Kagiso Motaung grew up in a small, close-knit town called Warden, nestled in the heart of the Free State. The town was quiet, a place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Growing up, Kagiso never felt out of place. In fact, he was blissfully unaware of what the world expected of him, which is perhaps why he thought nothing of it when he began writing love letters to other boys in primary school. To him, it was just a natural expression of affection. He never questioned the depth of his feelings. They were just… feelings.

There were no whispers behind his back or teasing jabs. No one ever told him that it was strange, because in Warden, there was no “different.” Everyone fit into their roles. Kagiso’s love for his friends — especially the boys he sent secret notes to — seemed perfectly normal to him. He wrote them letters with words of affection, of longing, and of laughter. It was as natural as breathing, as simple as friendship. His world was innocent, untouched by the complexities of the world beyond.

But everything changed the day he left Warden for Johannesburg, at the age of fifteen. In the bustling city, he was thrust into a whirlwind of new experiences, faces, and expectations. Johannesburg was loud, fast-paced, and diverse. It was unlike anything he had ever imagined. His new school was a microcosm of the city itself— teeming with people from all walks of life, where survival meant adapting to social norms.

It wasn’t long before Kagiso realized that not everyone was as accepting as he had been in his small town. When he tried to be himself, he was met with awkward silences, teasing jokes, and harsh whispers. He had no idea how to navigate this new world where his feelings and actions, once so innocent and free, were now seen as something to be hidden. He heard boys snicker behind his back, and the word “sis-bhuti” was often thrown around like an insult.

The more he tried to fit in, the more out of place he felt. It was as though the world had a script that he didn’t understand — a script that was foreign to his sense of self. To avoid becoming a target, Kagiso began to change the way he acted. He started dressing differently, speaking differently, even laughing in a way that wasn’t his own. He mimicked the mannerisms of the other boys, learning to mask his true self. In those moments, he felt like a chameleon, slipping into a skin that didn’t belong to him.

The transformation was painful. The world seemed so much smaller than it had in Warden. He began to wonder if there was something wrong with him. His love for other boys, once a simple expression of affection, now felt like a secret he could never share. Every glance, every whisper, every comment from his peers made him feel like he was an outsider, an alien in his own body. So, he hid his truth, locking it away in the deepest corners of his heart.

It wasn’t until Kagiso enrolled at university a few years later that the fog of confusion began to lift. At university, he encountered a world full of diversity and acceptance. He met people from all over the world, and many of them had their own stories, their own struggles. Some were like him — they had hidden parts of themselves for years, too afraid to be true. But here, in this space, they could be who they were without shame.

University taught him that there was no one-size-fits-all way to live life. It was in those lecture halls, late-night conversations in the dorms, and the freedom of the city streets that Kagiso realized that his sexuality didn’t define him. It was a part of him, but it wasn’t everything. Being gay wasn’t the center of his existence. His passion for literature, his love of art, his dreams for the future — these were the things that mattered most.

As time passed, Kagiso began to embrace who he was. The shame he had carried for so long started to dissipate. He found courage in his newfound self-awareness. No longer did he feel the need to pretend to be someone he was not. The act of “fitting in” that had once suffocated him, now seemed irrelevant. He began to speak his truth, not just about his sexuality, but about who he was as a whole — a person full of dreams, fears, ambitions, and love. His identity as a gay man was simply one layer of his complex, beautiful existence.

Kagiso no longer cared what people thought of him. He had found peace in being himself. University had shifted his mindset in ways he never thought possible. He no longer measured his worth by how others viewed him or whether or not he was accepted. Instead, he learned that happiness came from living authentically, from embracing his true self without apology.

Years later, Kagiso looked back at the boy from Warden, the one who had written love letters to his friends without a care in the world. He smiled, proud of how far he had come. He understood now that it wasn’t about fitting in. It was about loving who you love, being who you are, and finding joy in your journey. His sexuality wasn’t the most important thing about him, but embracing it allowed him to fully experience life. He was enlightened, proud, and, most importantly, free.

Kagiso Motaung had learned that in a world full of noise and judgment, the only thing that mattered was the quiet strength that comes from being true to yourself.