INSIDE THE 2026 OFFICIAL LAUNCH OF AMAQHAWEKAZI: A Communion Of Creative Heroines.

On 27 June 2026, I attended the 2026 official launch of amaQHAWEkazi at Sumthing Sumthing. Founded in 2022 by iQhawe Media and supported by iQhawe Magazine, amaQHAWEkazi, which translates to “heroines” in English, is a platform created to support, celebrate and connect creative women and women-aligned individuals across South Africa. Through mentorship, education, events and community building, the platform is trying to create spaces where ideas can grow, voices can be heard and careers can actually move. Basically, it is not just trying to host women creatives. It is trying to gather them.

And that difference matters.

Written By Khaya Mnisi

Guest Editor: Thandiwe Magwaza

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Left: Renaé Mangena, founder of iQhawe Magazine. Top right: Anastatia Nkuna, Vice Editor & Art director at iQhawe Magazine. Right: Hlengiwe Mkwayi, Head of Production and Music Content Producer at iQhawe Magazine

After I got home from the launch, I had the usual post-event thought: okay, so am I writing a standard recap now? Because that is usually how it goes, right? You attend the event. You mingle. You yap. You take a few mental notes. You get home tired. Then you somehow find the strength to write the kind of recap that sounds like every other recap.

You know the one.

“The event was beautiful.” “The atmosphere was electric.” “The room was filled with inspiring creatives.” Okay, sure. But also... what else?

Because respectfully, I could not do that this time.

Not because the launch was not worth recapping. It was. But because it made me want to think beyond the room itself. It made me want to ask a slightly more uncomfortable question: when we say we are building community, what are we actually building?

And before we all start nodding like this is a panel discussion and the mic is being passed around, let me be honest. I am guilty too. I have written those very safe, very polite, very “the vibes were immaculate” articles before.

Sometimes the work is good, the event is good, the people are good, and still the writing comes out sounding like it was assembled in the same content factory as everyone else’s.

Which brings me to a thing I cannot unsee: cultural homogenisation.

In simple terms, cultural homogenisation is what happens when different cultures, industries or communities slowly start becoming the same. The same aesthetics. The same language. The same ideas. The same “we are so different” energy packaged in the exact same way. It is how five creative platforms end up looking like cousins on Instagram even though everyone swears they are doing something new.

Ain’t that scary?

Anyways, now that you know why I cannot take the risk of writing another generic event recap, allow me to explore something the launch made me think about. Hopefully this sparks a conversation, or maybe confirms a thought you have been sitting with yourself.

As I reflected on the amaQHAWEkazi launch, I kept coming back to one word: communion.

Now, if you come from a Christian background, you will know communion as the practice where followers of Christ share bread and wine in remembrance of Jesus Christ’s body, blood and sacrifice. But beyond the bread and wine, communion is also about sharing in something together. It is about belonging. It is about remembering what holds people together. It is about being part of something bigger than yourself and knowing you do not walk alone.

So then I wondered: outside of its Christian context, what would happen if a creative and cultural community actually prioritised communion? Not just networking. Not just visibility. Not just “come through, take pics, tag us.” Communion.

What would that look like when people gathered in the same room?

Before we run to answer that, I was curious to know what the ladies behind amaQHAWEkazi think community means, especially in an industry where the word is often used so loosely, and how they hope amaQHAWEkazi gives it real meaning?

“For me, community is freedom. It’s the freedom to show up as your full self, ask questions, share opportunities, and know that someone genuinely wants to see you succeed.” - Anastatia Nkhuna.

“I don't think it's used loosely. I think it's become something we think about often in our everyday lives, which means that, in small ways, we're all working towards building some kind of foundation.” - Renaé Mangena.

“Community is about seeing the person next to you. amaQHAWEkazi therefore actions this through seeing the potential in the creatives around us, and putting in a space that will better equip them for their respective practices.” - Hlengiwe Mkwayi.

But definitions can only take us so far. Because people can share a room without really sharing anything.

And that is where communion comes in.

I do not have a neat answer yet. If I did, this would have become a ten-page research paper and nobody asked for that. But I can imagine what the absence of communion looks like.

It looks like people occupying the same space without ever truly sharing it. It looks like everyone leaving with content but no connection. It looks like people consuming the event instead of participating in one another’s lives. It looks like community becoming transactional. People gather around opportunity first and around one another second. Relationships are measured by usefulness instead of responsibility. The event ends, and so does the relationship.

And let us be honest: that is not community. That is a very well-lit exchange of proximity.

The presence of communion, though, could shift things. It could begin to disrupt some of the patterns that quietly weaken creative communities, especially the clique culture that loves to dress up as intimacy.

To me, communion changes how people engage with one another. It is not just a good feeling in the room. It is a way of thinking, gathering and belonging. It is choosing to actually see the person standing next to you because you are part of the same community. It is caring about their wellbeing, their economic growth and their future, not because you expect something in return, but because their growth contributes to the health of the community itself.

It is honouring the thing that brought everyone into the room in the first place. It is recognising that if one person grows, everyone has something to gain. That is where the word community starts to have weight again. It stops being a marketing word and becomes a responsibility.

And maybe this is where the real work begins: after the room, after the panel, after the photos, after the recap. Because communion without follow-through can become just another nice idea. The question is not only whether people felt connected in the room. The question is whether they are willing to practise connection after the room.

In Christian language, that might be called discipleship: the part that comes after gathering, where belief becomes practice and practice becomes a way of life. In community terms, maybe it is the same thing. Showing up again. Checking in. Sharing resources. Opening doors without needing public credit. Making the relationship bigger than the moment.

Which is why the more practical question may not be what amaQHAWEkazi meant on launch day, but what it will require to still matter one, three or even five years from now.

Anastatia points to consistency and legacy, describing amaQHAWEkazi as an annual cohort they hope will grow “for decades.” Renaé brings the focus back to access and meaningful difference, while Hlengiwe grounds the future of the platform in practical lessons, usable tools and resources rather than inspiration alone.

Now, I am not saying people in creative communities do not already care for one another. Quite the opposite. There is already beautiful work happening. My suggestion is simply that recognising communion as a vital part of creative and cultural community could add another layer to what already exists. A deeper one. A more accountable one.

And that responsibility cannot rest only on founders. Founders can create the space, bring people together and offer opportunities for connection, but they cannot manufacture communion on everyone else’s behalf. At some point, the responsibility shifts to the people in the room. If we choose not to know, support and invest in one another, then what becomes of the community?

So there it is. Those are some of the thoughts I left with after the amaQHAWEkazi launch on 27 June.

From its launch and stated vision, “amaQHAWEkazi simply aims to help women access industry mentors, with the hope that meaningful communities can grow from those connections and be fostered naturally over time. At amaQHAWEkazi, community isn’t just about gathering for one event, it’s about building relationships that continue afterwards. If someone leaves with a mentor, a collaborator, a new opportunity, or simply the confidence to keep creating, then we’ve done our job.”

Whether it becomes that over time remains to be seen.

Anyways, maybe that is how we should judge creative communities. Not by how many people attended. Not by how beautiful the venue looked. Not by how many photos were posted afterwards. But by what became possible because people were there once.