Interview: Please, don’t call me moffie, a gaze on the difficulties faced by queer Coloured men in Cape Town

Please, don’t call me moffie, the new play by theatre maker Zubayr Charles is premiering in Cape Town at the 2025 Suidoosterfees. Charles provides insights into the play which showcases “the difficulties faced by queer Coloured men” in Cape Town:

TheCapeRobyn: Can you talk about the narrative – pivoting around a homophobic attack in an unknown Arab country? Is this is a fictional story?

Zubayr Charles: Whilst completing research for my upcoming novel titled Haram (forbidden), I read various novels about queer Muslim men and their struggles. I learned there is no Arabic equivalent to the word “queer”; instead, members of the LGBTQIA+ community are referred to as “deviants” or “perverts” in Arabic. As someone who grew up in a severely strict religious community, I felt compelled to pay homage to all those individuals harmed in Arab countries for being queer. Simultaneously, I was also inspired by the plays At Her Feet by Nadia Davids and Boys in the Band by Mart Crowley. The original concept of the show was to examine both Islamophobia and internalised homophobia, as those playwrights respectfully did. With all these ideas in my head, I had to think of a way in which a homophobic attack would incite a chain reaction within a Cape Town setting. Of course, the concept grew much further.      

TCR: Are your five characters fictional? Can you tell us about the characters?

ZC: Originally, I created the five characters to tackle the sensitive issue of problematic queer archetypes found in literature, film and media: “tragic gay”; “straight guy character” (not to be confused with sexuality); “promiscuous gay/gym rat”; and “flamboyant gay.” Each character was written to subvert these archetypes. However, as I wrote the script and reflected on the different stages of my life, I realised the distinct characters actually represented different versions of me. With that as a foundation, I had to think of clever ways in which each character would react to the homophobic attack, as well as how they would reveal their life’s journey to the audience. The rest is just creative writing — all made up. Although the characters are fictional, they are all based on me.

TCR: You say that you were inspired to write this play after homophobic hate speech by an influencer on social media who was using “religion to justify their views.” Can you talk more about this incident and how it sparked the play?

ZC: After the influencer voiced their hate speech about queer people, I realised that more and more people were actually homophobic and were using Islam to justify their hate — many of those people I knew personally. The saddest moment was when the first person I ever came out to also re-shared those homophobic views. The person told me, “Don’t hate the person; hate the act.” That was just one of the many comments people were making that were not only disgusting, but ironic as well. I was totally baffled at how people pick and choose which Islamic teachings they want to follow. With that in mind, I thought about ways in which I could use my skills in Creative Writing to comment on what was happening in society, and that is when I wrote the first draft of the script and applied for the then-2023 Teksmark Festival.     

TCR: Writing and staging a play is a big statement. You have gone beyond a quick response on social media. How have people that you know responded to this play?

ZC: Initially, the play was meant to comment on homophobia found in Islamic communities. Yet, as Anzio [September] and I have been engaging more and more with the script, we’ve realised the show actually comments more on toxic masculinity, mental health, male-on-male assault, and identity — rather than the intersectionality of queerness and faith being the main theme. This realisation has also placed me at ease, as the show does not have any political or religious agenda. All we want to do is showcase the difficulties queer Coloured men in Cape Town face, particularly those who have grown up in highly conservative Muslim communities. Representation is key, and as a writer it is important for me to provide a voice to the marginalised. The story goes beyond me, and once I adopted that attitude and got out of my own head, many people revealed they want to support Anzio and me despite the difficult subject matter.   

TCR: How has your personal journey shaped your decision to write Please, don’t call me moffie?

ZC: When I was a young child, I was small in stature, scrawny, and highly effeminate. Because of that, I became an easy target for relentless bullying throughout my nine years of primary school. The verbal bullying was so severe that even adults — teachers and most grown-ups around me — joined in. That feeling was the most discouraging. I never fitted in with the boys, and I always felt like an outsider around girls, as I was, of course, never truly one of them. The older I grew, the more in tune I became with my masculinity, and I now have a better understanding of my position in this world. With Please, don’t call me moffie, the aim is to reclaim my power, and by doing so, I hope many other queer individuals can do the same — particularly queer youth and the next generation. It is extremely important for them to see themselves represented on stage, in literature and across media.        

✳ Anzio September in Please, don’t call me moffie, the play written and directed by Zubayr Charles. Image supplied.