By Laura Masemola, Gazankulu.com
The first time I ever heard Chris Brown, I was a teenager, sitting in my bedroom, hunched over my dial-up internet connection, frantically trying to download his latest music video. His voice was captivating—effortless and smooth, with a range that made me fall in love with R&B all over again. But it wasn’t just his voice; it was the way he moved, as if gravity simply wasn’t a thing. I remember watching Run It! and thinking that Chris Brown wasn’t just a singer—he was a force. His music and dance were everywhere, and like so many girls my age, I spent embarrassing hours in front of my mirror trying, and failing, to match his energy.
Back then, in the late 2000s, concerts were off the table for me. I was still under my parents’ roof, and they wanted absolutely nothing to do with the world of celebrities or concerts. They thought it was all too flashy, too reckless. So when Chris Brown first came to South Africa, I could only daydream about what it would’ve been like to see him live, to feel that rush of excitement as he took the stage.
But now, things are different. I’m grown, working, independent. I can make my own choices, and as luck would have it, Chris Brown is returning to South Africa for the first time in almost a decade. He’ll be performing at the FNB Stadium in Johannesburg on 14 December 2024, and for many fans, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for.
Yet, despite all the nostalgia and excitement, I find myself pausing. The Chris Brown of my youth wasn’t just the talented singer and dancer; he was also part of one of Hollywood’s most beautiful public relationships—until it all came crashing down. I can still remember the whirlwind romance he had with Rihanna. They were young, powerful, and seemed unstoppable. Their chemistry was undeniable, and for a while, it was as if the world was rooting for them. But then came the shocking news—the images of Rihanna’s bruised face, the headlines about the assault. It was like a gut punch. How could someone so talented, so loved, be capable of such a thing?
I was in high school when the news broke. It felt like a scandal so big that it reverberated through every corner of pop culture, touching all of us who had fallen for Chris Brown’s charm. His name was everywhere, but for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t understand it then, the complexity of human nature, the layers of fame, and the fact that Hollywood can be a dark place, filled with secrets and a peculiar kind of selective outrage. But now, with years between that incident and today, I can’t help but wonder—did Chris Brown break the rules of this strange world? And if so, has he done enough to correct them?
I ask myself these questions, not just for Chris Brown, but for the future. South Africa has its own rising stars like Tyla, whose meteoric success in the US feels like a victory for us all. But what if history repeats itself? What if the same thing that allegedly happened to Rihanna happens to someone like Tyla, another bright young woman navigating the rough waters of fame? It’s a sobering thought.
And so, here I am, standing at a crossroads. Chris Brown’s talent is undeniable. His embrace of Amapiano and the South African sound is something to be celebrated. I’m filled with fomo at the thought of missing out on a night that promises to be nothing short of magical. But can I ignore that dark chapter, the one that made headlines all those years ago? Is it possible to separate the art from the artist, or does every note he sings carry the weight of his past?
This time, unlike when I was a teenager, the decision is mine. I can go, I can stay. I can dance, or I can hold back. But like so many of Chris Brown’s fans, I am torn—between forgiveness and accountability, between nostalgia and awareness. As a woman, I want to hold on to his past and stay. But as a human, I want to let go and go. thing’s for sure, though: whatever I choose, it won’t be easy.
The only question is, how much am I willing to let go, just to feel the beat?
About the author:
Laura Masemola is an entertainment reporter for Gazankulu.com. Passionate about music and culture, she has spent years exploring the intersections of art, fame, and morality. Laura is known for her emotive and often reflective writing style, bringing both heart and critical analysis to her coverage of South African and international music scenes.
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