A long-time visual artist friend recently asked me to send her a poem I wrote 22 years ago, titled “I Curse the Mic (That Broke My Virginity)”.

They wanted to recite it at their international exhibition opening, one of hundreds in their illustrious career.

They reminded me of what was happening at the time, leading me to liken a microphone to something that used to bring immense pleasure but started to erode my ability to discover new parts of myself or grow from allowing others to arouse my cerebral senses.

When I conceived that poem, I was at the forefront of a powerful poetry movement.

As a student at the University of Johannesburg, I set up a stage in Melville, where creatives gathered weekly to enjoy spoken word, music, and storytelling.

It wasn’t just a healing space; it became quite the vibe. My fellow curators and I began focusing more on creating that vibe, the performance, the energy, rather than nurturing the lyrical craft I originally envisioned.

I knew then that my purpose was bigger than just the performance. From there, the journey towards “resting on your laurels” unfolded.

My friend, Professor Zanele Muholi, who recited my poem at her exhibition, has been my reminder that “your best is yet to come” since 2002.

She’s achieved more than most I know personally, especially through community activism, yet she still feels there’s more to do, more to give. She doesn’t rest until her purpose is fulfilled.

She often shares her current projects, not for applause, but because she needs my talents for the next big thing.

She is relentless as a catalyst, truly believing my best is yet to come. As a fellow visionary and activist, I cherish this kind of relationship. It reminds me of a promise I made to myself all those years ago, to dig deeper into my purpose.

But there’s a flip side to this relentless pursuit of meaningful work: exhaustion. Not just burnout, but a deep fatigue that comes from not being comfortable with acknowledgement or recognition, the elixir that can sustain us on this often lonely, tough journey.

Sometimes, it’s okay to pause and let yourself be celebrated.

Today, I’m recovering from a bit of burnout. So, I’ve decided to write a letter to my 22-year-old self, who was already well on her way to 40.

“Damn, girl! If you could see me now as I see you then, you’d see a ball of light—energy disguised as a slender girl with a perky butt and slight curves (and some insecurities about it). The “doing the most” attitude you’ve always had comes naturally to you.

Whether you’re bulldozing your way into a newspaper editor’s office (as a first-year BA Journalism student) demanding they publish your first of many bylines; or illuminating underground dungeons and transforming them into cultural hotspots that spotlight artists who would go on to shine on global stages.

The fire to turn ideas into action is what will carry you forward. That courage will grow with you, fuelling your journey of sharing yourself and your ideas with the world. Ideas that will shift society.

You may not see it now, or even fathom it, but you are enough. You are, and will continue to be, a formidable force.

Spoiler alert: You’ll even plant a seed that leads to flourishing in the agricultural and environmental space (yes, wild, I know!).

When you can, girl…pause. Take it all in. Bask in the wonderful people you will meet.

Immerse yourself in the lessons, yes, even the painful ones. Trust me, one day, it will all make perfect sense.

And finally, I don’t need to remind you not to linger too long around the applause. Because your best is yet to come. You’ve only just begun.

Oh, and embrace your body more. People are paying a lot of money now to look like you!

With all my love and light,
Your future self.”

In embracing my journey, from the fiery beginnings of a young girl with big dreams to the woman standing tall today, I realise that being phenomenal isn’t about perfection or never faltering.

It’s about owning every part of your story, celebrating your resilience, and daring to shine unapologetically.

At the end of the day, the most powerful thing one can do is simply be your authentic, phenomenal self. And believe me, girl, that’s more than enough.