country.

The question is not only whether she should have worded it better.

The deeper question is why a South African language can still make a South African citizen feel like a stranger.

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