3rd degree’s recent coverage on the top five blingers in South Africa got me thinking.
Our Deborah got herself comfortably settled into one of Khanyi Mbau’s leopard-print armchairs with her usual agenda – in this case, specifically to get under The Queen of Bling’s skin and break down that empty headed smugness.
Go Deborah!
She made some pretty hard nosed statements too. Comparing Khanyi to famous-for-being-famous Paris Hilton, she … well, impotently… implied that Khanyi’s lifestyle was inherently immoral saying: “In a country where we have such extreme inequalities, to display wealth so ostentatiously is no different to Marie Antoinette saying “let them eat cake”.
Actually it’s very different. Khanyi is not the queen of Africa. She is not answerable to the people of Africa. She’s just a simple girl who got lucky.
Deborah didn’t get under Khanyi’s skin either. The bling queen hardly batted a false-eye-lashed lid as she rode the storm of criticism, secure in her right to the exquisite opulence she commands. Good for her.
If Deborah had had any inkling of the actual ethical issue at hand, she might have wiped the floor with Khanyi; but she missed the point entirely.
While there are many who think Khanyi is awesome for being stylish, perky breasted and rich (which, in their view makes her an aspirational role model) there are those of us who cringe with perplexed repulsion at the mere thought of her. We know instinctively that there is something wrong; we just don’t have the foggiest clue what that might be.
Khanyi is the unwitting ambassador of a value system which is becoming alarmingly prominent in all levels of our society, from those who rent swish apartments in Camps Bay right down to those who live in Khayalitsha and keep a single starving cow in their metre wide back yard; one where our primary life aspiration is to affluence - not for the educational or altruistic opportunities that it provides but for the mere sake of unrestrained and mostly unaccountable indulgence in extreme consumerism; being able to buy whatever you want - be it the 1x2 meter TV screen, cocaine sniffed through a crystal straw, truffles flown in from France or the power to experience any sensual fantasy you dare imagine.
We’re starting to choose rich over enriched.
Khanyi tells us that she started out as a girl with a dream. That dream was to become famous for her work. She found a short cut to famous by marrying money. Now stupidly rich and workless, she insists that her dreams involve owning a private jet and being able to throw parties where everyone sips the best champagne.
It makes one feel a little sorry for her, really. It makes one realise that she is as much victim of the consumer driven value system that is raping our planet, our minds and our time as those who look enviously in at her from the trash laden streets through the windows of their television screens.
Whether these values are morally wrong or not is a separate debate (unless you take sustainability of planetary resources into account, in which case the argument becomes a no brainer) but it makes one wonder if Khanyi ever managed to answer to her heart’s desires rather than chasing money in a vain attempt for fulfilment.
We all know that excessive consumerism may be entertaining for a time, but what the heart truly desires cannot be bought; authenticity, connectivity, respect, eureka moments, love, creative inspiration and humility in response to beauty. These are only available when one gives something of oneself; when one looks out and chooses to give instead of wanting and wanting more.
And yet, it seems that wealth has become the sole benchmark of success for us. We have chosen to respect each other for what we have rather than for who we are. We are so out of touch with our extinct ethics that when we experience vestigial distaste at the likes of Khanyi, we have no idea why we feel the way we do.
Yip, it’s a funny old world.
Go Deborah!
She made some pretty hard nosed statements too. Comparing Khanyi to famous-for-being-famous Paris Hilton, she … well, impotently… implied that Khanyi’s lifestyle was inherently immoral saying: “In a country where we have such extreme inequalities, to display wealth so ostentatiously is no different to Marie Antoinette saying “let them eat cake”.
Actually it’s very different. Khanyi is not the queen of Africa. She is not answerable to the people of Africa. She’s just a simple girl who got lucky.
Deborah didn’t get under Khanyi’s skin either. The bling queen hardly batted a false-eye-lashed lid as she rode the storm of criticism, secure in her right to the exquisite opulence she commands. Good for her.
If Deborah had had any inkling of the actual ethical issue at hand, she might have wiped the floor with Khanyi; but she missed the point entirely.
While there are many who think Khanyi is awesome for being stylish, perky breasted and rich (which, in their view makes her an aspirational role model) there are those of us who cringe with perplexed repulsion at the mere thought of her. We know instinctively that there is something wrong; we just don’t have the foggiest clue what that might be.
Khanyi is the unwitting ambassador of a value system which is becoming alarmingly prominent in all levels of our society, from those who rent swish apartments in Camps Bay right down to those who live in Khayalitsha and keep a single starving cow in their metre wide back yard; one where our primary life aspiration is to affluence - not for the educational or altruistic opportunities that it provides but for the mere sake of unrestrained and mostly unaccountable indulgence in extreme consumerism; being able to buy whatever you want - be it the 1x2 meter TV screen, cocaine sniffed through a crystal straw, truffles flown in from France or the power to experience any sensual fantasy you dare imagine.
We’re starting to choose rich over enriched.
Khanyi tells us that she started out as a girl with a dream. That dream was to become famous for her work. She found a short cut to famous by marrying money. Now stupidly rich and workless, she insists that her dreams involve owning a private jet and being able to throw parties where everyone sips the best champagne.
It makes one feel a little sorry for her, really. It makes one realise that she is as much victim of the consumer driven value system that is raping our planet, our minds and our time as those who look enviously in at her from the trash laden streets through the windows of their television screens.
Whether these values are morally wrong or not is a separate debate (unless you take sustainability of planetary resources into account, in which case the argument becomes a no brainer) but it makes one wonder if Khanyi ever managed to answer to her heart’s desires rather than chasing money in a vain attempt for fulfilment.
We all know that excessive consumerism may be entertaining for a time, but what the heart truly desires cannot be bought; authenticity, connectivity, respect, eureka moments, love, creative inspiration and humility in response to beauty. These are only available when one gives something of oneself; when one looks out and chooses to give instead of wanting and wanting more.
And yet, it seems that wealth has become the sole benchmark of success for us. We have chosen to respect each other for what we have rather than for who we are. We are so out of touch with our extinct ethics that when we experience vestigial distaste at the likes of Khanyi, we have no idea why we feel the way we do.
Yip, it’s a funny old world.
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