Playwright, teacher, and now poet, Zubayr Charles continues to shock his audience into adoration with his stimulating, eye-opening, and intellectually provocative work. This year, Zubayr produced two plays that especially moved me into an unknown space. As a heterosexual, Christian woman, I have a deep appreciation for Zubayr’s work as he gives myself and the rest of his audience a seat to witness the experience of those who might be living lives so different from ours. There is something enticing about sitting in the audience of Zubayr’s work and being swallowed by the honesty, pain, and love that come out in so many different ways.
This Bra’s A Psycho was something that had me scratching at my skin, asking questions like “how could I not know that pain such as this existed?”. I believe that what we read, watch, hear should always cause us to ask ourselves questions such as these. This is how we grow, facing the mirror of somebody else’s honesty. The play gives us insight into the psychological experience of the young, gay South African male. As human beings, love is our be-all and end-all, whether we say it out loud or not. Friendship, family, and romantic love are all things that we yearn for. But what are the negatives and dangers of this yearning?
Zubayr answers this question for us in This Bra’s A Psycho. As our main character exposes his phone to us, the messages give off a sense of his anxiety and confusion, not knowing what to say and what was going to be said to him. We immediately feel his discomfort, the inconsistent movement of his heart due to the stranger on the other end of the phone. As the play goes on, our protagonist grows into an animal of trauma through every interaction he has. Still not knowing how the stranger had drugged and sexually assaulted him, the leftover impact of his trauma spreads. The protagonist begins to hurt those he intends to love. Strangling, stabbing, suffocating. We begin to see how the yearning for love can bring out the natural animalistic nature of human beings. A double-edged sword, when one end isn’t fed, the other grows teeth.
Zubayr took it even further when he presented Please, Don’t Call Me Moffie at the Artscape. With one actor depicting not just multiple roles but multiple lives, the play shows us how one aspect can unravel in so many ways. Actor Anzio September took on the role of various male characters, each one showing a different mirror of masculinity and how the homosexual individual navigates this. Brave, honest, and vulnerable. Zubayr uses props to create a window to the circumstances surrounding each character. What I found most enticing was how quickly the audience understood the social and economic standing of each character based on the props. We are taking down a washing line along the stage as Anzio changes clothes to showcase each new character. The irony of this is that watching this play felt as if what was covering the truth of the experience of the gay and queer, was being washed away. Known for his ability to utilise simplicity to leave room for the truth of individual experiences, Zubayr reminds us about the importance of looking at the nature of human beings with clear eyes once again.
In October 2025, Zubayr will be presenting us with something new: A poetry collection. Exploring, love, heartbreak, and the process of healing, The Sad Boys Starter Pack promises to give readers insight into the queer and Coloured males’ experience of life and love in Cape Town. This collection will aim to give Charles’ fans a new experience of his mind and heart, and of course, an opportunity to gain a sense of understanding of marginalised communities.
Kirsten Deane (PEN South Africa) obtained her Honours in English Literature and MA in Creative Writing at the University of the Western Cape. She is working on her first poetry collection, reflecting on living with her physical disability (Left Hemiplegia). Uhlanga Press is interested in publishing this young and brave poet’s work.
